“Good morning!”
I made the greeting as cheerfully as I could as I came down the stairs.
“Good morning, Adam,” Joan greeted me in return from where she sat at the table. “Yesterday offered no shortage of trials. How are you faring?”
There was concern on her face, but no fear or worry. No doubt she’d already used her own healing to check on me before she hauled my unconscious form up to my bed, so she was aware there weren’t any traces of the parasitic creature left in me. So, she must have been concerned on the mental side of things, how I was holding up after something like that.
“I’m good,” I assured her, smiling a grin I only partway felt. “Last night . . . it wasn’t all good, but we got through it, I sparked my magic, and that . . . thing is dead.”
I paused for a moment, then asked a question that had been gnawing at me.
“Do you know what that thing was, or how it got into me?”
“It was some form of hell-spawned creature,” Hadriel explained, drawing my attention to her as she hovered a few inches off the ground next to one of the room’s slitted windows. “The energies of hell are potent, enough so that sometimes fiends and monsters can be birthed simply from those energies latching onto other powers. Corruption, usurpation, consumption, there are many paths they can take. Though their attempt to use you for fodder failed.
“As for where the creature inside you came from . . . I would wager that the beasts that attacked your Awakening carried some taint upon them, a taint that survived their destruction and latched onto you in a moment of vulnerability. Due to the complications of your Awakening, your power was left raw, unfinished, fertile ground for it to grow and develop. When you began to finish the transition of your raw mana and life force into a more useable form it was driven to act, lest it lose its feeding ground and be consumed in your flaring magic.”
“Was . . . was that a demon?”
It hadn’t been long since the Black Sun, and humanity had been forced to witness serval atrocities committed by some of the returned legends. Gods could be cruel to those who got on their bad sides, and monsters could be savage in sating their hunger. However, demons had done much to cement their reputation for blind and malicious evil with the spectacles of suffering and despair they’d left in their wake. The thought that one of those things had been literally under my skin . . . I barely managed to hold back a surge of nausa.
“No!” The crimson-winged angel stated the word emphatically. “There are demons that are capable of infestation and possession, but they are nowhere near as weak as the spawn you burnt. Thankfully they are rare, so you should not encounter one any time soon. That infestation within you compared to a demon as a leech or an infection would to a mortal. Dangerous in its own way, but ultimately lesser, limited, lower.”
Okay, that was quite a bit of info to digest in one go. I stared at the angel, trying to get my thoughts in order as I went over her words.
“Regardless,” Hadriel continued. “The more important issue at hand is your condition. You say you are well, but are you certain?”
“Sorry, what?”
I was still thinking about demons, so her question caught me off guard. They weren’t sure?
“I . . . yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” I assured them. “No traces of that thing inside me. I’ve already looked.”
“That . . . isn’t what honoured Hadriel meant, Adam.” Joan stood from where she’d been sitting, gesturing to me as she did so. “Though it is good to hear that you have investigated yourself, myself and honoured Hadriel did the same as soon as you fell unconscious. You are correct that there is no hint of taint left within you, and your body seems to be completely recovered. It is your mental and spiritual well-being we are concerned with.
“What happened to you was . . . monstrous, to have your body and power torn from your control so cruelly. Adam, there is no shame in having been affected by such an ordeal.”
Her kindness was welcome, but my feeling were complicated.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I tried to explain. “I am good . . . but I don’t think I should be.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like . . . last night was awful, it should have left me shaken, you know. I won, we won, but what that thing did, trying to take everything, my power, my body, my life, that’s not something you just walk away from. That’s the sort of thing that should have left me a mess until I can work through it, y’know?
“But it’s like I woke up this morning and I’m fine. Yeah, it was bad. But it’s done, I won. That thing tried to kill me, but I ripped it out and fried it. That’s it, game over, the credits are rolling, move on to the next challenge by pressing start!”
I was slightly babbling towards the end, but even as I tried to get across what I was feeling I could feel worry growing inside me. Saying that the trial was over and that I could move on was a rational way of looking at it, but emotions weren’t rational. I should still be afraid, still be thinking about the horrible moment when I lost control of my body when I was completely helpless. But I wasn’t, and that wasn’t normal.
