Prospero Regained (58 page)

Then, I saw Her.

She came across the ice leaving a trail of wildflowers in Her wake, a slim white creature, horselike but as graceful as a deer, with silver cloven hooves and a slender tail with a puff at the end, like a lion’s. Her lavender eyes were flecked with gold. Out of Her brow sprang a horn of spiraled ivory.

She had come!

The air now smelled of fragrant ozone, and a warmth was spreading across the valley, melting the snow up to a mile away. All about her, violets and forget-me-nots spread like wildfire.

“Great Queen!” roared a demon I recognized as Prince Sitri. “It is Her! Your dreaded enemy! This is your moment of glory! The moment for which we, your humble servants, have waited. Save us from Her as you have saved us from her consort! Destroy and demean Her, as you have so often told us you long to do!”

All eyes turned to Lilith, imploringly.

The Queen of Air and Darkness’s face grew as pale as ash. Drawing back upon the reins of her carriage, she fled.

Terrified, the demon hordes rushed to follow, but they were too late. The Serpent of the Wind struck, and they were whirled away across the now-melting Glacier of Hate.

Of those who had been released from the cages, some ran, but others stopped and were drawn upwards. A host of angels, singing together in glorious chorus, flew down to greet them.

The Unicorn turned Her lovely delicate head and regarded me. In Her lavender eyes, I thought I saw pity, love, and understanding.

Then, She lowered her horn and charged.

The sharp point of Her horn struck my forehead and pierced my skull. I screamed.

Sparks flew everywhere.

*   *   *

GREATER
than the universe, greater than all universes, which I held in my arms, cradling them as a mother cradled a tiny infant, I danced within the void. My silver hair fell about me like a mane, and, from my brow, a beam of light spiraled up like a horn. The Alcreate’s Regard, which showered down upon me like a resplendent, silvery-white ray, sustained me, and I, in return, shared it with all—the thousand-million galaxies that whirled and spun within my gentle embrace. I knew them all and loved—with equal and eternal love—each individual point of life, whether it be a living galaxy-spiral, whose million light-year-long body consisted of a thousand-billion stars, or a single-celled ameoba wriggling its way through a solitary raindrop.

As I danced, I knew the secret that was no secret at all:
A
LL THE WORLD WAS MADE FOR LOVE
.

As I woke to myself, Eurynome asked me if there were some iota of eternity I wished to take back with me, some specific question I wished answered.

I asked, “If the demons are so corruptive, why did God put mankind in this terrible position? Why did the Divine Infinite breathe life into the homunculi the demons had created in the garden? Or if that story is not the true one, why did God put the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil into the garden in the first place? Why did he damn us to this mortal existence from which we cannot escape?”

My Lady laughed, a sound like the ringing of a galaxy of bells:
All those who came were volunteers.

“Volunteers?” I cried. “Volunteering to do what?”

Save the demons.

“What?” I cried.

Do you think the Alcreate could do less than love all his children? Mankind is comprised of souls who volunteered to leave High Heaven on the mission to rescue the fallen angels, who are also His beloved children.

“Fallen angels are redeemable?”

Have you not read your Bible, where it says in the Book of Jude: “And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, He hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day.”

“Yes…” I replied.

It is the dearest wish of all in High Heaven that, upon the Day of Judgment, the fallen ones—having by then redeemed themselves and cleansed away their stains—shall be judged and not found wanting
.

*   *   *

REENTERING
the world after my sojourn with my Lady was a shock. All my senses reeled from the return of sensation. The light before me seemed too dull. Sound rushed back to my ears in a roar. Goosebumps formed upon my limbs from the chill. My mouth felt cottony and dry, and I nearly choked as the mingled fragrance of ozone, lavender, and the dust of corruption filled my nostrils.

I stood by myself. Instead of a glacier, a field of flowers spread out around me. In the distance, I saw the tumbled Tower of Thorns. It still hurt my eyes, so I quickly glanced away. Beyond that, however, more flowers stretched.

Nowhere did I see cages.

