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She crouched down low. Slow, intentional movements, her leg tendons tense and poised, her wings and her hair tucked tight. She was as sleek, as fluid, as one with the shadows and as small as she could possibly form herself to be.
And here in the ether, that form could be very, very small. Infintisimally small.
Perched high atop, her target sat facing away from her with deep obsidian wings, oblivious to what dangers lay lurking up in the old theatre's rafters.
Her light flicked a quick persimmon shade, then deep red and smokey. She kept her flickering as low as she could manage, no more than a burning smoulder. Any bright flares of hers might tip her movement off, or yield the usual wafts of warmth she radiated and give away her position. She had to move invisibly, silently and very carefully, if she was going to time this right.
To mark her prey. To pounce. To strike.
She crept up behind the Angel of Death’s left shoulder.
“Boo!” She whispered.
AAHH! Death flailed. OH, OH SHI-- SOD IT!
The loud clangor that Azrael's scythe made as it fell from the rafter seats, out of his hands, tumbling over the next several rows and just stopping short of falling over the balcony ledge was extraordinarily satisfying for her, along with seeing Azrael, the deathly Angel of God, nearly lose a small femur and his balance in the process of trying to catch it.
She cackled.
Life loved sneaking up on Death. All in good fun.
MANNA, MUST YOU DO THIS?
He was on edge, she could tell, knowing he probably felt the same shift in the ether of a notable seismic presence, just as she had. It was enough of a familiar and electrically charged disturbance to put them both on edge. Even without his request that she come here at once, she would have likely come out of her own unrelenting curiosity.
Life was a very mischievous and curious sort.
Azrael gave her a disapproving glare as he regained his composure. It made her glow soften.
STAY QUIET, FOR ONCE, the final night incarnate hissed at her, though without much darkness in it.
Her be quiet? She was the definition of silent while hunting. He was the one waking up souls. With near losing his scythe off the balcony railing like that, she wasn’t sure how any soul could have not heard that.
“Cause you’re sssooo stealthy, lugging that heavy thing,” she teased. “Why did you even bring it with you? You don’t even use it.”
BECAUSE I AM THE GRIM REAPER, AND FOR SOULS' PROTECTION, AND IT IS SYMBOLIC. Azrael groaned, looking down at it. AND FINE, IT IS HEAVY. WHY MUST YOU ALWAYS BE SUCH A MENACE.
She giggled softly. “Oh, I’ve been called much worse things, pumpkin.”
She’d taken to trying out affectionate endearments lately with Azrael, like pumpkin — his well-formed skull did remind her of a jack-o-lantern. Had also called him kitten and sunshine too, mostly for her own satirical amusement. But for eons, Death called her Manna. Others called her Life, some simply called her the Light. And when mortal many, many times over, souls called her by all kinds of names. Life lived more lives and went by more mortal aliases than any one being could keep track of. But, her favourite names were the ones Azrael gave her.
Well, when he wasn't calling her a downright nuisance. Although she did like that one too.
“When you said you needed me to meet you at a theatre, I thought for sure you were finally taking me out on a date somewhere,” she smirked at him, trying to flirt. “You never take me any place fun.”
She tried to get a smile out of Death. It was her favourite pasttime.
They were perched up to the rafters of the tall rotunda, wooden-essenced theatre — simply known as The Theatre to the ether’s resident souls. Below them rows and rows of viewing galleries encircled an illuminated, roofed stage at the center, with a round, open ceiling above. There were scents of grasses and heather, and a brazen yet reminiscent wood oil smell on the sturdy seats. Whoever the soul was in such urgent need of this place must have loved it dearly, she considered.
The Theatre had existed in some form in the ether as souls needed it to for centuries, like how all things came to exist in the ether. But the structure hadn’t been this well thought out by any soul in many years. Life felt it an astonishing sight to suddenly see it shimmer iridescently from the grasslands, as it once had back when it was newly formed into materiality by thousands of wayward longing souls. Having lost some physicality from forgotteness, the structure barely a phantom like apparition at times, it was a surprise when it seemingly appeared solid again out of nowhere.
A surprise, though she wasn’t certain a good one.
I NEEDED YOU HERE, Azrael said to her in all seriousness and tried smiling back, as much as an eldritch, nightmare-inducing skull permitted him. But to her, he looked troubled.
Still snickering a little, she burned a deep red fiery glow with plumes of burning auburn as she grew her size steadily to match her more macabre partner’s, but kept her inner luminescence low. Azrael himself wasn’t seeming so large in stature as usual, she noticed, so she aimed for an equally shorter height so they could speak more easily.
She had definitely caught him hiding. So, of course she stood tall and yanked his sleeve to come join her in the seats closest to the ledge of the third-floor balcony so they could see better. Whatever was here in this solid a construct, and she had her suspicions, would find them anyway. She noted and ignored Azrael's hesitation to move closer.
“Come. What are we spying on?”
