Love Builds and Destroys

Love and the idea of having a crush are the two most ingenious concepts. They build us and mold us into the people we wish to become, and because of that desire to become the perfect person love is what ultimately destroys us. Movies and books tend to portray love in a good light in which the protagonist is lifted by a significant other and changes for the best. Then you have the opposite of that: the tragic hero. The first example I have in mind is Anakin Skywalker from the Star Wars universe. When we are first introduced to him as Darth Vader in Episodes 4-6, we see no love or emotion in him other than the fear for his Master, and later his love for his son saves him. Looking back on Episodes 1-3, we already know his inevitable fall to the Dark Side. We are introduced to the human side of Vader when he is under the tutelage of Obi-Wan, secret marriage to Padmé and the loss of his mother. He is such a tragic character, and though we can argue against his choices he must turn to the Dark Side. His love and connection to his mother already separates him from the Jedi Order. Then his love for Padmé ultimately destroys him as he lets nothing intervene in his hopes to finding a way to save her.

I do have a point to all of this. I’m not reviewing a movie that came out nearly 6 years ago. For many of the past blog entries I’ve posted, they related to either to the girl I thought fate allowed me to meet and then the girl who broke our friendship. Well there’s an update on that one. She and I are friends again, and we’ve been friends since last September? I think it was last September…2010. Well now she and I are roommates. Now that we’ve established that, I will refer to her as “roomie” just to keep her anonymous.

Now as you may know, I’m somewhat a fan of fate. Only from my experience meeting the girl on the train. I don’t wanna call her “train girl” cause that just sounds very strange. Let’s call her…QQ. Before last February, and last Chinese New Years, she and I talked a lot on QQ. So the girl from the train is “QQ” and my roommate is “Roomie.” That should be simple to remember, yeah? Well I moved out of Spinner to campus, and ended up moving back to Spinner and became Roomie’s roommate. Could that have been some intervention of fate? I don’t know. If it was fate that made me her roommate, then what is the underlying meaning behind it all? Now to the original intent of the blog…and yes, these three paragraphs are all related…

Back in December, I sent QQ some messages regarding “secrets” I had and that I liked someone. She asked me questions about who this girl is, if she was in the same school as myself. I think these little conversations of responding to each other’s posts became more intimate than chatting on instant message. Last week, I tried to bring back our old conversations by talking on instant messaging. Last week could have easily been one of the happiest weeks of this New Year. Most times we talked, I usually had to leave early for class. Even though she’s in France, six hours still separated us. Which is still better than her being in China and having a twelve-hour difference. Only thing is that at least when she was in China, I had an excuse to not talk to her because she would be tired or I would be going to bed. Now, it’s a little more difficult.
Anyways, there came a mishap last weekend through the early hours of the morning (2am-5:00am) that I will not get into. What I will say is that when I returned to my place, I was more than terrified of what happened during those three-hours. I went online and QQ was there. Of course it’s around 11am in France at that time. With one simple instant message, I waited for her reply. As the digital clock changed with the passing minute, I grew anxious she wasn’t there. But when she did reply, all the worry in my mind passed.

So what the hell does this have to do with, “Love and the idea of having a crush are the two most ingenious concepts. They build us and mold us into the people we wish to become, and because of that desire to become the perfect person love is what ultimately destroys us.” To be honest, I feel that I am losing my original feelings for QQ. Originally I planned on telling her the truth after Chinese New Year so she wouldn’t have to think so much. But now, a week after Chinese New Year, I feel that I’ve lost those feelings for her. Even if I think back to how I met her (http://freefallinasian.blogspot.com/2010/12/where-does-fate-come-from.html) that seems almost pointless. Shit now that I’ve actually started writing this, that feeling has struck me in the chest again. For a few days it hasn’t even happened. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of talking to her. We had so many great things going for us during the first 6 months we knew each other. We instant messaged so often and up until February 2010, we suddenly stopped talking.

Love is crazy. It can help shape us to be better people, turn us into the ideal person. But like everything that has rules, love can easily take away everything and destroy us. Bah I’m off to class.

A Moment to Remember - Sample 3

Normal time is such a relative concept, even more profound than Einstein’s theories of relativity. One minute you know where you are without care or concern of the future and somehow end up there without recollection of the journey. Even the sixty fractions of an hour are easily forgotten, but you know something happened during that time. It’s similar to being drunk or high, although I couldn’t tell you from personal experience. My friends could elaborate on those stories.

Somehow we ended up here. A quarter till midnight in the middle of summer, almost a year since we met on the train. Actually, a year had past. July seventh. I still remembered the checkerboard shirt and white pants. She didn’t overdress to impress anyone, and that may be what attracted me.

Both my hands held the steering wheel and my right hand felt odd not on the arm rest. It was better to keep my hand away from her and concentrate on that future we so rarely plan for.

Moonlight casts long shadows across the empty parking lot. Just perfect. Though I preferred the privacy, it felt out of place to drive to an empty pond around midnight with a girl. Maybe she thought it was romantic. I felt as though hidden eyes or a camera surveyed me from a distance.

The wooden bridge stretched over the pond in a zigzag pattern to a white gazebo. My hands hesitated at the thought of being so close to her fingers. There wasn’t a steering wheel to use as an excuse to avoid holding her hand, and the tight pockets of my dress pants were too uncomfortable to slip my hands. Then the soft touch of her fingers found the spaces of my hand.