“Interesting, an unexpected boon.”
My thoughts were interrupted as Hadriel drifted closer, her head tilting to the side and her coppery hair falling in a cascade over her shoulder in a way that would have been very distracting at any other time. But right then, I was more focused on what she was saying.
“What do you mean, ‘boon’?”
“It is a common thing amongst immortals to be possessed of greater . . . mental and emotional fortitude than mortals.” She explained, with that superiority of hers that, while devoid of malice, set my teeth ever so slightly on edge. “Immortals must endure the passage of time that would drive a mortal mad, and they must also experience trials and tragedies in that time that are on scope with their greater existences. The ability to endure such without suffering scars to one’s soul is essential.”
“What, you mean immortals don’t feel emotions so much?” I asked with genuine curiosity.
“No,” Hadriel replied. “Immortals, gods, angels, even demons, all feel emotions as intensely as mortals, if not more so. Demons have limited emotions in that they rarely feel anything other than rage, hatred, or one of the sins, but that is not relevant.
“Beings of power feel grief, fear, anguish, all the woes that any mortal would, but those emotions possess less of a grasp upon them. When Zeus first faced Typhon, he was defeated and had the sinews torn from his limbs. Later they were returned by his family and the Greek king returned to his fight immediately. A mortal could not do so, even if they could survive such mutilation to their flesh and recover. The pain, the helplessness, it would leave them scarred, terrified of their tormentor.
“Such is also the case with angels,” She continued, gesturing to her own red wings. “An angel captured by the forces of hell can face many fates, but should they endure their torments without Falling and be rescued then their tortures will have no hold upon them. They shall remember them, they shall feel righteous anger and indignation, but they shall not be broken by them.”
“Perhaps it is simplest to think of it in these terms,” Joan suggested, taking a step forward. “Immortals are far harder to scar emotionally or mentally. They can be hurt, but if they survive then they can quickly recover and move on.”
“And you think I’ve got that?”
“It would appear most likely,” The French saint agreed. “You have many bloodlines in you, and we know that your power shall be great. It would not be unusual for you to also gain several of the attendant powers that are enjoyed by many immortals.”
And there it was, the perfect opening to let them know what I knew they needed to learn. For a moment I considered waiting, letting the chance pass and saying that I would grab the next, but I knew how easy it was to keep putting it off. Better to bite the bullet and get it done.
“Listen . . . there’s something I’ve got to tell you two.”
I firmed my resolve. Now that I had magic, I had to learn how to use it, and I was going to need their help to learn how.
“I’ve got my magic, I can feel it, and I can reach it, but I still don’t know how to use it. I . . . I was hoping that I’d just know how to use it after I got my magic going, but it’s like with flying, I know I can do it, but I don’t know how.”
My two divine allies exchanged a quick look, then turned back to me.
“Tiens la foi, Adam,” Joan reassured me. “While we had hoped that completing your Awakening would give you the intuitive skill over your powers other demigods enjoy, we suspected that might not be the case.”
“Your lack of intuitive understanding is a setback,” Hadriel commented. “But it is not unsurpassable. Mortal mages learn to control magic through will and discipline, you can do likewise. Additionally, though you cannot yet use it, your power is intact and strong. Such power is not meant to lie dormant, it shall ache to be used. You shall have an easier time mastering it than some young mage would while fumbling with their first spells.”
She paused, looking at me with a stern expression.
“Do not assume that you shall have an easy time of it though. Power, true power, is never easily won, no matter the blood that flows in your veins. Always remember, no matter the origin, no matter the breed, all power comes with a price. Time and effort are perhaps the best wages you can pay. Other ‘easier’ routes normally have deeper costs hidden within them.”
Okay, I felt a tight ball in my stomach uncoil as I listened to them. It wasn’t all good news, but at least they weren’t throwing me to the curb as a worthless failure, and that had to mean something.
Joan smiled that warm smile of hers and gestured towards the kitchen.
