The day was growing long when Gabriel arrived in Kether, not yet in the onset of evening but approaching it rapidly. She studied the First Sphere as she descended the sloping spiral of the Path. From a distance, the city below appeared orderly and symmetrical. It was nearly perfect. However, the softening colours of the aurora combined with the golden glow of the Path gave the illusion that the Sphere was drenched in fresh blood.
The Path deposited her in a large, open plaza lined with lustrous stone towards the centre of the city. An extravagant procession of daeva waited in the plaza, silent rows of guards and attendants displaying the device of the Crown. A petite girl hurried from the line of waiting daeva towards the Path, her head bowed and a sheer veil drawn over her eyes.
“Gabriel, Aeon of Yesod, the Word of Foundation and Base of Yetzirah, welcome to Kether, the Crown of the Source,” the daeva recited. “Most High has been expecting you. Please allow me to escort you to the palace.”
With a tiny gesture of her hand meant to instruct her own guards to stay behind her, Gabriel regarded the daeva impassively. She noted the differences in dress and manners from what she was accustomed to. In Yesod it had become customary to clasp one’s hands in front of the chest and bow at the waist, but this girl kept her back straight, curtsying with her knees and fluffing out her skirt. She did not lift her gaze to look upon the Aeon directly. Gabriel lifted her chin in the barest hint of a nod. “Very well.”
Adding a final flourish to her curtsy, the daeva straightened and turned to lead the Aeon into the city itself. With her hands folded under the flowing silk of her sleeves, her posture composed and her head held high and undaunted, Gabriel followed the guide to the palace. Her retinue of attendants fell in synchronised step behind her. A handful of silent Kether guards broke from their rows to flank the procession. Gabriel did not break her stride to acknowledge them, and her trusted guards were too well disciplined to react.
They proceeded through the city in silence. Her guide would not speak without permission to offer a tour. Gabriel did not prompt her to speak.
Kether looked nothing like what Gabriel imagined it would. Admittedly it was not a topic she had devoted much thought to, but she had assumed the seat of the Source’s chosen would be as unknowable as the Source Itself. What she saw of the capital of Kether showed a city much like any other. Oh, there were differences that set it apart from anything native to her own Sphere. The buildings were tall and thin, built out of white stone and often sporting towering spires and dramatic, curving lines. They had very little in common with the long, low buildings topped with sweeping roofs and made of cool, dark wood that was the preferred style in Yesod. A pang of longing for the familiarity of her home pricked at her composure. What troubled her most was the lack of open water; in Yesod, water was a common aspect of daily life. It flowed between the streets and often through the buildings. It was incorporated into most fixtures and many small routines. In its absence, she felt far too removed from her natural element to be comfortable.
It did not escape her notice how quiet the city was. They passed precious few daeva in the streets, and a reverent hush lingered in the air. While the people of Yesod were not inclined to riotous behaviour, Gabriel was certain the arrival of a foreign Aeon would have drawn more interest than Kether displayed.
The palace in Kether was built around the pillar of light which denoted the presence of the Sephirah. Several rings of thick stone walls surrounded the palace grounds, marked with tall towers guarding each gate. The walls surprised her; walls in Yesod had no use as anything other than an obstacle for animals, and certainly no walls were built as tall as these for the sake of mere decoration. After all, what use was a barrier that could easily be flown over?
Each hallway inside the palace was lined with silent keepers, servants and guards standing in stoic silence to mark her arrival, heads bowed. The daeva guiding her through the palace stopped in a large antechamber with ornate doors set in each wall. Another contingent of guards stood stoic watch over the room. Many of the guards held large banners bearing the sigils of each of the Spheres. They all had their heads bowed low and did not look up to acknowledge Gabriel’s entrance.
“Your Grace, the Sanctuary courtyard is ahead,” her guide said with a gesture to the most elaborate door at the end of the antechamber. “Most High has requested that the Aeons gather inside to await His council. Your servants are not permitted within the Sanctuary, however, and must wait in the adjoining study.” She gestured to the door on the left wall.
“That will be fine,” Gabriel said. She dismissed her personal attendants with a wave of her hand.
As the palace guards pushed open the heavy doors to the Sanctuary, a tremble of anxiety rippled in Gabriel’s heart. On the other side of these doors were her fellow Aeons, her counterparts who each controlled equal shares of the world. They had never faced each other directly before. She knew their Words well through both instinct and research, just as surely as they would know her. But they did not know that she had seen one of them corrupted. The vision itself had not provided enough information to show her which of them it would be. Gathering that context was up to her own guile. If she were to have any chance of preventing the betrayal of their world, it was imperative she learn as much as she could of her fellows during this council.
Resolve dismissed her unease from her countenance. She raised her chin and evened her breaths. She would give them no reason to doubt her even as she learned all that she needed from them.
The doors to the Sanctuary courtyard opened with a resounding boom to allow her a glimpse of what lay beyond at last. A shallow pool lined the courtyard, feeding a modest fountain along one side. The soft whispers of the water were a much needed balm to her fraying nerves. Thick vines of ivy climbed the walls, the verdant bundles of nerves interspersed with clusters of white, sweet-smelling blooms and lit torches. In the centre of the courtyard, a score of daeva performed a lively ribbon dance set to quick-tempo music. Other members of the palace staff floated through rows of stone benches, carrying platters of drinks and foodstuffs as they went. The pillar of holy light in the sky announced that the far end of the courtyard led to the Sanctuary containing the Sephirah Kether. It was curious to note that the sensation of being so near the Sephirah Kether differed from what she felt when near the Sephirah Yesod; the presence of the Source was alive in the back of her mind as if it were a tangible thing, but Kether was a separate entity that she could not commune with. It lacked the welcome familiarity of Yesod.
The Aeon of Binah and the Aeon of Chesed huddled together near the fountain in excited conversation. The Aeon of Chokmah sat nearby but was uninvolved in their discussion, his eyes closed as he faced the doors of the Sanctuary in meditation. Was he listening to the Sephirah? Perhaps, as the second under the King, he heard Kether differently than she did.