“Ready?” No matter well we’ve known each other, her voice always sounded timid and unsure of my response. I saw her eyes and returned to the moment we first met. Her eyes didn’t fit the trend. Everyone’s eyes turn dark in the shadows, but her eyes retained a haunting gloss to them. In the sunlight her eyes became clearer than the bottom of a lake. This was the first time I saw her eyes in moonlight. Instead of that crystalline depth created from sunlight, her eyes revealed a hidden curiosity. Maybe I just saw my own questions reflecting from her dark iris.

“Did you have fun tonight?” I released her hand for a moment to wrap my jacket across her bare shoulders. Her isabelline dress held the ambient light delicately. She remained silent, but I felt her acknowledging smile. The gazebo felt somewhat lonely with the two of us standing there facing the moon. Even through it felt obvious what would happen, I still couldn’t tell her. For months I planned this moment. Telling her in person felt more proper than continuing online chats, though the latter appeared easier.

“That full moon marks a year since we first met,” she said, walking to the edge of the gazebo. She shied away from the moon and she focused on her shoes. Her cheeks become warm and turned crimson.

I wondered if now would be appropriate to hug her from behind, nestling myself against her back. I wouldn’t have to rely on the breeze to smell her jasmine scented hair. Just as I approach her, my feet decide to step aside and stand on her right.

“You have a way with words, Vicky.” She looked up again, her black hair lying against the corner of her left eye. That smile of hers quivered and she stared longingly at the stars. The words pressed against my throat, reaching out from my heart. Yet I couldn’t manage to articulate the words. “You’re like a carnation draped in silk.”

“Your metaphor is more romantic, Jake,” she replied, holding back from looking at me again. I didn’t expect that response to her. My metaphor felt out of place. Somehow the awkwardness of my words made more sense than saying three simple words.

“It’s not the metaphor that’s cute; it’s the girl in the metaphor who’s cute.” The moonlight caught the chain around her neck. “You’re wearing the locket I gave you.”

“My most valuable possession rests closest to my heart.”

“It’s not really anything of any real value.” Before realizing it, I balance the locket between my fingers. “It’s just tin and plastic. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anything nicer for your birthday.”

“Its value is in the quote you engraved: the value of love is intangible.”

“It’s kinda lame. At least that’s what my friends told me after I had it engraved.” Even though I wanted to keep my hand cradling the locket, I had to let go. I had to tell her. “Love really is about the things you can’t physically grasp. Like the way you first held that red maple leaf in October. It was such an innocent gesture. You were so puzzled. Or the tranquility of your voice when reciting Romeo and Juliet.”

“Or when your words stumble when I am near?” We both chuckled.

“Hey! It’s not my fault! Your beauty stopped my words. You’re so…beautiful. The way you naturally glow right now under the moonlight. Or the way your smile is so sincere. You’re so…innocent.”

Vicky turned to the water, her eyes searching for the best response. Somehow nothing could match his words.

“Thank you.”

“Your beauty is like those swans on the lake.” Sporadic courage returned to my throat, yet I calmed myself to reorganize my thoughts. Taking her hand, we moved closer to them. “They’re like angels on water. You’re the angel by my side.”

Turning to her, I gently caress her soft cheek. Perhaps this will be the night. She timidly held my hand in place and I leaned forward. Our lips tremble as I linger a breath away, waiting for her to reciprocate. But her head turned and my lips curled against her soft skin.

“I apologize, Jake, but you are late.”

“Late?”

Though she kept her eyes low, I could see tears crossing her cheeks. Maybe tonight was the wrong time to talk. Perhaps I confused our feelings. Her fingers grew weary and she stepped away with a sniffle.

“Where are you going?” My hand anchored her by my side, yet she cannot manage to look at me.

“We are not meant to be together, Jake.”

Her words stunned me. Even though I held her close she felt so distant. Then her fingers curled around mine as if to remind me she hadn’t left. Without her saying it, I felt the reason for her departure weighing down my courage.

“Is there someone else?”

“My life is too short to love too many.”

To hear that one word come from her first weakened my hand.

“Then why are you leaving?”

“It is because of a mistake I made. If I stay with you, I will suffer a thousand consequences as repayment.”

“What consequences? Heartbreak? Broken memories? Those will be the only consequences we will suffer if you leave now.”

“I…if I had accepted the rules of love, then I could stay,” she says, biting her lower lip. “But I did fall in love.”

She said love with little reassurance, as if the word weakened her voice. Again she held onto her lower lip to prevent any truth from becoming real.

“Does that mean you will stay?”

“No…love…love is the rule of mortals.”

“What?”

“I cannot stay here with you or anyone else in this world; I must return to the world I came from to prevent your pain.”

“If you leave now, you’ll cause me more pain than I can bear.” Strength

“Jake, you showed me a world and gave me new life. I could never repay you.”

“Yes! Yes you can!” My pleas turned into desperation. There was no inclination of anything more than remaining Platonic friends, but the tension gave more than that. I swallowed my last words. “Only for tonight and then you can leave.”

“If only you understood. Tonight will be my last night in the living.”

“Are you dying?” My throat became swollen on the word

“No.” Through her tears a soft smile formed from her lips. How could she still smile? Perhaps this was a joke all along. As she blinked again, tears rolled away from her dimples.

“What are you trying to say?”

