The Second Fall
Once there was an angel who quarreled not with Heaven.
He held no especial rank in the Host; he was not particularly wise, or particularly beautiful, except as all things in Heaven are wise and beautiful. But when the great rebellion came, he fought loyally, and achieved some small distinction on the field. And thus it was that he was one of those chosen afterward to descend to earth, and stand guard over the infancy of mankind.
He was not one of those who faltered in his watch, and mingled with the daughters of men; indeed, he sorrowed when he learned how his companions had turned their back on righteousness, and wended their way into sin. And after they had been cast into the Pit, and their terrible children had perished, he remained upon the earth, devoting himself to a lonelier guardianship.
But one day a woman came walking to his tower, swaying as if in the grip of some fever dream; and she hammered on the door, and when he opened it, she pressed a heavy bundle into his arms, and fell down half-dead. And he found that the thing squirming in his arms was ugly, and monstrous, and alive.
He considered killing it, as its hideous siblings had been killed. It would have been only right for it to follow its mother, who swiftly passed from the earth. But he was not wise, except as every angel is wise, and perhaps his time on earth had worn away at him as deeply as it had at his companions, and he found that he lacked the will to kill the child.
The babe grew quickly, as the children of the angels do, into a thing most appalling, with pale skin and staring eyes; and one had only to look upon it – or her, perhaps, for her guardian called her so – to know that she was a thing unsanctioned in the sight of Heaven, and that on her brow was written monster, and defiler, and witch. At first the angel flinched from his charge, even as he endeavored to care for her. But she was clever in her strangeness, and labored patiently under the disadvantages of her twisted form, and when he bade her sing the hymns of Heaven her voice was no different than any other. And in time he found, as perhaps he had always known he would, that the desolation that hung about her was not, after all, so terrible in his sight.
In time he grew to love her, as perhaps he had always known he would.
And this is where the stories diverge, for there are those who say she endured but a few years, before yielding to the ravages of her misshapen body; and there are those who say that she was strong, as the children of the angels are strong, and she lived longer than mortal men, long enough to rage against a world that hated her and long enough to forgive it, long enough to die at peace in her father’s tower. But what does it matter? She was mortal, as men are mortal; eventually she died.
And when she was dead the Lord came to the angel, and said, Mankind flourishes, and your watch is ended; return, faithful servant, to the halls of Heaven, and the embrace of the Host.
But the angel hesitated, and said, Lord, surely your Heaven is vast and fine, and filled with everything worthy; and were I to return I fear that my heart would be an insult to your glory, dwelling always as it is on the shadow of an unworthy thing.
And the Lord said, My servant, I hold no grudge for the strange watch you undertook upon earth. But it is not given to you to remain; for the day of My presence has ended, and it pleases Me not that any member of the Host should linger here.
And the angel said, Lord, I cannot follow you; I am no longer fashioned for your Heaven, nor formed in virtue, for the love of a monster is a fire that scars the soul. Grant me instead leave to walk into the Pit, where I might not forever behold the fulfillment of grace, and see in it the absence of my grief.
And the Lord, being merciful, granted the angel’s request; and they say that he walked into the Pit, and waited there ten thousand years and more, until another hated Child descended into Hell.