As soon as Gabriel stepped over the threshold and into the courtyard proper, her guide vanished wordlessly into the palace and the guards shut the door behind her.
“Ah, I was wondering who would be the next to arrive,” spoke a voice to Gabriel’s left. Said voice belonged to Haniel, the Aeon of Netzach, who lounged on a bench wreathed with red flowers, a goblet of wine in hand. Aeon Haniel’s posture was utterly relaxed, her long legs crossed at the ankles, her generous curves wrapped in a heavy cream-coloured fabric trimmed with emerald green. Her thick, dark hair fell over one shoulder and trailed to her waist, small flowers and thin, glittering strands of ribbon meant to catch the light braided into the delicate plaits. Intricate designs were drawn across her warm skin in a reddish ink, pulling attention to the curve of her cheekbones and the grace of her limbs. She met Gabriel’s gaze calmly, her own eyes the same shade of green as a forest during the height of summer, and gestured with her free hand for one of the waiting daeva to step forward. “And to think, you had the farthest distance to travel, too. Join me for a drink, Aeon Gabriel? Shall we get to know one another as we attempt to guess who will be next to appear?”
“I do not know if that would be wise, Haniel, Aeon of Netzach, the Word of Victory and the Nature of Eternity,” Gabriel said, clasping her hands politely in front of herself. She remained standing.
Aeon Haniel took a slow drink from her cup, her green eyes appraising her fellow Aeon shrewdly. She accepted a fresh goblet from the daeva she had motioned for and took the time to readjust her legs before she spoke again, the delicate bands of metal twinkling merrily in the light. “If it pleases you. I do suppose such a game would be somewhat… lacking in sport for one who can see the future, would it not?”
Gabriel met her gaze coolly, her own face a perfect, practiced mask of serenity. She had forgotten what it was to stand opposite one who could match her power. And there was power within Aeon Haniel, though not an ounce of it showed as tension in her muscles. Gabriel saw Aeon Haniel for what she was: a great huntress lounging in the shade after a successful hunt, sated for now but never to be ignored. “Shall I presume from your ‘game’ that some of our number are not yet in Kether?”
“I presume you shall, and you would be correct to think so,” said Aeon Haniel. She swirled the wine in her cup lazily. “We are yet three short. I arrived not long ago, myself. It’s been a game in itself trying to get clear answers from anyone here, but as I understand it, Aeon Raziel was the first to arrive with Aeon Tzaphkiel shortly behind him. As one would expect from the two Aeons of Highest Yetzirah directly under the King, I imagine. And, of course, wherever the Aeon of Binah goes, the Aeon of Chesed is sure to follow.” She pointed to where the two were still enraptured in conversation, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I did not wish to intrude. They are nearly identical, don’t you agree? I find it fascinating. I do wonder, however: do you think they are happy, forced apart as they are?”
Gabriel followed her gaze to the twin Aeons, Tzaphkiel and Tzadkiel, their Words Understanding and Mercy respectively. From this distance, at least, she did agree they appeared nearly identical. The twins sat with their hands tightly clasped and their heads bowed so closely together that it would have been easy to think they were in prayer, but their bright smiles made it clear this was a joyous reunion.
“I believe it would be improper for me to speak on their behalf on such a personal subject,” Gabriel said.
“Yes, I suppose it would be,” Aeon Haniel mused. “What can we know of how they feel? Do our daeva even have a proper word for siblings? I can’t recall ever hearing them have cause to speak of brothers or sisters.”
“The daeva know of siblings,” said Gabriel. “They have studied the occurrence in animals even if they have not experienced it themselves. They have formed communal peer groups and bonded together even if they are not bound by bloodlines. They are capable of understanding a concept that does not apply to them literally.”
Aeon Haniel smiled sharply, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Of course. Forgive me, my mind is elsewhere.” Her gaze drifted to the group of dancers in the centre of the courtyard. She tilted her head to the side with a wistful expression, the decorations in her hair and draped across her forehead shining. “I will admit, it is… odd to be here. Perhaps I have grown too comfortable in Netzach, but this place is something out of a dream.”
This silent palace of watchful eyes and strange walls was about as far removed as it was possible to be from the one dream Gabriel cared about presently, and she said as much. “It is like no dream I have ever had.”
“No, of course not,” said Aeon Haniel, focusing on Gabriel once more. “You dream of the future. This is a dream of the past. How could you dream of a memory you do not share?”
“As you said, I dream of the future. To remember the past seems distinctly less impressive,” said Gabriel. She prayed the other Aeon couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart or see the involuntary flutter of her eyelashes.
“I will grant you that,” Aeon Haniel said with a pleased laugh. “Far better one live in the present, at any rate, wouldn’t you agree?”
Whether or not Gabriel would have agreed, she was prevented from voicing her opinion by the door to the palace creaking open to admit the final three Aeons: first the Aeon of Geburah, the Word of Strength, to whom Gabriel had spoken with only once many seasons ago, then the Aeon of Hod, the Word of Glory, who towered head and shoulders over everyone else in the courtyard but appeared terribly distracted, glancing repeatedly behind himself to the room they had just left, and lastly, Gabriel presumed, the Aeon of Tiphareth, the Word of Beauty.
Aeon Michael had told her what to expect of Aeon Raphael’s condition. His description led her to guess that whatever may have happened was related to her vision. She had been anticipating the pursuit of that line of inquiry to uncover whatever answers it may reveal to her. She was not prepared for how physical her own reaction was to the previously lost Aeon of Tiphareth. Gabriel’s hand flew to her own throat, the phantom memory of burning strangulation from her vision now at the forefront of her mind. Aeon Raphael struggled to keep with Aeon Michael’s deliberately slow pace. A length of red ribbon acted as a tether between the two of them; Aeon Raphael kept her head lowered as she allowed herself to be led into the courtyard, limping and trembling with effort. The strange markings covering her body were just as Aeon Michael had described them: precisely the shade and brightness of open, bleeding wounds, but lacking any blood.
