Asius did not understand that last comment but dismissed it as unimportant. Vyns had an odd way of expressing himself, even for an Observer. Asius dissolved the acoustic barrier and they went to meet up with the others.

  On the way, Asius thought about Vyns. He was too temperamental and, though his desire for vengeance would serve him well at the moment, the Counselor knew he’d have to make sure he didn’t do anything crazy. If Vyns were to confront Nilia alone, he’d be bringing the news of another death back to Ergon. Of all of them, only the Twins could measure up to her. He thought about calling Vyns’s attention to this but decided it was better not to deflate his ego. Right now he needed him to be headstrong.

  They went down a side Channel and headed for the gate of the Citadel.

  “By the way, Vyns. How’s it going with the search for the demon spy?”

  “You can’t help but worry about everything, can you?” The rhetorical question wasn’t exactly a reproach; it was more like he was mildly amused. “We haven’t found him yet. The last I heard, they were considering the possibility that he’s used an Orb to go to another sphere. I hate to admit it but, whoever he is, he sure knows how to hide.”

  That comment just fed the Counselor’s fears. He could not for the life of him figure out why they would send a single demon into the Nest, but the way the demon had managed to infiltrate it and the fact that he was able to hide from them showed serious planning and forethought, and Asius didn’t like that one bit. It was no accident, no stroke of luck; it was a carefully premeditated plan that had been executed to perfection—not to mention the implicit joke behind it all. It was an insult that carried the demons’ seal of defiance. That was what Asius was most afraid of—that the enemy was testing the waters, and thinking before acting.

  He had never stopped to think about how the demons had been affected by their time in Hell. The angels had no idea how much they might have changed. The image he had of the Fallen was based on their behavior during the War, but several millennia had passed since then and it was logical to think they might have learned something from their defeat. They were surely no longer the same demons they’d known before.

  Everyone was waiting for them when they arrived at the gate of the city. Asius went to speak with the Guardian who was on duty, and they were permitted to leave.

  On the way to the Fog he studied the group he was counting on to carry out the mission. Lyam and Vyns were chatting animatedly as they walked. Of everyone, they’d spent the most time on Earth and were the only ones who had worked together previously. Behind them was Zelae, the Traveler, who held his enormous scepter in his right hand, keeping it parallel to the ground. Yala was bringing up the rear, walking in silence. Zaedon, as usual, was hovering over Asius.

  “I’m surprised to see a Counselor taking an active part in an operation like this,” commented Zaedon as he scratched his white beard.

  “Remember, I was a Guardian before.” Asius thought this was a rather bold declaration coming from Zaedon since he almost never said anything. Of course, this was the very reason Asius considered him the perfect candidate to be an Observer. “Don’t worry; I’ll know how to take care of myself if things get ugly.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about that. Naturally I was aware of your past as a Guardian. Your promotion was a wise choice on the part of the Elder. And I don’t doubt your ability as a leader, either. I was just thinking it’s strange the Council would agree to let someone as valuable as you put himself at risk. It’s not common for a Counselor to leave the Nest. As far as I know, it’s never happened before.”

  “This is a special case.” Asius did not intend to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that he was failing to comply with a direct order. It was obvious Zaedon knew this, and he was brazenly letting him know that. He’d worry about dealing with Zaedon on the way back. For the time being he wasn’t going to delegate his friend’s rescue to anyone else. He would continue to maintain that he had the Council’s approval, and would soon find out just how much he could count on Zaedon. “It’s also never happened that we had to rescue one of our own from the enemy.”

  “That explains everything.” Zaedon left his side and went to be next to the Traveler.

  Finally arriving at the Fog, they found it to be as impressive as ever. The immense wall of smoke that enclosed the Threshold rose up to the height of the First Sphere. It was the barrier between the dimensions, and crossing it was the only way to travel from one plane to another. Only the Travelers possessed the knowledge necessary to mark a bridge between the two planes.

  “Your turn, Zelae,” said Asius. “Take us to London.”

  “Right away, Counselor,” responded the Traveler.

  He approached the Fog, lifted the silver scepter and rested it on the ground. He made a motion with his hand and the staff turned golden.

  “Come closer,” he summoned them. “I understand some of you have never traveled to other planes.” “Asius was about to explain that he had done so on one occasion, but remembered that no one there was supposed to know that. “I know you are all aware of how it is done, but it is my duty to repeat it to you. You must never leave the light of my scepter, which means we calmly move forward together. And I must warn you; if someone leaves the light, he will be forever lost in the void. It is irreparable. No light, other than that which emanates from the scepters of the Travelers, is capable of lighting the way, so don’t ever bother trying this on your own. You will die. If there are no questions, let’s go.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The Traveler studied the faces of those in the group, searching for any sign that they hadn’t understood his instructions. No one asked anything. They all came in close and waited for Zelae to give the signal. Zelae faced the Fog and walked toward it with determined steps. When he was just about to the edge of the thick mist, the Fog appeared to withdraw somewhat. At that moment the golden scepter gave off a light that caused the Fog to recoil. The Traveler continued walking and the Fog continued moving away, twisting and winding as it formed a tunnel with each of his steps. The rest of the group followed close behind, staying inside the protective light of the staff.

  After a few steps, the Fog closed up behind them and they were surrounded by a cloud of darkness. It was impossible not to feel uncomfortable under the mantle of silence and blackness. The Nest was a plane where there was always light, everywhere and at all times. Not even a shadow ever darkened their surroundings, so the angels had a natural aversion to darkness. It was not fear, nor anything like fear; it evoked, quite simply, a profound feeling of displeasure. Only the Travelers were accustomed to roaming the darkness, but even they did so in the company of the light that emanated from their staffs.

