Chapter 2: Lana

I walk in front of the stranger who cheerfully introduced himself as Maalik, like he didn't just kidnap me, feeling numb and spacey. Am I having a psychotic break? Was there a gas leak? Is this a bad trip?

We walk past heavy wooden doors, but he keeps herding me forward. I can hear voices, scared and confused. The hallway finally opens into a large atrium. The area is full of frightened people, their arms wrapped around themselves in comfort and their eyes wide, their ages ranging from late teens to mid-forties. Next, I notice the sky. Its strangeness does a better job of convincing me I'm not exactly somewhere… normal. Its color is a deep indigo and there are swirls of red coiling slowly, like a fucked up evil Aurora.

"I want to go home," I say numbly, the embodiment of every horror movie cliché. I know my demand will be ignored even before Maalik walks ahead of me to the group of people staring at him.

There are dozens of confused individuals giving him a doe-in-headlights look. A girl is puking her guts out, the people nearby giving her a wide berth. The sour smell of bile reaches me and my stomach protests. An older man on the other side is practically incoherent with panic and a woman with similar features tries desperately to calm him down so he stops attracting attention. Despite feeling like I may start bawling or throwing up at any moment as well, I feel an urge to comfort him myself.

"Let me repeat what you've been told as you were brought here today," Maalik speaks in a voice that easily carries in the wide space. "You're in the fortress of Abaddon," he begins, leisurely walking among the gathered. "This realm is also known as Purgatory." An Asian boy with pink streaks in his white hair tries to dart toward one of the archways and Maalik easily grabs him by the neck of his hoodie. "No, I am not human," he continues, with a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly enjoying the gasps his statement evoked. He releases the boy, who is now frozen with fear. "No, I won't kill you, though I cannot say the same for most of the occupants of this realm." This elicits whimpers from the crowd he's now meandering among like a lazy lion. "And my name is Maalik." He stops in the middle and raises his hands like a benevolent saint. "But you can call me ‘yes, sir'," he finishes and looks around with malice in those snake-like eyes and a predatory grin still plastered in its place.

I notice then that more men in cloaks and armor are standing by the arches around the atrium. I have a feeling they've been there the entire time and I just haven't registered them until now. Some look bored, some look curious, and some look like we're the dog shit they stepped in with their new Ferragamo shoes.

"You are here," Maalik continues, "as a last attempt to save your pathetic, sin-riddled world from," he shrugs, "well, yourselves. You see, with how humans are multiplying like rabbits in your mortal realm, so does sin. And where do sinners go?" he asks, looking around as if in search of an answer to his rhetorical question.

"To Hell?" a serious young man who can't be much over twenty asks.

"To Hell," Maalik confirms. "Which is now bursting at the seams like your Thanksgiving turkeys."

I guess they must have cable TV here. His speech is an odd mix of modern phrases with the stuffy vocabulary of old lords. Or priests, ironically enough.

"Why are we here?" a hard looking, red-haired woman asks.

"Why, to cull the ranks, of course." He once again grins as if delighted.

"How are we meant to do something you can't?" I ask, surprising myself with my bravery.

"Excellent question. While you would not have noticed in the mortal realm, you have Celestial blood in your veins. Meaning you can, when properly trained, take on these manifestations of the sin your kind begot."

Celestial blood? What does that even mean? Is that why he called me a half-blood?

I don't have to inquire further because Maalik continues with his evil villain speech. "Your mommies or daddies or more likely great-grandparents had demonic or angelic blood."

"What?" I ask numbly.

He looks at me with a suddenly serious expression. "You, specifically, had an angelic grandmother and demonic grandfather on your mother's side. A highly unlikely combination you are, offspring of Nephalem."

"Nephilim?" I ask, confused. Isn't that the offspring of angels and humans? How surreal is it that I'm even thinking about these terms as an actual possibility?

"No, not a Nephilim or Cambion. The word for your particular combination is Nephalem. The common word is Elioud."

"Elioud?" I sound like a parrot, but in all of my studies of lore, I've never heard that word .

"All iterations of Celestial-human descendants."

Everyone is looking at the faces around them, not knowing how to voice their denials. The men standing near the entrances to the atrium still haven't spoken a word. And my curiosity might have been the end of me – If the end wasn't already looming so obviously.

"And you?" I ask, "What are you? Why aren't you taking care of this threat from your realm, if it's out of control?"

"We are The Fallen," says a blond, slimmer… Fallen? He steps forward and I register him as one of the few newcomers that were curious about us gathered here. "We fell from grace but repented and did not give into evil. We are free to walk among Purgatory and Hell, and even the mortal realm, but we are denied Elysium," he continues, his head downcast. "And there are not enough of us to corral the manifestations made from corrupt human souls. They are breaching into the human realm. The archdemons and demon lords do not much care for the mortal world."