Aeon Haniel stood, all traces of her previous casual demeanour gone in an instant. “What’s happened?”
It was the Aeon of Hod who answered her. “We’ve had a long trip. I’m certain we’ll all feel better after we’ve had a chance to rest,” he said with a glance at Aeon Raphael to gauge her reaction.
Aeon Raphael had not looked up from the floor since their arrival, and she did not raise her head at the sound of his voice now. She murmured some quiet agreement and followed Aeon Michael to the nearest bench. As she blindly felt at the bench before easing herself down, her limbs now shaking so badly she looked on the verge of collapse, the movement tilted her head enough for Gabriel to see that her eyes were clouded and white, crossed by more of the same markings.
“It was wrong to bring her here with open wounds,” Aeon Haniel said to Aeon Michael. “She needs her injuries tended to, not to be dragged before a council.”
Distressed crossed Aeon Michael’s face, enough to imply that he had likely shared the same thought.
“There are not wounds as we know them,” Gabriel said before he could speak. She approached Aeon Raphael hesitantly, the sensations from her vision as fresh on her skin as they had been when she had first awoken from it. “This is something else. Tell us what you saw,” she implored Aeon Raphael quietly.
Aeon Raphael pressed a hand against her throat with a wheezing cough. “I-I have seen nothing.”
The memory of being dragged through the Void to be tortured by an unseeable attacker hit Gabriel with enough force to cause her breath to hitch. “Nothing attacked you,” she whispered. It was not a question.
Judging from Aeon Raphael’s shuddering whimper, she understood. “There was n-no reason,” she agreed slowly.
“Let me see your face,” Gabriel said. She reached out to brush Aeon Raphael’s red hair away from her forehead.
“Ah,” Aeon Michael started in warning, but before he could speak, Aeon Raphael jolted backwards away from Gabriel’s touch as if she’d been stabbed; only Aeon Michael’s grip on the red ribbon tied around her wrist kept her from launching herself backwards off the bench.
“Don’t ever touch me!” Aeon Raphael cried between shallow, panicked gasps.
“Easy, you’re safe, no need to hurt yourself,” Aeon Michael said as he tugged on the ribbon to encourage her to sit upright once more. “Rest now and gather your strength.”
“No one t-touches me,” Aeon Raphael insisted, but as her panic faded, so too did what brief strength she had gained from it.
“I understand,” Aeon Michael said. He turned to face the others with a helplessly apologetic shrug. “She needs her space. That’s been her sole request since we found her. Aeon Gabriel is correct to say the markings are not typical ‘wounds’, however. Our healers could make no sense of them or how to treat them. We hoped to find answers here.”
“When did this happen?” Gabriel asked, her gaze flicking between the two of them.
“She manifested in this condition alongside the Paths in Hod,” Aeon Michael said. “I had hoped her condition would improve with time spent in her body, but it is a slow process and she’s not had adequate rest.”
“Manifested alongside the Paths? You mean to say you’ve been without a body all this time?” Aeon Haniel asked, surprised. “Oh, darling. No wonder you’re confused; you’re barely a person at this point, to say nothing else of whatever ails you. Let’s get you something to drink and see if we can’t ease this transition somewhat, shall we?” She gestured to one of the nearby palace staff to bring forth another goblet of wine.
“Perhaps not before we see the King,” Aeon Michael objected gently, intercepting the goblet before it could be delivered to Aeon Raphael. He started to set it aside, then paused, glancing around the courtyard as if only now noticing his surroundings for the first time. A conflicted expression passed over his face and he quickly downed the wine himself. He passed the goblet back to the daeva who had brought it with a polite gesture to Aeon Raphael. “Some solid nourishment would be appreciated, I think. Something light and easy to manage, if you please.”
“I would like to know the state of Tiphareth,” Aeon Haniel said. “Is the Sephirah suffering as you are? What of the Sphere?”
There was a pause as Aeon Raphael visibly struggled to piece her thoughts together. “Tiphareth is s-safe. Th-they are protected.”
“One of my Saerim spoke with the Regent of Tiphareth before we departed,” Aeon Michael supplied.
“That is reassuring. However, I must say I’ve never heard of a manifestation experiencing these problems,” Aeon Haniel said as she settled herself on the seat opposite them. “Pardon my asking, but if you were not attacked, what could have caused this?”
“I can’t r-remember,” Aeon Raphael stammered.
“I have a theory it may have to do with the fact that she manifested so far from the Sephirah Tiphareth,” said Aeon Michael, but his tone lacked conviction and he looked to Gabriel as if for confirmation.
“That is incorrect,” Gabriel said softly. She studied Aeon Raphael as an eerie ringing noise built behind her ears. “That is not what did this.”
“You speak with authority on the matter,” said Aeon Haniel. She watched Gabriel sharply, but Gabriel did not turn to face her.
As they talked over her, Aeon Raphael had not moved. She sat so still she was barely breathing, her head bowed to one side as if listening for something far away. The golden lines marking her brightened and dimmed in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. She could have been sleeping were it not for the obvious tension in her muscles.
“Aeon Michael, may I speak with you a moment?” Gabriel asked.
He looked surprised at her request. He glanced at Aeon Raphael once, frowning, before he nodded and stood to follow her to a more private corner of the courtyard.
“Surely Aeon Raphael deserves to hear your thoughts on her condition before I do?” he asked.
For a moment, Gabriel was distracted by how peculiar it was to speak with someone who so thoroughly dwarfed her. Aeon Michael hunched perhaps subconsciously in an effort to make the difference in height less intimidating, but it mattered very little. She stood straighter and held her head higher in response.
“I do not know what did this, not yet, but I know it is not as benign as separation from her Sephirah,” Gabriel said. “During my vision of the epoch, I dreamt the same wounds were inflicted on me, but long ago.”
