Perspective: Seyari

I started to speak, and felt the walls I’d built around myself crumble away. Slowly at first, then gaining rapidly in intensity, the memories I’d held locked away for so long came alive again in the desert moonlight.

We’d have a long night ahead of us, and Zarenna sat eagerly next to me. Her presence was comforting. My magic may have instinctively rebelled at our proximity, but I stamped it down. I was my own master.

I started at the beginning. My past, held down for decades, rushed to meet me.

***

I watched a group of other children playing in the courtyard outside. I wished I could join them, but the Sisters so rarely let me play with the other kids staying here. I didn’t understand why. Was it my wings? Except for the Sisters and Brother Mordwell, everyone stared at them. I hadn’t seen anyone else with wings except the one time I went to see father. They were scary!

I turned and looked around the book-filled small room I sat in. Little bits of dust hung in the air and shone in the light coming through the tiny panes of the window. The metal bits between the panes made a pretty pattern across the paper-covered desk. I looked at the black-robed lady across from me. Several hairs stuck out of the tight bun she kept her brown hair in. Maybe that’s why she had her hood up all the time, to hide it? She was kinda pale.

“Sister Greda?” I asked softly.

My tutor looked up from grading my latest assignment. “Yes, Yothariel?”

“Why does no one else here have wings?” I looked over my shoulder at my white-feathered wings, stretching them a little bit in the process.

Sister Greda smiled at my question. “Because, dear, there are few half-angels like you.”

I tilted my head “Why?”

My tutor’s smile got thin and she sighed. “As I’ve told you before, you are more than half-angel and the wings are a result of your holy bloodline.”

“Yeah, but why aren’t there more like me?”

“As you know, Yothariel, your father is the Angel Berethiel. Your mother has a strong celestial bloodline as well; quite a rarity.”

Sister Greda said father’s name wrong again. I didn’t know how I knew, but I tried to correct Brother Mordwell once and he told me never to say my father’s actual name. I couldn’t even ask why!

“Oh.” I scrunched my face and thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”

“Yothariel! Please do not make faces like that, young lady. You must be proper at all times.”

I nodded. “Sorry, Sister Greda.”

“It’s alright, dear. Be thankful Sister Jane didn’t see.”

The mention of my etiquette tutor sent a shiver down my spine. Sister Greda was the nicest, but Sister Jane was mean.

I sat up straighter, tucking my wings straight behind me. The left one liked to droop, according to Sister Jane. They always cramped up after being held close like this for a long time. How did Sister Jane know proper wing posture? She didn’t even have wings!

Quietly, I resumed my reading. Today we were covering Ordia’s conquest of Edath. The heathen region had been made part of Ordia a few decades ago. I was so close to the end of the book! Surely there couldn’t be that many more history books, right? Right?

I sighed. I doubted I was right. Thankfully, I had magic training after this. I’d also get some time to play outside! Alone again, probably. And they wouldn’t let me fly, either. Well, not that I’ve ever gotten very far without crashing.

Brother Mordwell got really mad about that. I heal quick though, and could always fix myself up with magic. I guess I couldn’t fix the window, though. The paintings in the window had been really pretty, so I was sad I’d broken it. At least the new one was mostly done.

Through a small garden beyond where the kids were playing, I could see the new unfinished window on the side of the small courtyard chapel. The midday light always felt so warm inside there. It was my favorite place for daily mass, but Abbot Oliver always held mass in the big drafty chapel in the main building.

The book I was reading got done with the exciting battles and started talking about a bunch of nobility and how Edath was divided. I tried to keep my eyes on it, but I kept drifting back to the bright sunny day outside that I was missing.

Sister Greda did want me to ask questions, so maybe I could do that? She probably meant about the book because it used really big words. Oh well.

“Sister Greda?” I put my textbook down on the table. “Why do I live here and not with mother?”

“Your mother is very busy, dear. She wanted you to be raised well and to know the grace of Dhias.”

I felt a pang of sadness and didn’t know why.

“When can I see her again?”

“She is expected to return from her mission before the harvest festival down in the village.”

“Oh…Thank you for telling me, Sister Greda.”

That was so far away! I hadn’t seen mother since last autumn. I hoped she brought me something this year! She barely talked to me last year. Or the year before.

I felt my eyes becoming wet. I wiped them with the back of my hand. My wings were better, and softer, but Sister Jane told me not to do that with them. She also told me not to cry.

I kept my back straight and managed to dry my eyes. Sister Greda had an odd look on her face for a moment before she looked back down at her grading. Quietly, I went back to the book. I didn’t talk the rest of the lesson.