“We are bound by law to protect humans,” she says, her memory reciting a sacramental commandment, “We protect them based on our spiritual connection to them. We are forbidden to fall in love. Should love be reciprocated, we must return by midnight after the lapse of one year.”

We. The plural noun had been pronounced four times and she hadn’t clarified whom these people were. Her every word continued provoking a clarification that she was unwilling to tell.

“I’ve never heard of such a law.”

“That is because it is not the law of man.”

“What?”

“It is the law of my people.” Finally the truth tugged against her throat.. “I am an angel.”

“Yeah, you are an angel.” I reached for her cheek and to my surprise, she pulled away.

“No, not one of those cute names couples name each other. I am a real angel.”

“Like,” I begin, not daring to say the next word, “from heaven?”

“Yes.”

“Really now?” I nervously laughed. “An angel from heaven? That’s a good one.”

“I am not joking.” She seemed unaffected by my reaction. Her words appeared rehearsed.

“Vicky, we have to die before becoming angels, and we’re very much alive.” This seemed harder to say than professing my feelings for her. I guess in a way my feelings expressed themselves, even if not in the manner I intended. “If you don’t like me, just say it straight forward, ‘Jake, I don’t like you,’ instead of treating me like a child. Go ahead and be with your special someone.”

Her locket caught my attention and I thought of snatching it. That would be too cruel. Instead, I turned sharply away with fists clenched, hoping to hold onto what little I had of her. My first relationship built upon a lie of this girl regarding herself more highly than her peers.

“It has been a year since that car accident and your coma.”

My fists clench suddenly and held me still on the pier. I never told her about the car accident or coma. I never found the need to tell her of the event that nearly killed me.

“How do you know about the car accident?”

“You said we first met last summer on the train, but I have known you since your coma last January. I met your soul in purgatory.” Her eyes recaptured my soul. “Your soul was so beautiful, an unfathomable innocence that I could not allow your life to end. I was attracted to your soul, thus God allowed me to be your guardian angel. I escorted your soul back to your body.”

“Me? Beautiful? You gotta kidding me! Out of all guys in the world, the most beautiful girl chooses me?”

“Material beauty becomes corrupt over time. I knew the beauty of your soul, and that was all I needed to understand.”

The overwhelming truth startled me, and I tried to define the deceit between the words. But her every syllable attracted a more solid truth that was grounded more strongly than my denials.

“Then it’s true. You really are an angel.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did not want you to think I was crazy.”

I almost laughed at her modesty. I could appreciate any other word than crazy to define her. It was insulting to think that she’s crazy.

“How could anyone think that such a beautiful girl, whose eyes hinder words, whose hair catches the breeze, and whose skin feels like rose petals, is crazy?” My fingers traced the dried tears. “Those who dare think you are crazy are crazy themselves. What does a beautiful girl fear?

“I feared I would hurt you if we fell in love. I am not meant to love, but to protect.”

“Did you protect me out of love or because you’re an angel?”

“Back then, I did not understand what love was; I was performing my duty as an angel: to protect.”

“Then don’t worry; it’s not your fault.” Though I felt at ease with a guardian angel by my side, I felt less than human. So I’m just an assignment given to her by God. “You were just doing your job and not expecting to fall in love. I’m sure God will forgive you.

“Jake,” she says softly.

I didn’t realize the hint of sarcasm between the syllables. Somehow I had the courage to speak out against God yet couldn’t tell Vicky I loved her. I realize the sin I’ve committed and attempt to ask for His forgiveness.

“Perhaps God will forgive you. He allowed us to meet by making you my guardian angel; perhaps He will allow you to stay.”

Vicky shook her head slowly while approaching me. A calm smile on her face recognized my willingness to speak to Him, but she stood before me as His messenger.

“No, He will not allow it. Do not worry Jake; your heart will be put to rest after tonight.”

“Am I going to die?”

“No.”

“Then how is my heart going to be put to rest? I will remember you, your eyes, your smile, your face. I will always remember you, and this memory is going to plague me for eternity.”

“To destroy a human’s heart is the cruelest crime an angel can commit.”

“Then don’t leave me.”

“Sometimes you have to sacrifice your own desires for the benefit of someone else.”

“Letting go of you would be the greatest sacrifice I could make.”

“Letting go of me will not be the only sacrifice you will make.”

“What else am I sacrificing?”

“What you fear losing most: your memories. You will not remember my eyes, my smile, my face, or even the clothes I wore when we first met. To ensure I don’t break your heart, our memory will be erased from your mind.”

“No, that’s impossible. I don’t accept it,” I say, stepping away from her. If anything I turned to my memories to reassure myself of happiness. The pain of those memories ensured me that time did happen.

“It is the only way your heart will be relieved from its pain of my memory.”

“I would rather die than forget the angel I love. No matter what happens between us, if you do return to heaven and I marry someone else,” I say, once again denying the holy sacrament, “I will always remember you and there will always be a place for you inside my heart.”

“Now I understand why angels cannot fall in love, whether it is in the dimensions of earth or the realms of heaven: the heart is too fragile to take rejection of love.”

“Aren’t you allowed to love in heaven?”

“Like you said earlier about swans: they are pure like angels. We are supposed to be pure creatures and must remain chaste. Thus, we will remain pure for eternity.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“You will not have to in a few minutes.”

I don’t understand how God can do this. Maybe it’s a test of endurance to see how far we will go to retain our love.

“Maybe we can change this.”

“No.”

“You’d rather follow someone else’s rules than pursue your own dreams?”