Aeon Michael frowned as he digested her words. Gabriel wondered if he realised how openly he wore what he was thinking; his facial expressions were animated nearly to the point of exaggeration, so unlike the self-controlled reservation that was expected in Yesod.
“I don’t suppose I need to point out that you presently do not share Aeon Raphael’s condition,” Aeon Michael said. “You’re certain it was the same? Then you know what caused it?”
“I could not see, and there are aspects that do not align with reality. I dreamt I was injured shortly after the formation of the Spheres,” Gabriel said.
“Forgive me, I thought you only dreamt of the future,” said Aeon Michael.
Gabriel hesitated. Her brow furrowed before she remembered to school her expression. “I do. I always have. This was something new. I must be missing a key detail. What I dreamt did not happen, not to me, not during the formation of the Spheres.”
“This was during the vision that prompted you to contact me?” Aeon Michael asked.
“Yes.”
“Before the activation of the Paths?” he pressed. “You dreamt of suffering this injury the morning before it was inflicted on Aeon Raphael?”
“You’re suggesting I misinterpreted the context,” Gabriel said thoughtfully.
“I mean no offense,” Aeon Michael hurried to assure her. “But you claim to only dream of the future, yet this was a dream of a past that did not happen. But it was dreamt moments before a version of it did happen… to someone else.”
“It would be more than that. I had never contacted Aeon Raphael before today. To my knowledge, no one had. She came out of hiding in response to our actions taken due to my vision. If that was what allowed her attacker to reach her…” Gabriel trailed off, turning to look at where Aeon Raphael still sat. The Aeon of Tiphareth was not moving even as Aeon Haniel continued to try to coax her into conversation. Aeon Raphael sat with her shoulders hunched, one hand gripping the edge of the bench and the other pressed against her throat. The buzzing hum between Gabriel’s ears grew in intensity. She shook her head to clear it, struggling to focus on her present surroundings as she turned to look at Aeon Michael. “You are certain this happened during the activation of the Paths, not before?”
“I can tell you once more what I saw, though in truth I am certain of very little,” he said. “I saw the Paths connect to Hod first, then Aeon Raphael began to manifest. It was during this process that something went wrong, before she had fully taken her body, though I could not see what.”
She had been careless. Urgency and panic had bested her. She had acted without understanding the full scope of the situation, and now she did not even know how much that poor choice had cost them. “Actions have consequences,” Gabriel whispered to herself. To her counterpart she said, “I must reiterate my request that you keep all we have discussed in confidence. I need time to determine the results of our actions without unchecked interference from the others.”
Doubt and discomfort were plain to read on Aeon Michael’s face. Gabriel wondered how he ever kept necessary information secret from his daeva, or if he even bothered to try. “And what of Aeon Raphael?”
“We must care for her, and presently the best we can do is to determine what injured her,” Gabriel said. She stole another glance at the Aeon of Tiphareth but had to avert her gaze; the image of one of their own murdered by the corrupted one from her vision clouded her eyes. Her head was spinning. The buzzing noise of an oncoming vision threatened to drown her. “We must… It is imperative that… All will fall if…”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Aeon Gabriel? Are you all right?” Aeon Michael’s voice echoed oddly in her ears, distant and distorted with concern.
“I am to have another vision,” she said. It was a struggle to get the words out in a coherent sentence. Her head was swimming. Pieces of the courtyard at the edge of her vision were breaking away to be replaced by swirling mists of possibility. The image never solidified, however, and her awareness of her surroundings remained just pressing enough that she could not transition into a trance. It was scattered, undirected, out of focus as waking visions often were, and she could not find the focus.
A pocket of clarity bubbled around Aeon Michael. He was the only thing in focus as her awareness of the rest of the world slid in and out of her grasp. The buzzing between her ears was almost all she could hear.
“I need a focus,” she said, slowly to ensure her enunciation was proper. “Please, let me see your hands.”
He recoiled from her, drawing his hands to his chest to keep them out of reach. “I don’t know that that’s a good idea, Aeon Gabriel. It isn’t safe for others to touch me.”
His voice was clear over the buzzing noise that drowned out the rest of the courtyard, but his words held no meaning to her. She tried again to explain her need. “Waking visions often require a focus, something to do with the subject of the vision, to make sense. You are the focus. Please, I need your hand.”
“I will burn you,” Aeon Michael said, speaking slowly in an effort to reach her. “I don’t want to, but I will, as I’ve burned everyone who has come in contact with me. It isn’t safe.”
Gabriel was beyond the ability to think on anything other than the vision she was being denied. “I must do this. If this vision holds the answer, I must know it. It is my duty. Nothing else matters.” Unable to feel her fingers anymore, she held her hands blindly out in front of herself. “I can still save them. I am an Aeon, just as you are. I am strong enough. Please help me stop this.”
For a moment, she thought he would refuse. Her ability to parse the meaning of his expressions had left her. Then he cautiously took her hands in his. She could not feel his touch, but the edges of her sight exploded into the vividity of a full vision that engulfed the courtyard.
“Do not break contact,” Gabriel whispered. She clasped their hands tightly together and allowed her eyes to close.
The world dissolved around her and she ceased to be.
She saw Michael reaching for her from across an impossible distance. His familiar face was a study in concern, fear, and determination. Michael was her only focus; the world around them was little more than a distant pattern of shifting colours and soft, billowing shapes. An aura of brilliant, beautiful power wreathed him, shining as brightly as any of the Spheres twinkling faintly in the background. He was speaking as he reached for her, but the howling wind surrounding them carried his words far away. He gestured desperately for her to come to him, his expression pleading and hopeful. The desire to comply was so crushing she thought her chest would burst, but she knew she couldn’t. Not now. She turned away from him, slowly, agonisingly, to look behind herself.
