Silence.
The road stretches before me, the plains to either side, the sky above. The world, for the moment, looks limitless.
We have done it, unraveled the Tapestry, loosed Ethereals into the Marches. There are dragons again. I cannot even begin to express how happy that makes me.
It did not go smoothly -- we had demons and Purity against us. I had heard of the Tsayadim, but never seen them, until a squad of six Malakim descended on us. They took after Arabis for some reason, and therefore I got involved. It was a near thing -- I had two on me, and Arabis was dealing with one, and Sekhmet (do not ask) had three others. I had angelic swords in my flesh, and angelic blood in my mouth, and murderous rage in my heart. The last time -- it was Irad beside me, when we fought Purity's angels. And then it was Trauma for us both, and pain, and loss. For Irad, madness came soon after.
This time it was Arashiel who came to my rescue. Rashi had that light saber of hers, and came in like a Japanimation heroine, all wild black hair and furious eyes. I cannot describe the pride -- my Arashiel, with black-winged Purity down on one knee and bleeding before her. He was beaten, and he knew it.
Irad never came. There are reasons, I am sure, but that is not important. What is -- that I fought for *our* cause without him. I fought like I have not since his Fall. And I did not fight alone.
Irad failed his test of faith. I have wavered, but I have never given up. I have tried to hide from my anger, my loss, I have sought refuge in making pots and the creations of humanity. I have tried to hide beneath a Malakite's black wings. I have done anything but face him, my Irad.
Rook's right, of course -- Falling changes an angel. Even a Redemption will not bring back *my* Irad. It will never be as it was, never can be. Irad of Dragons is gone.
I can think of Irad without flinching now -- because there are dragons, and because Creation won this round.
We had help. We are not, never are, alone. Irad forgot that. He thought we were abandoned...and yet here, today, War, Flowers, and Fire came to Creation's aid.
We are not safe, yet -- there will be consequences for this. We are the Servitors of Archangels out of favor with Judgement, and we have done a rash, beautiful thing.
The road winds on, as we drive back to Boulder, and I can see Rashi and Matt ahead in Alaric's car, their heads moving in some conversation. Our car is silent, Arabis and Rook not being much for talk. That suits me well enough.
There are dragons in the world again. There needs to be an angel to protect them.