In the evenings, after long hours of study, Rendil often flew over the city, admiring its streams, greenery, and distant lights from above. Sometimes he sat on a bench or a stone wall by a walled pond, where stars reflected in the water and long willow branches hung over the surface. There, in the quiet by the pond, he once noticed a woman in a black robe with her face covered. He stopped, curious who it might be. He quietly descended, and when he saw pale hands, he immediately knew who it was: Death.

  After so many years, encountering the one who had torn him from his family was anything but easy. Still, curiosity got the better of him. He steadied himself and stepped forward.

  She turned slightly toward him. “Are you uneasy?” she asked softly.

  “No, not at all,” he replied, though he felt awkward about not announcing himself more loudly.

  “Many people don't speak to me even after a long time. You really are a strange man, Rendil...” Death continued quietly, her gaze drifting back to the water.

  Rendil exhaled gently. “I admit, it's a bit different. Azrael, right?”

  She turned her head and nodded with a gentle smile.

  “What are you doing here?” he blurted, spreading his hands. “Not that it's any of my business, but I'm curious.”

  “I'm waiting...” she answered calmly.

  Then it dawned on him. “Of course, the world of the living is at a standstill and you have nothing to do!”

  She nodded. “I like this water and the quiet.”

  “Should I leave?” He gestured with his head toward the other direction.

  She shook her head. “I don't mind company, though I rarely have it. My existence is different from that of some of my siblings. Time flows differently, and through my subconscious, I can be in many places at once.” Her voice sounded thin and soft.

  “Isn't that unnatural?” he wondered aloud.

  She shook her head. “I'm not sure; it feels completely normal to me. This is what I am now.” She looked at her pale hands. “I have guided souls to the other world for thousands of years, and though I do not remember them all, their number is immense.”

  “Do you remember me?" He narrowed his eyes.

  She tilted her head slightly. “Oh yes: there were many of you that day. Four children; your wife found you in the garden...”

  “Yes, it wasn't a pretty sight,” he said quietly.

  She inhaled and fixed her gaze ahead. “I've seen much worse fates. Bodies that couldn't even be put back together, people who couldn't accept the end... a great deal of sadness.” With an exhale, she looked back into the pond. “But to your question: how could I not remember the prodigy captain?!” Her voice rose.

  His eyes widened. “You've heard of me?"

  “Yes, you're talked about among the angelic ranks. Haniel mentioned you when she visits me sometimes.” She slid her foot down and dipped the tip of her toes into the pond.

  The archangel mentioned me?

  He had known that some news of his actions might reach the higher ranks, but actually hearing this from another archangel felt almost unreal. “It must be difficult to guide everyone who dies to the other side and show them the way forward.”

  Her gaze remained on the water as she played with the surface. “At first, yes, but I accepted my role and will fulfill it until the end of time.” The stars' reflections flickered among the willow branches.

  “How do you handle not being able to do your job now?" he pressed.

  She looked at the night sky, then closed her eyes and finally spoke. “At first, it was really hard; being only in this place and not being in many at once. Not having a deeper purpose. Now, though, I'm starting to accept the idea that this will be my new existence, when soon we'll meet again up in the High Heavens.”

  “You really think it will come to that?" he frowned.

  Her gaze finally met his. “Your naivety is striking, but you already know the answer. We can't reclaim the Gates, and it's only a matter of time before more fall. It might take a hundred, maybe ten thousand years, but at this rate they'll fall eventually.” Her head tilted, her lips narrowed.

  “Surely the archangels have a plan,” Rendil objected, a hint of frustration in his voice.

  She turned her gaze from him back to the calm waters. “Believe what you wish, I don't want to take away your hope. There is a little hope, for sure... But I don't believe most angels see it anymore. Maybe it's your destiny, who knows.” She looked back at him, her tone shifting from serious to encouraging as she smiled.

  “I'll be watching your story; you've certainly piqued my interest. Though who knows what a captain can change, and what weight he can bring to this war,” Death replied calmly.

  Rendil sat sadly on the stone wall under the willow. “I have to do what I can, I can't give up. I plan to share my family's fate. I'll fight to the end.”

  She looked down. A warm wind blew and played with their robes. The willow's leaves shifted. Then she spoke again, her head down, eyes closed. “That's admirable, and I respect your choice. I won't tell you how brutal it is, because I don't want to lessen your resolve.” She paused, silent for a moment.

  “Forgive me,” she exhaled. “My existence, like that of many of my siblings, is more calculating. I try to assess possibilities realistically. But many impossible things have happened in history. And Lucifer... he must lose for what he's done to creation.” She opened her eyes. Her anger reflected in the water.

  Rendil stood and thanked her.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, but I’ll definitely return,” he assured her.

  “I’ll be here,” she replied, bowing her head. She continued sitting under the willow by the pond, her feet in the water, quietly watching the reflections of light as the breeze played with her black robe.

