The Tears of Time

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Raphael was watching Elanor when she woke up. Her eyes opened in a snap, startlingly awake for someone who had seemed so deeply asleep moment ago. Though her flickering eyelids had hinted at something more than sleep. He smiled at her, and she returned the smile for a moment, watching the expressions flicker through his dark brown eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly.

“For what?” Raphael asked, intrigued, his heart beating a little faster, at the soft tone she addressed him in.

“That you chose to love me, and for this.”

“Wha-” Raphael began, cut short by the sudden lack of weight in his arms, “Gabriel!”

Gabriel turned startled by Raphael’s cry, to see Elanor diving downwards, her wings tucked tightly against her back. Within seconds she had disappeared, swallowed by the darkness that lurked below them. Shocked, Gabriel hovered still in the air. Then Raphael began to dive after her, and he had to move. He swooped under Raphael’s attempted dive, catching the struggling angel before he had a chance to escape.

“Raphael!” Gabriel cried as the maddened angel struggled against the grip he had around his shoulder blades and wings.

“Let me go! Gabriel, let me go!”

“No, Raphael you can accomplish nothing that way.” Gabriel said, his wings beating the air furiously to keep them both up.

“But, she just… I can’t…”

“Raphael. She is the last Seer. Her task is not over, she will surely return,” Gabriel soothed, flying them upwards. Raphael breathed unsteadily, then pushed away from Gabriel grasp.

“I’ll not dive again,” he said at Gabriel’s reluctance to let him go.

“Promise?”

“I am not as foolhardy as you may think, Gabriel.”

Gabriel nodded, though he noticed that Raphael still did not promise anything. They separated, watching the darkness which seemed to swirl blackly below them.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked, still shocked.

“She woke up, and then jumped!”

“She didn’t say anything to you?”

“Well, yes…”

“What? Raphael, I need to know.”

“She said, ‘I’m sorry’,” Raphael gulped.

“What for?”

“That’s what I asked,” Raphael continued, deciding to omit part, “She said, ‘for this’ and then jumped.”

“She jumped purposefully?” Gabriel asked.

“I think so.”

“Then there must have been a reason.”

“Gabriel, there’s not a reason behind everything,” Raphael snapped, angry tears filling his eyes.

“You should be careful who you fall in love with, Raphael.”

Raphael stayed quiet, knowing that Gabriel would contort any answer he gave. Confusion and anger mixed painfully in his chest, a longing to follow human example and break down in grief beginning to take root in his mind. He watched the darkness, a deep yearning in his chest to follow the beautiful soul that had just pulled his heart in half after her.

Something in the darkness twinkled.

“Gabriel?” Raphael called, staring curiously at the tiny bead of light which was glimmering below them.

“What?” Gabriel turned, looking at him curiously. He followed Raphael’s hand, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the glimmer. It was becoming stronger, the glow now shining bright white, a burning strip of magnesium in the black. Around it, the darkness began to swirl, moving into a whirl-pool of movement, circling around the ball of light. Strips of black broke away like black mist towards them, and both the angels flew upwards fearfully.

Suddenly, a burst of light exploded from the ball, and a hurtling black figure flew out of the depths. The darkness exploded around it, lashing out in a shockwave to either side. The figure continued zooming upwards, slowing to a halt above their heads. Another flash of bright light blinded both Raphael and Gabriel, dispelling the darkness which was wreathed round the figure.

It was Elanor, and yet it was not.

She hovered above them, surveying the void and Earth with new eyes. They were dark, the deep brown irises, that had, only seconds ago, startled Raphael, invaded by the black pupil and contrasting sharply with the whites of her eyes. The blackness was not rigid though, it moved in shifting patterns, twin black holes which gazed curiously at the world. Her wings had changed from white to a subtle gold that glowed with their own warming yellow light, spilling out around her slim figure which seemed hardened, more statuesque. It was as if the darkness had taken her form and warped it.

Her dirty jeans and t-shirt were gone, replaced with a flowing white dress, the long flowing sleeves parting around her wrists like two diverted channels of water. The fabric shimmered, revealing hints of other colours in the folds; bright turquoise, soft pinks, oranges and yellows, green and blue. Her skin glowed with renewed life, the bruises and scratches erased without fault.

