Many centuries had passed since the last full assembly of the angels had been called. The prior cause was on whether to allow angels to live amongst the mortals freely on their own volition. At that time, views had run hard against Forynda’s caution that such an arrangement would breed discord, disunity, and ultimately calamity. Rithys again and again recalled Forynda’s words. “The very fact that their lives are limited will render mortals volatile. Involvement in their affairs will corrupt our kind with that unrest. To believe anything to the contrary is foolish beyond measure.”

Rithys wondered if she had indeed been foolish in allying with Vorlan, Omonrel, Parlon, and so many others against Forynda and her stalwarts Cyrona, Elaous, and Simel at that time. The arguments by those who wished to live among the mortals seemed persuasive. Omonrel in particular had passionately stated that it was a moral imperative that the angels should be able to enjoy the fruits of their labors. Rithys did not need to live among the mortals to take satisfaction in her creations, the two moons, but she sympathized with the general sentiment. Now, her views had changed.

Others who had joined her in that alliance plainly enunciated their doubts as well. Tathyk, who himself farmed vast swaths of south central Methrangia, had confessed his recognition that Forynda had been right.

“What Myrvaness did was abhorrent in terms that defy any defense,” he said as he stood next to Rithys. His seed-like eyes twisted in his face’s soil, pointing downward mournfully. “Forynda warned of this eventuality and I attempted to ignore that. No longer will I be so willfully blind.”

With Tathyk joining Forynda, Rithys imagined that Vorlan would be of the same mind. That would lead to a total abandonment by the more restrained voices. She carefully eyed the rapidly assembling angels in the Confluence, the nexus of the entirety of the angelic realm and a place seemingly without limits in every direction. It did not actually exist physically between the varying angelic sanctums. It was merely a separate and common realm where the whole body of angels could coalesce either to converse or to discuss matters of great import.

Rithys saw that not a single angel was missing, besides the obvious exceptions of Gorondos and Myrvaness. Not only were there the Angelic Lords, those angels who had been tasked with weighty responsibilities, but also lesser angels, those who served at the whims of their superiors. Every being in Ceuna would be represented, as was Forynda’s intention.

The High Angel appeared floating atop a shimmering platinum pedestal, Vorlan and Elaous at her sides. Rithys saw the contingent of Omonrel, Parlon, and Jagreth step before Forynda, Omonrel in the lead. Forynda briefly acknowledged their presence and began to address the whole of Ceuna.

“I have always believed that the presence of our kind in the mortal realm would be an unstable arrangement. Yielding to the consensus of our brethren at the time of the mortal realm’s creation, I relented,” Forynda spoke in a voice so serene as to be disquieting. “Transgressions, each more serious than the last, have proven that this was a decision made in error. Now, with swelling calls from the mortals themselves that we depart, I put the question before all of Ceuna again. Should Methrangia, the mightiest of the mortal empires, ask for our absence, shall we honor that? All know my view. Those who dissent may state their arguments. Then, the assembly will divide to decide the matter.”

Omonrel wasted little time before floating forward. Forynda acknowledged him with a tilt of her hand.

“Living amongst the mortals has informed me of a concept I never appreciated before. Fairness,” Omonrel began in an irritated and dissonant lilt. His crystalline blue eyes flashed toward Rithys and others as he spoke. “Rewards and punishments should only be commensurate with the deeds. Nothing disproportionate or arbitrary. To deprive our brethren of the fruits of their labors in creating the mortal realm due to actions that are not even their own is the height of disproportionate and arbitrary punishment. That a transgression now can deprive us of enjoying the bounties, the splendor, the vibrancy of the mortal world for all eternity would be cruel in terms I cannot properly relate.”

Cyrona surged forward, floating near Omonrel, her watery body shimmering.

“You forget that we were only tasked with the mortal world’s creation. It was never meant to be our home. This is our home. It was forged for us just as we forged the mortal world,” she protested angrily. “And we certainly were not meant to rule that world!”

Rithys knew that Cyrona was not even attempting to convince Omonrel of that point. Omonrel had clearly long since moved past any notion of what the proper place for the angels was.

“This false argument again,” Omonrel sighed heavily. “We do not rule the mortal realm and we never will.”

“And if they ask us to depart? If you do not obey that command, then you are not obeying their laws. You are positioning yourself beyond their laws. A small step follows until you put the boot heel on their throats just any of their own tyrants have!” Cyrona declared, her waters flowing turbulently.

“They are not all asking us to leave, dearest Cyrona,” Parlon sneered in a lyrical tone. “Why would it be proper for us to abandon those who wish for our help? Because of some jealous fools?”

Cyrona seethed at Parlon, but she collected herself as Forynda looked on. Rithys could feel building tension while the Confluence fell entirely silent. The High Angel motioned toward Cyrona.

“Please, Cyrona, continue,” the High Angel said.

“It is precisely that some receive our aid and others do not that causes such turmoil. Myrvaness’s transgression was an instance of precisely that. Tipping the balance toward one monarch or another is not our place and for whatever reason all of our aid seems to fall on Methrangia,” Cyrona’s voice roiled.

“They are the largest empire by far,” Omonrel countered dismissively. “Aiding them aids most of the mortal world.”

“If you are honest about this, Omonrel, you would concede that we do not aid Methrangia because it is the largest and most powerful empire,” Cyrona countered with evident glee. “Rather, it is the largest and most powerful empire because we have aided it more than the others. We built that monstrosity, Solnaht Citadel, for them. We have spurred their prosperity and abundance more than any other power and with that aid they have conquered lands and peoples in great numbers. You spoke of fairness earlier. Where is the fairness in that? It can be something as lowly as Gorondos’s indiscretions or as severe as Myrvaness’s lust for battle. Our presence in the mortal world hopelessly destabilizes it and we dare not risk anything further.”

