Ethereal Darkness

Chapter 3

The Path That Doesn’t Shine

Madeline

It's been two hours since my Garrison smuggled me out of Heaven. Yeah, you read that right— I had to be smuggled out of Heaven like a heretic in a harp case. And believe me when I say that getting out of Heaven is a lot harder than you would think.

Azrael was all over us the days after our little briefing. Something about his demeanor was different; he was more watchful of the four of us and me in general. His sudden intrigue with not only me but the rest of the Garrison made it far more difficult than any of us initially thought it would be to slip out of Heaven.

We had tried to meet up once before, but suddenly Azrael had appeared like the plague, demanding to know what we were all doing out so late. Thinking fast, as ever, Jamieson had quickly explained that we were on our way to practice sparring. Something that I had never done before in my entire existence, or at least I didn't think that I had.

Yeah, I don't have many memories to recall like the others do. Moments in time that should be pretty easy to remember are completely nonexistent for me. I used to think it was strange, but in the past few months, I have learned to let it go. There are far more significant problems that need to be addressed at the moment, and my lack of memory is not one of them.

Lets just say that I got my ass handed to me several times as Azrael looked on from the sidelines with a smug satisfaction that I really wanted to wipe off his face. Well that is until I landed a pretty solid punch to Matthews jaw that had him staggering backward with a s**t eating grin on his face.

Azrael didn't stick around much longer after that, but we learned that it was much safer for only one of them to accompany me to the doorway. It would be too risky if the four of us were all seen together again.

Jamieson had to fabricate an elaborate excuse about needing my help in recording what was happening down on Earth in the archives. Saying it was just too much happening all at once, and he and the two other angels who were responsible for documenting were struggling to keep up.

Azrael had been slightly suspicious again, but he agreed and thankfully didn't insist on accompanying us like the last time.

Jamieson had carefully walked me through the steps of leaving Heaven multiple times now. I was unable to take the normal exit out of Heaven as the others did. Every entry point was infused with a celestial energy that would instantly notify Azrael of my departure the moment I stepped through the gates.

Jamieson’s steps were measured as he led the way through the quiet corridors of the lower levels of Heaven that no one used anymore. They had been abandoned several years before I was placed in the Garrison, but they were still maintained nonetheless. Each hall still glittered and shone even in the low light.

Jamieson was silent for the majority of our trek, and it left me feeling as I used to, with those old feelings of not fitting in and not being worthy enough starting to creep into my thoughts.

It was all so strange how, over the last year or so, they had all but excluded me, pushed me to the far edges, and always kept me at arm's length.

Their sudden support was still giving me whiplash because I wasn't sure if it was real or just some odd game that they were all playing. But all that quickly now faded into the background once more.

Jamieson came to an abrupt stop in front of an unassuming archway. It was not gilded nor adorned like the grand gates. It was simple, plain even. A Gate that had been long since forgotten about deep in the bowls of Heaven, swallowed by the very walls around it.

“This is it,” Jamieson murmured, his voice low as he stepped to the side. “This is called the Shadow Gate. Once you step through it, Heaven won't recognize you.” He didn't meet my eyes as he used a piece of chalk to outline the stone wall. “You’ll probably have a day or two before Azrael notices that you’re missing—if we’re lucky, but we will do what we can to cover for you. Use your time wisely, Madeline. Don't get sidetracked and find the Savior. Bring him home.”

The doorway began to glow with a bright white light. It grew brighter and brighter until I could no longer look at it and was forced to turn my head and shield my eyes from the intensity. Once the light died back down, I turned to see a dark hallway lit with only the faintest of starlight. I swallowed hard as I reached out my fingertips across the threshold. It was cold. Too cold for something that belonged in Heaven, but that is why it was called the Shadow Gate.

“And if I don't find The Savior in time?” I asked, raising a brow, voicing the one question that had been weighing on me the most since the start of all this.

What would happen if I were unable to find him? Would the world be saveable without him, or would it continue to fall into utter chaos? What if he refused to return with me if I did manage the impossible?

Jamieson's lips thinned, and he finally raised his gaze to meet mine. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

I nodded as I slung the small pack over my shoulder, a bit of unease settling over me as I stepped forward towards the gate. It felt as if once I crossed through, I was going to find far more than just the Savior on the other side of this door.

My heartbeat spiked as I stepped forward, and the passage swallowed me immediately.

It felt wrong almost instantly. The small lights that I had seen when the gate first appeared were gone; now it was pitch-black. It wasn't just dark; it was the kind of darkness that pressed on you, as if it were doing its best to suffocate you as you passed through it.