She stood before a great weakness in the world, a long gash in the fabric of reality that led to something unimaginable. A thin sheet of reality yet separated their world from what lay beyond, a feeble, failing shield between the Spheres and an alternative that could not exist. There was movement on the other side, unclear but mesmerising for its alien nature. Unidentifiable shadows paced eagerly in anticipation of freedom. She wanted freedom as well, more than she had ever wanted anything else. Such a thin sheet of reality stood between her and her freedom now. It would not take much to break through, and she was holding a sword.
A solid force connected with Gabriel’s chest, staggering her backwards and breaking the connection. She fell to the ground with a sharp gasp as the present collided with the future in her mind, leaving her temporarily unaware of herself. Fuzzy sounds of raised voices echoed through her confusion. She felt a twinge of annoyance; the palace staff knew better than to make such a racket during her meditations. Reality returned to her in a rush: she was in Kether, not Yesod, in the King’s own courtyard waiting to be summoned for a council, and she had just had a waking vision in front of the Aeon of Hod. Gabriel pushed herself upright with effort, struggling to regain control and awareness of her limbs, and opened her eyes.
The Aeon of Geburah, the Word of Strength and the Arm of Justice loomed between her and Aeon Michael, arms held wide in a stance that threatened immediate aggression. Aeon Khamael was of average height and build, slim with lean muscles and dressed in an undecorated, understated manner, but the unflinching certainty with which she held herself as she glared up at the much taller Aeon Michael negated any illusion of inequality the difference in their heights may have caused.
“Explain yourself,” Aeon Khamael demanded quietly, her soft voice full of harsh accusations.
Aeon Michael shrank away from her as if she had physically accosted him. His eyes were wide with horror as he clutched his hands to his chest. “I-I didn’t mean… I wasn’t… She was having a vision, and -”
“And that required you to destroy her hands?” Aeon Khamael interrupted.
Her hands. Gabriel turned her hands over slowly to stare at her palms. The skin was shiny and red and rapidly swelled as she watched. Her whole body was still numb, as was normal when she first came out of a vision, so she was uncertain how much pain her hands were in or how much difficulty moving her fingers could be attributed to the burn itself. She thought they could hardly be considered ‘destroyed’, however. It was a curious sensation of disassociation to see an injury on her body that she could not yet feel.
“I am so sorry,” Aeon Michael babbled. His voice sounded very far away to her, even though he was barely outside of arm’s reach away. He took a step towards Gabriel, but Aeon Khamael deliberately moved between them to stop him, spreading her arms wide.
“If you cannot calm yourself, you need to leave before you cause further damage,” Aeon Khamael said.
Gabriel knew she wanted to protest - Aeon Khamael had no right to dismiss the Aeon of Hod when Most High Himself had summoned them there - but she was too distracted watching Michael to form a coherent sentence. Traces of her vision lingered behind her eyes: a ghost of the brilliant aura she had seen hovered around Michael’s head, a colourful after-image superimposed atop reality. She blinked to banish it, forcing her mind to return to the present through sheer will at the same time Aeon Michael let out an agitated sigh and inclined his head in agreement.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I apologise. Here, I have an ointment that ought to help,” Aeon Michael said. He fished a small, dark vial from one of his pockets and held it up as proof.
This time, Aeon Khamael allowed him to pass, though her purple eyes remained sharp and suspicious, her long platinum hair gleaming a soft violet in the approaching twilight. Aeon Michael eased past her and knelt beside Gabriel.
“May I see your hands, please?” he requested softly.
Nodding, Gabriel held her palms out for him to inspect. He did not reach out to touch her as he studied her burns intently.
“It’s not as bad as it could have been, thankfully,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he uncorked the vial. “With this ointment, if you can soak your hands in cool water and then keep the burn clean, it ought to heal quickly enough.” He paused and looked her directly in the eyes. “Will you feel comfortable if I assist you here? Under most circumstances, there is very little danger when there is no direct, physical contact. I’ll be careful not to touch you, but I understand if you’d prefer someone else to help you.”
“No,” Gabriel gasped without pausing to think. She had felt such familiarity for him during her waking dream. For a moment, she had felt certain she knew him better than she knew herself. Each facet of his expression had spoken volumes to her, more than she had ever thought possible without speaking, and she was studying him closely in an effort to recapture that curious sense of awareness. “That is to say, I would appreciate your help,” she clarified, flustered, when she realised how she was staring at his face without speaking.
Aeon Michael gave her a somewhat shaky smile in return, evidently unbothered by her intense scrutiny. “This will likely sting a bit,” he warned as he tipped a healthy dollop of clear liquid from the vial onto her burns.
It was bearable. Perhaps she was not yet fully aware of her own body, but she would have described the sensation as more of a peculiarly intense tingling than anything outright unpleasant. The smell surprised her: the liquid carried a pleasant, light scent that reminded her of a cool, summer’s eve dessert rather than a medicine, though she did detect a faint trace of a harsher ingredient underneath. Whatever it was made from, the effect was immediate and the swelling stopped worsening at once. Aeon Michael instructed her on how to spread the ointment over her burns without agitating the wounds further, miming the motions with his own hands as he spoke.
“I am sorry,” Aeon Michael repeated sadly, “but you will need someone else to help you stand.”
“Leave her the dignity of standing on her own,” Aeon Khamael said, crossing her arms.
“But… she’s injured,” protested Aeon Michael.
“I suspect the greatest injury has been to her pride, and the first balm for that wound will be to stand on her own power,” said Aeon Khamael.
The fog in Gabriel’s mind at last receded enough to allow their words to connect and the reality of her situation hit her with the impact of a slap to the face: she was on the ground, her hair and garments in complete, likely unsalvageable disarray in plain view of the other Aeons mere moments before they were scheduled to be presented before the King. Horror and humiliation fought for dominance in her mind as she untangled her skirts, doing her best to be mindful of her burns and to avoid damaging the silk further, though she was certain it was a lost cause. She stood, keenly aware of the many eyes throughout the courtyard observing their little debacle.
