The Burning Ones Ch. 02

The darkness and silence remained, but it was different. It felt lighter. She could sense air and wind; she could smell a faint lilting fragrance that was perhaps lilies. Her favourite flower.

The first thing that came to her mind then was that she was laying on the softest down bed ever known to mankind.

El opened her eyes, relieved that she could still see. She was indeed lying on a padding of silky soft feathers, snowy white, uniform and unmarred. She allowed herself to sink back into its warmth, closing her eyes to relish its embrace even more. She idly wondered what had happened.

She remembered the old man with his delusional outburst. She replayed that last scene through the darks of her eyelids. When she got to the syringe, her eyes flew open and her hand instinctively snapped to the left of her breastbone.

My heart.

It was still warm, still beating.

Her fingers ran over rib bones, brushing the swell of her breast. There was no pain, no puncture wound. She let her fingers smoothen the cloth to the side. She was clad in a plain white V-neck tunic that had now bunched up to her knees.

She slowly pushed herself into sitting.

As El sat up, she felt the strangest sensation that she was pulling all of the feathery blanket out from under her. Her head turned as her eyes trained on the moving feathers, following them up to find that they curved past her ears and ended in between her shoulderblades. She sucked in her breath sharply and dared not let it out.

I have wings. I'm an angel? I actually did die then? This is the afterlife I suppose. Or more accurately, Heaven. Wait, it must be Heaven right? Since Hell doesn't have angels, does it?

Her thoughts tumbled endlessly and she fought to regain control of herself. She looked around the room to get her bearings.

The bed she was on was simply decorated with white pillows and a quilt. The frame was a dark burnished wood that matched the other furniture in the room. A small study table at the far end and a plainly engraved wardrobe completed the ensemble. The dark wood floor was adorned with fluffy-looking rugs. She liked it.

Testing her wings, she stretched them out as far as she could manage. It felt like having another pair of arms, and she was glad to find them easy to control. She curled one side in front of her, gingerly stroking the longest feathers. There was an awareness, but she could not feel them. Her hand moved further up to the down-covered muscle. It was soft, and she could feel a dullness to it. She pushed her fingernail into the meat and felt herself reflexively withdraw her wings. Ouch. The room rang with her giggle and she smiled at her silliness of self-discovery.

El climbed out of bed, folding her wings neatly behind her, and padded across the floorboards, which were surprisingly warm. On the table sat a vase filled with 3 blooms of Casablanca lilies, a white envelope propped against it. She opened it and read its contents:

"Welcome note: Angel Elethea

Assigned to: Dominion Ambrosius

Dearest Angel,

Welcome to Heaven. As soon as you are ready, please make yourself known to your assigned Dominion. He may be found in the Library. A map is enclosed for your convenience."

The note was penned in beautiful calligraphy that belied the formality and terseness of the message. El reread the letter twice, then, satisfied that there was no indication of the author's name, turned her attention to the map. The Library was marked out and it looked easy enough to find.

She left the letter and envelope on the table and strode to the balcony doors. Opening the windowed panes, she stepped out onto a small alcove.

The view that greeted her was stunning. The sun hung lazily among the clouds, streaming his golden rays onto the land before her, proudly displaying the everlasting life beneath him. There was greenery as far as she could see, blanketed with majestic trees and seas of wildflowers. In the distance, she thought she could make out a blue strip of ocean.

It seemed the building she was in was part of a mountain, with spires and balconies jutting every other way, and she could make out people -no, angels- moving about in the piazzas and promenades below. It was stereotypically what she had envisioned the afterlife to be: serene, beautiful, eternal. It was Heaven after all, and Heaven didn't disappoint.

El stroked the white marble banister, contemplating the curious predicament she now found herself in. I'm not sure I deserve to be here, but if not here, then where else could I be? She thought about floating disembodied among the living, or about the supposed furnaces of Hell, then shuddered at the thought of either. Giving herself a small nod of reassurance, she exited the room to look for this Dominion Ambrosius.