“I think that is enough of weighty matters for now. Let us move on to something less concerning, such as ‘What would you like to have for breakfast today’?”
I tried to smile back, then realized I still hadn’t told them about my weak spot. I’d already been on one rollercoaster of stress by telling them about my magic and I didn’t want to face another one right away. Also, I hadn’t sat down and eaten since my Awakening. Maybe getting some food in me would help prep me for telling them.
I was brought out of my thoughts as Joan passed me and stepped into the kitchen. The resurrected saint was wearing her casual clothes again, and, as before, I was struck by the strangeness of her rather domestic appearance in the kitchen. Hadriel aside, Joan was the strongest person I knew. I’d seen it when I watched her cutting through those demons that attacked the ritual like a blender. Seeing her in the kitchen, and in an apron as well, after that . . . I couldn’t help but see it as a bit weird. Not bad weird, just . . . strange.
For Joan, no breakfast was complete without freshly made bread, and the smell of it wafted across to me like some sort of spell. It also reminded me that it had been something like three days since I’d eaten anything, more if you counted the time I’d spent in the cocoon. Sure, I hadn’t been hungry or thirsty, and I hadn’t suffered any sort of dizziness or weakness, but going so long without either food or drink was strange.
“Any chance of eggs and bacon?”
“Ah, le petit déjeuner anglais typique.”
Even though Joan slipped into French again for her reply there was little disguising the wry amusement in her tone, and I found myself smiling in response. Sure, I didn’t know the exact words that she’d used, but the sentiment was easy enough to guess.
“Hey, I’m a guy with simple tastes.”
“Indeed, you shall not find me disputing that assessment.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“If you could set the table that would be helpful. I should not take too long to have your food ready, eggs and pig are easily prepared with these modern appliances.”
With a grin, I started to put, mats, cutlery and glasses on the table. As I did so something occurred to me.
“Should I set a place for Hadriel?”
Joan paused, then shook her head.
“There is no need, though honoured Hadriel shall be joining us at the table she has chosen to forgo any food or drink. Both are unneeded to sustain her body, and she does not wish to indulge in consumption simply for its own sake.”
Oh, right. Angels could end up Falling if they gave into sins and eating just because you wanted to rather than because you had to was pretty much the definition of gluttony. I could understand why she wouldn’t want to do that. It was just a bit uncomfortable to have someone sitting at your table while you ate, and them not having anything.
I shook my head. Maybe I was just being a bit inflexible. Hadriel was an angel, not a mortal, I had to be prepared to make allowances for differences, just as I would if I were to meet someone from a different culture.
“Hey, Joan. Why do you eat? I mean, your body’s a sort of a heavenly construct, right? That’s why you can turn into an angel. Do you even have to eat?”
The resurrected soul glanced over at me for a second, then focused back on her two frying pans.
“This body of mine is not some magical construct, it is true flesh and blood, even though it was created by the Lord in order to house my soul. It still possesses many of the needs and weaknesses of mortal flesh, even though many of them have been greatly reduced. Eating is a necessity, though my body is far more efficient than it was in my mortal life.”
I nodded, and wondered. Was I like that now? It made some sense, so far it looked like one of the things I’d gotten from my Awakening was a general amp-up in just about everything to do with my body. Stronger, faster, tougher, etcetera, so being able to go longer without food was probably in there too, maybe if I waited a week or so I’d start getting hungry.
Having finished setting the table I felt at a bit of a loose end, so I turned back to Joan.
“So . . . what’s the plan for today?”
“Honoured Hadriel and I have decided that we shall use today to gain a better understanding of just what you are capable of so far,” the French saint explained, as she spooned the fried eggs onto a plate. “Of course, we shall not be able to learn everything that you have gained, but it shall give us an idea of how we can begin your training.”
“Indeed.” I turned to see that Hadriel had entered the farmstead. Her wings were folded in close, but her metal halo still hung behind her, the light reflecting off its beautifully wrought surface. “I have some notion as to how we can begin to assess what divine gifts you have received with the Awakening of your blood, and then there is also your halo to consider. The fact that it only came into existence after you succeeded in igniting your magic suggests that they might be connected. That would in turn suggest that you also possess some aptitude for wider forms of magic, in addition to the obvious.”
