HELLO ARCHANGELS

At the centre of Creation stands the Kingdom of Heaven, and at the centre of Heaven stands the Citadel of Light. Hewn from the sparkling stone of Mons Divinus, the palace seems to grow from the side of that mountain, bristling with towers of silver and gold. At its gates stands Taurus of the Golden Hide, a gigantic bull who guards the Citadel against those whose hearts are false.

Within, the Royal Chamber has been artfully cut, golden light streaming in through parabolic arches. Lining walls and floor are clusters of gems and broad seams of marble, accented with graceful angel-made ornament, slender golden vaults and pillars. Here resides the High King Michael, the First of the Archangels, blue eyed, pale skinned, gilt winged. On his belt he carries the blade Aureus Rex. Michael grants audience to endless courtiers, petitioners, and advisors, his grace and courtesy immaculate, no matter the station of his visitor. But his manner is always grave, his demeanour sombre. For Michael carries the weight of the Worlds upon his shoulders. More than any other, he is aware of the growing power of the Dark, the danger to which all Creation is subject. And underlying all his thoughts is the Prophecy of the Eschaton, the battle at the end of all things, for which he plans and strategises without cease.

For on that dark day, when the Seas of Chaos rise and the worlds of the Multiverse are consumed, the armies of the Light will meet their foe in the last battle, and High King Michael and golden Taurus will lead the charge.

In the sunlit Meadows of Ambrosia, on the edge of the Viridian Forest, stands the Château Valeureux, the most beautiful castle in all Heaven. With its iridescent white walls and sweeping buttresses, its structure gives a sense of both elegance and strength. From its cone-topped towers fly pennants of Azure, a unicorn rampant Argent.

The throne of Valeureux is held by Raphael, one of the Kings of Heaven, an Archangel of passing great worship, mercy, and justice. His wings are of gold, his aura pearlescent. His weapon is the halberd Alicorn. The unnamed Unicorn of Raphael’s arms has not been seen since the Dawn War, the great conflict at the beginning of Creation, where it fought fiercely against the Powers of the Dark. The Legend of Valeureux states that when the Unicorn steps once more upon the Meadows of Ambrosia, then the Eschaton will be at hand.

Raphael is known throughout the Worlds as the Angel with the Hundred Knights. This name alludes to the hundred shining paladins of his court. These knights errant are tasked to range throughout the Worlds of the Multiverse, seeking quests and adventure, battling the forces of the Dark wherever they may be found and protecting the innocent. And when they return to the Court of Raphael, they make great fellowship, jousting on the Meadows of Ambrosia and exchanging passing wonderful tales of courage and honour. 

In the early days of Creation, when the Dark and the Light battled in the young Worlds, the conflict made great ructions in the primal forces of matter and spirit. In the darkest days of that Dawn War, as the armies of the Light found themselves besieged on all sides, elemental Earth and Fire threw up volcanic mountains around them that aided their defence against the attack. These became known as the mountains of Ignea, and ever after they came to define the borders of the realm that would be known as Heaven.

The mountains are dotted with well-garrisoned fortresses, the noble knights that guard them ever-vigilant against those Powers that would dare direct attack on the stronghold of the Light. Atop King’s Crag, the greatest of these fortresses is the Castle Striving, a sprawling, battle-scarred keep whose name means ‘conflict’ in the old tongue. From its battlements flies the standard of the Borderlands: Or, a lion rampant Gules, and above its drawbridge the motto ‘In Defens’.

The master of Castle Striving, commander of the Borderlands, and one of the great Kings of Heaven is Metatron, a majestic figure with a booming voice, gold and red wings and a shining bronze aura. He is ever accompanied by his faithful companion, the mighty lion Leo, with whom he is ever ready to leap into battle, axe raised, leading his troops in the defence of Heaven.

Though the highest realm in Creation, Heaven itself has altitudes rarely visited by its inhabitants. The celestial exosphere is a vast white expanse that separates the upper reaches of Heaven from the unknowable Void that surrounds all Creation. Its only permanent inhabitants are its white spirit doves and the angel Phanuel.

