The sun floated up from the sea and painted away the

darkness. Myael watched intently as color bled into the

mountains, noting every blend and variation of red and blue and
yellow. He listened as birds announced the coming of day,
particularly to the way their voices mimicked the mingling
spectrum of light which played upon the rock and soil as it
cascaded through the valley. Flowers seemed to light from the
darkness like candles, floating upon a sea of green as the
shadows fled. He could hardly believe that only twenty years
earlier the world had been on fire.
Dawn is a resurrection. He thought this and noticed a
grasshopper perched upon his metal wrist. He raised it to his
face. With its bulbous eyes it seemed to peer at him and
everywhere at the same time.
I will call youBrehna. I had a friend named that once, and you
look a bit like him, at least in the eyes.
Myael stared intently at Brehna and Brehna at him and
everywhere.
I know who you are now, my friend Brehna, but I dont know
what. Do you know what you are?
Brehna responded by springing into the air and disappearing
into the sea of grass.
Hmmyou are a jumper, Brehna. I dont think the other Brehna
was a jumper; he could fly, though.
At this the grasshopper shot from the grass and landed upon
Myael once again, this time upon his shoulder.
A grass jumper.
Brehna leapt from Myael and disappeared into the high grass
once more, this time for good.
Goodbye again, my friend Brehna the Grass-jumper.
Myael opened his wings, a shimmering sweep of emerald light
blazing from a mechanism which had unfolded from his upper back
with a whirr and click. A low buzzing swelled as he started into
the sky and the sound softened to a hum as his speed leveled
off.
The day had taken full hold of the Earth now, and from up
high it looked more like swirls of paint on an artists pallet
than a planet. Reddish-brown rock jutted from the green forests
surrounded by blue waters. The tops of fluffy white clouds
pulled apart like cotton candy in an eager childs fingers as he
passed over them. Here the birds held dominion just as the
angels once had. But that was a long time ago.
Myael had always enjoyed the beauty of this place. He loved
the trees and the many shimmering waters. He loved the birds and
cows and squirrels. He loved even the spiders and snakes. But
there was one creature that Myael did not love, or even like--
although he thought them to be the most beautiful of alland
that was Mankind.

Mankind had once lived upon a planet which produced more
food than any of them could ever have eaten. It grew from the
trees above their heads and from the ground beneath their feet.
It stood in herds upon the plains before them and swam in
abundance through the waters which ran pure all about them upon
the earth. One could fill his or her belly and quench his or her
thirst with very little effort at all. But Mankind scarred the
land with cities and became disconnected from nature. Food was
no longer in abundance all around them; it had to be earned.
They were forced then to labor for their food in trades and in
factories and in office buildings that rose like swords against
the Heavens. The waste these produced was dumped into the
waters. Soon they could not drink from the streams and lakes.
Tainted water was processed and pumped into their homes reeking
of chlorine. Pure water was now coveted far away and shipped to
them--if they could afford to pay a premium for it. It burned
their stomachs and sickened their bodies. They labored even more
to pay for pills to mask the pain and still they marched like
drones to perform the processes that perpetuated this madness.
They spent hour upon hour laboring to attain that which had once
been all around them.
Those who couldnt work became a burden to those who did,
and those who could found themselves working to support these as
well, working still longer and harder to pay for that which had
once been free. Before the end the people were sickened and
dehydrated and exhausted. They were easy prey for The Dark Kind
when the gates were opened.

Myael flew over the land for much of the day, stopping
periodically to admire the changing landscapes. Finally, as
dusk crept up from beneath the world, he looked Eastward to
ominous pillars of black smoke rising like jinn rubbed from
magic lamps from a black scar upon the landscape. It was places
like these he disliked the most. The cities of Man had spread
like cancer upon the skin of the Earth. Myael couldnt
understand their purpose. He was a little glad that Hell had
opened up and destroyed them before they could spread any
further, but also felt a twinge of remorse for the horror the
people must have experienced.

