The Grand Basilica of Saint Thomas the Apostle was a vast and opulent Cathedral that was nestled in the heart of Manhattan. Though it had been rebuilt and moved several times, the design remained in the gothic style that defined many of the great churches throughout the world. Kathlan had been to all the previous versions of this church over the years and still found himself awed by the marvel of engineering that it was. Thousands of people stood around with their phones out posing in front of its dominating size and then unceremoniously continued towards some other landmark that would hold their attention for just as long.
He didn’t fault them necessarily. He knew of its long history within the area as well as the various true religious followers that called it their home Parish. Kathlan had even helped several of the previous Bishops and Rectors in different cleansing rituals, as well as a few inquisitions. Father William Costello had once asked Kathlan to help quell the epidemic of demonic possessions that took place in the aftermath of a Hell gate being opened in the late 80’s. The issue was found to be caused by a rogue group of Warlocks under the patronage of Galverdanum; a general in service itself to a long-forgotten death deity of modern-day Turkey. Kathlan also recalled that immediately after Father Costello sent a very warm letter of thanks to the head diocese of New York, he was hunted down by Rosicrucianist knights, under assumption that he was the one responsible for the events. It was the unfortunate nature of spiritually powerful men to want to change the world by way of eliminating evil spirits and entities. But these were all hidden from the view of the masses at large. Despite this, Kathlan always felt a sense of obligation to the Church for the work it did for those common people.
He stepped into a side door around the corner from the main entrance with a Latin phrase painted in gold and red that read “Expected Guests of the Holy Father”. Inside a well-dressed man sat on a low stool facing the door and considered Kathlan closely before pointing boredly off to the left-hand door. He nodded and knocked on the door; a series of 3 taps, a rasp, and an open palmed strike. The door glowed white with an energy he recognized as a warding sigil being deactivated before being opened from the other side. Father Sullivan greeted him with a nervous smile before allowing him past and into the antechamber of a warm private study. Unlike many other places of study, the shelves were lined with statues and objects that glowed in a wide range of energy from across both the magical and physical spectrum. It looked remarkably similar to the way that the Sanctum’s RND workshops were designed but noted the lack of security or warding that would ensure whatever magic they contained would not be activated accidentally.
“Please be seated.” Father Sullivan stated politely as he closed the door and reactivated the angelic seal now visible on this side of the entry. It appeared to be original Enochian, with a standard prayer of purification and deterrence from malicious intent built into the outer layer of the warding. Kathlan had seen similar before but something about the use of the Enochian word “Primarch” sent a wave of panic down his spine. “I will return momentarily.” Sullivan continued crossing to a door on the far side of the room. “Please refrain from touching any of the Records.” He ordered, this time with a hint of distrust and agitation, before disappearing into the adjacent room.
Kathlan quickly realized what this room’s intended purpose was by the father’s last comment. The items on the wall were akin to the crystals he had been finding on the pretzel magicians. Reliquaries and phylacteries for a number of souls lined every inch of space along the shelves in the small room. As Kathlan sat himself in the leather executive chair across from the dark wood desk he considered if one of these contained the soul of legendary Primarchs that existed in the world. Unlike normal spiritual beings, Primarchs were not created by any of the creator deities or of the Great Dreamer itself, but rather gave birth to those lesser creators and deities that governed the great machine of the universe. Things that have always existed and always will. Kathlan wondered why such a precaution was taken and how this small diocese thought it could manage such a task of containing it.
The door on the far side of the room opened as Father Sullivan returned to the room carrying an oversized statue of the Virgin Mary in his arms. The statue glowed with an internal silver and gold pulse that Kathlan quickly identified as an angelic soul anchor. The object would allow for any angel to manifest itself in the world without the need of a host, though the range of this effect would be very limited. He chuckled to himself which drew the ire of Father Sullivan as he carefully placed it on the desk. It was entertaining to see that not even the angels would willingly enter such an unworthy vessel as the Holy Father before him.
“Show some respect de…. honored guest.” The Father corrected himself “This is the place which the Lord has granted for his servant’s PRIVATE audience with you.” He finished, seemingly to justify his inability to act as host. “You’d do well to mind your manners around an Angel of the Lord, even one such as yourself should fear HIS power.” The Father said with an air of superiority.
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“Be not afraid entity known as Kathlan. My friend here speaks out of turn.” An older voice echoed from behind Father Sullivan who jumped and spun around quickly in surprise. “He is a worthy servant who can go places many cannot. Though his pride shall one day make a fool of me.” The wrinkle man in frayed robes stated taking a seat behind the desk and moving the statue out of Kathlan’s view of him.
