The bleeding
Unearthing one of Aiden’s sincere passions had been both relieving and exciting, because he did have interests and he did feel very strongly about them; Nathaniel just had to be very careful while going over his file. In his defense, though, most humans were easy to read and didn’t exactly hide what made them happiest, so in the past, Nathaniel and his team had never had any problem with that. Aiden was clearly a special case in every aspect of the word and required a lot more attention to detail.
In his latest report, Nathaniel made sure to include all the findings and observations from last night, but when his thoughts moved onto Aiden’s lack of trust in him, and likewise, his own doubts about Aiden’s character, his hand slowly halted. Rather than write any of that down, he held the quill over the page, blank where his troubles should be. His throat closed—he didn’t exactly want to share that specific thought with the lords, or not just yet. He could take care of it. Unquestionably, should certain queries reach them either way, they would give him very valuable advice, but he didn’t need to bother them with that. It was fine, after all; he’d get to the bottom of it himself, and once it was all over, he’d tell them. There was nothing quite like hearing of a problem that had already been solved.
Up the monumental stairway that set The Court apart from other buildings was a wide marble porch that extended from wall to wall and morphed with the hillside. Standing right in the middle of it, directly in front of the two monumental entrance doors, he thought of Aiden and his left arm burned. The water had long since dried, but had apparently been in enough contact with his skin to crawl beneath it, coloring it red in a pattern that tainted his forearm, from just below his elbow to the center of his palm, in the shape of Aiden’s hand, fingers wrapping around his arm like branding iron. There had been no hallucinations so far, or none that he could tell, but the Waters of Remembrance were notorious for acting in such subtle ways that the afflicted usually only noticed anything was wrong long after fully recovering from its effects. He was probably no different. Crossing the porch with his report in hand, he took shelter from the brightness of the moonlight and entered The Court.
Despite how similar all the seraphim were, spotting Jay was easy, always in the back of the room hovering between a bookshelf and a desk, engulfed in much holier flames than the others. Frantic eyeballs gave Nathaniel quick glances as he walked in, acknowledging his presence. He offered Jay a quiet greeting to go with the envelope. A frail hand poked through the feathers to take it.
“You’ve touched the pool,” Jay commented, echoing across his skull like the words of a memory, making him touch his arm and hide it behind himself. In his head, voices multiplied. “The Bleeding has begun.”
“I’ll be alright,” Nathaniel reassured them, hairs standing on end. “Nothing’s really happened so far.” Except he knew that was a lie.
Dozens of eyeballs looked at him, but the voices said nothing else, so he quickly thanked Jay and made his way out, pulse beating loudly in his ears.
Lying in bed while the wind howled past his windows and the trees outside trembled, there was jasmine, light in the air, reminiscent of the candles he used to light at night, a delicate scent. Smoke from burning matches mingled with it, turning the air thicker and heavier, trapped inside the room, warm from the crowd, all doors and windows shut and locked. Secluded, conspiratorial. Strong fumes filled his lungs, scrambling his head, eyelids heavy. Another meeting to discuss the revolution.
Zea’s voice sounded as loud as crackling thunder, echoing across the relatively close walls to reverberate off his chest, shaped in words that Nathaniel didn’t understand, but reached deep within him anyway. The crowd shouted its agreement, clamorous and angry, coming forward to voice its injustices with the system. Zea's speech had brought them together in a very dangerous way. The energy in the room was electric, hazardous like fire. Nathaniel could feel it on his fingertips, the adrenaline rush that made his heart race and his eyes widen, a restlessness inside bouncing with the anticipation of breaking loose and taking what he rightfully deserved. The promises of a better world and eternal salvation. Rest and vacation rid of sin. The strength of the army and the respect it deserved. Brown eyes that looked at him and burned a hole right through his soul.