The youngest of all the Archangels, Phanuel’s skin is as pearlescent as the spectral feathers of his companions, his form as ethereal as the atmosphere through which he glides. His role is to guard the upper limits of Heaven against incursions from the Void. In truth these are rare, for that mysterious realm is as treacherous to the Powers of the Dark as it is to all living things. But on those occasions when an attack from above is risked, Phanuel is ever ready to defend and is a deadly shot with his firearm.

But most of Phanuel’s time is spent soaring on his silver wings, letting the cosmic winds carry him where they may. From the heavens of Heaven, his blue eyes witness all the glory of existence: from the great Citadel of Light to the mountains of Ignea. And lapping against those crags is the mighty ocean of Caeruleus, from which cascade the cosmic streams of the Eridanus to the myriad Worlds of the Multiverse. The vision never fails to fill his heart with joy and wonder, and he sings his praises to Creation to the beat of of the wings of doves.

Atlantis, Lemuria, Ys, the tale of the underwater civilisation is a legend whose variants can be found across the Worlds of the Multiverse. The realm of Caeruleus is the true origin of these stories. It is the vast cosmic ocean that separates Heaven from the lower Worlds. It can be conceived as a sea of brilliant blue waters illuminated by phosphorescent jellyfish; a land of coral castles and palaces with gardens of many-coloured aquatic plants swaying in the gentle current, and inhabited by dolphins, fishes, and seahorse-mounted merfolk.

Their king is Selaphiel, a brooding colossus. He is the largest of all the Archangels, dark-skinned and war-painted, with cold blue eyes. His crossbow’s aim is true in both ocean and air, as is the propulsive power of his green and white wings. His mount is Cetus a many-armed leviathan.

Selaphiel has sovereignty over the Light’s aquatic legions across the Worlds: the great powers of the whales, the sea-serpents, the giant squid, and the shoals of smaller creatures and merfolk. On the day of the Eschaton the Seas of Chaos will rise and consume the waters of all the Worlds and will merge with the ocean of Caeruleus to surround the Plains of Blood. While his brothers fight the last battle on land and air, monster-mounted Selaphiel and his undersea armies will make their final stand against the Dark deep in the storm-tossed cosmic waters.

The Powers of the Dark take many forms. Some are violent and overt, making direct assault against Heaven or causing destruction across the Worlds of the Multiverse. But around each stable World radiate shadow spectra where spawn more malign and subtle forces. These target souls, constantly questing for vulnerabilities in minds, sowing fear, paranoia, madness. The hours of darkness are when they are strongest, when they manifest in the form of nightmares, but they can strike at any time. Creative mortals are especially vulnerable to their attacks.

It is against these forces that Barachiel the Angel of Dreams protects. He resides in Somnium Lux, the dream realm of Heaven, in a cottage by a glittering lake where glide pale pink swans, under a rose gold sky in which true night never falls. From there the influence of his spirit protects the fragile membranes of the Worlds and their inhabitants against the incursion of the dark things of the shadow spectra. The mace he wields is a symbol of his sovereignty over dreams light and dark.

Barachiel has many visitors to his home, though they never stay long and rarely have any memory of their visit – wisps that pass through and then are gone. They are the spirits of mortals touching Somnium Lux in their sleep, their souls gaining succour from their brief proximity to the Angel of Dreams to awake with new ideas and fresh hope for the world.

A leading general in the battle with the Dark, Jeremiel commands the Emerald Fire, Heaven’s great flight of green warrior dragons, the greatest air force in all Creation. The Archangel and his flight live and train in the Dragonlands, a live range of the volcanic mountains of Ignea on the border of Heaven. The Dragonlands glow with the swirling colours of fire obsidian, plumes of blue smoke rising from craters into a sky alive with shifting auroras. Within the volcanoes the dragons lay their eggs, the hatchlings growing in the intense heat to great sizes, with breaths of searing fire.

A booming, bearded giant, Jeremiel seems almost part-dragon himself. He swoops among his squadron on black wings, cloaked in a green aura, the sword Firedrake raised, coordinating formations, directing fire attacks, practising aerial skirmishes, supporting the defensive forts that are ranged along the mountains. He commands the dragons in their own language, more ancient even than the tongue of the angels.

