Night fell on Avalon as it did over the rest of the world. Darkness crept in, yet the things that used darkness for cover were kept at bay by the power of the Lady. Peaceful and calm, it was a place where serenity could enter your being and soothe your worries as you slept. One by one, the inhabitants of the towerhouse went to their beds - the wedded couple to one room, the innocent sister to another - while in a third, a man once angelic slept, restoring his strength after the long day and night that had brought him to this point. Night moved on past the mid-point, and the Isle grew quiet, until no sound was heard but that of distant tolling bells striking each hour at the Abbey that dominated the valley below.
Rachel had quickly grown exhausted once again during her short time out of bed, though Rhys and Natalya between them had made certain that she ate enough to see her through until morning. They had even given in to her insistence that some of the food be left by Zachariel as he slept, so that when he woke, he could eat. Her brother had tucked her back between the covers, made sure she was sleeping peacefully, before retreating to his own room with his wife. The moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating her gentle face at peace, the shimmer of golden flax hair spread across the pillow, the soft sheen of her pale skin in the natural light. Her slumber was undisturbed, more peaceful than she had experienced in her life, but for one name that fell from her lips as she passed through her dreams. "Zachariel ..."
The man who had once been an angel didn't so much as flinch when Rhys crept in to leave a sandwich and glass of milk on the table near his bed. It was only the soft rhythmic sound of his breathing that proved the angel was still alive. Rhys settled the blankets around him, like one might a child, and crept from the room to retreat to the room he shared with Natalya for the night. If either Zachariel or Rachel needed anything, they were just down the hall, close enough to hear them call, far enough away to offer a semblance of privacy. The house grew quiet as those who inhabited its walls fell into slumber, until the wee hours of the night when the man who had been the angel Zachariel at last started to waken.
During his years as an angel, he had often watched Rachel sleeping. Since her creation he had watched her through each lifetime, during every aspect of her life, until death claimed her and she was born again, into a new life. He'd watched over her every step of the way through every lifetime until, twenty-five years ago, she had disappeared without a trace. He had seen her live and love through good times and bad, and he had eventually been with her when she died. He knew what it was to be mortal, but he had never experienced it himself. He had never slept and never dreamed, until now, and when he awoke in the middle of the night, he was momentarily confused, uncertain where he was or what had happened, until the unfamiliar fog of sleep lifted and he remembered.
He vaguely remembered being brought to this room and told to rest; he remembered lying awkwardly down on the bed, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, no matter how hard he tried, and then there was nothing more. There had been visions in his sleep, memories of things that had gone before, some pleasant, some not so pleasant, but the memories were all jumbled and confused like a jigsaw puzzle, and he could make no logical sense of it. It was dark when he woke, a sliver of moonlight shining through his window. He laid there for a little while, listening to the silence around him that wasn't really silent.
There were sounds within the silence if one listened hard enough. He could hear the trees moving in the breeze outside his window; he could hear his own heart beating slowly like the rhythm of a drum. He felt very alone in that silence, as though he was the only living thing in all the world, and he wondered how humans endured such loneliness. He was not sure he could bear that loneliness, and after a while, he rose from the bed, his body feeling heavy, though there were no wings upon his back to weigh him down.
He went to the window and looked out upon the heart of Avalon, peacefully at rest. Nothing moved or made a sound but the trees swaying softly in the wind and the last of the autumn leaves drifting to the ground. He remembered his brothers and sisters, as plentiful as the leaves on the trees or the stars in the sky, but here he was alone, separated from the heavens, a solitary soul among many. He knew he was not alone in the house, and he knew enough about humans to know they must, too, be at rest. His thoughts turned to the others, to Rathanael who had once been a friend, but no longer remembered their friendship; but mostly his thoughts turned to Rachel, for whose love he has sacrificed his angelic soul in exchange for life as a mortal man, and he found his heart yearning to see her, to protect her and watch over her as he had done for countless lifetimes throughout millenia.
Unknown to him in that moment, Rachel, too, was gazing out through her own window, though her thoughts were far from loneliness. She could feel that she was not alone, that there was more to this world than the room in which she stood. She had woken with a start, with the memory of Oliver's blood on her face, the memory of Zachariel's pain and the violence with which they had both been rescued. And though there had been fear, all it had taken was to see that the strange soft dress she wore was like nothing she had ever worn before, to understand that this room was not the room she had woken up in every day of her life, to understand that it had only been a dream. Drawn to the pale silvery light filtering in through the window, she had risen from the bed, curling her bare arms about herself as she gazed out. Her eyes took in the swaying of the trees, the fall of the autumn leaves, knowing now that it was wind that made such things happen.
