Paradiso

Part III - Premonizione 1

It wasn't normal to be summoned to a seraphim's chambers. Even though Doelle had held this position for centuries, he had never once been called on like this. This kind of thing only happened when there was serious reprimanding to do, or when there was an incredibly high profile mission to complete, something on a world threatening scale. Though he himself might be able to complete something like that, there was no way he could manage it all alone; of course, though, his team was not up to snuff for that. Doelle surmised it must be the former reason, then. It must be about that avalanche, he thought bitterly. The amount of ground that that event had set them back in their mission had meant that they would either be late to the lab, or would have to drop their human disguises and risk flying up. Choosing the lesser of the two evils, Doelle and his team went with the second option. Was he here to be reprimanded for that? Surely, that wasn't an egregious enough matter to be confronted by a seraphim over. Despite these arguments to himself, though, anxiety still wound itself around Doelle's neck like a snake trying to choke him. It was a rare feeling for him.

As he stepped into the starlit chamber, giant white doors closing behind him, his glowing blue eyes searched the room. Sael was the name of his hostess; with a name and rank as grand as theirs, he was looking for someone tall, elegant, with sweeping wings the colour of a sunset. Seraphims were the highest kind of angel; they were nearly as radiant as the Prince of Light himself. Their appearances typically reflected this. They were far above regular angels, archangels, and even powers such as himself. Doelle thought this was as it should be; after all, a power's disposition was that of an enforcer or protector—a seraphim's disposition was to dictate what should be enforced or what needed to be protected. They were grand creatures, capable of reality-bending miracles, and were not to be given orders by anyone but the Prince Royal himself.

However, the figure his eyes landed on did not fit his assumed description. They were small, almost childlike in height, with willowy, waifish limbs and thin fingers. Extremely pale skin completed the weak, sickly appearance. Their wings seemed too big for their body, dusty rose and silver like a cold winter dawn. Eye markings graced each of them (the mark of a seraphim; only seraphims had them on all six wings. Doelle and other powers only had them on their two largest sets, archangels on only their largest, and regular angels with none at all). They were a seraphim, alright. They were his host. But- this? This was Sael? This small, frail thing? He almost couldn't believe it.

The quiet close of the door must have alerted them to his presence, but they remained with their back to the doorway. Then, after this delay, they turned slowly towards him. For some time, they just stared at him, their dusky eyes seeming vacant. This only agitated Doelle's anxiety the longer it dragged on. "You summoned me, your grace?" he murmured, breaking the silence.

Sael didn't speak at first. It seemed she hadn't quite finished examining him yet. "The avalanche," she said, her voice faint as the whistle of wind through hollow reeds. "What happened?"

A pit formed in Doelle's stomach. This really is about that, then. He swallowed, trying not to show a single sign of dismay. After all, it wasn't his fault they couldn't have climbed faster and gotten above the avalanche before it happened; it was Faeus' and Mireille's and especially Zanda's. He would stand his ground. He would take no blame. "It knocked us down nearly to the base of the mountain. We would never have reached our objective in time to save the worthy from the explosion that occurred at the laboratory if we hadn't shed our human forms. We fared well enough from then on."

Though their gaze was still empty, a certain light of perceptiveness illuminated the void. It was unsettling; he was sure she could read his bitterness towards the others, though he had tried to conceal it. It seemed... invasive, somehow. Like she was extracting his thoughts from him. "The newcomer," she said, "how did she do?"

Both Zanda and Mireille were both called "she" and were, by all accounts, newcomers. However, Doelle somehow knew Sael meant the former. "She was fine. She slowed us down a little, but that was all." Of course, he thought much harsher of her than that, really. The unease and uncertainty that was growing even more intense in his mind made him hold his tongue, though.

That perceptive glint in their eyes softened to a thoughtful glow, as if they were lost in a daydream. They were silent again. The daydream became a day-nightmare; thoughtfulness became troubled, and a certain pain darkened her dusty pink eyes. "What do you think of her?"

"Your grace?"

"What do you think of her?" they echoed, not clarifying their question but instead fixing their gaze more firmly on him.

Doelle grasped for something to say other than "she's completely useless." "I think nothing of her," he lied.

Again, that perceptive sharpness pierced him like a needle. "She seems much more promising than what she displayed that day," they said unevenly, their lilting voice seeming to teeter. "Perhaps we shouldn't judge her based on her first performance."

He could sense that Sael knew what he really thought of the new recruit, but there was something else as well; some greater knowledge. A seraphim's most incredible ability, even greater than that of being able to bend time and space with their miracles, was the reception of premonitions: visions of significant future events, or at least allusions to them. These premonitions were never wrong. They always came to pass in some way or other, whether the outcome of the event was good or bad. Doelle could see the memory of a premonition playing in Sael's eyes, and, in the darkness of them, he could see that whatever it was they had seen, the outcome was decidedly bad. At least, it would be for him.

The chamber seemed even dimmer now. The air was heavy with dark omens and secrets. It was suffocating. "Perhaps," he murmured. He couldn't stay here any longer; he had gazed into a mirror and seen his own dark fate in his reflection's place. Willing his legs to move, he stepped back to the grand doors and opened one.

However, something kept him there, stuck in the threshold. He glanced back over his shoulder at the small seraphim. "What is it about her that seems so promising, your grace?"

"What?" they asked, raising their head as if rousing themself from the beginning of sleep.

Doelle opened his mouth to repeat his question, but checked himself. Perhaps he would rather he didn't know. "Nothing."

Sael sighed. "Nothing," she echoed softly.

The eerie hollowness of their voice was enough to repel him the rest of the way through the door. "I wish you a day filled with light, your grace," he hurriedly said. The farewell was much more hasty than it was polite, but even Doelle couldn't worry about pleasantries now; he had to leave. And he did.

Alone again, Sael pondered his question as the door swung shut behind him. What about her seems so promising? She blinked. He will know. He will know someday.