***

She found the Library soon enough, a cavernous labyrinth of shelves and volumes and book dust. Wandering down the aisles, she glanced over books written in Latin and other old-world languages she did not recognise nor comprehend, until she found some in modern English. The Encyclopaedia of God's Living Creatures, The Language of Animals, Animal Courtship and Mating were some of the titles she spied, blushing at the last one. She was reaching out to pick up the book when a booming voice interrupted.

"Excuse me! And who are you to be snooping around?"

El whipped around in panic, clasping her hands in front, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. A greying, scholarly-looking angel with wings just as white as hers was slowly approaching her. His chin, dressed in a scraggly beard, was tipped up high as he strolled forwards. He stopped short of her and peered down through his thin-wired spectacles, which were precariously perched on his long nose, studying her intensely.

"Well, speak!"

El lowered her eyes and, unsure of what she was supposed to do, offered a little curtsy. "My name is Elethea and I am new here. I was instructed to look for Dominion Ambrosius. I couldn't help myself, what being surrounded by the exquisite collection you have here." She lifted her eyes and stared squarely at the angel in front of her, confident she had not done anything wrong. They are books, and books are meant to be read.

They stared at each other for what seemed like a long time before his thin lips broke into a warm, welcoming smile. He laughed. "Elethea, is it? You certainly have some fire in you, girl. That's good. Remember to always keep that flame burning. Don't mind me, I just love teasing the newcomers - we don't get many of those. Well, you have found what you seek. Ambrosius, at your service," he said, bowing low. "I've been expecting you. Now, before we begin - I imagine you must have many questions - tell me first, what happened to you before you found yourself here? Or what we call your Ascension."

"Don't you have a file on me or something?" she enquired, thinking it a strange question to ask. "I'm sure all my background would be in there."

Ambrosius gave a small pause, then explained, "Yes that would be convenient wouldn't it? But since angels live pretty much forever, we prefer to know each other on a personal basis - or at least I do. You just don't get that sort of interaction with people these days, don't you think?"

El smiled, finding it difficult not to find his character likeable. She nodded, "I couldn't agree more." She told him the story of the hallucinating old man and his lethal syringe, not wishing to elaborate too much on the events leading up to that fateful moment. Ambrosius absorbed all that she said, ahh-ing and ooh-ing at her tale. He nodded in delight when she got to the segment about waking up in Heaven and making her discovery.

"Yes, you see, the reason I asked is because your wings are perfectly white. Flawless. Most angels are created, so we have all been here since the beginning, and all our wings are white. Angels who are ascended from spirits of mortals, like yourself, usually start off with grey wings. Have you ever seen a cygnet?" She nodded that she had. "That's what newly-ascended wings look like. It signifies a lack of purity. As one spends time in Heaven, their feathers will start to shed and gradually be replaced by perfectly white feathers such as your own, but that usually takes a long, long time. Now, an act of ultimate self-sacrifice, that would sufficiently explain why your feathers did not start off grey."

El listened intently, fascinated by this new knowledge. But one question burned at the front of her mind.

"But why was I chosen to be here?"

He looked at her not unkindly, almost pityingly, in fact, and replied, "I cannot answer that, my dear. Only He can tell you why He chose you. But whatever the reason, does it matter? Now, or ever? Be proud of your Ascension and move on, for there is neverending work to be done in His heavenly domain. Come, you have much to learn."

He led her to a large chamber, near the entrance, that appeared to be his office. Books overflowed from the shelves, spilling out to lay in orderly disorganisation, forming borders around the broad study table and every other sideboard. He plucked one off the table and handed it to El.

It was a thick, leather-bound copy that read "Heaven Knows: A Guidebook for Ascended Angels. 2nd Edition." El smiled wryly at the attempted humour, sure that she would find it interesting anyway. She was also eager to find out what her duties were, although she could not imagine doing the same thing over and over again until the end of eternity.

"Your first task is to read this. It will educate you on everything you need to know about being here. If you have any other questions, feel free to come look for me. I'm usually here. I'll give you about one week to finish it, after which you can come back here and we will need to choose your vocation."

El thanked him, even though she was slightly disappointed that she would not be spending more time in his company, and made her way back to her quarters alone.