With one final, critical glance between the two of them and her jaw set in a decidedly unimpressed manner, Aeon Khamael left them to approach the twin Aeons Tzaphkiel and Tzadkiel. The twins had paused their conversation to watch them curiously, their mismatched gazes bright with concern and, Gabriel feared, pity. Grinding her teeth and fighting to keep her outward demeanour neutral, Gabriel returned to the bench they had left Aeon Raphael and Aeon Haniel on. Aeon Michael followed her, his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to appear less noticeable.
He cleared his throat hesitantly before they reached the others. “If I may ask, what did you see?”
Gabriel did not raise her gaze to meet his. “I saw nothing intelligible. The vision was interrupted before its time.”
“Then it was for naught,” he whispered, the words bitter and hollow.
She stopped in her tracks. “Say nothing of what we discussed to the others.”
He frowned, pressing his lips into a thin line as he turned away from her to look around the courtyard. His gaze fixed on one of the tall towers that stood over the main entrance to the palace, a striking lance piercing the sky, as he said in a wistful voice, “I think you ought to know that there are no secrets in this court.”
Gabriel was abruptly aware of every palace servant in the courtyard. Kether’s daeva ghosted around the edges of her focus, present but never drawing more attention than was necessary and utterly silent. A line of servants stood by the wall, ready to be called forth at a moment’s notice and no doubt watching all that took place within the courtyard through their sheer veils. Her immediate discomfort gave way to optimism; she had nothing to hide, and perhaps their combined observation would be beneficial.
“I will tell Most High what I know,” she said. “The decision of what to do with that knowledge will then lie with the King, as is right.”
This appeared to appease Aeon Michael, who nodded. “The King will know what to do.”
Aeon Haniel watched them closely as they approached, her expression unreadable. Only Aeon Raphael had not reacted to the scene they had created in any way, seated in the same position with her hand pressed to her throat and her head tilted to the side as she listened. A tray of light breads sat on the bench beside her, untouched and unnoticed.
“Aeon Gabriel, tell me, do you not have any sayings in Yesod warning of what happens to those who try to touch fire?” Aeon Haniel asked. She again called forward one of the palace staff and requested they fetch a bowl of cool water.
“It was my mistake,” Aeon Michael said.
“Believe me, dear one, I saw whose mistake it was,” Aeon Haniel said with a sharp smile before he could continue.
“Waking visions often require contact with the subject to become clear,” Gabriel said, meeting her gaze squarely. “In this case, the subject was the Aeon of Hod. The contents of the vision were worth the risk.”
Aeon Haniel retrieved her goblet of wine once more, smiling at Gabriel over the rim. “And what did you see? I hope it was worth the pain.”
“It was interrupted, as you saw.”
“What a shame.”
A daeva appeared before them, her head bowed and a sheer veil covering her face, and offered Gabriel a large, shallow bowl filled with water. Accepting the offering, Gabriel gratefully submerged her hands in the cool liquid and closed her eyes with a quiet sigh, revelling for the moment in the welcome sensation of the water soothing and tending to her burns.
Aeon Raphael sagged heavily in her seat, all semblance of life gone from her in an instant, before she sat up with a startled gasp and a cough, looking for all the world like someone who had just been prematurely woken from a deep sleep.
“H-how did I get here?” she asked, panic obvious in her voice as she clung to her seat.
Aeon Michael was quick to respond, moving to stand beside her. “We’re in Kether for the King’s council, remember?” he prompted gently. “We spoke of this while we walked the Paths, don’t you remember?”
“Th-the Paths are open?” Aeon Raphael pressed her hand against her head. Distress was causing her to shake so badly Gabriel doubted she could stand. “Am I a-awake now?”
“You are. You are ill but among good company and we’ll soon get to the bottom of what ails you.”
“No,” Aeon Raphael gasped, hysteria causing her voice to break, “no no no no. There was a-a reason I kept the Paths closed. I-I shouldn’t be here, I need t-to go home!”
“The Paths were your doing?” Aeon Haniel asked, surprised.
Aeon Michael ignored her, kneeling in front of Aeon Raphael and keeping his voice low and calm. “Easy, be calm. What reason? What do you need?”
She whined sharply, pressing both hands against her head. Once more she slumped forward abruptly, all tension gone from her muscles. Then she startled awake again. “Wh-what are you saying? Did something happen?”
In the centre of the courtyard, the performing daeva finished their song and moved as one to line up along the wall, never once uttering a single word. The door leading into the Sanctuary itself opened and a man walked outdoors. His posture and the bright scarf he wore identified him as a person of significance. He strode to the middle of the courtyard and bowed.
“Aeons of the outer Spheres, I am Saerim Azrael, Regent of Kether,” he said. “On behalf of Most High, we welcome you to the Crown of the Source and hope your stay with us thus far has been a pleasant one. The King will see you now. If you would please prepare yourselves, I will take you into the Sanctuary.”
A daeva approached each of the Aeons bearing a tray with a veil similar to the ones they themselves were wearing. Sudden fear stole Gabriel’s breath from her; she was not ready! She needed answers, more information before she could present her vision. In a daze, Gabriel removed her hands from the bowl and flicked the lingering drops of water from her fingertips so she could inspect her palms. The burnt skin remained pink and tender to touch, but the ointment and the cold water had done a serviceable job and she would not be in any discomfort. She took the veil from the tray offered to her and placed it over her head. Her overwhelming dread of the situation turned towards how her hair must look as she lowered the veil over her face as she was instructed. The fabric was translucent enough that it did not obstruct her view in any meaningful way, but it was odd to view the world through such a filter. Gabriel stood to join the others.
“I-I don’t want to go,” Aeon Raphael whimpered. She clutched the edge of the bench in a white-knuckled grip, hunched over as if in physical pain.