***

My memory faded into a starry sky. I was about to continue, when I felt Zarenna’s tail brush against my leg. I didn’t react and she brought it around me, tip over my toes. I let myself lean into her. She was warm against the cold wind that had started to blow over the dunes.

We said nothing for a minute and I didn’t look away from the sky. Soon enough, I felt ready to move on to the next part of my past.

***

I recalled the remainder of my childhood at Pinewold Abbey in the north of Ordia. I never was able to make friends with the other kids. Not in any real sense. I moved from etiquette and history lessons to magic and combat training, which I excelled at. I also learned to fly. They never let me go beyond the grounds.

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I saw my mother four times more. She never really engaged with me, but she wasn’t unkind. The third time, she spoke to me more than she ever had.

I learned of her history in Ardath where her celestial blood had lifted her family out of poverty when she entered service of the Church of Dhias. Of my conception, she did not speak. Mother gave me my only gift that year; a worn charm bracelet with a new-looking holy symbol of Dhias next to weathered baubles.

The bracelet had been hers years ago, and she wanted me to have it. We parted on good terms and my early-teenage self had eagerly awaited her return.

The fourth time my mother returned was in a casket. They said her body had been badly damaged and despite my pleas, I wasn’t able to see her again. I was, however, given the name of a demon that had killed her and her company: Etia’Nazurathun. In hindsight, I wondered how much of what I was told was planned out. How I was manipulated.

Hardly a year later, I received the offer that would change the course of my life.

***

My blade found home and I slid it clean with a vicious twist. A quick tilt of my wings changed my trajectory and a beam of my holy light blasted a charred hole through the straw of another training dummy. Something sped toward me in my peripheral. A quick burst of wind and a flap and I barely managed to twist up and away from the clay projectile.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to dodge the follow-up. I twisted my shield arm, but couldn’t lower myself in time. The heavy projectile struck me in the leg and I just managed to regain my balance before I risked falling out of the sky.

Down below, I saw Brother Mordwell smiling up at me like he didn’t just bruise me with one of his earth magic projectiles.

I bit back a jibe and landed smoothly back by the start line. We were in the outer part of the courtyard, by the rear wall that bordered the forest. Enough space to train, but I was forbidden from flying over the wall. I felt constrained.

“You did well, Yothariel.” Brother Mordwell addressed me with an earnest tone.

The man had been just out of acolyte training when he came to Pinewold Abbey two years after I had arrived. I was too young to remember then.

He’d yet to turn thirty, and his young, round face gave him an air of childishness that belied his serious nature. Nevertheless, he was never unkind to me. Like Sister Greda, Brother Mordwell allowed himself to be more casual in my presence.

I’d learned that was why I’d not been able to play with the other children. I was superior to them, evidenced by my wings, dual magic affinities of holy and wind, and physical prowess far exceeding a human. All things that had only become more apparent as I had grown into my teens.

Still, it was nice to have someone who could speak to me informally. I’d learned well how to act regal whenever I dealt with people. Sister Jane had made sure of that much.

Now though, my mask cracked.

“I failed, Brother Mordwell. Had this been a real combat scenario, I would have been injured and left open to further attacks.” I bowed my head and pouted in a way most unbecoming of an Angel.

Brother Mordwell walked closer and mimed placing a hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t realized a few years ago the reason no one touched me was due to what I was and how they were not worthy in the eyes of Dhias. Sometimes I still wanted physical contact. I pushed those thoughts away.

My mother had been able to, though she had only hugged me once. I could still remember the feeling and it was difficult to shake.

I looked across at Brother Mordwell and saw that his smile had lost its radiance.

“Don’t doubt yourself. You can never doubt yourself, Yothariel,” he said with a hint of kindness. “You completed the entire routine flawlessly forty times already today. You, of all people, have the capacity to be perfect. Never forget that.”

Unsaid at the time, was that I couldn’t doubt myself. To do so would reflect poorly on the church and what I was to become. I only realized this years later, upon reflection.

“Of course, Brother Mordwell,” I replied, coming as close to agreeing as decorum allowed. “I will endeavor to improve myself beyond my current limits.”

Brother Mordwell nodded. I looked over stone walls of the small chapel I loved so much in the fading afternoon light. I’d never broken another window, thankfully.

“Is it permissible to spend time in prayer right now?” I asked, feeling a desire to reflect more than to speak to Dhias.