Whenever the legions of the Dark launch aerial attacks on strongholds of the Light and the Worlds of the Multiverse, Jeremiel and his dragons defend against the red beasts of the enemy. And on the day of the Eschaton, the Emerald Fire will burn high above the Wastes of Blood, battling the foe for supremacy of the air.

Sariel has an uneasy relationship with his fellows. Those more pious of the Powers regard him with distaste. His attitude can be cynical, his humour irreverent, his methods cold-blooded. He might even have a touch of cruelty in his nature. For some he is just not angelic enough. But however he deports himself, his function is essential.

His role is to pursue those agents of the Dark who dare to attack the servants of the Light, who make incursion into the borders of Heaven, or who interfere with the working of the divine plan. His demonic quarry’s foul trail scented by the twin hunting dogs Fidus and Ferus, Sariel pursues relentlessly, an orange-pink comet hurtling on red wings through, time, space, dimension, even unto the gates of Hell itself. With his exhausted prey cornered, the hounds snarling and snapping at its heels, Sariel makes his kill with a single thrust of the holy spear Pitiless.

And, yes, maybe he enjoys the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the kill. And maybe that’s why he doesn’t get invited to many fêtes in the Gardens of Paradise or chivalric jousts on the Meadows of Ambrosia. Sariel doesn’t care. He does a hard and necessary job. An Archangel doesn’t always have to be nice, and he is happy to leave the singing of hosannas to others.

Once upon a time, many eons ago, an Archangel abandoned Heaven. He donned plain tan robes, concealed his wings with a glamour, looped an axe through his belt, and just walked out. His leaving caused outrage among the Powers, and he was sought across the Worlds by his brethren in the Light for many ages, but he could not be found. Now he has been all but forgotten, save for those few loyal servants who still pray for his return.

Even had he explained, it is doubtful the other Archangels would have understood Raguel’s reason for leaving. In truth, he had become uneasy about the power his kind wielded, mistrustful of their supposed wisdom, disturbed by their sometimes-dismissive attitude to mortals. He wanted to experience the Worlds over which they reigned, to know their peoples, to understand different perspectives and worldviews. So now he travels the Multiverse as a mortal, seeking different types of wisdom with a quiet humility.

But he is not alone. Long ago upon his travels he acquired a faithful companion: Silens the Lynx, who walks by his side. Among the Worlds, the pair travel, speaking little, listening much. Maybe, if the prophecies are true, there will come a day of crisis, when the Powers of the Dark rise, and the last battle will be fought. Perhaps then the prodigal Archangel will uncloak his wings and be reconciled with Heaven and stand once more with his brothers against the enemy.

There are some mortals among the Worlds who have awareness of the Archangels. Most have only a popular knowledge of the legends, though some might adopt one as a patron, praying their aid in times of need. Then there are the scholars and mystics who make a deeper study, delving into the Divine Mysteries, sometimes even attempting contact with the Powers of the Light. And there are a few who desire to go further, to truly know the nature of the Light, to see with divine vision, to fly with the angels. And their way is the hardest of all mortals, for they must bear the Trial of Remiel.

Remiel is a terrible golden-red giant with scarlet and black wings, who wields the warhammer Judgement. He resides in the heart of the Elemental Flame. His Trial is no complex quest or lifelong striving. Those undertaking the trial must face Remiel, simply that.

But to face Remiel, to look into his burning eyes, is to bare one’s soul to the red heat of the refining fire. It is to be judged utterly, and all that is flawed and mortal to be burned away mercilessly. It is to lose all conception of self and of time. And in the end, if the seeker survives, and if there is anything left of the seeker, then that soul-spark may burst free from the fire and fly up to Heaven on fiery wings. And in the clean air of paradise those fires will burn out to reveal the pure wings of an angel.