***

In the safe haven of solitude, El kicked off her standard-issue leather sandals and buried her nose in the guidebook. She absorbed the information with speed and interest.

Heaven was a neat organisation with God at the top, of course, then the Angels, followed by the souls of His living creatures. The Angels were His servants, keeper of His heavenly domain and protector of His earthly creations. Within the hierarchy of Angels were three spheres consisting of nine choirs, listed in ascending order: (3rd sphere) angels, archangels, principalities; (2nd sphere) powers, virtues, dominions; (1st sphere) thrones, cherubim, seraphim. Each Angel had their own role and duties in both Heaven and Earth, overseen by the 7 Archangels, who ascended the choirs following the casting of Luciel to Hell.

El digested all this for a moment before skipping the chapters on the history and creation of Angels, thumbing the pages to something more relevant to her current circumstances.

Angels had wings, which allowed them to fly in and between Heaven and the other domains. The wings' colour was representative of their purity, as Ambrosius had explained, with newly-ascended Angels starting with wings of grey. As they spent more time in God's domain, their feathers would gradually be replaced to reflect the attainment of purity. It was not unheard of, however, for Angels to have wings of different colours, reflecting each of the seven Sins: yellow for Sloth, orange for Pride, red for Wrath, green for Envy, blue for Gluttony, indigo for Greed, violet for Lust. To witness a full transformation in colour would take an eon, during which time any Angel bearing such signs should have been immediately reported and sent for counselling. Non-compliance was dealt with by banishment.

El balked slightly at this. What if she could not control her feelings and it showed in her lovely, snowy feathers? Just gotten your wings and already afraid of losing them? El! She untucked a wing and absentmindedly stroked it while she continued reading.

Angels had no need for material sustenance, having shed their mortal vessels, or having none to begin with. However, they might partake of these if they wished. These "desires" included food, drink, matters of personal hygiene, and sexual intercourse. Food, beverage and accessories or miscellaneous items could be found on demand in an Angel's living quarters. Copulation, however, should only occur with an Angel's Companion, a partner chosen by Him to spend the rest of eternity with.

El stopped reading and closed the book. Isn't sex a sin? How did that find a place in the sanctity of the holy afterlife? Will I have a Companion? She closed her eyes, wishing the confusion would untangle itself and wriggle out of her mind. She made a mental list of all the things she needed to ask Ambrosius.

Curling her wings behind her, she lay herself down and stared at the ceiling. It was dusk. Her hand strayed to her breastbone. She thought about what her Companion would look like. Funny, charming, warm...Oh, and the things he would do...

Her fingers slipped underneath the cotton tunic to find the swell of her breast, lazily drawing circles at the base, then cupping her whole hand over her tender, warm flesh. She sucked in her breath as her nipple grazed her palm, sending shudders down her arms. With the practice of a thousand lonely nights, she gently pinched her nipple between two fingers as her thumb expertly massaged the most sensitive part. Her breath drew in long and airily as her fingers worked quicker and quicker. She felt a slight peak, then she let out half the breath she took in and felt moisture pooling between her thighs. She hooked the sides of her plain white underwear before pulling them over her knees and down to her ankles. She slipped one leg out and planted it to the side, knees drawn up.

She spread her legs and let her hand slip in. She was already slick with anticipation. As her middle finger found its way into her warm depths, she let out a small moan, then she withdrew it to spread her wetness over her clit. Her finger worked leisurely circles on her sensitive bud, as her other hand moved down and she slid in one slender finger. It did not take long for her to climax and when she did, she curled up her finger to massage her walls. Her back arched off the bed as she worked to prolong her orgasm, riding wave after wave on her own hands, feeling each spasm innervate her entire being.

When she finally came down from her high, a sensation of complete relaxation washed over her, sending her into a drowsy state of contentment. The corners of her lips turned up as she brought her soaked fingers to them, inhaling her scent, then darted her tongue out to taste herself. When there was no omnipotent voice declaring her exile from Heaven, she laughed out loud at the ceiling, then buried her face in the fluffy pillow, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.