“Keep your head lowered and do not speak unless directly spoken to,” Aeon Michael whispered to her. He draped the veil over her head and wrapped the red ribbon he’d been using to guide her around her wrist so she would not drop it, taking great care never to touch her directly as he encouraged her to stand. “When you are asked a question, only answer the most obvious layer of the question you can get away with. Never offer more details than you are absolutely required to, but do not be obviously cryptic. Most importantly, under no circumstances will you phrase anything as though to imply you know more than the King or question His words, do you understand?”
“I w-want to go home,” Raphael mumbled. Though it was with clear reluctance, she released her grip from the bench and pulled herself to her feet, now clinging to the ribbon like a lifeline.
“Welcome to the day, fledgling,” Aeon Haniel said without turning to face them. Her shoulders were held back and her hands pressed together in front of her waist in a noble pose, but her posture read as confident and natural rather than tense or deliberate. “If you wish to survive, never show that you feel fear. Come along, then.”
“This is for the best,” Aeon Michael whispered to Aeon Raphael as they took their places in line. “The King will know what to do for you, how to help you. Just do not panic.”
Aeon Raphael did not respond.
The inner Sanctuary of Kether was an ample, round room divided into two sections by a billowing set of gossamer curtains. Just inside the door, the floor stepped down to cradle a circular table with eight low seats. A set of stairs led up to the curtains dividing the room. Each step was decorated with lit sticks of incense, the thick swirls of smoke permeating the air with a sweet, soothing scent. The elevated portion of the Sanctuary behind the curtain was much larger to accommodate the Sephirah Kether. The room-sized, crystalline heart of the Sphere hovered suspended in a pillar of light. Delicate, luminescent strings of golden aether bound the unfiltered power of the Source in the Sephirah to the lower worlds. Concealed within that blinding light, at the head of the stairs sat the throne of King Elion, Most High of the Aeons.
Gabriel took all of this in with a glance. Even with the protection of the veil and the curtain between them, the presence of the Most High was too brilliant to look upon directly. She kept her head lowered demurely as she took her seat next to Aeon Michael. Since the moment she had dreamt of the epoch, her every waking moment had been focused on gaining an audience with the King to speak of her vision. She had achieved her goal, but now she knew she needed more time to gather her thoughts, to prepare herself and sort through all she had seen. Timid uncertainty settled over her, enough to reduce her to a child fumbling for attention. The King was the Chosen of the Source, the Saviour from the Golden Legend, the Will of the Endless. What could she possibly have to say that He did not already know?
Once the Aeons were seated in their proper places and the door to the courtyard closed behind them, Regent Azrael took his own place at the foot of the stairs. He stood with his hands held loosely behind his back, ready and awaiting his next orders.
A heavy silence settled over the Sanctuary. For a breathless moment, all was still.
“And so We are united at last,” the King spoke. His every word resonated within Gabriel to the very core of her being, filled with raw power that washed over her in an inescapable tidal wave. It sung to the ancient part of her soul that belonged to the Source, the part of her that had come from and would always belong to Yesod. “Though We may appear separate, We Aeons are each aspects of the Source, direct instruments of the Ein Sof from which all life emanates. It was decided that the Spheres would be formed independently under your stewardship so that all aspects of the Source may freely manifest, but it was never to be forgotten that there is but One Divine. To this end, I had considered each of you extensions of My will and placed within you great trust and many of My hopes. We were to foster life as one, to further the great Plan as a unified force in balance with Our greater purpose. Unity was Our design. Instead We have been kept separate, disparate in isolated chaos by a single choice. At long last this has been remedied. Now united, We see the Plan before Us as it was intended, as well as the cost of wilful defiance of that Plan. Aeon of Tiphareth, what reason will you offer to justify your failure?”
Aeon Raphael had evidently taken the advice offered to her to heart. She sat with her head bowed so low that her hair obscured her face, still as a statue. She did not react to the question; Gabriel feared she had somehow fallen asleep until she finally offered in a meek voice, “I-I can’t r-remember.”
“You were made to tend the Paths which bind the world,” the King said. His voice never raised above that of mild interest, but the power from the Sephirah amplified it so that each syllable stung the back of Gabriel’s mind like an icy lash. And Most High wasn’t even speaking to her directly. “That is your sole purpose, to enable those of greater purpose to forward their designs. The Paths were meant to be open from the dawn of the Spheres. What have you done in this time instead of your sacred duty?”
Aeon Raphael sagged forward under the King’s words as if they were a literal weight on her shoulders. Under the table, she clutched the fabric of her dress in an iron grip. “I couldn’t w-wake up.”
A thick silence settled over the table. Next to Gabriel, Aeon Michael coiled tightly in his seat with the barely contained need to speak up.
“You have no answer,” the King said. “Your negligence was intentional, and for what cause? You are a child, a prideful, uninitiated, defective child who cannot fathom the nobility of the goals your self-praising ignorance has jeopardised, and, from this time onwards, you shall be treated as such. Your sole purpose is to balance the Paths. If you are incapable of even that, then what is the point of you?”
“Wait, my King, if it pleases You, I would request Your permission to speak,” Aeon Michael blurted out. He looked shocked at his own audacity, his face pale and his eyes wide.
There was a pause during which no one dared to breathe.
“Michael,” King Elion acknowledged. “What have you to say, My son? Rise and speak your piece.”
Rising from his seat as he had been ordered, Aeon Michael took a deep, somewhat incredulous breath and forged ahead. “My King, all that you say is true, as Your word is our law and always will be. You have built the world for us and will it to flourish and for life to foster safely within. We have done this. I offer this mirror gem containing an image of Hod as proof that, to the best of our abilities, we have each created a thriving Sphere brimming with the potential of our daeva, even without the Paths.”
Regent Azrael stepped forward to take the small box Aeon Michael held out in offering. The Regent did not climb the stairs to pass the gift to the King but instead resumed his silent post by the bottom step. This did not seem to surprise or deter Aeon Michael in any way.
“It is my dearest hope that You will look upon our works and find them pleasing,” Aeon Michael said. “My King, please allow me to suggest that our prolonged separation was not solely the work of Aeon Raphael. Before the activation of the Paths, I was contacted by Aeon Gabriel of Yesod, who spoke to me of a troubling vision she had foreseen.”