  Rendil didn’t linger and went to see Metatron to get his perspective on the war. Metatron was walking through the Library, putting scrolls away, when Rendil came to find him.

  “May I have a moment?”

  Metatron set the remaining books on a table and gestured Rendil to join him on a short walk.

  “What brings you?” he asked quietly.

  “I met with Azrael,” Rendil said, his voice quieter than usual.

  Metatron smiled. “My sister is a unique being; her presence is unforgettable. I’m sure she appreciated having someone to talk to, and that you had much to discuss.”

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  “She did seem glad for the company, but I want to ask something else. Please, tell me the truth: is this war lost?” he asked directly, not wanting to beat around the bush.

  Metatron was silent for a moment, then turned to Rendil. “If we just consider numbers and strength, the answer is clear. The Darkness outnumbers us. Their armies are nearly endless. The Light is powerful, but right now, the Darkness prevails.”

  Rendil frowned. “But I’ve seen archangels defeat lords. So many times we’ve won where it seemed impossible.”

  “Yes,” Metatron said, “but you have to understand that evil pushes through the cracks in our world. While they’re small, only a few demons get through. But when the crack widens, ever more powerful and numerous pour in; they simply outnumber us.” He shook his head and continued walking.

  “Then we have no choice but to close the Gate, or even this city would be flooded by darkness. And if we reopened a single passage and faced them with our entire army, all the evil that’s built up there would overwhelm us. We have no strategy that can turn the war in our favor,” he said, shaking his head.

  Rendil lowered his gaze. Metatron’s words hit him hard. But the archangel smiled gently and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Do you know what the true secret of the Light is?”

  Rendil just shook his head in confusion.

  “Faith,” Metatron said with certainty. “The Darkness should have overwhelmed us many times, and yet we’re still here. Hope may seem weak, but it isn’t dead. I believe something or someone will come to break through this darkness. In my existence, I’ve witnessed more than one miracle, and honestly, that’s exactly what we need now.” He stopped and grabbed Rendil by the shoulder.

  “Maybe it’ll be the prodigy captain?” Metatron suggested with a hint of a smile.

  Rendil smiled, but even though the archangel offered a bit of hope, the message still hurt. “Maybe,” he answered thoughtfully.

  “Hope sometimes comes from places no one would expect,” Metatron added.

  Rendil took a deep breath. “Sorry, I need to walk a bit.”

  “I understand,” Metatron said quietly, returning to his books as Rendil headed into the quiet sky.

  He landed on a nearby bench and sat in silence. Again, he thought of those below in the living world and those above in the High Heavens.

  To ascend and live in paradise while others remained below? Would he ever forget them?

  He shook his head; he couldn’t allow such thoughts. This information means nothing! He must keep giving his all and believe the archangels will come up with something; they must! He sat like this for a few more hours, then returned to the Library to study. Maybe he’d find some key information after all.

  He gradually studied records of the falls of the Gates and tried to find out how they happened. He didn’t find many specifics; most accounts only described which archangel fell and how the enemy regrouped in such numbers that they could no longer be driven back.

  Over the following weeks, Metatron often sat with him in an armchair, like an old friend, reading his own scrolls and sipping tea.

  “How does it actually happen?” Rendil asked. “I mean the capture of a fortress beyond the Gates; in the records, there’s only general information, nothing specific. And before that; how can an archangel even be defeated? The records just say who and when he fell, but never how.”

  He pointed at the scroll in front of him, then his eyes met Metatron's. “The first day I arrived, I saw Azazel at Lonely Gray Fortress. I remember how he cut his palm and let dark blood drip into the pond. It was my first death here. Then there was a green flash.”

  Metatron set his cup down and was silent for a moment. “Even for me, it’s a great mystery. How could any of my brothers fall? It doesn’t make sense, unless more lords appeared and the Rift was bigger than we thought. Maybe a miscalculation, or something darker.” He fell quiet for a moment, took a sip of his tea, then continued.

  “To your second question: the final fall of the fortress is what you saw. All the fortresses beyond the Gates have their own pond, into which holy Light reaches. If a lord or a legion submerges unholy blood in it long enough, it triggers a reaction that violently severs the connection between the Light and the pond.”

  “An explosion,” Rendil said aloud.

  “Correct,” Metatron said. “A chain reaction follows, resulting in a massive explosion, tens of miles wide. Everything holy in the area burns. If you see it, withdraw immediately; such a burst of Darkness not even an archangel can survive.”

  Is the blast really that powerful?

  “Does it work the other way? Can a desecrated pond be purified?” Rendil asked.

  “I haven’t seen it, but I believe one day we’ll gain that wisdom. My educated guess is yes; the Light can always push out the Darkness.”

  “You mentioned something darker,” Rendil interjected.