“There is not another way.”

“None?” I ask her. It is no longer her innocent gaze that hinders my words but my voice that causes her to think.

“There is one way.”

“What?” My ears burned with the desire to hear the action I or she needed to make.

“You can revoke your love for me,” she replied, awaiting the unforgivable response.

“No. I would never revoke my love for you.”

“Thank you, Jake.” Tears flowed freely as we embraced. I could feel her head against my heart.

“For what?”

“For allowing me to feel love.”

“Can you not be an angel?” I asked childishly.

“That is impossible. It is like me asking you not be human.”

“But you’re not being an angel because you’ve been living with us during this year.”

“And soon, my time here will expire because I broke the rules.”

“But there must be other angels who’ve broken the rule as well. “

“Yes, there have been several accounts of angels falling in love, and they are dealt with in the same manner as I will be.” I remain silent, curious to know her punishment. “I live in regret by remembering the one I love, for the rest of my days.”

“And I’m punished through forgetting you?”

“It is to ensure your heart does not experience pain, and I remember my failure of falling in love.”

“Love isn’t failure. Love is what brought us together.”

“And love is what took us apart. Do not worry about me, Jake; you are going to forget.”

“What about the friends you’ve made here?”

“They will forget me as well.”

“So everything you’ve done will no longer exist? Wiped from history?”

“Yes.”

“All humans experience the pain of breaking up.”

“But not all humans experience the pain of breaking up with an angel.”

“I want to remember as well. I want to be tortured in remembering you.”

This was the strangest paradox. Though I didn’t want to forget, I would never be able to remember once she left. Unless I could prevent it.

“I cannot make the decision,” she replied.

I backed away from her, knowing well enough now that his conflict is between God and I. She can’t make the decision for us to retain our friendship, but I had the power to see her again. I stepped onto the bench out to the water and see heaven’s reflection in the distorted moon.

“What if I die? Will I meet you again?”

I’ve reached her finally. She doesn’t respond as quickly as before. Suicide never approached her as delicately as it had now.

“I will not allow you to do that! I saved your life a year ago; does that mean anything to you?”

“You saved my life,” I said, my responses outwitting hers, “But life’s meaningless without you.”

“We cannot, Jake.” Her hand met mine, but I did not move.

“But I want to be with you.”

“I will be with you in heart.”

“In heart but not in mind. If I die, will I meet you in heaven?” I asked, but her silence provoked me. “Will we meet again in heaven?”

“No, we will never meet again in heaven. Heaven is far too vast for us to meet again.”

Heaven’s size didn’t mean I couldn’t find her, but I no longer want to provoke her. Even if I forget her and not be able to keep this memory, I don’t want her to suffer remembering our quarrel.

“Can you defy the rules and stay here?”

“You can defy the rules of man, but not of God.”

I followed the moonlight to her eyes again and a glimmer of silver found my gaze.

“I have an idea to remember you. Let me hold onto your locket,” I say, taking her most precious item into my fingers.

“Will this work?”

“We’ll see. How long do we have together?”

“Midnight, which is–”

“Don’t tell me the exact time we have left together; let’s just savor this moment we have before it ends.” My arms wrapped around her tightly. With eyes closed, I made a wish. Wishing seemed more potent with closed eyes. “Perhaps I can prevent the spell. If I hold onto you, maybe you can stay. Forever.”

I’d never felt the cool breeze after midnight. Usually I’m inside watching a movie or playing a game. But tonight was different.

“What is this?” I say, feeling the cold chain wound between my fingers, “The value of love is intangible? What value? It’s just tin and plastic. Where did I even get this?”

I toss the locket and chain into the water and a pair of swans took off into the air, following the path of the moonlight. I whispered their names before walking across the gazebo.

The City of Lost Angels - Sample 2

Book I

Legends tell of a celestial sword,

That is able to turn any mortal into a god.

The powers of the weapon are sought by many,

Yet only one can hone its abilities at a time.

Those who’ve sought this sword’s promised powers

Have shed the blood of their brothers and sisters

Just to be able to taste immortal power.

How far would you go to gain this power?

~Prologue

May 24, 2020

Alec yawned deeply in front of a hypnotic computer screen. He forced his gaze away from the clock at the bottom right of the desktop. Even though five minutes remained, he just wanted to get out. Even his black-rimmed glasses sagged lazily along his nose. There was nothing more he could do with the remaining five minutes. Checking the code a fifth time for a missing bracket or backslash would be waste of time. Instead, he closed the side game of solitaire, removed his glasses and leaned back into a stretch.

Finding a mercenary for hire wasn’t that difficult, especially one looking to kill an Angel. Hoping to find someone willing to track down and kill the White Angel of Darkness, a near invincible warrior, and no one returns your phone calls.

Just as he began another game of solitaire, two knocks on the door startled his thoughts. He knew well that these knocks didn’t belong to his boss bidding him a good evening, nor were they his friends wanting to go out for drinks.

“Come in,” he said. At the sound of the door handle unlocking, a paralyzing thought stiffened his skin.

Everything seemed to stop for barely a second as the man in a white trench coat entered. The coat had a striking resemblance to those once worn by vigilantes years ago. At first Alec thought he was one of those few courageous soldiers who fought against Lamortim, but this man was not an Angel: he had green eyes. Thus he shrugged the notion and gestured at the seat. The man remained standing.

“I presume you’re my mercenary?” Alec asked, still feeling quite uncomfortable.

