The Fallen: Chapter One

The Fallen

Chapter One: The Pact

366 Years Prior: Recorded in 986 by Enoch

Draven inhaled the air of the world he’d only seen for nearly a thousand years and smiled. He’d feared it might burn his lungs, but it was fresh. Almost sweet. He opened his eyes and looked out across the redwood forest encompassing Mount Hermon. Black smoke rose in lazy, twisting wisps from rooftops at the forest’s edge. Though the city was miles away, Draven could smell the smoke mixed with the scent of cedar and morning dew.

“We are not here to sightsee, Draven.”

His shoulders slumped, and Draven turned to the source of the voice. Semyaza stood with his arms folded over his massive chest. He was head and shoulders above most of the other watchers that stood in a half-circle behind him. 

“I thought we liked this place. That’s why we’re here, right?”

Semyaza shook his head, sending his golden hair into waves around his chiseled jaw. “There will be plenty of time to enjoy this world. First, we must reach an agreement.”

Draven nodded and walked over to join the others but stood apart, not quite with the nearly two-hundred who he’d followed from the astral plane. A smaller group, nearly twenty Malakim, stood closest to Semyaza. Draven avoided eye contact with them.

“What are you doing,” whispered Morane. Draven looked up at his friend. As tall as Semyaza and physically stronger than any of the watchers, Morane was formidable, and just then, he was glaring at Draven. 

Draven smiled. “You know I don’t like being part of the crowd.”

Morane snorted. “But here you are.”

Draven shrugged. “Well, I do like a party, and it’s not like Michael or Gabriel were going to let us bring the women to the astral plane.”

Morane bit back a laugh and wiped his face. His skin was so white that it nearly glowed in the sunlight. 

“Are the two of you quite done?” Semyaza asked. 

Draven cleared his throat. “Sorry, Semyaza. Totally done here.” Beside him, Morane was trembling, and out of the corner of his eye, Draven saw him biting his fist. He nudged him.

Morane also cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Quite done, Semyaza.”

“Quite,” Draven said, nodding.

“Who allowed these two?” said one of the leaders. Ezeqiel. He was shorter than most and had scaly, olive-colored skin.

Semyaza held up a hand. “Enough.” Everyone fell silent, and he lowered his hand. “We have been denied the pleasures afforded to these mortals for too long. Are we all in agreement?”

All of the watchers nodded, and murmurs of “yes” or some variant made its way through the crowd.

Semyaza nodded. “We have been forced to observe these ungrateful humans being afforded comforts we could never begin to enjoy in our celestial home.” He surveyed the crowd as he spoke. “I think we all agree there is much to desire in this place. More than enough for man and Malakim to share the riches.” The crowd cheered, and Semyaza held up his hands to calm them. “Of all the things The Most High created, I desire to meet the daughters of men, and I sense by your eager faces you long for the same. To know them. For their—” He paused and smiled. “—companionship.”

They all laughed. Draven forced himself to join them and hid his look of disgust. He kept his face lowered to avoid Morane’s stare.

“But we will forever forfeit our place among the stars,” Ezeqiel said.

“Indeed,” Semyaza said. “The Most High will learn of our deeds and send the others to imprison us.”

“The risk is too great,” said another of the leaders, thin and as white as Morane. 

Semyaza turned to him. “Then why did you come, Asael?”

Asael lowered his eyes. “I only say what is true, Semyaza.”

“Getting intense,” Morane mumbled under his breath.

Draven smiled. “Uh huh. Testy.”

The leaders went back and forth for several minutes, weighing the risks of leaving the astral plane and taking human wives. Draven listened in to several side conversations that had begun in whispers. No one but Morane knew he possessed this ability. Though all of the watchers could see and hear from great distances, hearing multiple conversations at once with clarity was not among their gifts. The Most High had granted him this power, so he felt no guilt for using it on his brothers.

“What are they saying?” Morane asked.

Draven shook his head. “Nothing I care to repeat. Lewd, to say the least.”

Morane chuckled. “I think they desire the companionship of the women more than their place in the stars.”