Great, more myths come to life.

"Do we have a choice?" the solem-faced young man who spoke earlier asks.

"No," says one of the disinterested Fallen with finality. "You do not."

"We will teach you to fight the manifestations," Maalik picks up again, "and also the demonic creatures you will encounter while carrying out your duty. You will be given quarters, train, and live here. This is your final destination, after all."

"What do you mean?" the angry red-headed woman asks.

"There is no Heaven for Nephilim, nor for Cambion or other combinations of Elioud, of course," Maalik says the latter to me.

"Regardless of how we live our life?" I ask. Surely that has to mean something?

"Regardless. We all share the same fate, some by action, and some as a birthright."

I sit down on one of the two steps encompassing the atrium. I lean my head onto my hands and try to come to terms with this new reality, a part of me stubbornly hoping that this is all just a bad dream. A consequence of too much cheap beer.

A few of the humans are now shouting their refusal, making a couple of the Fallen sneer at them.

"My name is Daniel," the blond says to me and the few others who are calm enough to listen. "You will be shown to your quarters. Then we will meet here once you rest and come to terms with your fate. There is no sunlight here; you will all have to abide by the same sleeping schedules while in training. We will divide you into teams based on your aptitude with close-quarter weapons, ranged weapons, and skills with the ether."

"The ether?" I mumble into my hands, feeling too overwhelmed to lift my head. I want to cry and scream like some of the rest, but this feels too goddamn final.

"The power you wield over matter, which will manifest itself now that you are in this realm," he answers, not unkindly. He seems to be more capable of empathy and takes less enjoyment in our despair than Maalik.

"I expect a couple of years of training will be needed for these sad lumps of clay," one of the more savage-looking Fallen mocks.

Daniel gives him a reproachful look. "The Council chose you as one of the trainers, Ramel. If it takes years or not will be up to you."

"What's this council?" I ask Daniel, trying to gather some useful information and keep myself busy before I have a public emotional breakdown.

"The Celestials, both angels and demons, agree upon one thing, if nothing else. The mortal realm must remain in blissful ignorance of the fact that we can walk among them." He's looking down at my seated form with compassion.

"But why do the demons care? I get that angels are protecting the children of God ," I say, putting dramatic emphasis on the last part, "but I can't see the demons giving a damn either way if they're anything like mythology claims."

"There are mindless demons, who live only to rip into the flesh of mortals, not having the capacity to even think of the consequences of decimating their food source. Hell, however, is led by ancient archdemons; fallen angels from eons ago, as Sataniel was himself, or their progeny."

A hysterical male voice sounds in the crowd. "This is just a nightmare. I'm going to wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!"

I shiver as the man's scream turns into whimpers and think of the blonde angel's words, of the mind-altering fact that the information I poured over during sleepless nights is not just a myth. There are creatures of fathomless age walking the realm just beyond this one, and I will be sharing air with them sooner or later. Is there air in Hell? I hope there is.

"Will they kill us?" I ask, and Daniel hesitates. I don't like that hesitation one bit. The absence of sound echoed like a death knell.

"Some are on the Celestial council and agreed to this measure. Some are so old, that they do not even deign to acknowledge the world beyond the areas they govern. They should have been apprised of your presence and understand the need for it. Unfortunately, no one can vouch that they will place any measure of value on your lives."

He's honest and straightforward, though clearly choosing his words carefully. I'm sure the translation is: ‘They'll squash you like bugs for a second of entertainment'.

"How do we fight them then?" I ask, intuiting the answer before he even raises his brows to reply: "You do not."

Great. I rub my forehead and eyes, feeling like my head is too full of life-altering information, but still plagued by curiosity. Knowledge is a weapon, and I'm going to need every weapon I can get my hands on.

Seeing this, Daniel says softly, "You should rest. There will be time enough to ask questions. We do not plan on pushing you out the door into Hell tomorrow, unprepared."

Did I ruminate over my life not having purpose less than an hour ago? Be careful what you wish for. Mike clearly jinxed me with his ‘famous last words' thing.

Mike… I may never see him again. Anguish gathers under my ri bcage, the weight of a semi smothering my breath, my heart writhing under the merciless pressure.

I look around at the dejected faces and those of angry denial. Most of these people likely have loved ones: parents, children, partners. Jobs they are good at, hobbies they enjoy. If what these men said is true, we will all need to come to terms with an unpleasant fact. By staying here, we can help keep the people we love safe from a threat they don't even know about.