Dead Moon Chapel

eleven

THREE DAYS PASSED AND ABEL never left the prison of his new room. For the first two, he neglected his food. He prayed it wasn't being left outside of his door to be wasted, but he wouldn't have been able to eat it if he wanted to. He worried for the crows, and he included them in every prayer he said. It wasn't easy to find wildlife in the Holy City, the fact that they were there in the first place was a miracle. Abel worried about those precious beings finding food without him. What would happen to them if he disappeared forever?

Malachi tried, for the first few days, to talk to Abel, to try to come to an agreement. Abel wanted to forgive him, but first, he needed to find room in his heart to forgive himself. That was easier said than done.

He'd been considering Jericho's offer for days, and he felt guiltier every time he did. How could he even think about joining a demon? It was such a surface-level method of temptation, a demon trying to tell him why going down the path of sin was the most logical decision he could make. The thing was, it was logical. It made sense to Abel. If he sinned enough, perhaps he could get rid of this. He was already at the first step. He was already wavering in his desire to do the right thing, and unwilling to change his own mind.

But still, was it worth it?

Surely, if Abel tarnished his own purity, God would find another. God always had a way.

A knock broke his train of thought apart. Thinking was all he could do the past few days, and he hadn't realized how entrenched he was in his own mind until he was pulled from it abruptly. He blinked, disoriented, then sat up in his bed.

"Yes?"

"Brother Atherton." It was Malachi. "I wanted to let you know that word has been spread. There are a few approved citizens who would like to meet you in person."

Abel gulped. "I thought it wouldn't be safe for me to go out."

"You wouldn't go far," he said. "It will be just outside, within the Chapel grounds. We will keep watch over you."

"Do they want to see me? Or... the other... me...?" He didn't want to call himself the angel. It wasn't him. It was a power he was given that he didn't want.

"Come as you are. They will see what you can become in time."

Abel stared at his wall for long enough that the silence had become too awkward to cut into.

Malachi cut through it eventually. "I will not make you go. This is your choice. They are waiting for you, but I understand if you don't wish to be seen."

His head turned to the door then. When Malachi gave Abel a choice, it was a moment to savor. He stood from the bed and moved closer to the door so Malachi could hear him.

"Would you be angry with me if I said no?"

"Abel..." He didn't have to see his face to know what expression Malachi was making. A knit brow, eyes focused elsewhere, lips parted in thought. "I've been too hard on you as of late. I feel that I owe it to you... to let you have a say in something. Just this once. It's the least I can do for you."

Abel swallowed. "There will be no punishment if I stay?"

"No." Malachi's voice was barely there, like it was struggling to escape his throat. "There will be no punishment."

There was a long stretch of quiet that settled between the two of them. Abel retreated back to his mind, where he had spent all of his time for the past three days.

Much of his inner conflict had stemmed from a desire to choose, to have control over something for once. He felt anger in a way he seldom did, and he was afraid it was clouding his judgment. But in this moment of tenderness, and this rare occasion of complete and explicit autonomy, Abel softened. His mind cleared, and he set his anger aside.