I took note of what she was saying, but most of my attention was on Joan scooping the bacon out of the pan and onto my plate. The trio of eggs, bacon and fresh bread looked delicious, even if it might be a bit heavy on calories, and I was honestly surprised that my stomach didn’t rumble at the simple sight of them.
As I sat down I realized that the chair wasn’t really suitable for me anymore, not with my wings. After some experimentation I found that the closest I could get to comfortable was to turn the chair around so that I was straddling it, the back pressed against my bare chest. Not great, but it’d do.
When she sat down I noticed that due to her smaller wing size, Hadriel had an easier time sitting in a chair. Even if it was as though she was sitting down with a backpack on, a feathery one, I supposed it was more like having a cushion strapped to her back. It pushed her forward a bit, but there was still enough room for her to be decently seated, if not completely comfortable.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
As Joan sat down and reached for her knife and fork I gave her my most appreciative smile.
“Thanks, Joan. Now . . . I guess it would be Grace, and then ‘bon appetit’.”
That got a small chuckle from her as I said a quick grace and finally cut into my food.
I felt my smile fall from my face as I chewed.
And chewed again.
Then I swallowed.
For a moment I stared down at my plate, then I carefully cut away another piece of bacon, though this time I made sure to take it from a different rasher. Bringing it to my mouth I bit down on it, chewed, and then swallowed, my eyes narrowing further as I glared down at my plate. I tried another mouthful of egg, only for my frown to deepen, and a touch of panic to start to grow inside me. Then I grabbed the salt and liberally sprinkled it on my bacon. Joan made a small noise of surprise at that. Bacon was salty enough, after all.
I didn’t care though, instead, I grabbed my bread roll and took a violent bite out of it as well.
Then I jumped from my chair and dashed for the kitchen. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite. The next moment I threw it aside and grabbed an orange, which I bit into without even bothering about the peel. As I reached for a banana my hand was seized as Joan came up beside me, her other hand pressing on my shoulder to turn me around to face her. There was a sound of breaking crockery as my wings, which I had spread slightly in my panic, swept some cups and plates off the tops, but I didn’t care as I looked at her.
“Adam! ADAM! What is wrong?!”
“I . . . I can’t taste any of the food . . . I can’t taste any of it.”
When I said it out loud it sounded like such an insignificant thing, but the breakfast, the bread, the fruit, they had just tasted of . . . nothing. I could feel them in my mouth, feel their texture and consistency, but there had been no flavour of any sort, they had simply all tasteless.
It had freaked me out for a moment, making me think that I’d somehow lost my sense of taste. But then I realized I could still taste the metal of the fork in my mouth each time I tried. I’d thought that maybe it was just the food on my plate, so I’d tried the bread, and when that was the same I’d gone to try the fruit, but none of it had tasted of anything!
“The food?” Joan sounded almost as confused as I felt. “Was something wrong with it? Have our supplies been tampered with? They tasted normal to me.”
“No! No, it was nothing like that!” I assured her. “It’s like the food had no taste at all, but I could . . .”
Trailing off I turned and grabbed one of the wooden spatulas that rested in a large jar next to the stove. Experimentally I brought it to my mouth and ran my tongue over it. Yes, there was the familiar taste of wood, but that was it, no leftover hints of herbs or spices that stayed on a well-used kitchen tool, regardless of how many times you washed it.
“I . . . I can taste the wood,” I said, almost to myself. “But just the wood. Why . . . why can’t I taste the-”
I cut myself off as I reached over and grabbed a jar of herbs. Taking the top off I licked the lid, tasting the flavour of plastic, but again there was no hint of the herbs themselves. mechanically I set down the jar and turned to put the lid and the spatula I’d licked into the sink so they could be washed later. To my side, I could see Joan watching me with visible concern, and Hadriel watching with a much more neutral expression on her face.
“I can’t taste food,” I said slowly. “I can taste the other things, the wood, the metal, the plastic, but the food has no taste.”