The complexity of the Multiverse is beyond mortal comprehension, so analogy must be used when considering it. One popular conception is to picture the Worlds of the Multiverse as docks on the eternally branching Eridanus, an infinite cosmic waterway of streams, tributaries, distributaries, confluences, and canals. The would-be traveller between the worlds must study and prepare rigorously for such a journey, for the Eridanus has its own forms of whirlpools, weirs, cataracts, currents, and predators, which make passage between the Worlds difficult and dangerous. Few of those who have attempted the voyage alone have survived, and fewer still have moored at their intended destination.

But for the traveller who is wise, there is hope. The Archangel Sachiel is master of the Eridanus and can give passage to those travellers whose interdimensional mission is of service to the Light. He can be visualised as a white-bearded man with iridescent wings, bearing a trident. The worthy traveller will be invited to board his shining blue-green vessel, The Aquamarine, to be ferried safely to the required destination.

Sachiel is content to traverse the Eridanus observing the Worlds and assisting their inhabitants. He will do so until the last days, when the Seas of Chaos will rise and all the currents converge on the Wastes of Blood, and then The Aquamarine will carry its captain to join his brother archangels in the final battle with the Dark.

Uriel is a well-known and loved figure of folklore throughout the Multiverse. Paintings and carvings of him adorn many homes, rest houses, and inns. Popular representations of him take various forms: some depicting him with the torso of a man and the body of a horse, some as a man with the wings of a falcon, and he takes many other strange and wonderful shapes. But he is always depicted as a jovial, laughing figure and is usually shown holding a bow and arrow.

Though few folk-depictions are accurate, those of the winged man come closest, for the true Uriel is one of the Archangels of Heaven. His skin is a reddish brown, his hair black, his magnificent wings green and gold. The notion of Uriel as a cheerful, humorous character is correct – he is by far the most merry and social of the Powers of Light. He has made the world of Peleus his home, living among the centaurs of the rugged Eburnean Fells, where he and his fellows spend their days riding, hunting, singing, and storytelling.

But the day will come when Uriel will gather the centaurs into a mighty cavalry and will lead them in a laughing charge at the armies of the enemy. And perhaps the joyous laughter of Uriel is what the forces of the Dark fear most of all.

The Wastes of Blood are surrounded by pale mountains. The mountains are built of the bones of beings from the untold Worlds of Creation that the desert borders. Beyond, the barren earth of the wasteland is scarlet, silent, still, save for the red scorpions, the only things that can survive the scorching conditions, deadly scuttling rubies seeking strays from the Worlds whose bones will grow the mountain border ever higher.

In the centre of the wasteland, under a burning red sun, since time out of mind, Azrael the Archangel of Death has awaited the Eschaton, a silent, patient monument to the end of days. His only worshippers are the scorpions, who bear something of his nature. Though his body stands motionless in the desert, his spirit roams without limit through all the life-bearing planes of the Multiverse. From humid swamps of primordial soup to the most advanced interdimensional civilisations, his shade flies unhindered, bringing his gift to all that live.

And on the day of the Eschaton, his body will stir. He will take up his morning-star and shall be joined by his brother angels in the last battle against the Dark. And though he will fight with the armies of the Light, the shadow of his wings shall be cast on ally and foe alike, and all that fall that day shall receive the blessing of Azrael.

The snow-capped Lavendula Mountains on the world of Corycia are home to many strange legends. One tells that deep within them is concealed a cave that glitters with purple gems. In the Amethyst Cavern resides the Blind Seer. Some say he is a soothsayer, a prophet who can see the future though he is blind to the present. But it is only those scholars who have delved deep into the Divine Mysteries, who know that he is one of the great Powers of the Light and his name is Peniel.

Those who would seek the wisdom of Peniel must assay a perilous threefold quest. First, they must navigate the crags of the Lavendulas – the distant beauty of the violet peaks turns treacherous when scaling them, and the way to the Amethyst Cavern is hard to navigate. When the cavemouth is reached, its guardian Artio the Bear must be passed – those who lack the proper offerings and are not painted with the correct markings will be consumed. Finally, Peniel himself must be approached within the cave, lit only by the faint glow of the clustered gems. The seeker must be wholly certain in the rightness of his cause, for Peniel is a fierce angel and offers his knowledge only to the most deserving of seekers with the most pressing of need. His hair is long and white, his skin pale, his wings pied. He wields the firearm Soulfinder, a weapon that can never miss its target, though the one who carries it is unsighted.

