Wings To The World

20.

'The End.'

The morning stands proud on the mountain, drifting over the tops of the trees to shine. The river between the mountains in the window catches some of the sunlight. It reflects it back, making a blinding strike of sun.

Franchises cards her fingers through Matihael's hair. She watches the colour explode on the sky outside. "Aka-Chan," She hums. "Don't fall asleep yet."

Matihael gives a grunt in response. "'M not sleeping," She mumbles. "I'm plotting murder."

Franchael's fingers rest, as she gives a sigh. "Still in a mood about the workshop? Aka-Chan, what's done is done. They are happy, and we have shelter."'

Matihael blows a price of hair out of her face. "It's still annoying," She says. "I miss Tanael. And everyone else. Things were so freeing back in that workshop. You know what I want to do? I want to run away. Go visit other angels in England."

Franchael chuckles. "And that we can do, Aka-Chan," She begins her weaving again, playing with the golden strands of Matihael's hair. "Sometime later."

The air is quiet around them.

-*-

Returning is a blur. It's dark out when we do, and I remember looking up to the stars and smiling. They're brighter, so I can tell Liahael is free. He is happy. We collapse on the deck of Workshop 8, guided by Indiele. Aphale takes us in without a word and cleans us up. She doesn't ask questions, she cleans our bruises.

"You need to be more careful, munchkins," Aphale mutters. "You're hurt, we could have lost you."

We aren't allowed outside of Aphale's watch for a few days. I don't mind. I take to writing again, in the space where I have time. I write about everything. Everything I see, about the people I lost in that fire and the connections I have to the earth.

I try my best to walk barefoot. I try to feel the ground beneath me. I scuff my feet up and I love the feel of it, I see the sky and I love the sight of it. I love. I love everything.

Haphaes ends up shut in a single room. They don't let her leave. We visit, with Isael. They say she's making progress, but we never will know when she'll come out. Isael starts to learn how to touch things, and imagine. I take over describing the sunsets to her.

This morning, the third day after returning- It feels calm. There's no fire in the corner, but something feels less grey. The group of angels in the workshops smile and laugh, joking about things.

I long to know where Naphalie is. She'll return, I know, to visit and show what she's done. She might invite me to join her. When she does, I'll laugh and brush it off, but later I'll ask her if she meant it. Perhaps then we'll leave together.

Sunlight glares through the woven blinds of the workshop. It is higher on the mountain, no longer separated into fours-no, it's fractured into more. And so were we.

My family has shrunk.

That's all it's done, I remind myself, watching Isael talk to Sophriel. I catch Saraiel writing something down out of the corner of my eye. watching Franchael braids Matihael's hair while said angel continues her complaints.

My family isn't always going to be close. It is going to move and change, because people are going to move and change. Because I am going to move and change.

My family isn't broken, it's spread out. My family of people who don't know they're my family- that, in an instance, the blink of an eye? I would spend my life walking with no wings, no eyes, no hands to write with or mouth to speak with all for them. And for them, I would not once complain.

Yes, love changes, and yes, so does heaven. It will never be enough right now. The way it settles on the mountain isn't hidden from the world or married to the idea that we are tight-knit. But this is not the way it'll be forever.

My family can grow, it can involve more people. I am the angel of love, and I love this family enough to know I will live for them.

They said heaven was the right kind of crowded, and dusty, and soft. They said it would smell of roses and clouds, they said it would melt every part of my body into one. They called heaven beautiful, they called it enough.

But Heaven changes. Heaven begins as an idea, as a spark, and blossoms into more. It is everywhere around me, all-encompassing, and it is like fire. It is like warm days. It smells like spring and summer.

And it is heaven, and I am the angel of love.