Epilogue - Seekers of Knowledge

Nakir knelt by the shore of the Silver Sea of Silence, gazing out over the resting place of all saved souls and wondering where and how things had gone so wrong.

Of those who had gone to earth to hunt Samyaza and her heretics, few had returned. Raphael and Muriel withdrew early, owing their injuries, while Lailah had returned to and from the fray in disgrace. Besides Nakir herself, who could be commonly counted with Raphael and Muriel, the only other was Pravuil, the Seraph of Knowledge who gave up the chase before Munkar's doomed trap was set and sprung.

Pravuil who, as the echoes of that conflict were smothered in silence, stood along the shore of the Silver Sea of Silence. They had not spoken since that time, which still gnawed at Nakir's mind... the things she saw when brought near death, or thought she saw.

Nakir watched, and Pravuil fiddled with a device. It looked to be a strange thing, with fittings of aetheric gold and regalia crystal, but a body of earthly brass. It was a thing that should not have existed, much less in Heaven, but Pravuil had always had strange proclivities.

Still, it nagged at Nakir. At length, she turned to her silent companion on the shore of the silent sea and spoke.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Let me answer your question with a question,” Pravuil replied. “You seem troubled. Why would that be?”

“You remember our crusade against the heretics, yes?”

“I remember Ramiel's, that became Munkar's.”

“At the end of those days,” Nakir said, “Yomiel struck my halo. She nearly shattered it, as the heretics must have shattered their own. For a brief time, I was without the glory of the Lord.”

“That experience troubles your heart even now.”

“I saw dark illusions without His protection and guidance,” Nakir confessed, “mirages, terrors. A pentimento of Hell where there should only have been Heaven.”

Nakir stood tall, or at least as tall as she could.

“Angels are meant to know neither fear nor doubt, but such innocent a nature is lost to me. In your wisdom, do you know what to do with such a circumstance?”

Pravuil looked down at Nakir with an appraising expression. Then she extended her hand, offering the brass thing to Nakir. Nakir took it and examined it. It was bent twice, and had lenses at both ends, one larger, and one curved as might fit a human eye.

“And this is?”

“You might call it a periscope,” Pravuil said, “a tool for investigating the empirical evidence that might underlie such events as trouble us both.”

Nakir held it up and tried to look through it, but did not see anything of measure.

“I made the eyepiece narrow enough to slide between the halo and the eye,” Pravuil said.

Nakir looked up at Pravuil.

“A dangerous toy you've created,” Nakir said.

“In the wrong hands, perhaps,” Pravuil said, “but we cannot reason with what we do not understand. I only want to know the truth.”

Nakir hesitated.

“Will you look through it and tell me what you see?” Pravuil asked, “I wish to know if your findings match mine.”

Nakir slid the periscope between her halo and her eye, and gazed out into Hell.