Ebony Wings

24

~Ali~

I honestly thought that the church was closer. The distance between us and the church looked so small on the pixilated screen. But I don't know why I imagined the church to be within the town somewhere.

We have only been walking for about an hour but the estimated time of our very far-off arrival is approximately sundown tonight. I suggested flying, of course I did, but that was rightly put to rest as Ethan reasoned daytime flight is extremely risky, particularly when we have to across an entire town. I huffed in response but pressed no further. 

The path is not a treacherous journey like our mountain expedition - when we aren't passing through villages, we mostly crossing meadows and pastures. So I put one foot in front of the other and attempt to distract myself with trite conversation. But the distance is great enough to dissipate anyone's fortitude.

As the sun nears its midday position, we happen upon another small, thatched-roofed community built around a central broad-leaved tree. We meander between low-set houses, crafted from an array of materials, and fall into the green shadows of the ancient tree. It is as tall as it is wide, seeming to engulf a large portion of the village in it's cool, leafy shadows. We take one look at each other and decide that under the tree is where we will rest. 

Jaz and I collapse in a crumpled heap on the grassy floor, panting and exhausted. The angels lower themselves with a note of finesse and take a seat opposite us, their features swimming in liquid green shade. I gulp, catch my breath and focus on the delicious drop in temperature under the umbrella-tree.

From the bag Ethan uncovers two water bottles and a chewy muesli bar each. The small bar of food settles comfortably in my stomach, the sugars much needed but doing little to revitalise my tired muscles. The sticky heat in the air also does little to help. 

I find myself cocooned between the tree's grooved bark and an exposed root serpentining along the surface and as a result, my eyelids flutter open and closed, blocking and granting green into my heat-bleary vision.

My eyes close. Blackness.

They open. Green.

Close. Black.

Open. Green.

Close. White.

The starkness of the colour blinds my vision and my hand floats up to shield my eyes from the sting. 

I look down into my lap to see billowing, neutral cottons clothing my body. A body with porcelain skin, lacking my characteristic freckles along my forearms, or bruises on my legs; the smoothest, most perfect flesh I have ever had. 

"What?" I mutter to nobody, searching for the small scar on my knuckle or the birthmark on my ankle. I find nothing but flawless, toned skin. 

My hair, longer than I recall, feels thick and lustrous when I grapple with it behind me. My fingernails feel elongated and strong. My teeth feel smoother along my tongue and my body is unhindered from the sores and pains from the walking I was feeling moments ago.

Standing, I don't see much of anything beyond the  immediate burning brightness. All the monotony of white is disorienting and I teeter in place, unable to discern up from down. Distance is also an issue in this place; I can't decipher where two metres or two kilometres are in front of me, it is so perfectly unified. While completely empty, I do not feel alone.

And then a voice whispers weakly into the haze, echoing in a way that makes me unable to figure out which direction it is coming from. I startle at the intrusion and miss the first few syllables over the rush of blood in my ears. The voice repeats itself and I focus to listen.

"...-ditum angelus," the voice murmurs. Something in that baritone, in the lull of syllables brings with it a strange and distant familiarity. A presence seems to fill the void, growing with each repetition  of the sound. My body cells begin to tingle in response until my whole being is buzzing.  

"Redde perditum angelus." Repeated and repeated, the words sweetly torture my mind. I feel like I should understand what is trying to be communicated to me, but the entire experience feels so lucid that I have trouble fully concentrating. 

"Redde perditum angelus. Redde perditum angelus."

"W-what does that even mean!?" I cry into the nothingness, tears accumulating from the frustration and beauty around me. 

I am not answered, but am met with another, "Redde perditum angelus." 

"Redde perditum angelus?" I repeat under my breath, testing the words and questioning them at the same time. The voice's rhythmic chanting ceases immediately.

I wait and wait for the voice to speak again, but the silence wraps eerily around me as the affable presence dissipates, leaving me cool and empty in the light.  

I am not foolish enough to convince myself that this whole dream is meaningless. That is if it is even a dream - I have never experienced anything so tangible, even in some parts of my reality I have not experienced the vivacity of the last few minutes. Even if I just wrote it off as a normal dream, that still does not excuse the fact that something in my mind connected with that being to the point I thought my entire body may just float up off the floor and never stop soaring. 

"Redde perditum angelus." I repeat the words, heavy with a power I still don't understand. "Redde perditum angelus."

The next time I lift my head, I am met with a baby green film. The broad leaves crinkle above me, the dampness of the soil seeping into my aching joints.

Blinking away the remnants of sleepiness, fine details of the dream already begin to fade around the corners of my mind, but the words never leave me. 

"Weird," I mutter, grasping my leaden skull with one hand and supporting myself along the floor with the other. I must have only dozed off for a moment or two, everyone is exactly as they were minutes ago.

"What is it?" Ethan asks as he leans against the twisted trunk of the tree. 

"I don't know," I respond, rubbing away the fading ache in my right temple. "Bad dream, I suppose."