Myael touched down in a small cemetery which sat in the
center of a ring of bare maples high upon a hill. At one end it
was corralled by asphalt and what had once been a steady stream
of braying, wheeled machines rolling perpetually toward unknown
destinations, now nothing but burned-out husks of rusting steel.
At the other end, the land dropped off and, through a break in a
high stone wall, the burning city could be viewed in its
horrible entirety far below. Here another angel perched beneath
the dark cloth of its ancient cloak beside an old man in
tattered clothing drifting close to death.
Why do you still do this, Elias?
Myael came around to face the other angel. Its face was
lost in shadowy folds of fabric. Heaven is lost to us, my
friend. We must find a new purpose.
The dark angel continued to stare at the old man from the
shadow.
I want them to know, Myael. I want them to know what Ive
done.
You made a mistakethat is all. Let us go from here. I beg you,
my friend, let us leave this city together and find a new way.
I must tell them my story. I need them to know why they must
linger here.
Elias caressed the dying mans cheek with a withered,
colorless fingervery much unlike Myaels mechanical oneand he
stirred. The man awoke and narrowed his bloodshot eyes,
straining to look upon Eliass features through the shadow but
could not.
Myael bent to one knee in front of the old man and looked
up at the hovering wraith he once knew as brother.
Dont do this, Elias.
Elias failed to acknowledge Myaels plea. The old mans
mouth gaped open, milky threads of spittle stretching across his
toothless maw as he began to whimper softly.
Myael rose and walked back around the bench, his back to
Elias.
This is madness. Reliving the past will not redeem you.
Redemption, brother? It is not redemption I seek.
What, then? I do not understand this. Elias. I will not endure
this anymore. If you ever find a way to sever yourself from this
torment, seek me out. Farewell, brother.
Myael paused a moment, not expecting a reply but half-
hoping for one nonetheless. It did not come. Decidedly, he
leaped into the sky, jetting away on wings of light.
From atop a ruined building, Myael looked down mournfully
upon the park where Elias was telling his story. Myael knew the
story. Myael had lived the story with him. It was the tale of
he and Eliass coming to this world. Metatron had commissioned
them as Deathangels to guide the souls of the pious to Heavens
gate, but Elias betrayed The Word to avenge a girl who reminded
him of a love he had lost in another life. That was when he lost
his beauty to the flame and the souls of Mankind were cursed to
walk the Earth forever.
But that was ancient history. Now the world had begun to
renew itself. Or, as Myael thought of it, resurrect itself.
Somehow the universe had become the Godmachine. Life no longer
needed machines to sustain it. Myael did not believe that The
Makers could have conceived of this. He imagined that whatever
was responsible for creating life now must be the force that
created even the First Children, ancient as they were.
Goodbye, Elias.



Elias watched as Myael streaked away into the night and
became nothing more than a pinpoint of light in the distance.
When the point of light was no more, he rolled his head back
toward the old man.
I loved oncelong ago.



Myael soared high above the ocean. A copper road lay upon
it as the suns apex slid below and he thought then of the
Ghostwalk, of the way to Heaven. How many souls had he and Elias
led upon the shimmering path? Countless. He remembered then the
many talks he and Elias had as they ambled through battlefields,
harvesting souls from bodies which were much too young to have
fallen away from them.
Myael soon came upon a shore at the base of a cliff where
black water lapped a beach of glittering sand. Atop the cliff a
great forest of twisted deadfall rolled out for miles before
him. He glided over the treetops, tapping at the tops of a few
with his hand as he flew, watching the furry scirus, as he had
named them, skitter away along the branches.
At the edge of the wood began a vast desert littered with
expanses of glass where great energies had been released. Upon
one such expanse, a lone wagon drawn by a pair of crocodile-
skinned steeds lurched and teetered across jagged breaks in the
glasss surface. Its cargo shifted clumsily beneath a tattered
tarpaulin at the drivers back and he looked up from beneath the
brim of his sun-bleached fedora as Myael passed overhead to
expose a weather-beaten face bearing a horrible grimace. Myael
dismissed this as coincidence, as no human could see a
Deathangel unless it was the angels desire or said human had
met with his or her demise. So Myael soared on.
Over the crest of a shining dune, Myael spied a troop of
armored soldiers rolling across the desert upon many wheeled
machines. They were pointed toward the direction of the little
wagon. These did not look up.
He had heard tale of Unions armies driving back the Dark
Kind, but had never seen Union, rumored to be an android infused
with the minds of a thousand men siphoned from its unwilling
prisoners.
Its armies were born of the dead. Fearless and tireless,
they made Unions rule absolute.