  “I thought you could light up the whole road,” said the Twin that was in the front. The other one was bringing up the rear and was walking backwards. Yala obviously did not want to miss a single detail.

  “Stay together,” insisted Zelae. “We’re a large group, but in all the rush I wasn’t able to bring a bigger scepter. To light up the whole road would take several Travelers. That’s what we do if the number of angels is too great for just one scepter.”

  They were all immediately disoriented. Each time Asius would look around, he saw nothing but profound darkness the same distance from them in all directions. Realizing he could not get his bearings made him feel small and insignificant. He guessed they were walking in a straight line but, truthfully, if they were walking around in circles he wouldn’t have known the difference. He saw only blackness surrounding them on all sides.

  “I don’t understand how the Minors managed to cross the Fog,” Zaedon commented, remembering the group of one hundred people who’d made it to the Nest a few weeks before. Two Guardians had mistaken them for demons and had killed them instantly. Zaedon saw this as an understandable mistake since he would never have guessed that mortals were capable of traveling between dimensions.

  “If I’m remembering correctly, they didn’t have a scepter, not to mention there can’t possibly be Travelers among the Minors,” noted Zaedon.

  “It was because of the Wave,” explained Zelae. “We didn’t know that when the three planes were altered it also brought about flaws in the Fog—which is, in essence, the intersection between the dimensions. That unfortunate incident made us decide to investigate a bit more. We still don’t know exactly how, but a portal was left connected after the Wave and the light remained suspended inside it. We believe that it was from the last trip any of us took to Earth. That’s why the Minors were able to cross it without a Traveler or a scepter. And we’ve sealed that portal so it won’t happen again.”

  “But they should have died from the light in the Nest,” Zaedon pointed out. “Minors can’t tolerate it. Best case scenario, they would have at least been blinded.”

  “The light lost its intensity after the Wave,” recalled Lyam, a note of sadness in his voice. “It changed. Just like we did—not being able to fly anymore. Everything is different now.”

  “Did you find out anything else?” asked Asius.

  “Not much,” answered Zelae. “ Ergon gave priority to the problems in the Nest—more specifically, the Fourth Sphere. However, we did check the rest of the portals and we know there aren’t any others that pose a problem. You can be sure we won’t see another Minor in the Nest.”

  “Unless there is another Wave,” Vyns pointed out. Lyam elbowed him.

  “Aside from that,” Zelae continued with his explanation, ignoring the comment, “we didn’t find out anything we didn’t already know. The Wave made it impossible to travel between the Hole and the Nest, and some fragments of the Fog have been scattered around the Earth. The Minors are having a rough time with it, and they don’t know what it is. To them, they’re just banks of fog that always stay in the same place, no matter what the weather conditions are. They’ve lost a lot of lives in there. I was in favor of finding some way to warn them, but the Council decreed we should respect the Elder’s will and not interfere in their lives.” Zelae was silent a moment, then wistfully added, “I hope he comes back soon.”

  When the darkness suddenly disappeared in front of Yala, who was first in line, a round, stone room could be seen in front of them.

  “We’re here,” the Traveler announced.

  They left the Fog and took a few steps into the room. A very large black man with a clean-shaven head was seated on the floor with his back resting against the wall. He was of gigantic proportions. When they appeared among the ribbons of fog, he stood up and went to meet them. He was at least two heads taller than Yala, who was the tallest of the angels.

  “Home, sweet home,” said Vyns sarcastically. He and Lyam had been in this place for nearly fifty years, ever since they were sent to London to set up their command center there. “Did you miss me?” he asked the huge man, patting him on the stomach. “I bet you did.”

  Zelae turned the scepter around in his hand and it returned to its silvery tone. The giant of a man walked up to him and held out his hand to take it.

  “Take good care of it, my friend,” said the Traveler as he handed him the scepter. “It’s terribly valuable.”

  The man took the scepter—which looked like a small stick in his hands—and walked away in silence.

  “You wait for us here,” Asius said to Zelae. “As soon as we get Diago back, we’ll return to the Nest.”

  The Traveler nodded and left the room. Yala had a strange expression on his faces. The Twins abandoned their usual symmetry and moved around the room, looking everything over. Zaedon also had a look around, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Asius remembered how he’d felt the first time he came to Earth, so he gave them a few minutes to adapt. They’d seen plenty of Minors on Earth from the Balcony, but it was one thing to see an image—however perfect it might be—and quite another to see it all with their own two eyes, to listen to the sounds of this dimension, to notice its smells.

  “I know what you mean, friend, believe me,” Vyns said to one of the Twins. “I’ve spent thirteen centuries on this plane of pseudo-existence.”

  “The light is . . .” the Twin beside him started to say.

  “Strange,” finished the other.

  Vyns turned to look at them, not knowing which of the two would continue the conversation. He decided it should be the one who was closest to him, since he’d been talking to him in the first place.

  “Strange, no. It’s horrid!” exclaimed the Observer with a broad smile. “But don’t worry, you get used to it. After awhile you don’t even notice all the hideous shadows. It only took me two centuries to get used to it.”

  “I don’t like it, either,” agreed Zaedon.

  “Drop it, Vyns,” scolded Lyam. “We didn’t come here as tourists.”

  “You’re right. We came for Diago,” interjected Asius, his voice serious. “Let’s go.”