No sign of excitement of thrill reflected from his eyes. Deep within his pupils reflected the emptiness only murderers proudly bore. Whatever went missing from his eyes answered Alec’s question, yet it would still be nice to hear the voice of his contact. Actually, he was contacted about this offer. So who was the one calling the moves?

“I thank you for replying to my offer.” Alec turned his eyes back to the computer screen. Though it was natural to feel weird with first encounters, this stranger made him uncomfortable. He’s just a mercenary for hire. Killing was his job. “I was surprised that you contacted me.”

“I make it my business to contact others who share a common goal as your own,” he replied. His voice came out hoarse, if not completely mechanical. He spoke unnaturally. But his face didn’t acknowledge any embarrassment to his possibly rehearsed reply, and Alec didn’t have the tenacity to find out.

“So you have been hired before?”

“Never hired. I simply meet those who place a bounty on that man’s head.” Again, it sounded rehearsed, but less mechanical.

“That’s a bit strange to look for job offers and refuse the job.”

“I only pursue assignments worth tackling. So far your offer is a wasted effort to make conversation,” he says, stepping away from the chair. Definitely not rehearsed.

“Please! I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse!” Alec abruptly knocked over a half cup of coffee on the table. Frantically, he tossed tissues over the mess which quickly fell apart.

That hint of liquid hazelnut soaking through mahogany table stopped the mercenary. Alec’s clumsiness matched his desperation. No man of his caliber could even challenge the White Angel of Darkness, let alone handle the power he possessed. Thus the question still remained: why go after someone who wielded a power even you can’t control?

“I don’t know about not refusing,” the mercenary replied, finally taking a seat, “but lay down your offer.”

Alec nodded, tossing the damp tissues in the waste bin. Something didn’t feel right, and he wasn’t exactly sure what made his mind feel empty. Maybe talking to this mechanical man, if there ever were such a thing, confused him. He shrugged away the thought and leaned forward with elbows on the table.

“You bring me the Xeliri and I will make you rich.”

Surprisingly, the mercenary maintained his blank composure as if the Xeliri meant nothing. He just sat there perfectly balanced; not even his eyes moved. Finally, he licked his lips and leaned forward, mirroring Alec. Just as be began parting lips, his watch beeped.

“You think it’d be so easy for me to bring you the Xeliri?” he asked, casually turning off the alarm. Unable to reset the timer, he mentally added another two minutes to the clock. “What a selfish desire to have me get you the sword. The White Angel has been in possession of the Xeliri since Lamortim’s era. How am I supposed to even claim the sword when the wielder possesses a god’s power? Even if I get you the Xeliri, I’ll have to die.”

“That’s a problem,” Alec replied, considering everything this man just said. At the start of the meeting, everything did seem rehearsed but now things changed. The mercenary’s eloquent speech became confusing.

“I’m sure that’s what you think,” he said indifferently. Only a minute left.

“Look, you can keep the Xeliri–”

“You’re business proposition is pointless,” he growled, thrusting his right hand at Alec. He instinctively fell back as if to avoid a punch, but he only saw the mercenary’s empty palm. It wouldn’t make a difference now. This man didn’t deserve to die, and yet his absurdity made it enough of a reason to kill him. “You are not worthy to wield such a sword.”

“Wielding the weapon is not the point!” Alec yelled out of fear, but he didn’t know where this tangled courage originated from. The more he focused on the mercenary’s eyes the darker they became, as if his pupils turned to ink. “The White Angel of Darkness is a fugitive.”

“Time’s up,” he muttered coldly and his pupils became heavily dilated. Though he couldn’t comprehend the importance of time, Alec he reflexively reached under the table for the security button. Just as he touched the plastic casing that would trigger the silent alarm, his mind came to a halt and he couldn’t press it.

“What did you do?” Alec yelled, wanting nothing more than to jump over the desk and attack, but his anger immediately subsided. Standing in front of him was not the same man, nor was he even a mercenary.

Obsidian replaced those emerald eyes and hair of black velvet fell against his ears. A sheen of white hair crawled out from his brow and the mercenary no longer had the characteristics of a Guardian.

“I don’t believe it,” Alec breathed, relaxing his arm.

“These little gadgets are unreliable,” he said, tossing the cloaking device on the table. By now his true features became fully visible and Alec quivered with excitement as a sheathed sword with its iconic angel wings expanded at the cross guard above his shoulder. “I believe you recognize these wings?”

“You hold the Xeliri,” Alec gasped, “You are the–”

But he never finished his sentence. Everything stopped, even the imbedded codes operating the computer. He choked, but nothing gripped his throat. Reaching for his throat, he first realized nothing was there. Secondly, he noticed the functionality of his hands and he reached for the security button under the desk. Everything froze again.

“I’m a bit offended you didn’t know that I am the White Angel,” he said, keeping a steady gaze. Smirking, he tightened his telekinetic grip around the confused Guardian. “I guess you were right though; I could easily bring you the Xeliri.” He brought the sword out, handing it to him by the handle. “Don’t fight it,” he continued, noticing Alec’s skin twitch to overcome the telekinesis. The White Angel casually reached for the tablet. “Apparently you’re no longer telekinetic. Perhaps if you were a Sage, this wouldn’t be a difficult struggle.”

“You’re a Deviant!” Alec yelled.

“Deviant is such a dirty name,” the White Angel replied, reflecting on the origins of the term, “but yes, I am quite possibly the only Deviant here.”