Rithys smiled lightly at Cyrona as she concluded her argument. Even Forynda had not stated the case for separation so eloquently.

“Vorlan,” Omonrel begged. “Please, speak what you told me on this matter. All of us need to hear it.”

Forynda’s gaze shifted from Omonrel to the Earth Angel. Vorlan wilted under her stare. Rithys winced as she saw her mentor under the strains of the High Angel.

“Tell us, Vorlan,” Forynda commanded. “What is your objection?”

His face tightened and an uneasy aura pulsed from him. The Earth Angel could hardly have appeared more agonized.

“I no longer believe it possible that we can restore the simple serenity we once had before our kind lived in the mortal world,” he declared weakly. Forynda’s burning gaze intensified while he continued to speak. “I understand deeply the conflicting arguments. Truly, I do. We would all be fools to try to believe that affairs as they are can continue. Our ties now seem too deep to utterly sever. I suggest that we reach an accommodation with the mortals so that we might have a place in their world apart from them, but enough to satisfy those of us who find the mortal world’s vibrancy impossible to abandon.”

“What do you find so precious that cannot be replicated here?” Elaous asked curtly.

Before Vorlan could respond, Parlon stepped forward with his arms spread wide and his head tilted toward the vaults.

“Songs do not carry here as they do there. All you can feel are but faint echoes of nothingness,” Parlon replied with venomous contempt. “Serenity at the price of surrendering meaning; that is what we are offered.”

Rithys noted Jagreth nodding his massive head in agreement, but elected to remain silent. Watching it all with rapidly flickering eyes was Nethron, who formed the faintest trace of a smirk. In the silence following Parlon’s protest, Forynda drew the assembly’s attention back to her.

“Are there any further arguments to be made?” Forynda asked.

Omonrel turned and pointed at Simel, who appeared shocked by gesture.

“Simel, you have seen a conflagration in your visions, one that burns the mortal world. You have told many of us of this. Is this not what might lead to it?” he asked.

Omonrel’s inquiry caused both Vorlan and Forynda to scowl. Rithys knew little of this supposed premonition, but she often had her doubts about Simel’s warnings.

“What I have seen cannot be avoided, only prepared for. Perhaps it is this assembly choosing to ignore the will of the mortals. Perhaps it is obeying them. Whatever course it is that causes that calamity, it is the course that we will follow,” Simel murmured. “What I choose, I will choose according to what I believe to be best at this moment, not out of any faint hope that I might alter what calamities I have glimpsed.”

Those words caused Rithys to feel an odd sensation, as though many of the presences around her became far weaker, almost as if they were not there at all. It came upon her and passed in the smallest of instants, yet it left her cold and saddened with grief so great she had an urge to cry out.

“The assembly shall divide on the question. Shall our kind depart the mortal world in the event that the Methrangian Empire declares that our presence is no longer desired?” Forynda stated again with cold clarity. She then motioned to the two sides of the Confluence and stood on the left, marking her stance.

Cyrona and Tathyk immediately followed, as did Simel, Aberos, and Elaous. Some hundreds of the lesser angels who followed their Angelic Lords. Rithys joined them and stood close to Cyrona, who smiled gratefully at her.

Omonrel, Parlon, and Jagreth immediately swung to the right and were joined by a considerable, though far smaller, cohort of the lesser angels. Vorlan, for a time, declined to move on the matter, but he soon began his movement rightward, though he took a place on the outermost periphery of that assembly.

Then there was the curious case of Nethron, alone in the middle, eyeing one side and then the other with constantly flickering colors before settling on a cool silver. The outcome of the vote was clear and yet the Aura Keeper elected not to move.

“Nethron,” Forynda called out, “what is your decision?”

“Oh, it appears I am not needed,” he responded, smiling.

“Nonetheless, we must all make our stances known,” the High Angel retorted with palpable irritation.

“I cared little for the two choices,” the Aura Keeper sighed. “I am firmly unmoved one way or the other. The rest of you have settled this matter decisively and I would prefer not to be forced, if I may.”

Rithys felt Forynda’s wrath coil, but then release. Perhaps she knew she had won in any case and was content to leave Nethron to his absurdities.

“The assembly is over,” Forynda declared. The dissenting angels glared at her, aside from Vorlan, who merely appeared saddened. “We must now choose champions to present the alternative arguments to this Imperial Court.”

Omonrel eagerly stepped forward.

“I will present my own argument,” Omonrel seethed.

“And I shall argue against you,” Vorlan said wearily.

All appeared stunned, especially Omonrel and Forynda.

“You stood alongside me!” Omonrel blurted incredulously.

“And the will of our brethren is clear. I will ensure that vision is vigorously represented,” Vorlan declared, nodding toward the High Angel.

“This is absurd!” Cyrona scoffed. “How could he possibly represent you in…”

“Very well, Vorlan,” Forynda declared. “I place my utmost confidence in you.”

Cyrona’s face was utterly overcome with shock and even outrage, but she swiftly relented. Omonrel, however, still appeared undone by Vorlan’s swift reversal. Rithys realized why Forynda had agreed to allow the Earth Angel to present her argument. It was precisely that it unnerved Omonrel and that the mortals would be impressed that their beloved Vorlan had come to the same place as the High Angel.

“Our duties are concluded. Go now in peace,” the High Angel commanded.

Rithys was eager to leave and was back in her sanctum in an instant. She looked down upon the representations of her beloved moons, staring at them intently. Is there anything that you can tell me?