He breathed, and gasped, and shot up into a sitting position with cold sweat budding on his forehead and his heart hammering into his chest. Aiden, leading the revolution. Aiden, spewing out hate and feeding off of anger. A deep breath in, a long sigh out, and his left arm ached, dull and distant as if beaten. Bruises bloomed, even though there were only the brandings of Aiden’s fingers on his skin. A set of brown eyes so similar to the ones he wished he could forget, but Aiden was nothing like Zea; the earth under his feet was lush with flowers and the paths he traveled stood perfectly intact in his wake. The fire and destruction that writhed under Zea’s skin simply didn’t exist within Aiden. If anything, Aiden seemed a lot more lifeless than most of Paradise combined, but that was probably just his husk still getting used to the afterlife. Out of bed, Nathaniel decided to dress in long sleeves today.
When Aiden opened the door, he immediately glanced Nathaniel down. His heart skipped, although, realistically, it was probably just part of who Aiden was, one of his many instincts that shouldn’t be overanalyzed, his husk finally remembering who he used to be. It must not have anything to do with Nathaniel himself.
“Well, you look… regal.” Aiden tilted his head, taking a step back to let Nathaniel in.
“Thank you,” Nathaniel replied, voice broken and a little awkward, because that probably hadn’t been a compliment, but he honestly had no idea what to say otherwise.
“I’ll definitely miss looking at your arms, but we work with what we get. If I’m lucky, you’ll be topless tomorrow,” Aiden added, light and unconcerned while closing the door. It bore noticing that his voice had a certain energy to it, never heard before, and that the atmosphere around him was much livelier now, even bleeding into the way he moved, body language much more refined. It brought a breath to Nathaniel’s lungs, muscles relaxing like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders despite the tasteless comments on his figure. Aiden didn’t seem shy when it came to that, always confidently speaking his mind, so Nathaniel should probably let the topic drop right there. This was a hill he refused to die on.
“Come on, I have a lot to tell you; I’ve been reading all night,” Aiden continued, walking off ahead.
“Is that right?”
“Sleep, my greatest enemy, is finally obsolete.” The words echoed within the hallway as they crossed it, unlit but perfectly navigational regardless, sunlight shining in through the windows to cast long shadows across the floor, lighting up Aiden’s hair like fire. “We're in eternal rest. I mean, what kind of backwards logic would it be if we still needed to eat or sleep after our bodies have already expired? Free from our chains, we can finally experience euphoria the way it was always intended.”
Huh. That was definitely not where he thought this conversation would go. Strangely intrigued, he followed Aiden across the hall. Morning light colored the room in soft orange hues, plants outside swaying shadows on the floor.
“And I know I OD’d on coke in a little island off the coast of Barbados trying to reach this exact feeling,” Aiden continued, taking the stairs, “but you can’t judge me, because, in a way, I got what I wanted.”
How could he possibly know that?
“Do you remember your final moments?” Nathaniel asked, a scowl on his forehead, blood curdling into ice. It usually took people dozens of years to even get close to making any sort of sense of their last few days, so if Aiden had it all figured out in less than twenty-four hours, then something must be terribly wrong.
“Not technically, but that’s the only way I would’ve gone.”
Oh. Never mind, then; Aiden was just a smart-ass. Still, a breath reached his lungs and relaxed his shoulders, eyes up at the back of Aiden’s head as they climbed the stairs, the curls of his hair bouncing with each step.
About halfway up, Aiden threw him a glance over the shoulder. “Am I right?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“So I’m right.”
At the top of the stairs was a wide landing that connected the various rooms on the second floor, bright and light in pastel tones, cream and brown. Along one of its walls were two doors, one already open, which Aiden walked into. Nathaniel followed close behind.
The library, with a high ceiling and long curtains, looked a lot more beautiful than he remembered it, filled with bookshelves that covered every inch of it and a soft carpet that completely muffled their footfalls. Near a window was a floor lamp that curved at the top, hanging over a corner table stacked with books and an armchair padded for long reading sessions. By the looks of it, Aiden must’ve spent the night here.