YOU MAY NOT WISH TO KNOW.
Death pointed a bony finger downwards, and at the sight of them, her light diminished as though doused. Because of course that's who could manifest such a place as this on their first go. Because of course that’s who she felt enter the ether. She gulped.
It was Anthony.
He was pacing like a tiger stage left to stage right and back again, seeming more upset than hungry. And as stalwart as ever stood Aziraphale at center stage, his arms folded and hugging himself, and eyes trailing over the empty audience of seats as if one-by-one taking attendance.
A TIME FOR THEM HAS ENDED.
She and Death both peered over the balcony together. Feeling a rush of anxiousness, she placed her fiery lit fingers over his bony ones on the railing, and both their hands settled into a balance with each other, joining together as flesh instead of fire and bone.
While they still bickered and fought like the literal Night and Day they were, Life and Death did more of that now. Touching. Holding hands. It was very new to them both still, this more intimate and expressive side of their dynamic. It was comforting and exciting.
It only took them nearly their whole existences as metaphysical, godlike constructs to realise they could even do it. Touch without erasing nor destroying each other. Be there for one another in this way. Find a physical expression for the way they always had felt and never said, when their existences across planes was further apart.
I AM GLAD YOU CAME. SOMETHING IS HAPPENING AND I FIND I NEED YOUR GUIDANCE. Azrael said as he squeezed her hand in his gently.
She found it hard to believe the master of the beyond needed her guidance, and found it a touch vulnerable of him that he’d call upon her while working. She found it soft of him, and sensitive, and a bit of an emotional relationship step for them both. As Azrael stroked the flesh of her fingers with his thumb out of comfort, her light flickered an affectionate warm amber in response; like a cat’s purr, betraying her attempts at cool aloofness.
Responding honestly, she sighed, “I hate when you drag me into your work, but I sensed this trouble, same as you did. I’m still in a bit of shock that it’s them. So what's going on?”
Azrael leaned in, whispering more conspiratorially, THEIR ABRUPT END CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD. THEY’VE SINCE BEEN TALKING AND WALKING IN CIRCLES UPON THAT STAGE FOR SOME MEASURE. STRANGELY, THEY HAVE NOT LEFT IT AT ALL.
That was very odd behavior for any soul, not to explore and wander. She spied down at the two, her heart clenching, knowing that in the timelessness of the ether, they would not necessarily recognise her as a close friend. They wouldn't return the same familiarity towards her that she had towards them, and it made her sad.
DO YOU KNOW WHY THEY ENVISION THEIR AFTERLIFE AS A THEATRE LIKE THIS?
“All the world’s a stage, isn’t it? This place always did look like the Globe Theatre as the souls remembered it. When mortal, I used to love it there. I sold throwing cabbages down in the pit.” She smiled nostalgically around them, amazed at how detailed its cognitive construction was, and recalled that past life fondly.
She then turned to look at Azrael, unnerved. “Wait. Why wouldn’t you know something like that? You helped them cross the plane and didn’t ask? I thought that was a standard onboarding question when teaching souls how form of thought creates function in these realms. Don’t tell me you sent someone else to pick them up instead?”
NO. NO ONE COLLECTED THEM. THAT’S THE PROBLEM. Death put a shaky finger to his teeth, whispering softer still. GOD SENT THEM STRAIGHT HERE. I WAS NOT AT ALL CONSULTED.
Life gasped, in a way mockingly. “No, you’re kidding. The Almighty dirtied Her own hands? She magnanimously left her tall tower? She dare graced the peasantry with her mere presence?”
THIS IS NOT HELPING, MANNA.
“Good. Cause I'm not going to help Her, if that's what you think. I do not get involved in God's tantrums. This is none of my influence, and I will not talk to Her for you.”
I ASKED YOU HERE FOR THEM. NOT FOR HER. Azael let her hand go, slouched into his seat and rubbed the bridge of his skull between his eye sockets. I FOUND THEIR NAMES LEFT FOR ME BY GOD AT THE SAME HOUR THEY ARRIVED. I EXPENDED A GREAT DEAL OF MY REACH JUST TO FIND THEM. I WAS NOT FORETOLD OF THIS.
Oh. That’s new. Life’s ire eased back down, but not her confusion. This was a perplexing situation. It was not the course of how things were done, at least as she was aware. But, if Azrael had called her here to help the souls she knew below, as uncomfortable as everything felt about it, then she would.
Of course she would.
SO, WHAT DO WE DO?
“We? This is your department, not mine. I don't even work here. I’m not supposed to even still be here in the ether,” she sassed with humour, trying not to let her distress of the situation show. “What did God tell you to do?”
ONLY THAT THEY WERE HERE, AND THE LAST OF THEIR WORLD.
“Hmh, figures” she grumbled. “God runs you like crazy with crisis after crisis lately, then drops this bombshell on your desk and takes off.”
SHE DOES AS SHE PLEASES. A LOT LIKE YOU DO.
