69. Erelah

Erelah

A thick blanket of snow covers the courtyard of the monastery.

Winter has always been my favorite time of the year. The cold never bothers me. Maybe because I was created during one of the biggest blizzards my world, Thulia, had ever faced.

Tonight, the sky is unsurprisingly clear, the stars shining brightly.

When God created me, the number of stars was double what it is now. If not for Lailah, the librarian and astronomer of the monastery, I doubt I would have noticed the disappearance of the stars. She spends most of her time either observing the stars or with her nose in a book.

I love books too, especially the ones with epic love stories, but I don’t have as much time as Sister Lailah to read.

There are many more important things that require my attention, like keeping the demons away from the Sacred Archives. God created this monastery and the Warrior Nuns to protect the archives from…the rest of the Universe.

Only the Mother Superior—me—is allowed to enter the archives. The entire history of God’s creation is recorded on golden plates, which are sealed in books so no one can read them. I doubt anyone could read them even if the plates weren’t sealed since they have been written in the first spoken language. Only the ancient archangels and demons speak it, and they refuse to teach it to anyone.

Only a few know of the existence of the archives, one of them being the strongest demon on Thulia, Zarall. He has always sought to steal them. He even insists God entrusted him with the safekeeping of the archives.

Why the demons want to get their hands on them is something I’m trying to learn. When God used to visit the monastery to give me instructions, I asked him about Zarall, but he didn’t reply.

The archives are not the only thing protected by the Warrior Nuns.

I haven’t thought about it until now, but maybe the demons are not after the archives, but instead after the Spear of Atonement.

The monastery was built over the grave of Jehova, the Son of God, who gave his life so that everything else could exist. God has created worlds many times before, each time being corrupted by a great evil, forcing him to wipe everything and start from scratch.

The vicious cycle continued repeating itself until Jehova decided to battle this great evil, the Leviathan. Jehova’s mighty spear smashed the serpent’s head just as the serpent bit his heel, thus killing Jehova.

The bones of the Leviathan have been scattered all over the Universe, guarded by four mighty horsemen.

The day the bones are reunited will be the beginning of the end, returning everything to its original state—to nothingness.

This was recorded in the Sacred Archives. It’s the only thing I was allowed to know.

It’s been a long time since God visited the monastery. Since his last visit, my sisters and I have diligently performed our duties. We read, pray, and train diligently. We fight Zarall and his demons with faith in our hearts. Sister Clarice has been the only to fall since God’s last visit, her body too torn for me to heal it.

The snow crunches under Sister Amaliel’s boots. After lifetimes of living with her and my other sisters, I’ve learned to recognize them from their footsteps. Sister Amaliel is one of the most gentle Warrior Nuns. Her talent doesn’t reside in wielding weapons, but in keeping all of us calm before the enemy. More than that, her power calms even the most enraged demon.

It’s been a while since Zarall has bothered us. He must be planning something big.

Even after countless battles, I still get nervous. The demons won’t stop until they get their hands on what they are looking for.

But if they are indeed looking for the Spear of Atonement, what for? From what I know, it can only be used by Jehova.

Sister Amaliel sits next to me on the stone bench.

“Something troubles you,” she says.

She knows me as well as I know her.

“Many things. Like the demons being quiet, too quiet, and God’s mysterious disappearance.” For the first time since I became a Warrior Nun, I say, “Maybe it is time to talk to the demons and see what they really want.” I expect her to contradict me, but when she doesn’t say anything, I ask, “What do you think?”

Her gaze is fixed on the sky, on the same stars my eyes are drawn to.

“I think that something truly evil is approaching.” My gaze rushes to her angelic face. Long, wavy, brown hair cascades all over her shoulders and back. There’s a slight frown on her face. “The scent of Death is heavy in the air.”

It smells like winter to me. “Maybe the demons will attack again?” I try to make sense of her words.

Sister Amaliel stands. “What else could it be?” she says before going inside the monastery, leaving me alone in the courtyard.

My gaze returns to the sky. Snow starts to fall, big snowflakes landing on my face.

From the corner of my eyes, I see a falling star. A smile cracks on my face. It’s been a while since I last saw one. My sisters and I have this silly thing of shouting out loud our biggest desires each time we see one. It’s just me out here right now, so I’m content with only watching the star fly across the sky.

Something changes in the trajectory of the shooting star. It’s headed toward the forest surrounding the monastery. I jump to my feet.

Falling stars are usually meteorites. It’s been a while since the last time we found one. The weapons made from meteorites are stronger than the ones made from the iron brought to us by the males working in the mines.

When the meteorite hits the ground, a loud sound reaches the monastery. I doubt any of my sisters heard it; the thick stone walls keep most sounds out. Even so, I wait for a few minutes just to be sure, but no one comes out. While I should let them know about the meteorite, there are moments when I want to be alone. Like right now.

I head over to the forest and search for the fallen meteorite.

Locating the place of impact isn’t very difficult. I know these woods like the back of my hand. I was made to protect the island on which the monastery was built. I’ve spent a lot of time here, meditating or praying.

Close to where the water meets the land, there’s a big crater in the frozen ground, broken rocks and wood scattered all over the snow. And in the middle of it is not a meteorite as I initially thought, but a male angel. A male like I have never seen before. Taller and stronger than any other male I have come in contact with until now.

A long sword is next to him.

Who is he?

Where did he come from?

Did he really fall from the sky?

An avalanche of questions rushes to my mind, but I push them away. Now is not the time to get distracted.

