The days are meaningless here.
Purgatory makes me long for Markos’s Penance rooms. There, one could expiate one’s Sin with a turn at the whipping wall or a spell in the stockade. Being caged was a lesson in Humility or Patience. But, in Truth, there are no real Sins for the angelings of the light to atone—just the pale reflection of what they imagine committing. I’ve seen Sin up close, and the forces of light couldn’t conceive of such things, much less act them out. Not without a Fall.
No, Penance is really training in Virtue. A chance to stretch and grow and lay claim to the pure righteousness of the angel within. Purgatory is like Penance without the restraints—and all the more difficult because I am not bound. Only my will keeps me here. There is no clarifying pain, no bright line between good and evil, to mark the time. Purgatory is numbness and exile. A time of contemplation I fear might drive me mad before I can be sure Elyon has moved on to other obsessions and forgotten me.
Having seen the shadow realm, I can’t decide the greater miracle—that all of angelkind hasn’t Fallen or that the shadowkind haven’t broken free of the dullness of their existence. Reject it, as I have. Or maybe what I’ve done—returning from the dark—is the real miracle. Such a thing shouldn’t be possible, and yet, each time I check, my wings are still white. Further, I feel the righteousness seeping back into me. Purgatory is a formless, shapeless place set between the slips of reality that comprise the Dominions of angelkind and the solid world of humanity. The gray nothingness of this realm contains all potentials, good and evil. It brings forth only what you bring to it… and I feel the steady growth of purity inside me each moment I’m here.
My walkabout served its purpose in one sense—the human realm is indeed tempting. I still feel Beatrice’s kiss on my cheek… but that pales in comparison to the tarnish of the shadow realm. Brutish and pleasure-seeking, Terah used my human side against me, touching me in ways she had to know would evoke a response in my male, and very human, body—a response I didn’t understand, and thus, couldn’t control. If she were on her knees before me now, in Purgatory, taking my male shaft into her mouth again… would I Fall? Would the pleasure be so overwhelming that I wouldn’t be able to stop her?
Before, I didn’t want to stop her. Nay, I urged her on, taking her head into my hands and guiding her in the seduction. And my urging increased her vigor at the task, which gave me even more pleasure.
So, the real question is: would I want her to stop?
And to that, I can now unequivocally say yes.
The pleasure is still fresh in my mind. Even pondering the act brings a small rise under my toga. Yet, I have nothing but revulsion for the idea. Zero desire to join the ravishing, violent horde, all sated by their pleasure but irredeemably blackened, not just in their wings but their souls. Righteousness calls to me—that is Truth—but even more, it’s the terrible state of the Fallen that horrifies me and has me clinging to the light, now that I have it back. Even the temptations of the human realm are less now—Beatrice’s kiss would only lead to a rise in Lust, which would presage another Fall. It would take another immensely righteous act to save me… and I can’t even be sure of that. God gave humans the ability—nay, the command—to go forth and multiply, and in this, they are more blessed than angelkind. Sex is a fulfillment of God’s command. But angels were never intended for this. They were never meant to produce angelings like myself.
I am, by my very nature, cursed.
And the last thing I would do in any realm is produce another like me.
Which leads me to this: what now?
Evading recapture by Elyon—or any in the shadow realm—is paramount. But I cannot hide forever in Purgatory. If I succumb to madness, then I lose control… and who knows what harm I might bring then? The only real option is to return to the light, but will Markos even accept me? Can—and should—I hide my time in the shadow realm from him? And what if I return, only to Fall again? Markos saved me from a lifetime of darkness—I cannot repay his kindness by shaming his Dominion with my Fall.
No, I must be sure of myself before I return. And the only way to be certain I can resist temptation is to prove to myself that I am stronger than the allures of Sin. I must be tested. If I succumb, it will be on my own terms, still on walkabout, and the Sin remains mine entirely. Then I will know my fate, and I will make swift work of finding a way to die. But if I can pass this test of my own devising, then I can return to the light with confidence.