“Don’t you dare compare us.”
GOD'S WORD IS FINAL IN ALL THINGS. REGARDLESS HOW, THEY ARE HERE IN THE ETHER. IT HAPPENED WITHOUT DISCUSSION NOR FOREWARNING. I CANNOT DIVINATE HER REASONS FOR THIS.
Like she could? How should she know what God was up to? She was growing frustrated and salty about it all. “Well, don’t look at me. She’s your boss. Not mine. Her games are Her own.”
BUT SHE IS YOUR MOTHER.
Life folded her smouldering arms, huffed, and sulked, and scuffed her foot, smoke coming from her nostrils as some angst-ridden horse of the damned. She stared down Death at that remark.
Was that the only reason Azrael asked her here then? To give answer for her Mother’s tantrumous whims? Uch! Why did Azrael have to remind her?
She hated it when souls did that, as though she was somehow responsible for God’s antics by association. She didn’t not love God, her dear Mother, obviously. It was just hard being the eldest — let there be Light, the first forged, the first born, the expectations, the explanations, the responsibilities heaped on her from the beginning for her to be a good deal of creation’s unpaid babysitter. And it was hard having to clean up Her messes and care for the souls Mother left who wanted answers. It was harder still to get questioned about it and have to guess what her Mother was playing at, which made Life very cunning and a mean game player herself.
“Doesn’t mean I know what She’s at with this one, any better than you do. Tell me,” she said, facing Azrael, “was your Boss at least cordial with them, or was She Her usual melodramatic self?”
Death turned quiet. Even for him.
I DON’T KNOW.
Life blinked, and side glanced nervously down at the souls below, who continued arguing louder.
“You didn’t ask them?” she probed. “They met God and you didn’t ask them about it? What did you even say to them?”
Azrael looked down, becoming very interested in how the satin roils and waves of the darkest abyss flowed from his robes. THE TIME AT WHICH I AM AT LIBERTY TO ADDRESS THEIR CONCERNS ABOUT THEIR JOURNEY HERE HAS NOT YET COME TO PASS.
“What?” She flared hot white, suddenly protective, insulted that he would try to give her such a corporate dribble answer.
THEIR TIME HAS NOT—
“Azrael. Angel of the Almighty. Harbinger of the Sacred Night. What the Hell is the matter with you? You mean they just appeared here and no one has said anything to them at all?”
Like a beehive beginning to anger, her hackles were rising, and the swarming hum and feel in the air around her shifted as surrounding temperatures rose. If the soul-materialized theatre was made of actual, mortal wood, it would already have caught flame. The crests of Life’s wings ignited in bright, orange-yellow sunbursts.
MANNA. BEFORE YOU—
“Do you understand how scared they must be? How dissociated and confused? Are they in any pain? How did they perish? It must have been traumatic. Were they smited, engulfed in fire, shot, suffocated, burned at stakes? Did they even believe there’d be an after to anchor to? Did you even check?” She stood and stomped her feet with each question, herself ablaze and ferocious. “This is your job, Azrael! Get down there! They’ve already been here too long without any word! Hrrrrgg, you had one job!”
I HAVE SEVERAL, Azrael argued, standing himself as his own eternal midnight extended around him in waves, his feathers fanned out in defense. I AM KEEPER TO THE ETERNAL BRIDGE, ORDAINED BY GOD. I'VE BEEN... M-MONITORING THE SITUATION VERY CAREFULLY. THEY DON'T SEEM TO HAVE ANY LINGERING EPHEMERAL INJURIES.
“Watching distantly silent from on high, you can tell all of that from your mountain? Spoken like someone who’s been immortal for too long. Real compassionate,” Life spat.
NOW THAT'S NOT FAIR. THAT'S NOT FAIR AN ASSESSMENT OF... OF THE SITUATION. YOU'RE ALSO FAMILIAR WITH THE DELICATE NATURE OF THE ENDS OF MORTALITY.
“Whoever said I was fair,” Life said. “This is your Boss’ meddling and you talk of fairness?”
I HAVE FOR EONS HONOURED MY DUTIES TO THIS REALM.
“I don't care if you hold the whole of creation up like Atlas with your pinkies out! Get your bony carcass down there and say—”
“Ah, hello? Is, is someone there?” Aziraphale’s voice called from the stage towards the rafters, turning his head all around as though not sure where to look. Because of course it would be brave Aziraphale to speak first, she knew. “We could use, ah, some assistance? We’re, erm, not quite sure where we are.”
“Angel, don’t be polite. Course somebody's there,” Anthony paced back, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out to the whole theater, “Cause we can hear you!”
A wind kicked up swirls of dirt across the pit, into the first-floor balcony stands. Which was concerning, because in the ether there was no earthenly dirt and, without souls feeling for there to be some, no wind either.
Their souls were already restless.