“Great Angel, I was just...” Father Sullivan began.
“Leaving? Yes, I know. Please do so hastily before you waste anymore of my guest’s time.” The Angel declared with a smile. Father Sullivan bowed his head and quickly left by the door he had disappeared in earlier without another word. The angel sighed and turned back to Kathlan, “I am very sorry for his behavior.” The angel apologized frankly with a slight bow of his head.
“It’s no bother, I am used to him and many others acting in that way towards me.”
“Still, it Is regrettable. Your role is much akin to his, a known…variable… that can be of great help in maintaining the balance in this world. I do hope you will find comfort in those words and not resentment.” The angel politely addressed him.
“I will do my best to remember that, Lord Angel.”
“HAHA, I am no lord dear Kathlan. I am but a servant. But where are my manners.” The elderly figure chuckled. “I am the Angel Uriel, though I’m sure you were already aware of this fact.”
“I was told that you had given Sister Vivian a vision, and that I was to be called here. I believe you know better than most that I would not have come if I didn’t know who was summoning me.” Kathlan replied frankly, wishing to keep the formalities to a minimum. Angels had a bad habit of long-winded speeches and pleasantries; presumably done in the name of a politeness and courtesy that he did not share.
“Summon is a strong word. Requested, would be a better term.” The angel Uriel said in kind, “But I do see how it could come off as such. Regardless, there is in fact an important matter that Heaven would like to ask of you.” Uriel shifted uncomfortably in his, a sign that the angel was in a far more precarious position than it would like to admit. “I know you have already been informed of the events that transpired a few days ago in the death of the demon Mephistopheles, but this is only one of a series of strange deaths that have occurred outside the Lord’s plans.” The grim look that crossed Uriel’s face showed a deep concern that might have very well been thinly veiled anger.
“I wouldn’t think that the removal of such demonic creatures would be a concern for the righteous warriors of Heaven. I presume that your concern lies with the fact that it isn’t one of yours that is accomplishing these heroic deeds.” Kathlan retorted, hoping to pry a bit more information from the angelic being.
Uriel gave him a fake smile, “While the death of such beings would normally be a blessing to the most high, these particular incidents are not solely relegated to just demons. A wide range of spirits and celestial beings have fallen to this ill fate. Some of the Fay court of both summer and winter have perished, as well as a number of earth spirits.”
“And a few of your angels as well?” Kathlan suggested, reading between the lines of the angel’s words.
The fake smile was quickly replaced with a scowl. Uriel stood from his seat and walked over to the shelves of artifacts that sat collecting dust, his back to Kathlan as he spoke.
“You are unfortunately perceptive and correct. Four of our scouts went missing a few months ago and have yet to be found; alive or dead. Also, nine of the twelve warriors we sent out in search of them have not returned. One of which returned near death, their mind and body shattered and broken. The only thing they could must the strength to say was ‘The black sun will be swallowed by the vipers of the roots.’” The angel’s shoulders tightened and pulled up its neck as he spoke the words aloud. “As the Black sun’s only representative, you had initially fallen under suspicion of corruption by the Twelve Seats. However, due to your…nature, they were unable to act upon these beliefs.”
“Due I constitute that much of a threat to Angels as powerful as the Seraphim?” Kathlan questioned.
“No. I have no doubts that the Seats would quickly dispose of you if they deemed those beliefs justifiable. The more pressing concern was dealing with the aftermath of such an atrocious act against the Book of Life.” Uriel turned back to him, a calmer and more self-confident attitude hung about him. “While the general opinion of Heaven is that you are no better than the evil you keep in check, we are still bound by the Lord’s will that you remain unhindered in your works. You have a certain authority that even the Twelve are forced to respect.”
“I greatly appreciate the Lord’s trust in my abilities then. Please to thank him for me the next opportunity you have.”
The angel’s thin fake smile returned as he made his way back to the opposite side of the desk. “I will try to keep that in mind should I be granted such an audience in the near future.” Meaning, a resounding yet polite ‘Fuck yourself heathen’.
“Not that I don’t appreciate this meeting and exchange of information, but what exactly are you asking of me?” Kathlan pressed, hoping to reach the point of this ‘Request’.
The angel sighed heavily, as if the words he was about to speak would cause him an immense amount of pain.
“The Twelve Seats of Heaven would like to formally request your services in locating and investigating the disappearance of the Archangel Michael.”