Should Peniel find the seeker’s quest virtuous, he will tell of the things that are hidden. The Blind Seer’s eyes see in ways that no others can: through time, across dimension, and deep into the souls of all things.

Chamuel stands apart from the other Powers of Light. He sees no virtue in the endless dramas and conflicts of men and angels and devils. He devotes himself to an existence of meditation and stillness, seeking a wisdom beyond words and concepts, reaching for a way of existence that transcends the Multiverse, ascends beyond even the pure light of Heaven.

He inhabits a small shrine in Serena Aestuarium, a remote wetland in an obscure world. It is a place of great beauty and peace, its blue-green waters lapping on an archipelago of green islands under a golden sky. Besides the Archangel, its most notable inhabitants are great flocks of pink and white cranes. There Chamuel sits in cross-legged contemplation through endless days and nights, his white wings folded in repose, feeling the gentle breezes on his skin, listening to the sounds of water and crane, contemplating the mystery of existence.

Acolytes of the more active Powers disdain the way of Chamuel, seeing his retreat as an abdication of responsibility, a denial of the harsh reality of the conflict of the Dark and the Light. But they speak from ignorance, for across his knees lies a javelin, a symbol of his worldly duties and a reminder that on the day of Eschaton, the Archangel of Stillness will re-enter the dimensions of conflict and change to join the fight.

Scholars of the Invisible College devote lifetimes of study and devotion to find their way to Solomon’s House and the wisdom that resides therein. It lies in a direction that no worldly compass can point to, on a plane of that not even the most sophisticated orrery of the Multiverse can present. Those souls who reach the required state of readiness will be visited in their soul by the Usher-Crow and will fly on black wings to their long-sought destination.

From without, Solomon’s House has the appearance of a modest ivy-covered chapel dozing in a peaceful glade by a calm pool. Its steeple points at a sky that is ever a deep azure. Its stained-glass windows depict the conflicts of the Powers of Light and Dark. Its doorway is a gothic arch, iron-studded oak doors lying open in welcome.

Upon entering, the initiate will be unsurprised to find that the interior is vast, a house of many lantern-lit rooms, all filled with every book, scroll, and tablet of the secret knowledge of the Multiverse. The Usher-Crow will fly to the shoulder of Jophiel, the Angel of Knowledge, who will welcome the new arrival. Jophiel’s skin is onyx, his beard and hair snow, his dark wings a match to those of his familiar. His grey eyes are kind and gentle, but, incongruously, he wears a spiked glove on his hand, an ever-present reminder that against the oncoming darkness, Solomon’s House stands ready. 

Zadkiel inhabits the mountaintops and lower atmospheres of Heaven which he traverses with his companion Pegasus, the horse with wings of starlight. Sometimes the archangel flies mounted on his steed, othertimes gliding alongside on wings of bronze and copper, his sable topknot streaming in the winds of infinity.

Zadkiel is known to his followers as the Angel of Diamonds, cool, clear, and hard, and they pray to him for lucidity in all endeavours. His sky-realm reflects his nature, appearing to his angel-sight as a kaleidoscope of sparkling gem-planes and ever-shifting rainbow flecks. In the crystal facets among which he soars, Zadkiel can see all the Worlds of Creation reflected on every scale, giving him unique insights into the connections between the Microcosm and the Macrocosm, the interplay of dimensions, the small seemingly random events that may develop into cosmic quakes. His sharp mind, vigilance, and perception make him a valuable general among the Powers of the Light.

The facets of his jewel realm also serve as doorways to the Worlds. When he judges it strategically appropriate, Zadkiel and Pegasus descend to the Worlds, an extra-dimensional portal opening in a dazzling blaze of heavenly light and prismatic spray, battle-armoured and blade bared to bring the fight directly to the forces of the Dark.