“Let's not be rude, Crowley,” the angel said, fidgeting nervously with his hands, backing up towards center stage. “We don’t know who’s out there, friend or foe, and we’re not going to win ourselves any help that way.”
“Help? Angel, what help? They’re not gonna help us. There is no one left to help us. They were never gonna let us go. They’ve been keeping us here for hours, like rats in their maze.” Anthony leapt up onto a sturdy box downstage in a way that suggested he didn’t notice how he willed the box into existence, the box not actually existing a moment ago. He continued yelling out to the stands with his arms out, turning slowly, “Tell us then, which play do you want performed for you! Hamlet? Been there. Midsommer’s? Or are you waiting to see us take our clothes off and kick our legs up in fucking frocks and stockings?”
Both Life and Death scrambled to duck behind the balcony railing, looking at each other, quieter now. Life lowered her smoulder a little, but she was still burning brighter than she wanted. She hoped she wasn’t casting shadows.
Anthony continued to call out to an invisible crowd. “Yeah, we see you all, with your lanterns," Crowley called out louder from the stage to all the rafters, to the left and right balconies, and all around, “whatever ghosts you are! We see you in the orchestra too laughing at us.”
Life and Death peeked over the railing, and again sat down. She thought she and Azrael were being quite loud in their argument, and yet neither Aziraphale nor Anthony had looked specifically in their direction.
Strange.
Come to think of it, especially with what he must be sensing, she was not sure how Anthony was not spotting either of them. They weren’t exactly hiding. Could the two souls not see her or Azrael? That couldn’t be.
And there were no souls in the orchestra either. Nor in the other balconies. What was Anthony seeing? Something wasn’t right. She felt something was off. Possibly very, very off.
REMEMBER. TIMELESSNESS. THEIR SOULS I DO NOT THINK KNOW US YET. NOT AS WE ARE.
“Yes, yes. A bit of a mind-fuck. Timelessness, feh. But there is more to it than that, I think,” she considered, tapping her fingers on the railing. “I don't think I’ll ever get used to how time and realities overlap here. Mortal realms of singular realities don’t have these problems. And they don’t mess with time.”
YOU COULD THANK PADRE FOR THAT. PAY THEM A VISIT ONCE IN A WHILE. Death needled.
“Don’t you even start,” Life chided, though smiled despite herself.
Life and Father Time — or Padre as they called them — didn’t exactly see eye to eye. She always felt when mortal like time was something to be outrun, like it would breathe down her neck, like it worked against her. Like there wouldn’t be enough. But mortal time was invigorating, heart-pounding, and cherishable, in the way that timelessness in the ether was not. Though she’d never admit that to Padre, the immortal bore of a construct. But Life did have to admit that while she never got along with Padre, they did keep things like this in mortal realms more organised. You only saw souls in their travels in one stasis and in one place at a time.
In the ether, to a mind like hers more used to mortality, it was mayhem.
She sighed. Azrael was used to this. Timelessness. She wasn’t. She spent all her time mortal since the dawn of mortality, busy reincarnating. Rising to live life after life, as Life should. And these overlapping realities and time switches in the in-between ether gave her headaches. These souls of Anthony and Aziraphale’s weren’t dopplegangers, closer maybe to time travelers but not quite. It was them, their same souls as always, just at an overlapping crossroads between seeking realities, traversing to and from where singular time and singular places crowded each other.
For now, all she knew was that the souls below were nearly gods themselves, had their same great powers she could feel, and had just spoken with God of all beings.
And currently, their continued existence felt as if in grave danger. But why?
“Crowley, Crowley, wait. Maybe that’s not what we should want. Maybe we don’t wish to know who’s out there after all and should focus on looking for a way out.” Aziraphale walked over and took hold of Anthony’s arm after he’d jumped back down off the box, which dissipated back into the ether the moment his foot left it, not that he seemed to notice. “What if they are just ghosts and aren’t really there? Or maybe even are we? We still have no idea why God tricked us.”
“See!” Life hissed at Death. “This is why you say hello first! Their emotional cognitions are already in initial stages of doubt and flux. Souls’ resolves need confidence and an assurance to sustain an ongoing belief that they’re existing in order to survive here!”
Without saying it, she wasn’t as worried about Aziraphale’s resolve so much as Anthony’s. All spitefulness aside, something about his soul seemed very unsure, she could tell. She could feel an electrical static in the air growing frantic, the feel of its light fracturing in prismatic energies. Something similiar to the air before a lightening bolt strikes and the Earth grounds the light.
Except again, there was no air here nor Earth. Which meant it was all Anthony’s doing. As though he were losing containment and needed grounding.
I KNOW. Azrael sighed. IT’S WHAT’S MAKING THIS DIFFICULT. WE’VE DEALT WITH ANGEL AND DEMON SOULS BEFORE. THIS LAST TIDE WAS VERY HIGH WITH THEM. BUT THESE TWO…
She nodded, “Believe me, I know. They alone could send shockwaves.There is a serious threat of them losing cognitive form and dissipating in the ether completely.”