“When the police arrive–”

“You have some doubt in the rumors about me, don’t you?” he asked, taking the stylus from the tablet. “Your police wouldn’t be able to stop me, you know that.” With that, he brought the stylus to the tablet and began to write. Alec shifted his gaze from the White Angel to the computer monitor:

“WA? Alec said. He brought his arms to the desk, not yet realizing his ability to move and talk again. After repeating the letters, he fell back into his chair. After pushing the security button thrice, he realized he was alone in the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present Time, June 14^th, 2020

Alec never spoke a word of his encounter with the White Angel. It would be just ludicrous to say he survived an encounter with him. No one lived after meeting him. So for these past three weeks, he avoided the internet and focused on laborious coding. Whenever he did need to use the internet, it would only be for e-mail. A message box blurred into focus on the bottom corner of his desktop.

“Just some more spam,” he muttered, closing the window box. He cracked the knuckles in his fingers with a stretch before returning to the keyboard. Three knocks on the door reminded him of lunch. Minimizing the computer programs, he grabbed his wallet. “Come in.”

A man under a hooded sweatshirt quickly stepped into the office. With hands balled up in his sweatshirt pockets, he resembles some street urchin who somehow got through security. As Alec walked around his desk, he stumbled back upon seeing the man.

“What do you want?” Alec asked, slowly moving to the security button under the desk.

“Please, I don’t mean you any harm,” the hooded man replied, his voice too frightened to belong to anyone threatening. He slowly revealed his empty hands, but he kept his distance. “I tracked the White Angel here to Nairain. I sent you an e-mail about half an hour ago regarding his presence.”

Alec presses his lips together. Sometimes unexpected messages appearing on the computer shouldn’t be ignored. Still, it’s hard to tell who this man was, but from his reclusive nature, Alec wondered if he’s an Angel.

“Excuse me for my informalities,” the hooded man said, reaching up and lowering his hood. Curls of brown whirled around his head in some indistinct pattern, but the simple eye color already differentiated him as an Angel. “I’m Jon Rauli.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jon,” Alec replies, remaining by the table. “I apologize for not shaking your hand. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable with an Angel. I am, trust me. Just that, the last man to step into this office turned out to be the White Angel of Darkness in disguise.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Alec, I am not the White Angel in disguise.”

Alec pressed tongue in cheek and pulled his hand away from the security button. He waited a moment, anticipating a cloaking device to malfunction and Jon’s true visage to emerge. But only an Angel and Guardian remained facing each other.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Rauli,” Alec said as he sat in his own chair. He noted the slight curve of Jon’s back from being too exhausted to maintain a posture. “I gave up on the White Angel of Darkness when he came here.”

“Interesting to see his insignia framed on your wall,” Jon said, noticing the intertwined WA in the wooden frame. “You’re not a fanatic of his, are you?”

“He actually wrote and left it here for me,” he replied. “I didn’t even know he was still telekinetic. I imagine the Xeliri returned those abilities.”

Jon locked his jaw. It doesn’t seem possible, but apparently Alec knew very little of the White Angel. Like the rest of the world, he only knew the White Angel from how the media portrayed him: some mystical being.

“He’s always been telekinetic,” Jon replied, “the Xeliri has only strengthened his abilities.”

“That’s not possible. Lamortim sterilized everyone’s telekinesis in Resoft Evahn,” he says. As he looked at the insignia, he thought back to the invisible grip choking him and keeping his finger from calling security. Everyone knew that only the Xeliri could return such abilities. That’s why they sought the weapon. He thought back to the trench coat he wore, how it resembled the ones once used by those vigilantes. “The White Angel of Darkness. Is he not the same White Angel of IRIS?”

“Then you know I cannot stop him. Perhaps a Sage would be a better choice to stop him.”

“Befriend him. Perhaps he’ll trust you since you both are Angels.”

Jon formed a small grin as he recalled a time before the White Angel of Darkness; a time when darkness was ruled not by the White Angel but a more sinister tyrant.

“After what Lamortim did to us, it’s no surprise that we are all after the sword that can possibly return that sensation. Feeling the whole world in your veins, not just your fingertips. Perfecting your balance on the water, on air.”

“Nostalgia is painful, isn’t it?”

Jon’s eyes lowered as he lingered in the moment. His hands folded delicately so the fine lines of his palm darkened. Finally the past has met the present.

“He wasn’t always the White Angel of Darkness, you know,” Jon finally said.

“You know him personally, don’t you?” Alec asked, though he already knew the answer.

With a subtle motion of Jon’s fingers, Alec’s tablet squeaked across the mahogany desk. Alec’s face turns pale. In just three weeks, the only two people who entered his office were telekinetic. Though the first meeting continued terrifying him, this current encounter relieved the stress.

“Would you like to know more of the White Angel?” Jon asked.

Angel’s Covenant

Angel’s Covenant

By: Tommy Ngan

Heaven’s finest has fallen.

Thought his fate has been set in stone

It has yet to be set in the stars…

Book I

Fugitive

Prologue – Three months before the present

Nestled between distant mountain peaks sat the setting sun, its waning warmth melting the clouds into gaseous amber. Gusts of cold air pushed the clouds against floating mountain peaks like the ocean surf breaking against sandy beaches. But the mountains drifted far above the terrain below. Like nebulae giving birth to stars, these amber clouds somehow gave birth to these floating mountains. And for however briefly, nothing disturbed Heaven’s solitude.