“You told me I could send letters to anyone in Paradise, but what if I want to find someone specific, whose name I don’t actually know?” Aiden spoke at the rest of the room, walking further in, bare feet dragging on the rug. Nathaniel watched from the doorway. “Like, what if I want to find my long lost brother, or the love of my life?” Here, Aiden turned to look at him. “Like I said, I spent all night researching this, and I realize there’s a form for practically everything. One of them delivers whatever you want right to your door, but does it work for people too? Is there a way to contact someone without using their name or rank? I just can’t figure it out.”
“Did you check the contacts list on your phone? It should have everyone you know—uh, everyone you know that made it up here.” In Aiden’s case, that wasn’t a lot, but Nathaniel didn’t need to add insult to injury by spelling that out. Aiden must already know it, anyway.
“Sure, but I’m looking for someone I’ve never met before and I know you guys keep tabs on everyone here, so how can I find them? Like, is there some sort of visitation list or maybe a master spreadsheet I can look at?”
While, yes, there were meticulous tabs on every soul that had been admitted into Paradise, Aiden couldn't access them. With how stubborn he was, though, telling him that would probably just enable him to go searching anyway, so Nathaniel decided against it.
“Are you looking for a family member? We have broader policies on that. I might even be able to take you to them, depending on the case.”
“No, not exactly. I just don’t know much about them and they don’t know me either.”
Hm. Where did he get that from? “Have you tried the Oracle?”
“The Oracle? You mean like, bogus divination from the ancient Greeks, you’re going to kill your father and marry your mother sort of oracle?”
“No, of course not; I’m talking about one of the keepers of Paradise. Theoretically, she knows everyone who’s ever lived.”
“Theoretically, as in, no one really knows?”
“No one can know. It’s impossible to tell, but maybe she could help you.”
The look on Aiden’s face told him he might’ve just said the right thing. “Does she know everything?”
“She knows everyone, but if you do resort to her help, just be prepared to deal with the sort of answer that is less a conversation and more a soliloquy. Or even an introspection, like an unwarranted and false extension of your own thoughts.”
“She’s not on my side of the valley, is she?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
A thoughtful hum traveled through the room. Brown eyes stared at his face while looking straight through him. Pensively, Aiden turned around and walked to an end table full of books. He picked a few from the stack and left for an archway of bookshelves, making Nathaniel follow him to a smaller, more secluded area. At the archway, he watched Aiden spread the books on a desk and take a seat in front of them, a lot livelier than before, with a sort of drive in his soul that not a lot of residents still had. It was such a soothing sight that it almost even made him believe not adding any of his concerns in the report had been a good idea. Almost was the keyword, however.
“Can I help you with anything else?” he asked, because Aiden looked busy and this was just a quick check-in, anyway.
His question made Aiden glance up with a bright look on his face, but no actual answer, or none straight away. Instead, Aiden took a moment to reflect on that, to really see if there was nothing else he’d need for the rest of the day. A heartbeat went by in silence and a nice smile tugged at the corners of Aiden’s lips, pressing two dimples into his cheeks, the most genuine emotion he'd shown so far. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”
In retrospect, maybe Aiden wasn’t a complete jackass, and the way he'd been getting used to everything yesterday had just given Nathaniel an unfortunate first impression of him. He was probably a good guy. He'd made it to Paradise, after all. On a simply rational level, Nathaniel had nothing to suspect. His long years playing Devil’s advocate as his soul had been sucked out of him must’ve caused incredible damage if, in reality, Aiden was an avid researcher. On Earth, he'd clearly spent enough time in the swimming pool, and now, was more than ready to give meaning to his existence. Maybe they could even become friends by the end of this assignment. Nathaniel made sure to include his optimism in tonight’s report.
At the bottom of The Court’s mountainside, where the marble steps met with and melded into the cobblestones that paved the streets, there was a path coming out of the main road that rounded the foothill and led its follower through the forest. Eventually, it opened into an intricate structure that stretched several dozens of feet up the side of the alp, practically jutting out of it, where flowers grew on the walls and nature spilled down in leaves and bushes, trying to reclaim this patch of rock. The temple walls were made out of sandstone and formed a tall, wide, beautiful entrance arch with singing angels and sacred cherubs carved into it, partially hidden behind hanging plants and overgrown vines.