The two ying-yang constructs of all existence watched the souls beneath them continue to pace and argue with each other in hushed tones. But also watched them embrace each other, and hold each other's hands when the winds they created around themselves kicked up. And she watched as Anthony placed a kiss upon Aziraphale's forehead at one point.
She watched then as Aziraphale began to cry, scared, and how they held and then kissed each other, still in an anxious fret of the stage around them collapsing, the illumination of it going dark. Even beyond their tears, for this, Life was grateful to see their souls here together. That God wasn’t so wrathful as to only send one of them here and keep the other. Grateful to know that Anthony and Aziraphale’s souls at least here felt they could, in such a cruel and tumultuous environment, care after and dotingly sooth each other. Even while pacing and arguing over what they faced. It was a delicate emotional anchor these two souls shared together that she had watched herself through a few lives unfold. She hoped that anchor would now keep them both standing until she and Death could figure this all out.
The truth of it too: were it not for the Guardian rock that was Aziraphale, she feared Anthony would have already dissipated entirely. Too fast and too soon.
WE COULD ASK FATE?
“I’m not asking that know-it-all anything,” she huffed. “He’d be more cryptic than She’d be. What they need is the straight truth. What they need is to talk to you.”
BRUTAL TRUTH WILL ONLY BRING DAMAGE. THEY BOTH HAVE BEEN DEALT FAR TOO MUCH OF THAT AS WE KNOW.
“Truth is not brutal. You and I both know only the cruel make it that way.”
They both continued to think. The walls of the theatre gave a quick shudder, which made her tense. This was not a good sign. Azrael needed to get his act together.
“What else might you try if they were human? Remember how you showed up that one time with that close call run down I had in Reno?”
THAT WILL NOT BRING ANY SOLUTION, IN THEIR CASE Azrael replied, a bit cryptically. WHAT IF I DARKEN THEIR SIGHT AS I WOULD FOR THOSE WHOSE DEATHS ARE SUDDEN? EASE THEM? IT COULD GRANT HIM HEED.
She didn’t need Azrael to clarify which “him” he spoke of. She knew which soul he meant all too well. Aziraphale would always be steadier, just like her Azrael. Anthony was more the livewire of fire and energy.
“Scare them speechless is what you mean. That might have worked when they first arrived.” She put her hand on Azrael's shoulder, and the darkness washed soothingly over her scorching hand, cooling down her own racing thoughts. “We need to come up with something fast. Their nerves are still too unstable. I don't see why there is all this fuss in just talking to them.”
It was then the theatre shook violently, as imagined soot and wood planks fell from the ceiling and the wall plaster crumbled. Part of an upper balcony broke off and crashed into the pit. It frightened Aziraphale and Anthony enough that they braced against and held onto each other as the structure quaked, of course still not understanding that it was their own existential fears causing it. Life and Death clung to each other tight as the souls below made the rafters rattle.
“Crowley, wait. Wait, don’t go!” Aziraphale fretted, the worry clear in his voice the minute Crowley pulled away from him. “Come back here this instant! We must stick together and figure this out!”
Anthony had spread his wings and tried to fly, but crashed into a seeming barrier at the lip of the stage, a tether pulled tight that his own soul had made strong. They were caging themselves in, trapping themselves in with their own insecurities. She could sense the thermal heat pouring off of Anthony. The fire and light in his chest and under his skin she caught sight of burned brighter.
It was akin to a panic attack settling into their souls, the unavoidable dread of most mortals rationalising their own state of being. One she was all too familiar with seeing in souls so helplessly lost. Only tenfold for them somehow.
At this pace, their souls wouldn’t settle enough to understand it was their own psychies generating all the realities they controlled around them. Their own minds were breaking down, wracked with trying to comprehend that which their own fears and anxieties were manifesting into comprehension, without their mindful realisation of it.
The whole of their souls — and the theatre, their shelter — were closing in on an event horizon to not just dissipate, but combust entirely.
“Oi, are we not being entertaining enough for you! Is that it?” Crowley screeched, standing and stumbling. “Should we dress down to our knickers for a right strip tease? Answer me!”
It pained her how much the soul below was the Anthony she knew, brash and quick to lash out. Fight or flight, more often flight. She could hear the tremor in his voice behind all his bravado, and his quest for reasoning and answers, for knowledge, going unanswered. How afraid both souls were, she could feel it, but still they were being brave for each other. As their two souls always were.
It gave her the idea that for whatever reason, maybe what Azrael needed on this assignment from God was bravery. A good ol’ fashioned pep talk. Or a swift kick in the rear.
“Alright, sunshine, look at me. Enough stalling in what ifs. You are an interdimensional, multiversal force to be reckoned with. And their souls will collapse their own afterlife if you don’t get your bones down there and do your job,” she said to Azrael firmly.