From this high above the world, Heaven’s Ghost felt most free. Two decades of lies and years of guilt forced his neck down. Ice crystals formed across his black hair. Without using his hands, the hood of his tabard rose over his forehead. Sepia light swept over his obsidian eyes and the particles of ice melted. He stood atop the world on a bed of clouds, telekinetically keeping afloat. Though not the youngest Angel, the more experienced Archangels didn’t underestimate his abilities. Sunlight froze against his saffron skin. For millenniums, this war against Enya had been fought silently. Fear kept everyone silent. Only his intervention startled her crown. While he stood far from the ensuing battle he was not alone. From behind, his shadow separated a pack of griffons.

Each griffon hunched forward at three meters. If allowed to stand upright, their height would increase an extra meter. Golden feathers laced across their bodies and shimmered in the sunlight. Talons capable of tearing apart Archangels’ wings delicately held onto the clouds. Their very physical prowess overshadowed Heaven’s Ghost, yet he didn’t shudder.

“I could kill you all with a single stroke,” said Heaven’s Ghost, his voice commanding a power stronger than those he subdued. Savoring this moment before he joined his army, his knuckles turned whiter than his ragged tabard. The griffons’ salivating growls quickly muffled into helpless whimpers. Whether he burned in hell’s polluted oceans or vanquished from existence, the war will end tonight. With a slight jerk of his head, he released the beasts and they tore past him in v-formation. From their hardened shoulders branched out their wings. With each flap of their wings, the clouds broke. Griffons knew all too well an immortal’s weakness. The first to go to hell were the Angels, their lack of close combat experience making them easy targets. Archangels fell second, although their ability to create explosions with their telekinesis kept them alive longer. Only the strongest survived, though many would rather be in hell than here.

No matter the viciousness of the griffons, the Seraphs awaiting them were by far deadlier. Far stronger than Archangels who create explosions, Seraphs could paralyze life to the point of instant death. Heaven’s Ghost simply yawned without much enthusiasm. He readjusted his reverse grip on the most iconic sword ever created. With a blade crafted from Seraph feathers and a slightly curved hilt, the value of the sword measured beyond its aesthetic beauty.

Six wings swept over Heaven’s Ghost and he leapt off the cloud bed just before it combusted. Sunlight set an ambient flame along the edges of the Seraph’s white wings. Deep shadows formed from the tears of his ragged tabard. Not a single drop of blood or physical wound marked his flesh.

“Her Majesty requests the Xeliri.” His reached outwards and a row of feathers followed his arm.

Heaven’s Ghost brought the Xeliri forward with grace as if the sword was his own. Still held in a reverse grip, he angled the sword defensively. He couldn’t decide whether courage or sheer ignorance brought this Seraph here. Probably the former. Enya would expend anyone to get the sword.

“You do not deserve the Cardinal Death.” Heaven’s Ghost rotated the Xeliri and brought his thumb against the dull edge of the blade. “Do not force me to end your existence.”

“Her Majesty demands deliverance.”

“Then I shall be the one who delivers.”

The Seraph’s eyes drew to the Xeliri. With eyes focused on the blade, he caused the air to explode by Heaven’s Ghost. As he recovered from the surprise attack, three feathers sped at him. Sometimes it felt like the Xeliri moved without his command. There came moments when that saved his life. This was not one of those moments. Just as the he deflected the first feather, gold flames burst from it. The Xeliri bent inwards before slipping from his fingers and he cringed as his ribcage cracked.

Ignoring the pain, he turned to the Xeliri. Two telekinetic forces reached for the sword and Heaven’s Ghost remembered the other two feathers. Instead of challenging the Seraph’s strength, he pulled away and telekinetically caught one of the feathers. There wouldn’t be much time before both the feather would explode and he lost the Xeliri’s power. The Seraph charged forward, hoping to meet the Xeliri, but he came to a halt. Buried deep in his chest burned the feather meant to weaken Heaven’s Ghost. Just as the searing heat tore through his flesh, he watched the Xeliri and Heaven’s Ghost disappear into the horizon.

Whether or not they were his own soldiers, Archangels and Seraphs alike blasted away in his telekinetic wake. By the time anyone felt his attacks, Heaven’s Ghost was miles closer to Enya’s castle. His imagination ran wild with hopes of seeing her beg for mercy at the end of the Xeliri. She was different from other Seraphs. Perhaps her powers were constant, even without the Xeliri. A more sinister thought came to his mind: what was it like to die?

Yet none of these questions really mattered. Only when he took the throne and avenged his parents would he finally be freed. Heaven would be freed. Just as he saw the translucent limestone walls of Enya’s castle, filled with confidence of the Xeliri, pride created doubt. After all the battles he won and all the training he received, none of it could best Enya’s strength. Hopefully the Xeliri would give him the necessary edge.

At the heart of the floating archipelago stood Enya’s castle, dominated the five smaller islands surrounded it. Each one of the islands had a spiraling steeple reaching up to hold the sky. Platinum arch catenaries connected the five steeples to the castle’s terraces like bridges to uncertainty. Her castle produced a dominant shadow upon the western island.

Heaven’s Ghost found himself standing atop the northern arch, still ten miles from the castle. That distance was trivial. Within seconds he could touch the cream colored facades or stand atop the bronze spires. With such power he felt weights locking his ankles. Could this insecurity hinder the Xeliri?