  “Yes. I meant betrayal. Even though it’s highly unlikely, I can’t imagine who or what promise could drive someone to such a thing. Could a group of guardians be involved? Or even those higher in the hierarchy? I have no idea, and even the thought is disturbing to me. That’s why I think it’s very unlikely, but not impossible,” Metatron concluded.

  “How many fortresses are there beyond the Gates?” Rendil wondered.

  “It varies widely. The fortresses are quite large; the biggest can hold entire wings during a siege. Most are concentrated in the center and near the Gates of these worlds. Smaller fortresses are scattered around them, and both around these and at the outer edges lie the smallest outposts, which we have to supply.” He gestured with his head toward the window.

  “Depending on the exit point from this city, the Gate in that world is placed on the opposite side. For example, if the second Gate lies at the upper northeast, the exit begins at the lower southwest of the world. These worlds are only slightly curved; more like a board with an edge on all sides,” Metatron explained.

  “What happens if you fall off one side?” Rendil asked.

  “It’s simple: you get lost in nothingness, die, and are reborn, either in Hell or on one of our branches of Light,” Metatron answered.

  Rendil returned to his studies, absorbing all available information. One day, he and Metatron discussed faith, a topic he’d once talked about with Radion.

  “What do you know about faiths in the world?” he asked.

  Metatron paused in thought. “Many faiths are like maps drawn in the dark, and some show real pieces of the truth and teach people to live more honorably. Out of love for the world, the Father sent his Son for the salvation of the world. Since then, most souls have managed to reach Heaven.” The smell of camellia hung in the air as he took another sip of his tea.

  “So does someone have an advantage if they’re born in a certain place on the planet?” Rendil asked.

  “Yes and no. I don’t want to reveal secrets you perhaps shouldn’t fully know, but Radion is a very intelligent angel, so I’ll at least give you a hint. Many times, demons find their way into the world, but only in spiritual form.” He leaned back comfortably, resting his elbows on the chair arms.

  “People can call us for help and have the power to ritually purify water, which then takes on some Light, and this can drive them back to Hell. Sometimes, though, the demon is too strong and an angel must intervene. So yes, in this sense, it’s an advantage to live in faith.” He kept talking as he ran his fingers through his beard.

  “If someone guides you from childhood that killing is wrong, that's a form of advantage too. On the other hand, at the judgment, such people are held to a stricter standard. Still, we try to save and lift up all souls.”

  Metatron paused, then added: “There are texts that people created. Demons often try to influence those who claim to be prophets but are false; the forces of Darkness try to infiltrate in various ways. They even inspire their own ‘scriptures’ and books, which they spread through their fanatics,” he said with disgust.

  “Have you heard of the Codex Gigas? Or the Satanic Bible?” Metatron asked.

  Rendil nodded. He'd heard of them during his life, though he'd never seen either.

  “The Codex is just a book written out of chaos, but Lucifer is trying to rewrite his own Bible with... you know which ending.” Metatron's expression turned serious.

  “The fall of all the Gates and gaining rule over the world?” Rendil ventured, though the answer was obvious.

  Metatron confirmed with a look.

  “But why would anyone desecrate sacred texts?” Even as he spoke, the reason became clear to him.

  Metatron looked at him and calmly explained: “I believe that was more a thought spoken aloud than a real question. You know not everyone is good and honorable. Many people crave power, and owning the keys to Heaven can confer it. Many are easily influenced, and that’s where their weakness shows.”

  “That’s why being strong is one of the great virtues?” Rendil asked.

  Metatron nodded and continued:

  “Yes, uncovering lies and not blindly following everything someone says is truly a difficult task. You know, in many religions, many evil, even depraved, people have been exposed.

  Likewise, if someone urges you to kill someone who isn’t harming you, just believes differently, know that’s the voice of the dark side. Your inner compass always knows when you’re doing something wrong. Ultimately, it’s also about the circumstances and intention with which you act. You are truly beautiful beings with the capacity to do good, even incredible things. It’s a tragedy what Lucifer did, but because of it, he also gave you your greatest treasure.”

  “And what’s that?” Rendil asked.

  “In the darkest times, you have the ability to shine the brightest and show your true potential. That’s something he’ll never understand,” Metatron said, gazing at him with starry eyes.

  “To follow a faith that helps you understand even your enemy, not blindly, and teaches you to respect rather than destroy, that’s what you should take to heart,” he concluded. After these words, Rendil felt encouraged again; yes, these are values worth fighting for to the end.

  “You mean, give chances, but not endlessly?” he asked.

  “You’re thinking correctly; we’re talking about an earthly perspective. Some people refuse to change or see things differently in a single lifetime,” Metatron replied.

  “One last piece of advice,” said Metatron. “Hold to the small lights of hope; when they come together, they scatter the Darkness.”

  Rendil let the words sink in, then stood and left.

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