‘This is a power outside the confines of natural order. I, Keeper of the Gates, have warned you that you – a human – were led by your free will. But hold on to the true purpose of faith. Mercy is everywhere, like grains of sand. I hope with your actions, your people turn to goodness.’
‘If I do this, am I damned?’ I cannot help but ask.
‘Perhaps the Divine will deem that in your cosmic possibilities, you may turn to salvation. Or be damned like your namesake warrior who tried summoning the Simorgh and paid for it.’ The angel grips my face between its steepled hands, turning my cheek.
We are above the world in the lowest of the Heavens. The ground glows in stardust which expands into a gold lake flowing below the Mist Mountains, surrounding the vak-vak trees.
Pain coils my belly tight. In the centre of the alcove is a tall tree, its seeds pattering into a gold vortex of life, nourishing lands.
The Simorgh rests at the top of the Tree of Knowledge, floating above the Heavenly Sea, the brilliant creature who was born thrice. She is the Bird King; a peacock with the claws of a lion and the face of an everchanging human. But as I watch, her features morph to show my uma.
‘The Third Heavenly Bird burned in the world, watching eras end by human hands. Still, the Simorgh collected knowledge perched upon her tree. She embodied patience. She nourished warriors to protect mankind, collecting wisdom while maintaining peace.’ It points to her. ‘There she is. The Eight Gates are not offered, they are taken.’
I float down to the Simorgh, understanding I must enslave this creature.
The angel frowns. ‘You will hurt it?’
‘You said to take the gates.’
‘One creature of nur walked down the path of justice. And now the other walks down the opposite.’
I smile. ‘The Simorgh was complacent. She could have conquered mankind and commanded us into obedience, so we would never war again. But she did not. The Simorgh has the luxury of being a peaceful creature. We do not. I reject her. I reject the firebird and her wisdom.’
‘Daughter of the Simorgh,’ my uma laughs darkly from the Simorgh’s countenance. ‘Slit my throat; I had done it to myself in the temporal world, so why not in this realm?’
‘Yes.’ My hands cup her face lovingly. ‘We both know only death, don’t we?’ I murmur.
With my blade, nur wraps around the neck of the creature and I yank until its neck bleeds. Together, we plummet into the gold sea. It’s a strange feeling to be like the devil thrown from the Gates of Heaven, the angel staring down.
The last thing I hear is:know that though you have been given the power of the Heavens, for eternity you will be alone.
The rush of power ruptures my thoughts as we fall into a dark world. Here, I seem to exist in a state before consciousness, like a soul suckling in the womb; my vision is muddled, peopled by murmurs and strange languages. Shadows gnash until my bonds bleed from my skin, thinning and combusting. The gold lines wilt like a flower blazing from the dirt only to slump from an early frost.
You abuse us. You cannot use us, the bonds hiss.
I am sorry, I say.
Visions dance around me: I see others before the angel, on their knees, begging. I see Eajiz desperate, unable to save eras. I count many – too many – who decided against saving Stone City, others who caused meteorite showers, ending wars, and yet others who allowed the destruction of the Jazatah tribes. Then I see a young boy with piercing hazel eyes before the angel, anger sweeping his movements, an anger I’ve never witnessed in him. But he, too, wisps away into the past.
A long, solid gold bond penetrates my heart. The hundred-bond line loops through my chest, and plunges into every Eajiz I see of the past and present, who used various Gates of Heaven, connecting us.
Suddenly, I understand what the Sepahbad saw in me.
The truth steals my breath as I stare at the hundredth Heavenly bond extending outward from my heart.
Then my soul returns to my human body below Akashun. As his wet sword sinks into my chest, glyphs arise. The letters sear along my limbs like a hot wick.
‘What is this?’ Akashun snarls over the pounding rain; his blade cannot penetrate the gold bands formed by the letters.
With the one hundredth bond, my fingers ripple into nur, a dense precision, sensing every hush of breath, every breath of bond.
My nur-hands wrap around his throat, carrying us until we are in the sky. My left arm slices inwards. Acrack, and then clouds split as nur splinters from the Heavens. It surges into Akashun’s body, bursting him like snapped seams, his entrails scattering on the lands below.
Then I am falling, falling down Heaven like a shooting star.
The air suddenly ripples around me, a white void carving into the space. A gold creature thrusts its head out, screeching like a windstorm. Then it swoops down, catching me on its back.
It’s immense, with wings speckled in gold and blue, nur bursting from its peacock feathers. Its long beak curves and pecks at me like a culled fledgling desperate for its orders.