“I am Heaven’s Ghost,” he reminded himself. Enya’s soldiers trembled at his name, including those mindless griffons. Three winged-shapes extended from his shadow. Apparently no one learned how to properly engage the wielder of this sword. With a quick spin and an outstretched hand, he stopped the Seraph. He was a bit older than the others, and Heaven’s Ghost only knew this because of his golden wings.

“You dare challenge he who commands this blade?” Heaven’s Ghost growled.

“You are misled by overconfidence.”

A sudden migraine pushed through Heaven’s Ghost and his telekinetic grip weakened. The air blurred around him and three spontaneous explosions knocked him against the arch bridge. Obviously the Seraph knew a simple push does not incapacitate him. Heaven’s Ghost kicked off the arch before a telekinetic push left a large dent in the stone. A second migraine shocked his mind, and ignoring it made it worse. The Seraph raised his hand again and Heaven’s Ghost read the attack. Before the air combusted, he redirected the attack to the Seraph. Diving forward, he grabbed the Seraph’s lapel and raised the Xeliri. As he swung down for the killing stroke, his hand froze. He grunted as he pushed against the telekinetic shield. Right when he felt the shield weaken, the Seraph launched an offensive attack and Heaven’s Ghost fell further away. Unless he wanted more company, Heaven’s Ghost knew he had to end this bout. As he fell hundreds of feet to the sky, he telekinetically pulled the clouds tightly into a cushion. He threw the Xeliri forward. The Seraph ducked under the blade as it grazed through his brown hair. He looked back for Heaven’s Ghost, but he already left the cloud bed.

No matter how powerful Archangels and Seraphs became, Heaven’s Ghost preferred being a wingless Angel. Those wings had their special properties, but with the extra body mass they were less versatile. Heaven’s Ghost reappeared behind the Seraph and pulled the Xeliri back. With his other hand, he twisted the Seraph around and drove the blade through his chest.

Paralyzing his entire body with the efficiency of a virus, but faster than death, the Seraph held his breath. Though he’d felt this pain before when he died as human, this anguish reminded him there was no heaven afterwards. He slumped forward as Heaven’s Ghost pulled the Xeliri from his body. Along with the exiting blade came his spirit, a web of gold light outlining his veins.

This wasn’t the first time Heaven’s Ghost saw this light. Many times executed Angels under Enya’s command, sending their spirits to a netherworld no one could find. It’s been a long time since he took someone’s spirit. Seeing it again made his skin crawl. This Seraph wasn’t meant to die. Instead, he carried on and gave the soul one last chance to reunite with the body.

He doubted if sparing this Seraph’s life redeemed him the slightest. Probably not. This war alone ended the lives of thousands, even if he killed them indirectly. God didn’t even have the power to save his soul. No one was going to hold his shoulders and tell him his sins were forgiven. He alone could attain redemption, and hopefully Enya’s death would save his soul.

With only a few yards to cover, the Xeliri quivered in his hand, but that wasn’t his own doing. Even a calm river involuntarily rippled. That disturbance came from the Xeliri’s rightful master. As if retaining a hidden subconscious, the Xeliri forever trembled near Enya. Heaven’s Ghost tried to calm the sword from rattling, but that only enticed the spasms. A sudden calm weakened the Xeliri, yet Heaven’s Ghost continued facing the translucent walls. Unfortunately the Xeliri couldn’t let him see through solid objects. Through the layers of transparent glass, he could feel thousands of Seraphs waiting. Only one Seraph concerned him though.

“Still seeking to avenge the forgotten.” Somehow Enya’s voice startled him more than feeling ice against the back of his neck. Even the air felt more still, either out of fear or reverence. No one revered Enya. His sleeves flattened as Enya’s telekinesis coiled around his arms. For three millenniums she ruled this Celestial kingdom, but she didn’t appear much older than Heaven’s Ghost. Gravity shied away from her poised figure. Only the breeze caught the golden hair that ran the length of her bare neck. Her pale face only made her dark eyes ever more dominating.

“Yet you remember the reason I fight.” Heaven’s Ghost didn’t need to face Enya. He knew well the face of Heaven’s tyrant. With eyes closed, he could see her floating behind him in a golden aura. After fighting for so long, he was finally in her presence again. With her sword in his hand. Unlike those weak griffons he subdued, he feared what would happen if she opened her wings. Once again the Xeliri vibrated in his grasp reminding him the power she possessed. Taking a final breath, he called upon the Xeliri’s power. All his wounds healed instantly. Turning towards her, his telekinesis thundered from his palm.

Even without the Xeliri, Enya’s strength refused to falter. Storm clouds billowed beneath her feet. Telekinetic ripples brushed off her ash-white skin. She made no noticeable move, and Heaven’s Ghost slammed against the castle walls. Her powers showered upon the calm river that was Heaven’s Ghost. Overcome with despair, Heaven’s Ghost trembled to stand his ground. Drowning now, he screamed again as the Xeliri ignited one final time. Enya grimaced and crippled Heaven’s Ghost tightly. Thrice he slammed against the translucent walls, and by the fifth time he released the Celestial Sword. Bruises and shattered bones distracted him from reaching for the Xeliri. As he struggled to face the Xeliri, he felt the feathered-blade scrape against the bone in his shoulder. Sparks of electricity paralyzed his body as if thrown in a frozen lake. Color faded before his sight vanished entirely.