A Threshold in the Abyss

Thus began the journey to reclaim my past. I was determined to complete the mission, no matter the cost, yet deep inside, I began to feel something I thought I would never experience again. That feeling was terror. After all, my knowledge of the purgatory and its dangers was scarce, and that ignorance made me doubt my own ability.

Raphaelius was aware of my fears. That’s why he used the time during our flight to share with me as much knowledge as he could.

“There’s something very important you must understand, Orianna,” he began. “Purgatory is not what mortals believe it to be. That realm, with all its threats and mysteries, was not created by our Father. The idea that mortals must atone for their sins to enter the Kingdom of Heaven is absurd. The Creator’s mercy is so immense that no penance is required to enter His house.

The problem arises when people are unable to forgive themselves,” he continued. “The remorse that haunts these souls becomes a seal that binds them to this world. When they die, their spirit cannot leave the body and move on. When that happens, the mind, before fading forever, uses its last energy to create a world of memories and longing. That dreamlike plane, born of the conscious mind, is what we call purgatory. And it is there that the boy’s soul remains trapped.”

We flew over the ocean for several hours, heading toward the place where the boy’s lifeless body lay. Raphaelius carried me on his back as he soared through the air. I clung to him tightly, trying not to fall into the water. Under other circumstances, I would have flown by his side, but my wings were nothing more than petrified joints.

When the sun reached its highest point, Raphaelius came to a stop. It seemed we had arrived at the right spot. There was no land in sight—only restless waters stretching endlessly to the horizon.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“We’re at the northernmost edge of the ocean mortals call the ‘Indian Ocean,’” he replied. “The young man I told you about had embarked on a sea voyage from England toward the eastern ports. However, a storm destroyed the vessel he traveled on, condemning all its passengers to a tragic end.

It is time to dive,” he added. “If you need to speak to me, use the echo of your soul.”

Raphaelius was referring to the waves that an angel’s soul emits when it beats. Angels can control these waves to communicate with one another—or with humans—without the need for a voice. However, much like flying, it was a skill I had long left behind. Still, Raphaelius insisted it would be crucial for my mission.

So I closed my eyes and focused all my concentration on visualizing the spiritual flame burning within my chest. I felt my soul—a tiny orb of pale light, its fire gently swaying back and forth. I summoned all my strength to intensify its rhythm and, for a fleeting moment, the flame stirred, barely noticeable. The waves it emitted traveled through space and resonated within Raphaelius’s soul.

“I’m ready,” I managed to say in the language of my soul.

The High Angel ascended, then plunged downward into the ocean. Once submerged, he used his wings to propel us into the deep. Water enveloped us completely. It even entered my chest through my nose. And yet, having lungs filled with water was no issue—for an immortal being, breathing was not a necessity. My mind could survive without the nourishment of oxygen.

Still, Raphaelius took the opportunity to emphasize something of immense importance.

“It’s true that here on Earth you don’t need to breathe,” he said, speaking through the soul’s echo. “But once you enter purgatory, your immortality will be temporarily stripped away. There, you will bleed like any mortal. Death will stalk you as if you were human. If you perish, your soul will be expelled from purgatory, and you will not be able to return.”

“I’ll be cautious,” I replied.

“You’ll have to be more than that, Orianna,” he answered. “This purgatory hides a great danger—the very reason all the angels before you failed. I speak of the Beast.”

“What beast?” I asked.

“The boy who now wanders purgatory has lost his human form,” he replied. “Resentment has turned him into a mindless monster, roaming and destroying everything in his path.”

We descended rapidly. The light from the surface grew distant. I could feel the pressure of the water increasing against my body, but the real pressure was inside my head. Until recently, I had thought my mission would simply be to help a young man reconcile with himself. I hadn’t expected that same boy to be a creature that might try to kill me.

“Then how am I supposed to communicate with him?” I asked.

“The boy’s soul, along with his human consciousness, is still alive within the beast,” he explained. “It slumbers deep inside him. Your first mission will be to awaken that consciousness. To do so, you must speak to him using your soul’s echo—just as we are doing now. You’ll have to get as close to the beast as possible, place your hands on its head, and recite the awakening prayer I taught you.”

“If that’s all it takes,” I said, “why couldn’t the other angels do it?”

“Because their souls didn’t resonate with the boy’s the way yours will,” he replied. “The boy’s soul is so deeply asleep, it will only hear the waves of a soul similar to its own. That’s why I still have hope—with you, things may turn out differently.”

After several minutes of descent, we were surrounded by complete darkness. The only light came from the glow of Raphaelius’s body. He stopped upon reaching a rocky seafloor. I climbed down from his back and set foot on the ground, which extended as far as the light allowed us to see.

“Follow me,” Raphaelius said through the echo of his soul.

We walked a few meters until, in front of us, a massive wooden structure appeared. The High Angel brought his hands together and uttered a prayer through the waves of his spirit. The light from his body intensified, revealing the remains of a sunken ship all around us.

Scattered across the sandy floor were fragments of the vessel—broken masts, railings rotted by moisture. But the most horrifying sight was the bodies buried under the rubble, showing severe decomposition worsened by the saltwater.

We continued until we found a slope formed by the wreckage. Climbing it, we reached the ship’s deck. The scene wasn’t much different from what we’d seen below—shattered planks, ropes, rusted metal, and among the wreckage, the occasional corpse.

Raphaelius pointed toward the bow. We walked to the front of the ship, where he gestured to a piece of canvas covering a lump of some kind. With my silver eyes, I could see the lump concealed a light within—a glowing orb of pale flame.

Lifting the cloth, I came face to face with a body—but it was unlike the rest of the empty shells. Within its chest still burned the tiny flame of a soul. It was unmistakably the boy.

I examined him closely. I could not discern the face that once identified him—only decayed skin, contorted in a sorrowful grimace. There was no doubt that his final moments were marked more by grief than by physical pain. I continued observing. He had chestnut hair and wore elegant clothing, like the men of that era.

Still, what truly captured my attention was the way his hand clutched a kind of necklace. I pried open his fist and took a golden locket—a small case meant for carrying miniature portraits. I opened it, hoping to see the image inside, but the paper had dissolved in the water. I placed the locket in my pocket. At that moment, Raphaelius touched my shoulder.

“The time has come, Orianna,” he said. “To enter purgatory, you must place your hands around the boy’s head and recite the prayer as I taught you.”

I nodded and knelt beside the boy’s body. I cupped his head in my hands and prepared to begin the prayer—but Raphaelius interrupted me one last time.

"Remember this, Orianna," he said. "If the beast—or anything else—kills you in there, you'll return to this world and never be able to enter again. But there's something worse than that: if the human dies again in purgatory, in that very instant, his soul will fuse with the dimension, and both will be trapped forever. Still, if the boy comes close to death, you can sacrifice your own flesh to heal him. But let me warn you: the part of your body you use will never regenerate, even if you return to the real world."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. "But trust me: I will purify this boy’s soul before the five days are up. And when that happens, you’ll uphold your end of the deal."

"You have my word."

With everything said, I closed my eyes and began the prayer. Sparks flared from the palms of my hands, growing until everything around me turned white. As the prayer ended, I fell unconscious.

I don’t know how much time passed, but when I awoke, I was no longer beneath the sea. I stood up and looked around. Raphaelius was gone. Now I was alone, standing in the middle of a dense forest under the rain.