My eyes widened as another thought occurred to me and I grabbed a glass of the draining board. Again, my protectors watched me, waiting to see what I was doing as I filled the glass with water and then took a swig.
The water . . . didn’t really have a taste, it was just water. It didn’t taste stale, but it didn’t taste like vitamin-rich volcanic spring water either, it was just water. Nodding my head, I turned to the fridge and pulled out the jug of orange juice I knew would be there. I liked oranges as much as the next guy, but the French saint had a passion for the juice that was impressive. When we’d come here I had been quite surprised at the large mound of oranges to be found in one of the cupboards, which decreased in size daily at a rather impressive rate. Pouring a small amount into the glass I quickly slugged it back.
Water! It might as well have been water for all it tasted. I could feel the thickness, feel the small chunky bits still in the juice, but there was no flavour to it at all.
Pulling a bottle off the wine rack on the other side of the kitchen I poured out a little and then swigged it back, and again, nothing! The wine I tried was a red one, the label saying it was a Malbec, but again, it might as well have been the most boring glass of water in the world.
“Drink . . . drink doesn’t have any taste either?”
“Adam, are you saying that you cannot taste either food or drink?”
At Joan’s question, I looked up and nodded. My mind was only half on her though, the rest of it was in a strange whirl of thoughts and questions. Was this a temporary thing? Was this why I wasn’t hungry? Why was this happening? And amidst it all I kept on thinking about all the foods that were now meaningless, foods that I loved, like barbecued steaks, chilli spaghetti, honey glazed roast turkey, lamb stew with extra potatoes, extra spicy gumbo! Would I never be able to taste any of them ever again?
“I believe that I know what the cause of your predicament is.”
The statement came from the red-winged angel, her face as calm as ever as she watched me from the other side of the main kitchen top. She was watching me and evaluating how this new development fitted into everything. As usual, she was hard to read.
“Really?”
For my part, I asked the question hopefully, eager to get information on it.
“It is not that you have lost your sense of taste, rather it is that the sin of gluttony has been sealed from you.”
“But . . . Adam is a mortal,” Joan protested, her face visibly unsure. “How could he be sealed to a sin, by his very nature as a mortal he has Choice in such matters!”
“I do not believe it to be a deliberate sealing, rather it is something that he has accidentally inherited from his ancestor due to the complications that befell his Awakening.”
“Wait! What?!” I broke in. “What do you mean ‘sealed’? Sin of gluttony? What?!”
The two heavenly agents paused for a moment, exchanging a look that I guessed involved them deciding if I was ‘cleared’ to know about what they were talking about. There was a quick nod between them as they both agreed and then Hadriel began to explain.
“You are aware that it is possible for angels to . . . fall from Grace if they become too contaminated with sins, correct?” I nodded and she continued. “Though I do not doubt that Lady Joan explained the matter in detail I do not believe she was able to convey just how terrifying a concept the notion of Falling is for one of us. Every angel is created whole, complete in and of themselves, without any uncertainties or unanswered questions. We know why we exist, we are immediately loyal to our Father and Creator, and we know our place in His plans and His love. The thought of losing that, of falling so far in His eyes that we are cast from His presence and service . . . I do not fear death, I do not fear injury, I do not fear capture and torture at the hands of the vilest of the demons of hell, but that . . . to become other than what I am, to betray Him, to be forced from His side, that I do fear, like nothing else within the realms of all creation. Do you understand?”
Again, I just nodded silently, trying to get my head around what she’d told me. True, I’d already known most of it in a purely academic sense, but hearing it from her, hearing the conviction in her normally calm tone, it brought home just how much it meant to her.
“Though angels are mighty creations we are, in many ways, as flawed as the mortals that came after us,” The crimson-winged angel continued. “It is why we can Fall at all, but the greater our strength the more the door to sin opens to us.”
She must have seen the confusion on my face because she quickly explained.