She smiled down at where Raphael and Gabriel hovered, then began to fly towards the cliff ahead of them. They exchanged glances; one surprised, the other almost expectant, and then followed. Ahead of them, Elanor simply flew through the window, the action not even rippling the glass.

They entered carefully through the open pane of glass, to see Elanor and Time looking at each other. Time stared at her daughter, a look of disbelief across her beautiful face. Elanor stood tall and proud, a smile of proud brilliance on her own now radiant features. Slight disbelief, although each had foretold seeing the other, echoed across their expressions. The similarity in their figures, features and expression betrayed their shared blood. The same thin figure, long flowing black hair, and startling black eyes were only a staple of their closeness. Elanor breathed deeply, her lungs filling with a sense of invigoration at her new form.

“My daughter…” Time breathed, pride and amazement entwined in her voice.

“Mother,” Elanor replied, her eyes bright with fiery determination.

“Are you ready?” Time asked.

“Not quite,” Elanor answered, stretching her wings in apprehension.

“No, there is one last thing.”

Fate stepped out from the shadow of the bookcase, reaching out towards where Time stood. She turned around, taking his hand and leading him gently forward. His features had wrinkled and grown old, a mark of the time’s they now stood in. His eyes, milky white, were embedded in a nest of wrinkles which smiled without his lips moving. Elanor looked on her father properly for the first time, and saw not only the aged man but the young one, and the child that had once stood in his place.

“Elanor,” he croaked; his voice hoarse from the age which had suddenly dawned on him.

“Father,” she answered, coming forward to take his hands in hers. A few lonely tears trickled from the old man’s dry eyes and he embraced her swiftly so that she wouldn’t see them. They pulled apart slowly, Elanor picking up the faint aura of death from her father’s figure.

“The book?” she asked. Fate stood aside, and plucked at a handful of air. The book fell into his palm, its golden cover sparkling. He handed it to Elanor, who thanked him quietly. She placed the book down on the table, stepping back from it slowly.

Elanor breathed deeply; calm pervading every fibre of her being. She passed a hand over the book, breathing out at the same time. It shimmered, her breath alighting on the cover and warping its surface and shape. Leather cracked, the elements straining as they reordered, compacting into solid metal. The spine shivered, in a moment becoming the hilt of a powerful broadsword. In seconds the transformation was complete, the book replaced with a double-edged blade of bright metal, the hilt wrapped tightly with leather, the words from the book now inscribed in the blade.

Ella made a humming sound in her throat, a sigh of satisfaction as she traced the words. She grasped the hilt, taking the weight of the double-edged blade easily. A smile of grim satisfaction spread across her face as she took in the silver reflection of her new form.

“Shall we?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at Raphael as she swung the sword in an arc from side to side, testing the blade’s balance with a surprisingly expert hand.

“Shall we what?”

“It would be unfair to begin the end of the world without warning your beloved council,” She answered, her new-found knowledge falling easily to hand, “Although to be honest, it began four years ago. Or seventeen, depending on your reasoning.”

“Elanor,” Gabriel called, his voice deep with concern.

“Yes?” Elanor asked, not bothering to look up as she spiralled the sword around her body, swapping from one hand to another, the weight light in her hands.

“Elanor!” Gabriel repeated, she looked up annoyed.

“What?”

“What happened to you?” Raphael asked, sad curiosity across his face.

“I have experienced nothing,” Elanor said, her face darkening. She held up a hand which suddenly held a spinning sphere of black shadows, “And now it will know me, when the time comes.”

“She did what she had to do,” Time said, placing a hand on the back of Fate’s shoulder as he sat down stiffly.

“Elanor,” Fate croaked, his face drawn in pain.

“I’m here,” she said, kneeling to take his hand, the grim excitement disappearing, replaced by a sad countenance similar to the constant sadness that glimmered occasionally across her mother’s face.

“End what I have begun. But do not lose yourself in the process,” he advised, touching the side of her face with a wrinkled hand. Elanor sobered from her previously mischievous disposition.

“I will remember,” she answered, standing up straight, “Now, shall we?”

“We shall,” Time said, smiling. Her smile was haunted, an expression Elanor now understood.