There was no sign of Ulysses, either.

I was alone in Hell. My family had deserted me. My Lady had departed. My precious flute lay broken. All I had with me—to help me make my way back over the glacier, up the Mountains of Misery, across the Plain of Wasted Lives, back through the lava, and … and after that I did not even know where to go, for we had flown on the back of the swan—was an enchanted dress and a very sharp fan. I did not even have Mab for company.

I shook myself and forced a laugh. Ulysses would come back, of course. I was only on my own for a minute, while I waited for him to drop the others off.

But he did not return.

I stood there, growing colder and colder. A single tear meandered down my cheek. Unable to bear it any longer, I knelt and prayed.

A golden cast fell across the flowers, and I breathed in a beautiful scent, even more glorious than the fragrance of the wild blossoms. Turning, I beheld a Virtue, her five pairs of seagull wings outstretched. She smiled down at me, the light of her five halos glinting off her silver slippers and off the pearls that trimmed her robes. Where her aura encountered any bare portion of the ice, not already converted to flowers by my Lady’s presence, the glacier burned with a cherry-gold flame that bubbled and warped the hellish landscape about us, as if the very substance of Hell could not abide the angel’s presence.

The angel bent toward me and touched my head. The green of her gown was the exact color of my wings.

“Rejoice!”
Muriel Sophia spoke in her heavenly, melodious voice.

“Mother?” I jumped to my feet.

“My daughter.”

Hesitating only briefly, I threw my arms around the angel.

Heavenly wings enfolded me. Feathers as soft as the dreams of happy children brushed my cheek and the back of my neck. A glorious warmth flowed through my veins. The tension drained out of my limbs, and my whole body relaxed. I felt like a newborn kitten nestled under the wing of a giant swan, as if I were as far from the ravages of the Inferno as Paradise itself.

My face buried in feathers that smelled of sea spray and springtime after a rain, I asked, “When Eurynome spoke about redeeming the demons, did she mean something like what has happened to King Vinae?”

“He is the first, but there will be others.”
My mother stroked my cheek. Joy skittered through me. Her gentle touch made me feel whole, like fitting the final pieces to a long-slaved-over puzzle, where that puzzle was my heart.

“Will Vinae be able to return to Heaven?” I asked.

“That is not known yet. He has far to go, but he is on the right path. Once anyone values Love above other things, the Gate to Heaven cannot but open.”

“Mankind’s purpose is to save the demons, and, in the millions of years during which we have dwelt upon the Earth, we’ve only saved one?”

“Eurynome does not see the world the way we do.”
Muriel Sophia spread her wings, except for one pair which she kept snugly around me. She looked like a white peacock with a black trim, or a woman standing before a giant fan made of seagull feathers.
“Mankind has as many purposes as there are individuals, for the Divine Infinite weaves all things together for the good of those who love Him—and yet, it has but one purpose: to glorify Him. Saving the demons is one of those many purposes, and it is a purpose to which I am devoted.

“This is why I sent my servant, Solomon, into Hell, so that he could bring some of the stronger demons up to where they could behold men as they really are, not merely the twisted version that they are familiar with from below. So that the demons could see mankind at their best: loving each other, struggling over adversity, and, most important, facing temptation and resisting.

“King Vinae is a step or two ahead of the rest because he saw, first hand, your father’s fall and how the power of my love redeemed him. But, every time your siblings are kind to each other, the demons in their staffs learn a little more about love. Every time someone in the Family Prospero resists the temptation offered by the demon in his staff, that demon learns a little more about virtue and resolve, a little more about how to resist temptation and find the pathway back to Heaven.”

“You mean the whole point of our having staffs is to do to the demons what Mephisto does to monsters? Win them over and tame them?”

“Indeed,”
my mother replied. I noticed her silver slippers did not quite reach the ground.
“That is why they would not turn and rend you, despite the urgings of Baelor of the Baleful Eye back at Erasmus’s mansion. He persuaded them not to attack him, but he could not convince them to turn on their masters, whom they had grown to respect. Of them all, only Paimon has not made progress, but only because his binding was done incorrectly, and he could still hear the whispered voices of his demonic comrades.”