“The greatest of us, those that serve the Almighty as champions, attendants, or bodyguards, possess weaknesses by virtue of their very strength. It is as though the strength creates the weakness, with Lucifer being a suitable example. By his very nature, he strove to be the best that he could, and that was what led to pride seeping into him. Michael, Raphael, and even Uziel, all of them are warriors, their powers rooted in violence and destruction, even though that is far from all there is to their powers. They have to fear the sin of wrath. Fear their righteous anger overwhelming them and becoming mindless bloodlust. Seraphiel, by contrast, is the protector of the Metatron, and in his duty, he has collected the weapons and powers of thousands of defeated foes and fallen friends, in all of heaven there are fewer than a handful who possess arsenals of weapons that can match his, yet this very nature means he must be careful lest he fall into greed. Do you understand?”
“I . . . think so.” I slowly replied, still unsure as to how this applied to me.
“When such angels leave the heavens and descend to the mortal plane they often take precautions to ensure that they will not succumb to temptation,” She continued. “There are far more . . . opportunities here, more than I think you understand. The very structure of this plane is different from the heavens, the hells, the outer realms of the gods, or the various demi-planes, here is so much . . . emotion? Sensation? Neither of those suitably explain it, but by its nature, this is the plane where all the aspects of the other planes can be found in combination. When an angel takes on flesh on this plane they can experience things that they never could in the heavens, feel things that they would normally find muted. It makes us even more formidable, even though we must restrain our powers, but it also opens us up to the temptations of sin in a way we would normally be safe from.”
Despite her calm voice, I could see small but distinct hints of tension and . . . shame? It was in the tenseness of her shoulders, the way her fingers kept on trying to half curl into fists, the way she wasn’t always meeting my eyes. I supposed I could understand, she was talking about the intrinsic flaws of some of the greatest examples of her kind, essentially airing out some of heaven’s dirty laundry.
“These precautions normally involve sealing away either emotions or sensations that would lead to whichever sin is the greatest threat to the angel that has come to this plane. A warrior angel with a predisposition to wrath will deliberately lock themselves in a state of unnatural calm. Doing so will somewhat impede their ability to battle passionately, but they feel it is a worthy exchange. Such angels as might fear that their love for mortals might lead them into lust deliberately create bodies without . . . manhood or womanhood so lust has no ground upon which to grow. Such steps are not always taken, but it happens often enough that it is well understood.
“Lady Bath Kol has sometimes descended to the mortal plane in a body of flesh, and many times she has seen fit to limit herself as well. I believe that it is this limitation that you are now experiencing, though how it has fallen upon you I do not know.”
“She didn’t want to taste?” Something wasn’t adding up. I could get there being cases of locking away emotion or drives, why would I have lost a sense instead?
“Lady Bath Kol serves as one of the voices of God upon this plane along with the Metatron” Hadriel continued. “Her power is great in many ways, but in no way is it greater than in her voice. In the past, she has sung gods into death, shattered the walls of divine fortresses with a single note, spoken and been heard across the entirety of a plane! When she takes flesh that power affects her in a somewhat unusual manner in that it permeates the parts of her that are a part of her voice’s flesh mechanism. Her lungs, her throat, her mouth, her lips, all of them are saturated by her power and strengthened and enhanced by it. It is a part of what makes her voice all the more deadly and flexible upon the planes outside of the heavens, but it has other effects as well.
“Lady Bath Kol can create hurricane-force winds simply with the force of her breath, she is utterly incapable of being slain by either suffocation or poisons in the air. There is even a legend that she bit through seemingly invincible armour with just her teeth and jaws.
“However, this created a . . . unique weakness for her in that it also served to enhance her sense of taste to a level beyond that which even a god possesses.”
That brought me out of my thoughts and back to the more immediate matter. This sounded like it might be a good explanation as to what was going on with me.
“You cannot imagine what it was like for her, the first time she tasted food,” Hadriel explained, her face looking almost haunted. “Bath Kol was of the second generation, the angels that were brought into being to refill the ranks of heaven after the losses from Lucifer’s Fall. She was the mightiest of that generation, the younger sibling to the likes of Gabriel and Metatron, and she took to her duties with grave determination. It was only the third time that she had descended to the mortal plane, and it was the first time she had done so when battle was not at hand. She was there to deliver a message to the old gods that had begun to stir, a message that there would be peace between them and the High Heavens so long as they kept to a certain level of restraint. They accepted, and there was a banquet in honour of the event.