MANNA. Death looked at her, his eye sockets wide with fright. I, I CAN'T.
Life looked Death in the face, more confused than flustered, her brow furrowing with sudden concern.
“Why not?”
BECAUSE I ALREADY TRIED. BEFORE YOU ARRIVED. Death removed his hood and slumped against the railing, caressing the backs of the vertebra bones in his neck with his skeletal fingers, his skull hung. THE ALMIGHTY HAND OF GOD ENDED THEM. I CANNOT ADMINISTER ANOTHER ONE. MY DEATHLY TOUCH FAILED TO BRING THEM UNDER THE FOLD.
“You could not touch them,” she whispered. “Your touch didn't work?”
THEY… THEY WOULD NOT RECOGNISE ME NOR SPEAK WITH ME.
“They would not recognise you? They… they do not see you. Which means they would not see death,” she worked out softly, slowly, a resigning fear lumping up in her throat."They've been forced to go it alone. To figure out how their souls can survive and manifest it all on their own to exist, before they dissipate and come undone.”
She’d puzzled it together, now that they had all the pieces. God’s game, which was never a game and always was more a rigged con and a test, suddenly made sense.
She could picture it now. Their one reality ending. The two of them angering Mother, her making a game of it, ending them and sending them off to the afterlife, only cutting out Azrael entirely, burning that bridge. So that they would not find peace nor guidance how to manifest their souls now, and a ticking timebomb clock of their own flailing subconscious fears above their heads to figure out how. With how scarred, traumatized and broken their lives must have left them in that life.
God doomed them to make it on their own or perish trying, knowing they might dissipate in the ether.
That was the secret she knew. God didn’t love games as much as many thought, because games could be lost. She'd never risk a game without manipulating the outcome. God loved more pushing buttons and testing being’s limits.
And it pissed Life off to no end.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT I HAVE DONE WRONG. Death lamented, holding his skull as his fingers scraped against it. I’M THE ONLY BRIDGE TO THE ETERNAL NIGHT. I TRIED EVERYTHING. THEY COULDN’T HEAR ME… Death’s teeth chattered, his jaw wavered.
“And you were going to tell me this when?” Life asked, trying to take the rake out of her voice and speak more steady. More weighted, more kindly.
Azrael seemed to shrink into himself, a bit smaller. It wasn’t an easy thing for him to admit it when he was in over his head, she knew. His position was rather high stakes. And they both could be very stubborn until worlds nearly fell apart.
They should know.
I THOUGHT YOU BEING HERE WOULD BRING ANSWERS. THERE IS NO REVELATION OF WHAT THE ALMIGHTY HAS DONE. BUT THEY HAVE ALREADY RECEIVED AN END WITHOUT A GROUNDING TOUCH.
She sighed and said morosely, “Which means their time to overcome their fears and figure out that they can form their own destiny is fleeting. Why am I not surprised God’s made this a sudden death game involving all of us.”
Life could barely contain herself as she watched the souls' meltdowns below. She felt she might explode from within with anger and become a lit pyre herself to this place until Death grabbed her arm suddenly, his handsome skull seeking her eyes.
I HAD ONE FINAL IDEA. I NEED YOU, Azrael said slowly, TO TRY TO TOUCH THEM AND GREET THEM INTO THE INFINITY IF I CANNOT.
Life stalled.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me. This is Her game? I can’t play doorman. I, I can’t just do your job as Death, and She knows that. How could that even work?” She looked down at the souls, feeling another balcony fall and an ethereal wind tunnel pick up inside the theatre, blowing debris around, knowing the developing cyclone was the start of Anthony’s cerebral breakage. Her own panic was mounting as well. “I only once barely helped you bring souls across the planes and that was—”
THE FLOOD. I REMEMBER. Azrael took his skeletal hand and touched her face. It soothed her upset fires and quenched her fevers. She looked into the deep abyss where his eyes burned blue, distant flames, and remembered the first and only time she saw them as flesh. When Azrael’s eyes were lighter, softer, more like the endless blue in the sky.
“I can’t help end them,” Life said, her voice nearly silent in quiver. “You have that power. You are the end of things, not me.”
Death brushed his thumb across her cheek, whispering softly.
AND YOU ARE THE BEGINNING.
She placed her hand over his, and felt the Angel of Death’s skin over his knuckles, the scarred back of his hand and the softer skin of his wrist. It reminded her of a mortal comfort. A bond. And she found peace in it. And she found warmth, and solace. And a faint, fluttered pulse. It nearly felt like life.
And there, she found her answer.
“A grounding light, a balance,” she said. “I’ll give it a try. I’ve never tried to give anything a — hmm, what would you call it? The Touch of Life? — before.”
THAT’S NOT A BAD NAME FOR IT.
She bit her lip, grinning slightly, feeling much more steady and brave. Her light shined brighter, casting away all the shadows in the rafters. Hearing a gasp from the stage, she looked down.