With that thought, I will myself away from the endless gray mist of Purgatory.
My first stop is Beatrice’s apartment.
I watch her undress. I stand in silent, invisible vigil in her bedroom as she sprawls on her bed with those lazy limbs and absorbed smile, deep in her books. I imagine her in several positions I observed in the orgy of the shadowkind, placing myself in the act with her. But all I can think is that the longer I tarry in her bedroom, the more I risk one of the shadowkind following me here. Instead, I transport to her father’s room, where he lays sickly and even more gray in pallor than when I last saw him. He is sleeping, so I drop the cloaking and bend over him to administer the life kiss. I exhale all my love of humanity in that breath, tapping the angelic power I have within and infusing him with it. He gasps it in and arches in the bed with the flush of life it brings. The rush of blood to his cheeks, the gasp of new life in his chest, and the pure surge of righteous pleasure that courses through my body... they are similar to the orgasmic pleasure on the faces of the fallen. That I experienced myself at Terah’s hands. And mouth. But I know in my core this is different. I used to think that only violence could be both righteous—an angel blade striking down a demon—or the embodiment of evil, as in the destruction of innocents. But now I see pleasure can be both Sin and righteousness. The pleasure I feel in restoring vigor to this good man—this kind-hearted father to an even more Virtuous daughter—does not presage a Fall, but rather, only bolsters my own Virtues.
It is good.
I leave him startled and wide-eyed. Perhaps he will tell Beatrice of the angel in his bedroom. If not, perhaps she will still understand why her father’s aches and pains are eased. Or perhaps not. The joy is in the giving, not the gratitude.
I scour the city for more humans in need of the blessings I bear. I find weary mothers tending their babies, the sick in need of comfort, and people whose lives are spent beneath the underpasses of the city, one tired moment after another, begging for enough food to get through the day. I remind them of the precious gift of life they have by helping them feel it—my blessing is much like Purgatory, in that I only bring out what they already have waiting inside them.
The hours pass into days, days into weeks, and all of it is a blur of righteous pleasure and an ever-deepening understanding of the Virtues themselves.
Patience is following an elderly man through the harangues of his employer and the tedium of his job to the heartbreaking emptiness of his home, in order to finally deliver his blessing.
Charity is blessing all eight children of a family in a single night, giving nearly every last measure I have so their mother can see them all rosy-cheeked in the morning.
Humility is walking the hospital ward, breathing life into the dying, easing their pains and sufferings, knowing I cannot rescue them from their fate.
Kindness is listening to a lonely old woman’s stories long after my blessing has restored her enough to tell them.
Diligence and Temperance combine to force me to rest… but only as much as I need to restore and continue to deliver my blessings throughout the city.
And Chastity… Chastity is gently turning away from the kisses of passion that follow my kiss of life. Of knowing my weakness and hammering it into strength—a strength forged by trial and test and test again.
Chicago has morphed into a riot of sunshine, greenery, and the new blossoms of spring. I’ve spent an entire season in the human world, watching their lives play out across their faces—moments of joy and sorrow—and I understand God’s love for them in a way I couldn’t before. It is one thing to love without thought, instinctually because you were built for that purpose… it is another thing entirely to fall in love with the beauty of humanity. They are capable of great evils as well—they struggle as much or more as any angeling—but their souls shine so bright there are days I can scarce look upon them.
I understand why so many angelings have Fallen in the presense of such souls. But I have tested myself relentlessly… and I am finally ready.
I fly one more slow circuit around a city I have grown to love. It would be a minor Sin to remain at this point—it’s wrong to be a Guardian without an angel’s orders. But now I know… should Markos order me to return, to watch over humanity in any and every capacity, I would not fail him.
I twist in the air to bring me back to the domain of the angels of light.
Markos’s Dominion.
Home.
All that remains is to see if I am still welcome.