“The other angels there had experienced food before, but Lady Bath Kol had never done so. Most angels only took small servings of food, more as symbolic acceptances rather than serious meals, so as to avoid indulging in gluttony, and she did likewise. However, she was completely unprepared for just how acute the pleasure of tasting food for the first time would be.”
Her eyes had a faraway look to them now, almost as though she had forgotten that she had an audience and was just sharing her memories with the world.
“I did not yet exist, but the tale of it was passed down, Lady Bath Kol insisted it not be forgotten. Other angels wished to erase it from history, to ensure that no blot upon her reputation would ever exist, but she remained firm that it be remembered, that lessons be learnt from it. I was told the tale by an old soldier, one who was there at the time. He told me what happened, and showed me the scars that he took.
“Lady Bath Kol . . . she was driven to near madness by the experience. She wanted more, needed more, the taste, the sheer intoxication of it . . . it took her like the most potent drug would a mortal, only multiplied a thousandfold. Had her flesh not been immortal then she would have died from the shock, as it was she went into an almost animalistic frenzy, devouring all the food upon her plate, then consuming that on the plates near her, then seizing any other food she could find! It was only when her wings began to darken that those angels with her realized what was happening and moved to forcibly restrain her.”
She paused again, this time her eyes did focus in on me, their gaze meeting mine head-on.
“It was only due to her frenzied state that they were able to do so, Lady Bath Kol is immensely powerful, and under any other circumstances, she would have rendered them apart before they could hold her down. However, crazed as she was, she did not use her full strength, nor did she bring her voice to bear against them since her whole focus was on gorging herself further. Even so, grave injuries were dealt, and the warrior who told me the tale showed me the scars he had received, scars that ran even to his spiritual body.
“They were able to return her to heaven before she Fell, and the Almighty was able to restore her reason before she was consumed by her desires, but it was a terrible experience. Lady Bath Kol had to work for centuries in order to purify herself of the taint she had gained in only the course of a few moments. Also, the morale of the angels was heavily impacted by one of the new Great angels almost Falling. As a result, she chose to seal her sense of taste every time she went to the mortal realm afterwards, as a means to ensure she never lost control in such a manner again. I think that you have been affected by a similar seal.”
“Okay,” I said. “I get why she did it to herself, but why do I have it?”
The angels paused for a moment, then continued.
“I believe that when the ritual meant to Awaken you was interrupted it caused the imprinting that the Legacies performed during the manifestation of your own divine power to go awry. You have gained much from Lady Bath Kol, your wings and halo are proof of that, but you also have gained one of the limitations that was imprinted upon her life, her seal against gluttony.”
“So . . . how do I get rid of it?”
I hoped that whatever process was needed wouldn’t take too long, I really wanted to enjoy my breakfast before we began whatever else these two had planned.
“You would need to abandon your mortal body and ascend to the High Heavens.”
“Errrr . . . what?”
I could do that? Someone had asked an angel about mortals going to heaven. They’d answered that heaven was a realm of pure spirit, so it’s impossible for the flesh to enter, the only way that a mortal can go to heaven is when the soul leaves the body . . . by . . .
Oh.
“The seal was never meant to be removed. Indeed, Lady Bath Kol specifically designed it so that she could not remove it even if she wanted to, that way even if she was tempted there would be no danger. It was placed upon her when she descended to the mortal realm, and would only be removed once she returned to the High Heavens, those were the only conditions placed upon it.”
I . . . I think that I just stopped thinking for a bit there. My mind was drifting in a sort of numb shock. Food, and eating, it is such a natural part of our lives that I think most people probably couldn't consider a life without it. It makes up such a large part of not just our lives, but also our interactions, eating with others is always a good way to consolidate bonds or establish new ones. Inviting others over, offering them food, eating it with them, it was all a big part of social interaction.