“And just living with our staffs was enough to bring about this change?” I asked. “I would have thought that the demons trapped within would have become more rancorous the longer they were imprisoned.”

“Your family is particularly suited to this task,”
my mother explained.
“The soul of each of your father’s children was sent from Heaven for the purpose of aiding in this project. But the task is hard. The weight of the demons’ sins dragging upon their souls is so great that even the most resolute of heroes may falter.”

Horripilations of awe danced up and down my limbs. “We were born to bear staffs? Is that my purpose, too?”

My mother gazed at me with such tender love that, for an instant, I felt as if I were the sweetest, most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.
“Yours is to serve Eurynome, and to free the elves from their tithe to Hell.”

“A purpose I have failed.…” I choked. I tried to swallow, but it felt as if a massive boulder blocked my throat. I could not continue speaking.

The angel pressed her shining hand against mine. It was like having the warm springtime sun emerge from behind a cloud just to light one’s private bower. My heart rose, and even something as grave and final as the utter failure of my life’s purpose could not entirely dismay me. One tiny chamber of my heart still felt hope.

“Why, Mother?” I cried, “All those years, why was it I did not become a Sibyl? Was it because I kept slaves?”

“No,”
my mother the angel replied,
“though in freeing them, you did resemble Her more fully.”

“Then … what was it?”

“To be a Sibyl, you must be like Eurynome. You must think like her. See as she sees.”

My knees grew weak as everything finally made sense. I leaned upon the angel. “The grand compassion Uncle Antonio mentioned?”

“Exactly so.”
Her wings supported me.

She stroked my hair with a gentle soothing gesture. It made me faintly sad that the locks beneath her hand were midnight black instead of the pale silver I pictured in my imagination. How ridiculous the petty things that plague us when our mind should be focused upon the exalted.

“So … this thing that’s been happening to me—where I understand someone else’s experience as if it were mine—that is what was missing?”

“Yes. Your angelic nature kept you separate from men. You had to bridge that gap before you could be of service to our Lady,”
Muriel Sophia explained.
“Many times, an opportunity for compassion has been presented to you, a doorway through which you could have chosen to go. But, in the past, you did not make that choice.”

“And it all changed when I saw the old lady on the bridge?”

“Not then. Before. Think back.”

My thoughts reeled backward. “Mab? In the Great Hall?”

“When you made the choice to save Mab Boreal, rather than stones and books, you finally stepped through the open door that had been waiting for you from the beginning.”

The pain of unshed tears pricked at my eyes. “A door I started through as a maiden, when I gave my heart to Ferdinand, and then backed away from.” Sorrow filled my mouth, and I could not continue.

“Ferdinand was killed by Antonio, who was still under the influence of Paimon. All the horror and bareness of your life has been orchestrated by the Ruling Seven—by Abaddon and Lilith.”

All those years. All those long wasted years. To think that the very isolation and coolness I so valued, thinking in my vanity that they made me better than other people, had been the obstacle to my fulfilling my dreams. My besotting sin truly was pride.

It all changed because of Mab—Mab who had done so much for our family, so much more than we would have expected of a spirit servant. A pang of sorrow grabbed my heart and squeezed. The only time I ever told Mab outright how much I appreciated and trusted him, I had been talking to Osae. I made a mental note to correct this error.

A raucous caw sounded from above us. Overhead, Prince Sitri and his minions circled. They were dark, bat-winged monstrosities, some with the heads of leopards, others with the heads of crocodiles. More joined them every moment, their flock growing greater and greater. Seeing my mother, the demon prince lowered his scepter, signaling to his legions to attack.

I grabbed my fan and prepared to fight, but my mother stopped me with a hand. She drew me against her side and surrounded me with a single soft, fluffy, white seagull wing. As its warmth wrapped around me, I again felt safe, protected, as if hid in the secret place of the most high.