The sound of gunfire from behind caused Myael pause. He
hovered over the vast desert in contemplation, looking back the
way he had come and then forward again. After a moment he
doubled back toward the caravan of soldiers.
He arrived shortly at the site of a massacre. The ghosts of
frightened children milled about the ruined wagon as undead
soldiers clambered back into their vehicles. The odd wagon-
master was nowhere in sight.
Myael dropped to the glass surface as the vehicles lurched
westward.
Do not be afraid. Come to me, children.
He gently led a young boy away from the pile of ash that
was once his body. The children quieted and gathered about
Myael.
You are beyond harm, little ones. There is nothing more to
fear.
A young girl peered up at Myael, eyes deep and wide.
Are you an angel?
I am.
Are you going to take us to Heaven?
Not Heaven, no. But I can take you someplace better than this.
Six lights upon Myaels head came to life, two red; two
blue; two yellow, and he knitted a doorway atop the glass. With
another play of light the door opened.
Inside now, little ones. There is a garden I have created for
you beyond.
The children passed through cautiously until only the young
girl and Myael remained.
Go along now.
I dont want to. I want to go to Heaven.
She spoke softly but Myael sensed her willfulness. She
would not be swayed from her decision easily.
The way is lost, young one. I am sorry.
I was lost in the woods once and I found my way home by
following the geese. They fly south in the winter, you know.
The honking-fliers, you mean? Yes, I had noticed.
We could do that, couldnt we?
Hmm. You are a thinker. Do you have a name or shall I give you
one?
I have one.
Myael lifted his brow expectantly, but the girl only stared
up at him.
Is it a secret, little thinker?
Massie. My name is Massie Kensington.
Myael made a face as if he had caught wind of something
foul.
Dont worry, I will think of another for you.
Whats your name?
Myael. Myael proclaimed proudly.
Massie crinkled her nose.
Ill think of one for you, too.
Myael furled his brow but Massie didnt notice. Her
attention was pointed toward the sky where winged figures could
be seen soaring through the clouds toward a mountain in the
distance. Taking Myael by a forefinger, she began to lead him in
their direction. Myael looked up but could see nothing but the
clouds above.
Where are you going, little one?
Massie pointed toward the mountain set upon the horizon.
Following the geese.
Myael continued to stare up at the sky as he followed.
After a moment he lifted the girl from the ground and placed her
on his back, her legs resting on his wing mechanism. He alighted
into the sky with his little passenger and started toward the
mountain in the distance.
As Myael drew closer to the mountain, he could now see the
winged figures darting through the clouds. They were fast,
faster than he was willing to go with the child on his back, and
when he attempted to move close enough to view one clearly it
would dart away again deeper into the clouds.
They reached the mountaintop in a short while and Myael
could see clearly a jagged rift torn in reality behind a
withered bush. The rift burned red and yellow and green against
the purple sky, its edges crackling like the edges of water
thrown into a pan of hot oil.
Massie gasped.
Its on fire.
That is no fire, little thinker. Fascinating.
Its the gate to Heaven; I know it is.
Where it leads I cannot know. This is wrong here. This should
not exist. I wish my friend Elias were here to see this.
Is he an angel like you?
An angel, yes, but not like me. He was more like you once.
Myael could see clearly now the forms of the figures in the
clouds as the creatures dipped in and out of the rift. They
possessed humanoid forms but had the features of animals and
rode upon wings of either feathers or a thin membrane stretched
between long fingers which grew from their backs.
Are those angels?
I have seen creatures like them, but they cannot be here;
unless.
Myael stepped cautiously through the rift in a blinding
flash of light.

At the edge of the hill overlooking the ruined city, Elias
stood in contemplation. Behind him, the old mans spirit stood
lamenting over his corpse sprawled lifelessly on the ground
before him. Far in the distance a burst of white light bounced
against the heavens. Elias snapped his head upward, revealing
the ruin of his face.
Myael.
With a step, bone bled over his ruined flesh and bony
splines unfolded from his back, coming alive with a flash of
black light and lifting him off into the moonlit sky.

Myael emerged on a mountaintop overlooking a plush green
valley. The sun shone brightly down on a twinkling river which
twisted out of sight like a glimmering, never-ending snake.
Jutting from the rock face, a castle had been carved into
the side of the mountain upon the back of a great stone bird.
From its hooked beak a tremendous waterfall gushed, down into
the twisting river far below.
Is this it? Is it Heaven?
Not quite, little one, but I know this place. If the
Ghostwalk still exists here, we may be able to get there.