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It was bright, but he was used to the light. He had lived here his whole life... as it were. He had always lived close to
his Lord, but he had never been summoned before. It was this that made him nervous, that confused him when he was normally
very sure.
The halls were large and brightly lit. They stretched for miles, but exhaustion didn't exist here. There were no aching limbs,
no tired feet. Here there was only rest, and peace, and joy. The hall divided, one part continuing ahead, another turning
to his left. This hallway was larger, wider. He hurried down it, his stride long and purposeful. He always moved with grace.
That was a mark of what he was. But he also moved with confidence. That was a mark of who he was.
He came before the Chamber. The door was opulent, higher than even Goliath could be. On each of the double doors stood a
full-sized female angel beckoning the person inside. He smiled at the metaphor.
It was simple enough to open the door; as heavy as it seemed, it was light as a feather. The room was huge, larger than a
football field. Far away, down the gold-lined path, on the throne in the center of the room, sat his Lord. He quickly made
his way before his God. God stood at his approach.
He kneeled before his Lord, head bowed. He was anxious, and he knew his Lord could feel it coming off of him in waves.
“Do not be afraid,” He spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You have nothing to fear.”
“I know,” he said, “but I...”
His Lord nodded. “I understand. I have called you here because there is something I must ask of you. This will demand
extreme sacrifice such as you have never examined. You have the choice to decline after you hear.” God's voice was supremely
grave.
“I cannot deny you,” he said, and he meant the words. His Lord was everything to him. If not for Him, he and
the peace in his heart would not exist.
“I will not force you,” his Lord told him, and he finally heard the strong worry in his Lord's voice.
No force was needed. “What troubles you?” he asked.
“There is someone on Earth that must be Saved.”
He felt pride and joy rise in his chest. His Lord had chosen him to Save someone? His Lord never sent one of his angels to
Save someone unless that person was extremely important. And he had been chosen. “Who is this someone, my Lord?”
he asked.
“A young girl,” his Lord told him. “Her name is Trista Elle. She has the strength of will to come out of
her past and shine with glory. However,” and here his Lord sighed sadly, “she is at the end of her rope. She is
about to give up. She has already refused me.”
He heard the sadness in his Lord's voice and made his decision. “What must I do?”
“She is attending college as a freshman in one week. I need you to take a place within the college and get close to
her. But be warned.” The Lord paused until He was certain He had his attention. “You may never be able to return.”
His heart froze. “I will not be welcomed back?”
“No, My son. You shall always be welcome, but you may not return, despite My open gates.”
His brow furrowed. “But I will remain welcome?” Why would he not wish to return? Everything any human would want
was here. Why would he, an immortal, want less?
“Of course. My gates are always open to you, My son. You are one of My purest angels, Arrian.”
He bowed his head deeply. He would Save this Trista, and he would return. There would be no reason for him not to.
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