Aziraphale must have seen her light first as he pointed upwards, and the cyclone winds of destruction tapered immediately. That was a good start, that they could see her now. The two souls began whispering to one another, seeming calmer. They came to hold hands together again, and Life smiled. She took a deep breath, finding a minute to think. The two souls below embraced again, and she turned her back to them to give them a private moment.
Looking back at Azrael, mischievously, she licked her tongue along her sharp teeth.
“If I'm doing your job now, do I get to hold the scythe?”
NO.
“Can I boss your teams around?”
YOU ALREADY DO THAT.
“Can I get a big desk like yours in the Station?”
I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T WORK HERE, Death smirked.
“I don’t. And I’m under dressed. Do I get a big, black robe?” She brushed his sleeve, admiring the look of it on him. “Is this standard issue? Can I borrow yours?”
AND LEAVE ME STARKERS. WE HAVE GUESTS. Death chuckled. YOU ASK TOO MANY QUESTIONS.
She pulled away, and let her illumination shine brighter through the theatre. “I’ll try the magic finger touch thing. But you do all the talking.”
THEY STILL MAY NOT SEE ME. I THINK YOU SHOULD SPEAK. THEY NEED PROTECTION AND COUNSELING ON WHAT IT’S LIKE TO FACE AN END AND CONTINUE ON AFTER. Death noted. AND THAT’S YOUR DEPARTMENT.
“True. They do need counseling, probably. Especially if Mother's had a hand in this. But this is their afterlife. Even immortals eventually expect to talk to Death.” She motioned with her flames at him vaguely. “And that's you, angel cakes.”
ARE YOU CERTAIN I SHOULD SPEAK? THEY SPOKE TO GOD ALREADY.
“So?”
SO, THAT’S A TOUGH ACT TO FOLLOW.
Death grinned and raised his skull where an eyebrow might be. Life then and there decided she would sneak up on and pounce him one day to lay kisses along his eyebrows and find out what colour they were.
She tried to look at him frustrated at that point, but her face was all smiles. Couldn’t be helped. Azrael was very clever and sardonically funny when he didn’t mean to be. It was one reason why Life adored him so much.
YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE TO TALK. YOU KNOW HE WILL LISTEN TO YOU. HE’S—
“He doesn’t know that yet, or he’d have come found me as soon as they arrived,” Life sighed, tapping her petite foot, seeing Anthony down below looking towards her now. “Not sure I should speak at all. Timelessness. One day when he crosses our reality, he’ll know. Maybe I should change my form just to be safe?”
TIMELESSNESS IS BLIND. THEY WILL NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. IN WHATEVER FORM YOU CHOSE, THEY WILL ONLY SEE YOUR CARING HEART.
Life’s shade burned downright crimson at that. Damn him.
“Your flattery is unfair. Harumph. Sweet talking me to get me to do your job for you,” she grumbled. “What do I even tell them to do with an afterlife, these two. They're already supernatural.”
KNOWING THEM, THEY WILL TRY TO DENY THIS FATE. LIKE YOU DO. FIGHTING AGAINST THE ODDS IS YOUR SPECIALTY.
He reached for her hand, and it broke her resolve. She gave in; to her grounding, better half, Azrael, she always would. They had been apart for so long and were both good at arguing with each other, but not flirting yet, not smooth about these softer moments, or maybe for them there was little difference.
She tried to hold back a laugh and stay frustrated, so she groaned as dramatically as she could. “Alright, fine, I’ll talk to them. I’ll figure out something to say, but you’re not allowed to clam up.”
Azrael smiled victoriously at her, the bastard, so she clapped back, “But this is it. This is a one time thing. I am not joining your eternal sleep Welcome Wagon.”
I DID NOT THINK YOU WOULD.
“And I will outright refuse to talk to you if you expect me to join any conference calls or meetings with my Mother about this. Just cause I’m still hanging around the ether, doesn’t mean I work here. If your Boss squawks because Her mischief went south, that’s on you.”
NO MEETINGS. I PROMISE. I WOULD NOT WISH SOMETHING ON YOU THAT'S WORSE THAN I AM.
“Aaaaand,” she poked a fire-lit finger into Azrael’s chest, “You’re lucky I’m even still in this realm. After this, I'm done. I’m itching to get back to mortality. Oh! You know what we should do? We should both go!”
Her eyes went wide and she was all a buzzing flutter with the idea, bouncing. Mortal again. Oh and with Death too. And maybe Anthony and Aziraphale could use a dose of some mortality. It was good for the soul. Even Padre took a mortal life once in a while for perspective. It could be so healing for them.
GO? GO WHERE?
“Mortal!" she danced excitedly. “After we set these two straight, come away with me. I’ll pick out the perfect realm.”
THEN WHO WILL LOOK AFTER THE INFINITE? I AM THE KEEPER OF NIGHT ETERNAL.
“Uch! You act like this place couldn’t run a few years without you, you workaholic. You have a great team here. And you could ask the Aziraphale that does know us to help mind the store.”
