Army of Sin - Season 2 - The Gathering

Episode XXIII - Where Giants Rest

Location: Italian Countryside
 

The arrival of night brought with it a drop in temperature. The sky was devoid of clouds on this night; the only light being the occasional winking of distant stars as an exhausted middle-aged man stared skywards. The bags he usually carried under his eyes had now developed into full suitcases as he held the raw bundle of energy he fondly called a daughter safely against his chest. Her tiny palms were spread wide, fist closing around what appeared to be a close star. Incomprehensible words tumbled from her lips followed by a fit of giggles as she continued to play her private game of hide and seek.

From the top left corner of the sky, a shooting star raced across the night. The little one’s eyes spread in wonder as the glowing light disappeared below the tops of the tall trees and out of sight. She clapped her hands once before turning her face into her father’s shirt; seemingly abundant energy disappearing just as quickly as the falling star, as sleep now became the primary objective.  

Pressing a kiss to the messy curly on her head, the father turned his back to the night.

The Archangel Gabriel flared her wings as she approached the clearing, the crisp night air filtering through her feathers as she slowed the blinding pace she had flown across the sky with. Her transition from flight to long, even strides was flawless; sandaled feet carrying her across the long stretch of low cut lawn leading up towards a looming convent. She has arrived under no concealment, immediately feeling the weight of various sentries following her movements.

Pursing her lips, Gabriel let out three hoots akin to a large owl.

After a pause, three shrill whistles were given in response.

Seconds later as she reached the top of the convent’s stairs, one side of the large oak door was pulled inwards, spilling light unto the steps.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” the nun, dressed in her traditional garb; save for the headset plugged into one ear greeted.

“Sister Francine,” Gabriel greeted in the same Italian, a smile warming her features at the joy contained in the light brown eyes of the convent’s head nun, “How are thou?”

“Your Grace, permission?”

“Granted,” Gabriel replied serenely, extending her hands forward.

Only the head nuns of the respective convents around the world were allowed to touch or make contact with an Archangel and before such contact was made, it required the Archangel’s shielding of his or her power lest a mortal incinerate themselves due to sheer curiosity. The relationship was a sacred and well kept secret passed from generations of mortals and angels alike – the mortal convents charged with providing sanctuary and a place to meditate while angelkind ensured the safety of the pure souls dwelling within.

During the aftermath of the Falling, many of those that had crashed to earth sought out the pure souls of both nuns and priests alike in the hopes of returning them to their former glory. Many were lost; a fact that still pained Gabriel to her core – her memories never having faded as it did for the rest of her kind. Now, she took comfort knowing that the convents were now monitored around the clock by sentries armed with blessed ammunition.

“Have you come to see Him?” Sister Francine asked, releasing the Archangel’s hands. Even shielded from the Archangel’s true, natural power, the nun’s eyes glowed from the brief interaction.

“Yes Sister, has there been any change?”

“I fear none of us would know,” the nun replied with a shake of her head, “All were warned to keep well clear of His resting place.”