Gabriel tried to keep the alarm from her face as she turned to face him. If he said too much now, who could say what the consequences would be? Had he already forgotten the many times she had warned him not to speak of what they had discussed? If he noticed her reaction, however, he chose to ignore it.
“We knew at once it was a matter which required Your guidance,” continued Aeon Michael, “however we found it was impossible to relay a message to you. It was likewise difficult to contact the Aeon of Tiphareth, but, at length, she responded to my call and manifested in Hod to reach me. It is clear that something interfered with her process of taking a body. As You can see, Aeon Raphael is injured and very ill. Since I have known her, she has had constant difficulty remembering and communicating. I do not believe her condition to be mere disorientation from a difficult manifestation, however. I believe it is linked to the danger Aeon Gabriel foresaw and worthy of Your inspection, and likely the reason the Paths were so delayed.”
“You were unable to contact Me due to the absence of the Paths,” said the King. “That is the only troubling event I see. The Aeon of Tiphareth’s condition is her own doing; by choosing to manifest away from the Sephirah Tiphareth she has denied part of her soul and damaged herself. If she is diligent and pious, perhaps she will mend with time.”
Against all better judgement, Aeon Michael continued to protest. “My King, that does not align with what I saw.”
“You mean well, My son, but your heart yet bleeds for that which is not worthy of your blood,” sighed the King. He gestured with one hand for Aeon Michael to take his seat once more. “You lack perspective. You will learn this in time. Aeon of Yesod, rise and speak of this vision.”
She had known this moment would come, had anticipated and planned for it. Now that it was upon her, however, all she could think was that she was not a disgrace. Gabriel stood with all the dignity and poise she could muster, her hands clasped in front of her chest and her head tilted low under the veil. Satisfied that she appeared properly humble, she began. “Most High King Elion, the Source has gifted me with a vision of a future most terrible. I saw our era of separation end, as it has with the arrival of the Paths, but the new era that came after was one of great calamity. A darkness the likes of which I have never seen broke through to our world and became as an infectious disease that devoured all we have built. I saw it consume the daeva, destroy the Spheres, and contort the Sephiroth, reducing us to mere shadows, hollow shells of our true meaning. I saw the ending, and we did not survive.”
The King considered her words. “You have dreamt of the Shattering of the Golden Legend.”
“No, my King, for I saw the nine of us as we are now attempting to fight against this darkness.” She hesitated, wanting to speak of the betrayal she had seen, but caution held her tongue. That was information only the King Himself needed to hear, lest all she accomplish be to alert or inspire the betrayer. “I saw that unless we are unified under Your guidance, it will not be enough. This new era will be our last should this darkness find root in our world.”
“There Spheres are all that exist,” said the King. “The Spheres built around the Sephiroth are the boundaries of the world built by the power of the Ein Sof. Where in our world do you propose this darkness come from?”
“I believe it will come from outside of the Spheres,” Gabriel said. “I saw a great rip in the Void, my King, a tear in the very fabric our world is made from. I cannot say how such a thing could come to be, but I believe it to be vital.”
No one spoke out of turn, but a blanket of anxious energy settled over the Aeons seated at the table. The only one who did not react was Aeon Raphael; she may as well have been frozen in place. The King ended their fidgeting with a gesture.
“Our world is blessed with the boundless love and protection of the Source, just as We have been blessed with a power to enforce that protection,” said the King. His voice resonated through the Sanctuary without ever raising in volume. “Our home is safe, and We will take every step necessary to ensure that it remains so. You will build great structures of Our design across key points in each of your Spheres. Once completed, these structures will act as beacons of Our power, and the sum of them together will create a network which will strengthen the world and ward off whatever darkness might seek to gain entry.”
Gabriel bowed deeply as she had seen the daeva in Kether do. Relief flooded through her as she took her seat once more. Whatever power this darkness may possess, surely it could not stand against the power of the Source. “It will be done, my King.”
“To see it is done properly, I am declaring My son Michael, Aeon of Hod, the Word of Glory, as Prince over Lower Yetzirah,” the King said. “He will hold dominion over all six of the lower Spheres and rule them in My name.”
Everyone with eyes to see turned to look at Michael. His face had gone very pale.
“My King, I am deeply humbled You believe me to be worthy of such a distinguished and tremendous honour, but, perhaps, for the task of building mere beacons, such intense supervision might not be necessary?” Aeon Michael protested weakly.
“Your reign will not end with the completion of the beacons but will be a permanent installation,” said the King. “The Prince will lead Lower Yetzirah as he sees fit, as is his right by My appointment and validated by his blood. His word will be your law, as it is also My word. Your successes will be his successes. Your failures will be his failures, as well. He will report both to Me, regularly. As we enter this new era, never let it be forgotten that the greatest of gifts is life. In this, We have been blessed in abundance. But with this gift We have been given an awesome burden. Ours is not to question life, but to protect and nurture it in all forms, and, in so doing, protect and nurture the Will of the Source. To squander the gift of life, to demean or dismiss any threat to it as insignificant, is to condemn all to darkness and decay. As it was in the Old Kingdom, so it will not be here. As one, We will prepare the world to embrace the spark of the Endless as it was intended, or we shall rebuild it. The rest of you may go. I will speak with My son alone.”
They stood as one and returned to the door connecting the Sanctuary to the courtyard outside in silence, Aeon Haniel leading Aeon Raphael by the ribbon. As the last one to leave, Gabriel hesitated just inside the door to covertly steal a glance at where Aeon Michael remained at the table, watching them go and doing his utmost best not to look utterly miserable. Their eyes met. The memory of Michael reaching for her from across the Void, his expression earnest and pleading, jumped from her vision without warning. Gabriel turned away, her cheeks tingling with warmth, and left the Sanctuary to return to the courtyard beyond.