“You’re not wrong,” Draven said as he turned his head toward the leaders. 

They were quiet now, and Semyaza spoke. “We will make a pact. I will not pay for this transgression alone. All of us will agree. Here. Now. We are bound one to another. We will take the daughters of men. We will rise to power among the races of Earth, and when we are strong enough, we will conquer the others before they can descend with punishment.”

There was silence on Mount Hermon for a long time after Semyaza spoke. The watchers shifted on their feet and looked around. Some sat and weighed this decision with their heads in their hands. Others moved away from the group and looked back and forth between the forest below and the astral plane above. Draven stayed where he was while Morane mingled and spoke to several of the others. He never took his attention off the leaders, and he mentally recorded every word they said.

After nearly half an hour of Earth time, the watchers came back together. They closed their circle, and Draven sneaked his way to the rear. He slipped silently among them until he was behind the full circle that had formed. He remained silent as they all swore to uphold the oath, pronouncing curses to anyone who betrayed them or did not follow through with their transgression. He could see Morane looking around, so Draven slid to the right and activated the other power granted to him by The Most High. 

He let his skin shift and blend into the environment. After a few seconds, he looked at his arms. The colors changed as he moved them, so closely matching the colors of his surroundings that he almost could not tell where his appendages were. He felt his skin tingling and knew the transformation was complete. He had never used this new ability before, but he smiled and thought, I could get used to this.     

✦  ✦ ✦

Michael felt something brush his shoulder and looked up. He stepped back from the ledge and turned in every direction. He caught a shimmer out of the corner of his eye, a ripple in the air in front of him. It was gone before he could focus on it. He gripped the pommel of the sword sheathed at his hip and spread his feet.

“Is that how you say hello to a friend?”

Michael gasped. “Draven?” He moved his hand away from his sword and narrowed his eyes, peering into the shifting light before him. “It worked? This new power granted to you by the Most High is indeed impressive.”

Draven appeared, smiling. His skin shifted colors. “They didn’t suspect a thing.”

Michael laughed, disbelieving. This power, granted to Draven to perfectly blend in with his environment had sounded fantastical, but seeing it in person was mesmerizing. “You are just like the Shimmara dragons in the north.”

Draven shrugged. “Not quite. I don’t breathe fire or destroy villages in order to eat the ashes and horde treasure.”

“Are you ever serious?”

Draven rolled his eyes and his skin shifted to one solid tone. “I’m pretty sure my winning personality is the reason I was picked for this task.”

Michael motioned for Draven to follow him as he walked to the ledge. They sat and let their legs hang over the chasm between the Astral Plane and Earth. Below him, the watchers were already reaching the edge of the forest. Michael waved his hand, and the scenery shifted, bringing the city of Babylon into closer view.

“They are set on their course, then?” He looked at Draven, who was staring out over the chasm. He nodded without looking at Michael. There were tears in his eyes.

“This is the time for strength,” Draven said. “You are still needed.”

Draven clenched his jaw. Licked his lips. Then he closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“Why must there be a spy, Michael?” Draven asked. “We can observe everything from the Astral Plane.”

Michael shook his head. “No, we can see much with the eye, but we are not The Most High, Draven. We can see the forest, but can we truly see the trees? Can we feel what man feels? Can we see the intentions of the heart?”

“No.”

“Then we cannot see everything, and we cannot know everything, but if we are to petition The Most High, we must see and know as much as is possible.”

Draven nodded and wiped his eyes.

“Gather your emotions, my good Shimmara. Then go fulfill your task.” He patted Draven’s back and then stood. He left him at the ledge but stopped when he was about ten feet away and turned back. “And Draven?”

Draven looked over his shoulder, letting his snow-white locks fall over his ebony skin.

“The temptations will be great. You are going alone into the den of the fallen. We are mightier than the humans but not above their reproach.” Michael walked away, not waiting for a response. After losing the trust of two-hundred of his brothers that day, the archangel could not bear to see if there had been even a moment of wavering resolve on Draven’s face.