Two pairs of radiant wings adorn his back. They shine brightly in the cold night. If not for the faint sounds of pain coming from him, I would have thought he was dead. An armor made from a metal I don’t recognize covers his body. It is mangled and bent in many places. I’ll have to yank it off his body to see the extent of his injuries.

The male is on his back, three of his wings broken. His body shivers uncontrollably. I don’t know if it’s from the cold or the impact. Maybe both.

How he is still alive is beyond me.

I jump into the crater.

The most vibrant blue eyes I’ve ever seen look at me.

“You’re going to be fine,” I say as I remove his helmet. Hair so blond it almost appears white springs free from it. His hand reaches out for his sword. “It wouldn’t be wise to try to kill the one who is trying to save you,” I point out when his fingers wrap around the pommel.

I touch one of his broken wings, wanting to know the extent of his injuries. A hiss of pain leaves him. He grabs my wrist, yanking my hand away from him. Then, he reaches out again for his sword. This time, I watch him, wanting to see what he will do. He brings his sword to his wings, but before he can cut them off, I stop him.

Something in his expression makes my heart ache for him. He knows he won’t make it.

I make it my personal mission to heal him.

“I’ll do what I can to save them,” I promise as I place the sword out of his reach and turn my attention back to his wings. This time, he lets me examine them.

The bones are broken into many tiny fragments, many of them protruding from the skin. White feathers, stained red, fall the moment my fingers touch them.

“Don’t worry about that. The feathers will grow back,” I try to convince him that it’s not as bad as it looks like.

A defeated look appears in the male’s gaze, making me even more determined to save him. My wings twitch. I’ve never seen wings more damaged than his. Saving them will be a miracle.

An angel without his wings is nothing. Even the demons take great pride in their wings.

“I’m Erelah,” I keep talking, trying to distract him from the pain.

“Erelah,” he says before passing out.

I spend the next hour removing his armor and healing his body while he slips in and out of consciousness a few times. A scar is on his chest, right above his heart. I ignore it for now. The wings will take me several days to heal, and since the damage is so extensive, I can’t do it in one sitting.

When the life-threatening wounds are gone, I put his sword on the belt around my waist and drag him to a nearby cave. Since I like spending a lot of time in the forest, I’ve stashed a few things in there in case of an emergency. Some old blankets, a few pillows, clothes, and travel rations. I often get hungry when I meditate out here.

Oil lamps are placed along the stone walls, and I light them before I put his sword in a far corner.

The male regains consciousness once more. His gaze darts around the cave before stopping on me. His eyes are full of questions. If I can, I’ll answer all of them.

He tries to stand, but he is still too weak to do so. My powers can heal and cure, but it might take some time for the patient to regain all their strength. I have especially noticed it in the sons and daughters born between angels and demons. They are quite different from their parents. They are born without wings, and their lifespan is quite short. My interaction with them is quite limited as I rarely leave the island. Only when I am asked to heal villages plagued by different illnesses that affect only them.

“Rest. It will do you good,” I say.

I quickly make a makeshift bed and help him get under the blankets. Not only to protect him from the cold but to hide his nakedness as well. Except for his armor, he has nothing on.

It’s been a while since I saw a male as naked as the one before my eyes. Only females are allowed to live in the monastery, and the few males who set foot on the island are the ones in charge of our provisions.

The Warrior Nuns dedicate their entire existence to serving God.

“Erelah?”

“Yes. And you?” The male doesn’t reply. A crease forms between his brows when I keep looking at him. “Your name?” I insist.

The male falls silent once more.

Maybe the fall has affected his brain and he has a hard time understanding me.

I place my hand on his arm, wanting to heal whatever internal injury I have missed, but he jerks it away from me as if my touch burns him.

It doesn’t offend me.

Just like my sisters and I, some males have taken vows of celibacy, sworn to serve God for all eternity.

I take out a few granola bars from the sack I keep the travel rations in and pass them to the male. He looks at them as if it’s the first time he’s seen food.

“Eat. It will help you gain your strength back faster.”

When the male keeps staring at the food on the blanket, I pick up one of the granola bars and take a bite from it. “See? It’s not poisoned,” I huff before I tentatively coax him to eat.

His gaze is full of distrust. Yet, he opens his mouth and allows me to feed him.

“That’s a start,” I say after he eats a bit before pushing my hand away.

I grab the waterskin and help him drink. Then, I stand and go to the mouth of the cave and watch the sky. It won’t be long before dawn is here.

“Erelah?”

I chuckle softly. “Is that the only word you know how to say?”

The male doesn’t reply. By now, I figure he won’t say anything else.

I face him.

“I suppose my questions will have to wait.” I sigh. “Maybe you speak another language. But which one? I only know a few.” I bite my bottom lip. “I was never good at learning languages. Sister Dazielle speaks quite a few, but she hates males, and she would rather skin you alive than talk to you. Besides, I don’t think my sisters would be happy with me hiding a male on the island. So you better stay put until I return. I won’t be gone for long. Only until after the morning prayers and breakfast.”

While I doubt he will leave the cave when his wings still need healing, I still shackle his leg to the wall. He doesn’t even try to stop me.

The first thing I put in the cave was a chain in case I ever captured Zarall and needed a place to interrogate him away from the monastery.

I place food and water close to him.

Probably sensing that I’m about to leave him alone, he says, “Erelah?” in a tone full of confusion.

“Try to sleep,” I suggest before leaving the cave.