The walls felt smooth as I ran my hand along them, and as I walked further into the gate, a different light began to emerge. It seemed to emanate from the sigils that appeared to be etched into the walls, their glow pulsing weakly, as if the remnants of a power that had long since lost its purpose.

The floor beneath my feet felt solid but weightless at the same time, as if I weren’t walking at all, but merely moving forward through something that refused to acknowledge my existence.

Then came the loss.

It didn't hit suddenly and rip away bits and pieces of me on a whim. No, it was slow. Methodical. Inevitable. It was something that, no matter how hard you fought, you knew would still end in the same way.

The warmth that had always been nestled beneath my skin faded, peeling away in slivers, barely perceptible until I realized my lungs felt heavier. I clenched my hands and tried to focus my thoughts on breathing, but it didn’t matter.

Heaven was slowly unraveling from me. Or maybe I was unraveling from it. I wasn't sure.

Either way, something felt as if it was being stripped from my being, and I wasn't sure if I would ever get it back.

But I kept walking for what felt like forever.

The passage didn’t just come to an end—it simply ceased to exist altogether, fading like smoke until I stepped into something else entirely. A world that was almost Earth—but not quite.

I stood on a hollow reflection of a world where everything felt familiar yet wrong all at the same time—the colors on the other side were muted, the sounds distant, and the air was thick with static. The buildings remained, but their edges were blurred, rippling like mirages in the heat.

A thin Veil loomed before me—a sheer layer of distortion that shimmered lightly, separating this hollow replica from the real world beyond.

Tentatively, I reached for it. My fingertips meet a resistance—it was cool to the touch, humming as if it were alive.

I knew then that crossing this threshold would mean truly leaving. Not just slipping out of Heaven for a short time, but truly stepping into a world where nothing sacred would be able to follow me. There would be no help. No one to save me if I found myself in trouble.

Here I would be entirely on my own.

I hesitated for only a moment. And then I felt it, a gentle tug, something that seemed so small and fragile that if I reached for it, it would snap. It was on the other side of the veil, and it called to me much like the tiny little cove in Heaven always had.

My heart rate picked up as I watched the shifting world on the other side. It flickered between what I had always seen Earth look like from my time in Heaven, before gradually moving into something darker and colder.

Then, with a deep breath, I stilled my spine and stepped through the Veil.

I wasn't sure what I expected to find once I walked through that doorway, but it certainly wasn't this. As I stepped through the shimmering light, I found myself in the middle of an empty Times Square. The once-glowing neon lights that were on every corner were now dark, and their screens were cracked. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, and the smell of ruin hung heavy in the air.

It was so much worse down here than what we had been able to see through the looking glass the other day. How can it already be this bad here?

From what we saw through the looking glass, it had appeared as if the chaos had just begun. As if cities were just starting to fall, but from the level of destruction that I was seeing with my own eyes now, it looked as if this place had fallen a long time ago.

Months ago.

Had the looking glass lied to us?

Everywhere I turned, I could see the tell-tale signs that Lucifer and his demons had been here, not just by the broken windows or the overturned taxi cabs or because the place and everyone in it were gone. No, those were not the signs of the Devil.

It was by the giant, bright, glowing sigil that appeared to be centered in the square. Right where I was standing. It pulsed as if it were alive, as if it were breathing in the destruction that its master had caused.

I wandered around a couple of blocks searching. For what I still don't know. Maybe for a sign of life? Proof that all wasn't lost here, but I found none.

I passed by a window that was surprisingly still intact and caught a faint glimpse of my reflection in the glass.

“What kind of mess did you let yourself get talked into?” I said to my reflection, and I noticed that something wasn't right. I didn't look the same as I had in heaven. I looked different, as if whatever the Shadow Gate had stripped away from me in the passage had been hiding something underneath.

My eyes were brighter, like they held a light all their own in their depths. I stood there staring at myself for several moments when the sound of metal clanging startled me. I whipped my head around but saw nothing but the decimated city.

“Well, well, well, look what we found here, boys,” an unnatural voice came from the shadows of an alleyway just across from me. I turned my head, searching for the owner, but I was unable to find them in the darkness.

Laughter rang out, and I felt a chill slowly start to crawl up the back of my spine. “s**t, on Earth for less than ten minutes and I'm already attracting unwanted attention,” I muttered to myself.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” a new voice hissed from the shadows, this one off to my left, but with the darkness and growing shadows, I couldn't locate them either.

“Do we scare you?” a third whispered, and I felt my heart begin to race in my chest. This voice sounded as if it were standing right behind me.