Not that Dhias himself ever directly answered me. I did receive visions and clear, unbidden thoughts or emotions, however. When He wanted to contact, me I could always feel His presence beforehand. He truly did pay attention to one of his own, distant from an Angel though I may be.

“Will you be receiving his wisdom?” Brother Mordwell asked.

My training and schedule were important. To interrupt it of my own volition was something I was only allowed to do when I felt the call of Dhias. I had many times over the years, but the infrequent wisdom I had received was all in cryptic pieces.

Today, selfishly, I wanted more to pray and reflect in silence. Perhaps that itself was a sign?

“I am unsure.” I responded as much in my favor as I could.

Angels cannot speak lies, of course.

Brother Mordwell should have denied my request and told Abbot Oliver of my uncertainty. Receiving a vision was not something one could be uncertain about.

Instead, he turned to me with a careful expression on his face. “As you wish, Yothariel. I will wait in prayer outside until you are finished.”

Visions could sometimes take days to manifest. I took it to mean he knew what I wanted was selfish and was asking I not take too long. Acceptable.

I entered the chapel, closing the door reverently behind me with a sigh. The inside was lit by the depictions of Dhias and His wonders cast from the stained-glass windows. I strode forward in front of the pulpit, and knelt before the depiction of Dhias adorning the rear wall.

That I was still in full armor hardly bothered me. The weight was nothing and what the padding didn’t stop from poking into me, my own natural toughness made irrelevant.

Half an hour later, a very short time by even my own standards, I rose, bid thanks to Dhias, and left the chapel. My head felt clearer, but I wanted more than ever to soar beyond the walls and up toward the firmament, the stars of which my superior vision could just make out in the fading light.

Brother Mordwell rose from his own prayer position in the grass outside. He brushed off his knees and nodded at me. It would be impertinent to ask after my prayer.

I simply shook my head slowly, with a smile and a joyful expression to show reverence despite not receiving a vision or direct guidance.

“Are you ready to resume your training, Yothariel?” he asked.

“I am, yes,” I replied and turned my softly glowing eyes toward his unreadable brown ones. “Darkness will not impede my vision, but what about yours?”

“There should remain enough light to finish for the day, if only barely,” Brother Mordwell replied as we walked back over to my training ground.

As I was about to start, Brother Mordwell spoke up. Highly unusual, but not entirely out of line.

“Yothariel, it is clear you are on the path to becoming one of the Church’s greatest warriors. Have you thought about what it is you will do when you come of age?”

I hadn’t expected such a deep question. Truly, I hadn’t given it much thought. I was an extension of Dhias’ will and would serve the Church. Where and how had not been a concern. Dhias would, of course, steer me on the right path.

“The Inquisitors would greatly benefit from your strength, if you would have them. You may not know, but I am, and your mother was, part of their order.” He smiled solemnly.

“Is that why mother was only able to visit rarely?” My attention had been hooked.

Perhaps my prayer just moments ago did have significance. Perhaps this was the path I was meant to follow.

“Yes. We are still hunting the demon that slew her. And many more besides. The world is a very dangerous place outside these walls, Yothariel.”

I put a hand to my chin and closed my eyes in thought.

“Would you truly be satisfied serving Dhias in a capacity that may not play to your greatest strengths?”

I thought about Brother Mordwell’s offer more and more favorably. The other positions I would take would have me be a face for the common people. Sparingly, of course, as close to an Angel as I was. I would heal people, give sermons, and tend to the affairs of the Church. All things I had little aptitude for.

I keenly felt my sword at my side, my shield on my arm, and the plate armor wrapping my body. Outside of war or a demonic incursion, I would have no chance to take up these things in service to Dhias’ will. I knew little about the Inquisition, save that they were highly secretive and their work highly dangerous.

As well, I would get a chance to avenge mother. I recalled the only hug I’d ever received. It was enough to tip the scales and make my decision.

“Brother Mordwell,” I started with a cold smile and his face lit up. “I think I would very much like to join the Inquisition. Please, tell me more of your efforts to slay the demon that killed mother.”

***

“That decision remains my biggest regret. Though, I suppose, in the end, it freed me from my chains and allowed me to see the Church’s true face.” I finished the first part of my story, and finally tore my eyes from the firmament above.

Not like I could see the Dhias’ realm through it anyway. Fuck you, father. And fuck Dhias, too.

I turned to look at Zarenna, my eyes wet. Her face wore a sad, pained expression and tears clouded the black sclera of her slitted blue eyes. She wordlessly put two hands near me, as if suggesting an embrace. I nodded.

For the fourth time in my life, I shared a hug with someone I knew I loved. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t the one who started it.