Under the blessed boughs of Heaven’s Viridian Forest do the Powers of the Light find restoration and ease. It is a place of peace and beauty where the eternal music of songbirds fills the branches of every species of tree that can be found throughout the Multiverse; where the woodland animals of every world scamper among the trunks and roots; where fauns and dryads play around chuckling brooks and deep green pools.

The spirits of all the living things of all the forests of Creation find their way here in time. And those whose wounds – whether physical or spiritual – are the greatest, find (or perhaps are found by) the centre of the Viridian Forest, the Sucratissimus Lucus. The entrance to that most sacred of groves is marked by a chestnut staff, around which is entwined a green-scaled serpent.

Within the grove, surrounded by the most ancient and wisest of trees can be found Sandalphon the healer. His skin is olive, his eyes blue, his wings black and copper. To enter his presence is to feel immediate calm and rest. His hands heal the wounds of the Worlds and his words heal the pains of the Spirit. Yet even Sandalphon bears a blade - a reminder that the forces of the Dark are a constant threat, even in this most blessed place.

The Fera Mysterium is the knowledge of the wild that exists deep in the Wilderness of Plenilune. Only the most dedicated of acolytes may find that place, for it lies beyond even the occult dimensions of the Worlds. Seekers who achieve the Wilderness find a shadowy land of hill, forest and plain, its sky a constant indigo lit by a full moon.

Upon arriving in the Wilderness of Plenilune, the seeker of mysteries will encounter a great wolf pack led by a dire wolf with grey and bronze wings. They will be tested in strength, wisdom, and cunning, to be proved worthy of progress to the deepest mysteries. The final test is to speak the dire wolf’s true name. Those many who fail the tests will be torn apart. To those few who succeed the dire wolf will reveal his other form: a golden-skinned man with iron grey hair and beard, the musket Fang cradled in his hands. He will of course retain the wings. For this is the answer to his final question: he is the Archangel Raziel, keeper of mysteries.

The initiate of the Fera Mysterium will learn the ways of skin-changing, night-seeing, and mind-speaking and will run with the wolf pack until their final charge against the Dark.

There are those among the Powers of the Light who view the travails of mortals as figurines on a gameboard. They study cosmic forces and move the pieces according to celestial wisdom gathered over eons, caring little for the lives of pawns.

But there are warrior tales of an angel who fights alongside mortals, whose home is the heart of the battle. He is called Camael, a dark-skinned giant with piercing blue eyes. Sometimes he swoops among the enemy on shining wings of light; othertimes he charges among them glowing with an amber aura, mounted on a golden-fleeced ram, his firearm Thunderbolt blazing. Though he lives among constant violence and turmoil, he is to some the most human of the Great Powers: an archangel not afraid to get his hands bloody.

Troy, Stalingrad, Zeta-6; time and dimension are of no matter – Camael is where the fighting is hottest. He rarely favours one side or other in any conflict, taking no part in the petty politics of the Worlds. His interest is in courage and virtue, the battle that rages in the heart of each warrior. For on the day of the Eschaton the mightiest of fallen heroes will be resurrected to join the Angels in their last battle against the forces of the Dark.

The greatest mountain in the Multiverse is shining Mons Divinus. Its summit is the pinnacle of Heaven, and from this peak, seeming to grow from the glittering stone, is the silver Aquiline Tower. The dome of its central minaret is supported by tall ionic columns, and between them soar a constant traffic of eagles. The eagles serve the colossal silver-winged figure who sits enthroned in the marble chamber below the dome. Motionless, cold, and pale, alike to an immense statue: it is Gabriel.

From the Aquiline Tower Gabriel sends his billion eagles abroad. All that occurs throughout Creation is viewed by the eagles and reported back. Gabriel’s role is chiefly that of an observer, monitoring the forces that shape the World. Occasionally he will send messages to inform the other Powers of the Light of significant events. It is rare that he intervenes directly.

But it should be noted that to his right hand is a weapon that fires beams of pure light, and to his left is the Standard of the Silver Eagle. And on the day of the Eschaton, Gabriel will take up arms and raise his banner and go to battle against the forces of the Dark. And the Convocation of a Billion Eagles will be a shining storm cloud of wings and beaks and talons.