He was, I know he was; I could feel his breath on the shell of my ear. But as I whipped around, my fist swinging and only meeting empty air in the process, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. These were not humans who were toying with me. No human can move that fast.

No, these were demons.

A rush of wind blew past me, my robes billowing out around me as my pack was tugged from my grasp. I whirled around again and came face to face with three very tall, muscular Demons. Their skin was covered in thick, tribal-type tattoos, which, if I remember correctly from what I read, would indicate which Archdemon they served if I could get a good look at them.

I didn't care to find out. All demons ultimately served Lucifer, but just as in Heaven, there was a hierarchy to everything.

In hell, Lucifer was at the top, the first to enter Hell. It's King. Under him were his Archdemons. They were similar to Archangels; they were the lieutenants, so to speak. The ones that kept all the lesser demons in check and dealt out punishments when someone stepped out of line.

I blinked, trying to understand how the tallest one with sandy blonde hair had managed to come up behind me again when he had been standing just in front of me. The dark, twisted smile on his lips revealed his razor-sharp teeth that looked like they could easily tear my flesh from my body. He flicked his tongue across those sharp edges hungrily.

“Bet you taste just as sweet as you smell,” he said as he sniffed the air like an animal, and his smile grew wider when I jerked away when he tried to run a finger down the side of my face.

I didn't make it far because his hand gripped my hair, and he pulled me back. “It's going to be a whole lot of fun breaking you, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear as I struggled to break his hold.

“Let me go,” I yelled, which earned me another laugh as his arms caged me in from behind.

He held me in place as I struggled, all while one of the other Demons was rummaging through my pack, pulling everything that I had brought with me out and throwing it on the ground below. The two tiny journals that Jaimeison had insisted I bring along with me in the hopes that there would be something within them that would help me track the Savior, tumbled to the ground as they fell from their dust covers.

The sharp sound of metal hitting the ground followed soon afterward, and I froze.

No, No, No.

The small dagger had tumbled from my pack as well, its silver blade gleaming even in the dim light of the glowing sigils. Its sharp edge seemed to ache for the chance to slice through the demon's flesh. I really wish I’d listened to Matthew when he told me to keep the blade strapped to my body at all times. If he could see me now, he'd scold me for not listening.

The dark-haired Demon hissed in pain when his hand wrapped around the handle as he knelt to retrieve it. The smell of charred flesh and sulfur filled the air, causing my stomach to roll violently.

Now is not the time to get queasy, Madeline, pull your s**t together and fast, the little voice inside my head warned, as the two Demons across from me fixed their dark gazes on me.

“A f*****g Angel dagger, Luther.” The bald demon yelled louder than was necessary.

The demon that still had a hold on me spun me around as his big, meaty hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing tightly. “Where did you find that blade, little girl?”

I gasped and clawed at whom I presume to be Luther, trying to remove his hand from my neck. Luther’s grip didn't slacken one bit; instead, he increased it, making me squeak and wheeze as I struggled to draw a breath into my lungs.

When I still refused to answer him, Luther gave me a good shake. The force he used rattled my teeth, and I was starting to get lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. “Answer me b***h! Where did you find the blade?” he growled in my face.

Even as the edges of my world began to blur, I somehow managed to narrow my eyes, my sudden rage blooming deep within my chest like a flame that had long gone dormant. Through struggling breaths, I glared at the Demon that gripped my throat and spat in his face. “f**k you Demon!” my words didn’t pack the punch I wish they had but neither did the punch I swing towards his red splotchy face.

Sharp pin pricks erupted across my cheek, and the distinct metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The suddenness of the hit and the lack of air did the one thing that I didn't need to happen. Darkness began to invade my vision as I tried to expand my lungs and suck in a breath from the shock of his hit.

But just as the darkness was about to consume me in its entirety, there was a deep guttural growl that erupted a short distance away. It was so loud that the ground shook beneath our feet. The sound was dark, almost possessive, and I was suddenly thrown to the ground like a scorched halo.

What little air I had left in my lungs was ripped away as my body landed hard on the ground twenty feet away.

I lay there doing my utmost best to force the air back into my body, each breath painfully slow.

“Hey, sorry man, didn't know she was… Just wanted to know where she got the blade, is all,” the bald Demon rambled as he tried to take a step back.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a pool of dark shadows—pulsing and rolling with fury—before they fused into the silhouette of a man. The silhouette crossed the short distance with purpose, and I swear, I saw it, there in the hand of the shadow was the little dagger. Its inscription, Fiat lux, glimmered as the darkness finally claimed me.