Death put his hood back on and titled his skull at her, nodding after a moment. I COULD USE A REST.
“Yehoshua’s back now too, and is always a big help,” Life pointed out. “We don’t have to be gone long. Maybe 20 years. I promise we can be something fat and happy and domesticated. Cats maybe, or dogs, or goats, or horses. A mortal getaway, just the two of us.”
I DO LIKE CATS, Death replied.
“Hey! Yooohoo! Flashy star bits! Startin’ not to care whether you lot are done whisperin’ or whatnot,” Anthony called from the stage, Manna relieved she had his focus at least and that the tremors settled. The stage lights seemed to also come back on, none of her doing. “We want some bloody answers!”
Death chuckled. SOUNDS LIKE ANTHONY HAS QUESTIONS.
Life burned brightly at that, and fluffed out her feathers, climbing up onto the balcony ledge of the rafters and readying to step off and dive down to the stage, planning to make quite an entrance. She surged her wings like solar flares, her feathers literal fires, herself as hot and white as a sun burning bright, blinding out the dark shadows below and causing the two souls to shield their eyes.
“Unlike my Mother, thank you, I love questions. Anthony had better have questions. I hope to never meet Anthony at any time in any reality where he doesn’t.”
YOU MIGHT REGRET SAYING THAT.
“Fair. But since this is Anthony and Aziraphale we’re talking to, it does give me an idea of what to say. Anthony might just get riled up enough to get the hint of it, I hope.”
Death said as he joined her on the railing ledge to fly down, their hands still joined. TELL ME. WHAT SHOULD YOU SAY TO A SOUL WHEN GOD STRIKES THEM DOWN.
Life incarnate, the seraph phoenix she was, the first born Light, winked at her partner Death.
“Personally, I think they should rise again from the ashes. But I won’t tell them that.”
THEY WERE IMMORTAL. IS THAT NOT ENOUGH LIFE ALREADY?
“Not if they weren’t happy in it. Having life is one thing. Living it is harder. Some things aren’t worth saving if they hold a soul back from a fresh start.” Life preened her wings a bit as she let her train of thought continue. “I think I’ll point out how interesting it was that God ended them, as her note said to you, and yet they ended up here of all places. And then I will tell them the truth."
THE TRUTH? YOU WOULD NOT DARE, Death said, again arching a brow. Life wondered if they were blond.
“Watch me. I’ll remind them that they are plain old souls. Powerful, they’ll no doubt figure out, but still just souls. And that souls seek. That souls question. That souls can go lifetimes trying to find answers, but it’s not our job to give them. And if they want some grand revelation answer, then that’s on them.”
Azrael stayed silent, and so she kept going. Talking things out with Azrael first was helpful. He always helped steady her raging fires like that. He was her darkness, her setting, her calm, her balance, her rock.
“Oh, and I might also let it slip how interesting it was how God probably set them up, as She did us. My Mother doesn’t play unless She’s rigged the outcome. But otherwise I’ll just welcome them cordially to the boring ol’ ether of eternity. Nothing but gray, gray, gray everywhere.”
YOU KNOW THEY WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS. ANTHONY IS NOT ONE TO ACCEPT UNCERTAINTY.
“He does hate it. Well, if they don’t like it, they’ll just… have to go find someplace else then.”
CLEVER. REINCARNATION?
“Maybe. Mortal or immortal. Whatever.”
AND IF THEY DO NOT FIND A UNIVERSE THAT’S SUITABLE?
“Well fine, but it’s not our job to just hand out perspectives or realities. They’ll have to roll up their sleeves and make one themselves.”
Death gave her a knowing, but incredulous look. She knew he was enjoying this idea as much as she was, even if he wouldn’t admit to it.
“What?” She said innocently. “It’s not like Anthony doesn’t know how. He helped make the universe where we met them. He’s likely made a whole bunch of them.”
Death squeezed her hand, a wry smile showing on his sunken teeth.
AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HE GOES TO LOOK FOR LIGHT TO MAKE HIS NEW UNIVERSES.
Life looked down at Anthony. She saw how the air had stilled, the raging temper of fire within him moments ago that caused the air to crackle and threaten lightning easing into a softer glow as he held on tighter to Aziraphale. For a moment before the fires in Anthony’s chest went out, he looked radiant.
“He’ll find the fire and light he needs within himself, when the time comes. We know he does.”
BY REFUSING TO ANSWER THEM, YOU ARE MAKING THEM ASK THEMSELVES THE ETERNAL QUESTION.
At that, Life cracked a smile. It was hard not to. Azrael knew her too well.
“Maybe I am.”
ANTHONY WILL ARGUE THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH. HE WILL WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE POINT IS. HE HAS ASKED IT BEFORE.
Life looked down upon the two souls staring up at her, and shrugged.
“Guess they’ll just have to live to find that one out.”