The Visit of the Elder Angel

How long have I wandered across this earth? How many times have I seen the sun rise each morning? How many times have I watched trees sprout from seeds, only to wither and fall back to the ground? How many times have I seen the mountains shift their shapes? How many stars have I seen fade away? How many times have I witnessed the death and birth of a new universe?

No matter what I did, I couldn’t remember. For the heaviest burden of eternal life is forgetfulness. That is the truth we angels must face. Immortal beings whose existence transcends the cosmos—and yet, we are unable to recall the moment of our own birth. Countless eons separate us from that time, and unlike our bodies, which will endure for all eternity, our memory fades sooner or later.

Still, for many angels, forgetfulness is a blessing, as it keeps them distant from the mortal world. In that way, they can fulfill their divine task without emotional attachment. And that task, designated by our Creator Father, is to guide the souls of humans who are trapped in purgatory. To walk with them along the path of redemption, so that their purified spirit may enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

All angels carry out this duty, guiding countless souls toward salvation. All except for me. In all of my known history, I have always refused. I never walked alongside a soul through the mysteries of purgatory. And why would I? The idea of serving the Creator who condemned me to eternal suffering revolted me. For to me, each day of my existence felt like a dagger piercing my soul. It was an eternal prison from which I could not escape.

The source of my suffering lies in my past, the very past I could no longer remember. Buried deep within a foggy lagoon of memory, there was a promise. A promise that once gave meaning to my existence. Something that had always kept me going. But that memory vanished long ago, and no matter how hard I tried to reclaim it—it was impossible. It was gone forever.

With that sorrow resting in my soul, I chose to distance myself from every living being. Since death was never an option for me, I walked to the furthest ends of the world, where I found a solitary cave by the sea. Inside it, I lay among rocks and darkness. I closed my eyes and waited for thought to abandon me. But time marched on, and I remained within it.

From time to time, I would walk along the shore, dragging my heavy wings through the sand. I had gone so long without using them that I could no longer move them—much less fly. When I grew tired, I would sit among the rocks and draw in the dirt. Scribbles the tide would soon erase. I didn’t care if they lasted, only that they could distract me.

I would also gaze at my reflection in the dancing waters. That habit was the only thing keeping me from forgetting what I looked like: an angel with the appearance of a young woman with dark hair, wearing a black coat that contrasted with her silver eyes.

That routine repeated itself countless times. But one day, I received a visit that would alter the course of my fate.

We angels do not measure time by human conventions, but for the sake of clarity, I will say it happened one morning near the end of the 19th century. I was asleep inside the cave when the sound of heavy wingbeats outside dragged me out of my slumber. I tried to ignore it, but it only grew louder.

At last, I stood and walked out of the cave. The moment I emerged, I was blinded by the light radiating from that divine being. A brilliant light that shimmered off his raised wings. When he spoke, his deep voice echoed among the rocks, flooding my mind.

“May our Father illuminate your spirit, servant of creation,” the visitor said.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I could finally see the man standing before me. He wore a dark coat over his elegant attire. Upon seeing his mature face, framed by golden hair, I recognized the silver eyes of the oldest and wisest of angels.

“What are you doing here, Raphaelius?” I asked, folding my arms.

“Dear Orianna,” he said, lowering his wings. He stepped forward and placed his hands on my shoulders. “You do your exiled soul no good by lingering in these desolate places. Joy is found in service—in fulfilling the command our Creator has given us.”

“If you came to scold me, you can leave!” I shouted, brushing his hands off. “I’ve told your kind before—I refuse to fulfill my duty as an angel.”

I turned my back and returned to the cave. Raphaelius followed me, his presence lighting the way. I lay down on a rock and closed my eyes, hoping he’d disappear.

“I am aware of your decision, and I respect it,” he said as he watched me from above. “But I’m not here to convince you to change your path. I’m here to ask for your help.”

“What help could someone like me possibly offer?” I asked, without turning to face him.

“It’s about the soul of a young man,” he began. “He died when the ship he was on sank. We’ve never seen anything like it. The poor soul carried such immense remorse that he became trapped in a purgatory of his own making.

“Many angels have tried to help him,” Raphaelius continued, “myself included. But we’ve all failed to guide him toward healing. The guilt tormenting this boy is so immense that all our efforts to purify his soul have been in vain.”

“So what’s your point?!” I snapped. “If not even you—the greatest of angels—could help him, then he’s already doomed.”

“Not yet,” he said, sitting beside me. “There is still hope. And that hope is you, Orianna. We need you to save him.”

At that moment, I stood up. I gave him a sharp look, which he returned with his usual gentle face. I turned and fled toward the beach.

“We’re running out of time!” he called after me as he followed. “His soul is becoming more and more corrupted with every second that passes. If we don’t save him within five days, his spirit will merge with purgatory and be trapped there forever.”

“And what makes you think I even have a chance?!” I turned to face him. “You couldn’t do it! So where does that leave me? I’m nothing but a stupid fallen angel who’s never purified a single soul!”

Raphaelius took a deep breath. He walked down to the shore and sat on the rocks, gazing at the sea. I had no choice but to sit beside him.

“There are things beyond your comprehension, Orianna,” he began, “and one of them is the subtlety of the soul. The Creator blessed us angels with silver eyes capable of seeing the spirits of living beings. Even so, few can truly grasp the hidden nature behind their pulses, the messages woven into their waves and patterns. The soul is a fire full of mysteries only our Father can understand.”

Raphaelius turned his gaze toward my chest—toward the place where my soul burned beside my heart.

“Even so, my years of service have granted me a faint understanding of spirit,” he went on. “And that’s why I can tell you this: I see in your soul the same suffering that torments that boy. You both carry a burden from a forgotten past. And that shared agony gives you an advantage over all of us, Orianna. The path of redemption requires souls that can resonate with one another. That’s why I ask you—please, save this boy from eternal suffering.”

I spent a few minutes in silence, staring out to sea. Then I stood and began to return to the cave.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning my back to him. “But I’ve made my position clear.”

That’s when Raphaelius spread his wings and rushed toward me like lightning. He stopped at my side and grabbed me by the wrist.

“Little girl,” he whispered in my ear, “I know your longing to remember your past. I know no one has been able to give you answers, because it happened so long ago no angel still remembers. But that’s not true. I remember.”

I froze. My heart, dormant for eons, began to beat strongly for the first time in ages. Slowly, I managed to form words.

“Are you serious?” I asked. “Please… Tell me. I beg you!”

“It wouldn’t be right, Orianna,” he replied. “The Creator blessed me with supreme memory. I remember the birth of every angel—but it is something meant to be forgotten. Knowing your past would only bring you more suffering than you already bear.”

“I don’t care!” I cried. I dropped to my knees in front of him and clasped my hands together in supplication. “Please, tell me. Reveal the promise that gives my existence meaning!”

Raphaelius took my hands and helped me to my feet. He wiped away a single tear that fell from my cheek.

“It’s not right for me to do so,” he said at last, “but if it’s the only way to make you accept our plea, then I promise: if you are able to save the boy’s soul before it’s too late… I will tell you everything you wish to know about your past.”

A strong wind swept across the beach, dragging the sand. I stood there, deep in thought, watching the waves crash against the rocks.

"All right, Raphaelius," I said, meeting his gaze. "I accept the mission. I’ll purify that boy’s soul in less than five days, and you’ll have to reveal the whole truth to me."

Raphaelius smiled for the first time since he arrived. He brought his hands together in a prayer gesture.

"So be it."