Nathaniel pushed some leaves out of the way as he walked in, crossing a spacious hallway that didn’t pose his wings any trouble, lit up solely by the brilliance of his halo, bright enough to shine several feet ahead and cast a long, thin shadow across the ground, wings resting comfortably at his sides. At the very end of the tunnel was a dash of light, as intense as his halo, that welcomed his arrival and glowed with the warmth of a heartbeat, enveloping him in a blanket. His left arm burned painfully, but only where Aiden had touched it; everything else felt as if lying on a bed of sand, recently sun kissed.
He hadn’t visited the Oracle in a very long time, but she still looked exactly the same as always, withstanding the touch of time in a capsule outside of its reach. Her massive wings all rested on the ground, upside-down, lying bent in half with their ends pointing upwards, growing to touch the ceiling in several pairs that filled a wall with feathers and intermingled limbs that sprouted from a pivot of light encased by three rings. They rotated together, never touching, never stopping, stained by the light that bled from the pivot and seeped gold onto the wings below, pooling beneath them. Nathaniel stood at the archway.
His arm felt even worse now, skin roasting on bone as it rejected concentrated sanctity, too close to the perfection of the unnamed. Aiden had marked him deeply, but it wouldn’t last long.
Aiden, the one who never rested; the soul that had reached consciousness and immediately known itself, found its true purpose, made strides toward success. He sought something. Yes, what was it?
The rings turned.
Determination ran through Aiden’s veins and filled the vessel that had taken his shape. The machinations of his mind were doubtful. Who was he looking for?
The rings turned.
There was a dark cloud over his intentions, poison in his bloodstream. Nathaniel’s doubts were correct, calcified intuition. Aiden wasn’t good. His heart skipped, blood running cold—he'd been right all along.
Was this his new purpose? No, she strayed from the point; Aiden was in Paradise. Aiden was in Paradise.
Did he ever wonder why an archangel had been given an entry-level assignment? This wasn’t a regular human and he knew it; he'd known it the moment he'd first laid eyes on Aiden. Angels looked after humans; archangels mitigated war. She was being too severe; Aiden was just a guy, and anyway, Paradise made no mistakes. What was Zea, then? The echoing laughter, the fire that followed him, the chaos that bound his soul—in Paradise. Zea wasn’t human. No, but he'd made it to the mountains out of merit, just like Aiden. The brown eyes, the blonde curls, the light skin—they were very similar, weren’t they? The life in Aiden’s soul earlier today, the excitement in his words. Stop. Zea’s heart hadn’t always been in flames; he'd earned his place in Paradise. He'd fought, and struggled, and been good then.
The warmth of summer, sticky on the skin, damp in the air they'd breathed. He remembered it well, how brightly the stars had shone overhead, how closely Zea had watched him then. Stop. Out of the corner of his eye, he'd seen him looking, and his heart had punched him right in the throat, shoulders tense. Zea had felt it too. No. His heart ached, eyes closing. He had; she knew he had. The silence between them, the anticipation in his veins, the hand that had covered his own and squeezed it. Please, stop. There was Zea in Aiden and he saw it too; the offhand flirting, the outlandish behavior, the dishonesty. No, reasonable doubt; the dishonest one was him. For the last time, he'd done the right thing. He'd betrayed his best friend.
He touched the warm stone wall, shaky breath leaving his lungs. The tunnel was dark. As Aiden’s guardian angel, he should protect him. No, he was going to guide him to light. The lack of conviction with which he told himself that was perfectly on brand with everything he claimed to be, the entire persona he'd created for himself. After all, wasn’t he only here to spy on Aiden? To meddle and prod in his affairs, so she’d tell him who he was looking for. Hypocrite. A perfect specimen of celestial corruption; she had nothing else to say to him.
Stiffly, as if his body was being repelled by the very room in which he stood, his legs moved and his arms dropped to hang by his sides, forcing him down the hallway as the Oracle showed him out.
They'd never gotten along.
Comentários