And now I wasn’t part of that. I couldn’t be, not really.
I just sat there for a bit, feeling stunned. I only came out of it when Joan gently shook my shoulder.
“Adam, Adam! Get hold of yourself!”
“I . . . I . . . Okay, I think I’m good. I think . . . fuck!”
The expletive slipped out before I could really think about it. Even as an adult Anthony and Amanda’s contempt of swearwords weighed heavily on me. And now I’d just gone and sworn in front of a saint . . . and an angel.
“I understand that you are less than pleased by this situation,” Hadriel broke in. “But it is not without benefits. The same power that has sealed your sense also serves to ensure that you also do not need food or drink. You need never fear hunger or thirst ever again, so long as the seal remains in place. Gluttony has been sealed, and so its attendants of needs have also been banished from you.”
Ah, well that certainly explained my lack of an appetite. I think that I must have still been in shock because I couldn’t seem to muster up any sort of anger or outrage at what had been taken from me.
“Though . . . do not think that it is forever,” Joan chimed in, one of her hands resting on my shoulder. “Honoured Hadriel is correct when she suggested that your seal is not as potent as the one that was worn by Lady Bath Kol, of that I am certain. Though I cannot hope to affect it, my analysis skills are enough to at least sense the seal upon you. It is powerful, but I believe an immortal of sufficient power might be able to break it if they were willing to invest the energy and effort needed. As such, do not give up hope, you may be able to regain what has been lost.”
“I am uncertain as to why you would want to,” The angel commented, her face pinched in a slight frown. “The sin of gluttony is forever barred from you, unable to find purchase upon your soul, and the weaknesses of your body are likewise mitigated. What reason is there to surrender a strength and regain a weakness?”
I found myself staring at her, having some trouble sorting my thoughts into order to respond. Yeah, I could see where she was coming from, but I couldn’t really agree. I could feel myself starting to crave small and simple things, chocolate bars, peanuts, pretzels, a salty chicken finger, all of them were little things that I occasionally had as snacks, but now I couldn’t seem to get them out of my head!
“You are not wrong in your summation, honoured Hadriel, but you forget an important detail,” Joan’s reply was calm and respectful, but there was steel in her words, resolve that I hadn’t heard her direct towards the angel before. “Please remember, Adam is a mortal man risen with divinity, not a divine created without mortality. Sins are a part of their lives, and are even necessary and healthy to them, so long as they do not allow themselves to be swallowed by them. To have one such natural appetite removed and sealed . . . it could have dangerous effects upon his psyche.”
“Say what?!”
I was the one to ask that question, more than a bit alarmed at the notion.
“Your body might no longer require food or drink to survive, but it is accustomed to it. You may no longer feel hunger or thirst, but your body's appetites will remain, even if your mind can no longer register them. Intellectually you will crave not the food, but the experience of flavour, of consumption, and this mental hunger will need to find other ways of satiating itself. I do not know how it will affect you in the days to come, but I do not doubt that it will.”
Joan’s somewhat ominous explanation did not put me at ease.
“Okay, give it to me straight. How bad do you think this could get?”
I wasn’t too sure I wanted the answer, but it was better to hear it than to live in ignorance.
“I am unsure, but I would imagine several reactions that you might experience,” the French saint stated, her eyes both kind and considering. “Your mind has lost one intake of sensation, so it may try to compensate by seeking a greater intake in some other manner. Likewise, I think your body may attempt to translate the appetites it can no longer properly process into different appetites as a means of compensation.
“In addition, I imagine you will also need to deal with emotional surges as your body finds a new balance. I do not believe it will be so severe that you need fear for your mental health, but I suggest that you remain as self-aware as you can.”
“God! It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it?”
I asked the question more to the world at large, rather than anyone in specific, but Hadriel still answered.
“Do not be so free with His name.” She didn’t quite snap it, but there was a certain inflexion there that told me not to push things. “And what do you refer to? Other than the discovery of this seal have you encountered other difficulties?”
Oh, right, there was still the whole ‘vulnerable belly button’ thing that I had to tell them about. Well, this was going to be fun.