Daring to raise her eyes to the ceiling Rhys had called the sky, she gasped softly, entranced by the full wallow of the silver orb that lit the night, the pinpricks of light that decorated a blue as dark as midnight velvet. There was no room for confusion or fear in the awe that filled her, feeling a strange kinship with the full-bellied lady who watched over the night, bathing the green-eyed innocent in silver rays of light.
Rachel had quickly grown exhausted once again during her short time out of bed, though Rhys and Natalya between them had made certain that she ate enough to see her through until morning. They had even given in to her insistence that some of the food be left by Zachariel as he slept, so that when he woke, he could eat. Her brother had tucked her back between the covers, made sure she was sleeping peacefully, before retreating to his own room with his wife. The moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating her gentle face at peace, the shimmer of golden flax hair spread across the pillow, the soft sheen of her pale skin in the natural light. Her slumber was undisturbed, more peaceful than she had experienced in her life, but for one name that fell from her lips as she passed through her dreams. "Zachariel ..."
The man who had once been an angel didn't so much as flinch when Rhys crept in to leave a sandwich and glass of milk on the table near his bed. It was only the soft rhythmic sound of his breathing that proved the angel was still alive. Rhys settled the blankets around him, like one might a child, and crept from the room to retreat to the room he shared with Natalya for the night. If either Zachariel or Rachel needed anything, they were just down the hall, close enough to hear them call, far enough away to offer a semblance of privacy. The house grew quiet as those who inhabited its walls fell into slumber, until the wee hours of the night when the man who had been the angel Zachariel at last started to waken.
During his years as an angel, he had often watched Rachel sleeping. Since her creation he had watched her through each lifetime, during every aspect of her life, until death claimed her and she was born again, into a new life. He'd watched over her every step of the way through every lifetime until, twenty-five years ago, she had disappeared without a trace. He had seen her live and love through good times and bad, and he had eventually been with her when she died. He knew what it was to be mortal, but he had never experienced it himself. He had never slept and never dreamed, until now, and when he awoke in the middle of the night, he was momentarily confused, uncertain where he was or what had happened, until the unfamiliar fog of sleep lifted and he remembered.
He vaguely remembered being brought to this room and told to rest; he remembered lying awkwardly down on the bed, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, no matter how hard he tried, and then there was nothing more. There had been visions in his sleep, memories of things that had gone before, some pleasant, some not so pleasant, but the memories were all jumbled and confused like a jigsaw puzzle, and he could make no logical sense of it. It was dark when he woke, a sliver of moonlight shining through his window. He laid there for a little while, listening to the silence around him that wasn't really silent.
There were sounds within the silence if one listened hard enough. He could hear the trees moving in the breeze outside his window; he could hear his own heart beating slowly like the rhythm of a drum. He felt very alone in that silence, as though he was the only living thing in all the world, and he wondered how humans endured such loneliness. He was not sure he could bear that loneliness, and after a while, he rose from the bed, his body feeling heavy, though there were no wings upon his back to weigh him down.
He went to the window and looked out upon the heart of Avalon, peacefully at rest. Nothing moved or made a sound but the trees swaying softly in the wind and the last of the autumn leaves drifting to the ground. He remembered his brothers and sisters, as plentiful as the leaves on the trees or the stars in the sky, but here he was alone, separated from the heavens, a solitary soul among many. He knew he was not alone in the house, and he knew enough about humans to know they must, too, be at rest. His thoughts turned to the others, to Rathanael who had once been a friend, but no longer remembered their friendship; but mostly his thoughts turned to Rachel, for whose love he has sacrificed his angelic soul in exchange for life as a mortal man, and he found his heart yearning to see her, to protect her and watch over her as he had done for countless lifetimes throughout millenia.
Unknown to him in that moment, Rachel, too, was gazing out through her own window, though her thoughts were far from loneliness. She could feel that she was not alone, that there was more to this world than the room in which she stood. She had woken with a start, with the memory of Oliver's blood on her face, the memory of Zachariel's pain and the violence with which they had both been rescued. And though there had been fear, all it had taken was to see that the strange soft dress she wore was like nothing she had ever worn before, to understand that this room was not the room she had woken up in every day of her life, to understand that it had only been a dream. Drawn to the pale silvery light filtering in through the window, she had risen from the bed, curling her bare arms about herself as she gazed out. Her eyes took in the swaying of the trees, the fall of the autumn leaves, knowing now that it was wind that made such things happen.
Daring to raise her eyes to the ceiling Rhys had called the sky, she gasped softly, entranced by the full wallow of the silver orb that lit the night, the pinpricks of light that decorated a blue as dark as midnight velvet. There was no room for confusion or fear in the awe that filled her, feeling a strange kinship with the full-bellied lady who watched over the night, bathing the green-eyed innocent in silver rays of light.