The Septematrium had always been an ominous, somber place to Promethiel ever since he was a new soul.
It was a massive room below the palace that could very well pass as a cavern if not for the uniformity of the gold flecked, dark stone walls. Sharp angles made up the carved pillars and the stairs leading up to a platform with a long table at its center. The basalt floor was made of the same stone, seeming to stretch on forever at the edges in the dim light as the beginning and end of floor and wall seemed to blend together.
He hadn't seen much of it until he began to serve as the Archangel king of Edenara, only having been there a small handful of times to shadow his father during low security discussions for his training as heir. Now that his curiosity had been long sated, he could now add another descriptor to the list; irksome with bad lighting and even worse company.
When Promethiel stepped off the spiraling stairway that led down to the Septematrium and set foot into the stony chamber, his eyes swept over the seven gathered angels before landing solely upon Iorifrei.
The head of the Council looked him up and down, his bearded face betraying no emotion whatsoever. "We have received word from Morassiel that you seek our counsel on the matter of the Seal. What are your intentions?"
Promethiel kept his posture straight but carefully relaxed, knowing well that he stood before a pack of very old, very clever wolves. He needed to speak with certainty, clarity and give them no doubt of his abilities as king.
"That is correct, Councilwing Iorifrei," he replied, stepping forward to place his hands on the smooth stone table. "The Seal has weakened over the millennia and is now at the point where we have to consider replacing it sooner rather than later. This will require a mass sacrifice the likes of which we have not seen in recent history, another Martyrcost transfiguration."
There was silence and impassive stares, this was knowledge that they all knew very well, but Promethiel could see the silent warning in Iorifrei's eyes. Oh, yes, this wasn't the first time the two of them had spoken together on this. But he wasn't going to play nice this time, there was too much progress made to hide behind a smile and nod.
He pushed on ahead.
"I am proposing that we seek other means of protection from the demons, something that does not involve sending thousands of my loyal subjects to their deaths in a never ending cycle," he said firmly, staring at each council member in turn. The king made sure that they met eyes, truly met eyes, before turning to the next. "The Seal has served us well for a long time, but it cannot keep being recreated without weakening us further."
Immediately there was a buzz of hushed voices, and Promethiel could feel the attention of all seven angels close in upon him.
"You know very well that to become part of a Seal is not death, Promethiel, but an eternal state of peace and contentment," Iorifrei spoke in a low voice, his orange eyes meeting the Archangel's without flinching under their intensity. "It is an exquisite and holy transfiguration, born out of love and sacrifice, offered freely by the angels who give themselves to it."
Promethiel spoke before anyone else could interject, letting his tongue form syllables like the rasp of a knife's edge against a whetstone. "I understand, Councilwing Iorifrei. But if I may be blunt, that is near the same exact thing that had been relayed to humans for a very long time before Heaven's fall. And we still don't know where their souls go now."
Iorifrei's face would have been handsome as his jaw tensed and made the light catch along the dark skin of his cheekbone in a dramatic fashion, if not for how much Promethiel wanted to bite it off.
"We have already considered this multiple times in the past, and have found no such alternate solution that was actionable without mass suffering. The Seal is our only option for the time being, Your Grace," Daltien cut in, her wings folded tight to her back as she glanced between the king and council head.
"Have you considered finding where the bulk of these demons are coming from? Going beyond the few other angelic kingdoms we know of?" Promethiel retorted, feeling his teeth wanting to go sharp in a sneer. "If we can wipe out enough demonic strongholds in close proximity, we can rekindle their fear of us. If we are ruthless and swift with our retaliation--"
"You speak of the creation of another Seal as if it is sending your angels to death, and then turn around and suggest a war with the demons?" Iorifrei asked, lifting a hand to gesture above them to the chamber ceiling. "Such a thing would bring trouble down on all of our heads, Promethiel. We have discussed this many times even before your creation, and have come to the conclusion that martyrcosting is the most reliable way to ensure Edenara's safety. Do not insult the love of those who underwent transfiguration for us all."
Iorifrei was one of the oldest angels left in the kingdom, his life spanning into the millions, but Promethiel didn't let that intimidate him. He was filled with a room of ancients, but he was also the one with the most power here. The archangel had enough experience being a menace that he knew the tells of someone who was agitated, and while Iorifrei was skilled at hiding his emotions, he could never hide them from the trained eye of a master heckler. He'd prodded a nerve, everyone present knew it.
"But for how long?" Promethiel shot back, letting a zealous and practiced sincerity enter his tone. "How many seals and cycles will you allow to pass before there are only several hundred of us left? What of the families irrevocably separated?"
The Seal had indeed been there long before his birth; a ring of holy stone that ran along the periphery of Edenara, not even particularly tall, but emanating a divine energy that repelled demons and similar beings whose energy would be kept back by the opposing poles of celestial magnetism.
Its cobbled surface was not created from the overlapping of stones, but if one looked closer they would see the true horror.
Calcified wings, hands, torsos and faces all interlocked together in an amalgamation of petrified divinity. Thousands of beings becoming one, losing themselves at the individual level to become part of a greater, less eternal whole. If one touched the wall, an energy could be felt, like a static cling that could be felt in the veins. It was an echo of the angelic lives that built it, the altruistic will that made the Seal possible.
Promethiel made a point not to ever touch it.
"We cannot simply blindfold ourselves and tell each other that the night is only long, that dawn will come even as the sun has already risen above to burn us alive on the sand that we have buried our heads in!" Promethiel insisted, stalking along the edge of the table until he could look directly into Iorifrei's eyes as he spoke.
"It is not a matter of blind faith, Promethiel," Iorifrei replied bluntly. "Your ancestors have gone through this before, and it was done in the name of protecting Edenara. You are not even in your second millennia of life, and yet you seek to act as if you are the wisest of them all."
"Then perhaps it is time that you learn a new type of wisdom," Promethiel countered, leaning forward on the table. "I do not wish to see Edenara die out of complacency. We must be willing to sacrifice for our kingdom, But not like this."
Something sharp whistled between them, ivory and thin, but it was enough to cause both angels to shift back to avoid being hit as the feather glanced off the stone wall behind them with a sharp crack like metal striking stone. As it floated softly down, both angels turned to the source to find a thoroughly irritated looking Grimirath.
"My apologies for sending a feather in your direction, Your Grace." Grimirath's antlered head bowed low before lifting once more to look between Promethiel and Iorifrei. "My intention was never to harm, but to get you and Councilwing Iorifrei to cease your bickering long enough to let others weigh in."
Promethiel nodded sharply, forcing his feathers flat as he watched Iorifrei with dampened resignation. "I understand, Councilwing Grimirath, you are forgiven, thank you for your concern and prudence."
"The topic is not a light one, it is understandable that the conversation might become spirited," Grimirath said, sitting back down with a look to Iorifrei in plainly evident admonishment. "We must properly discuss all points of view before coming to a decision, whether we agree with them or not."
"Very well," Iorifrei said, relaxing his jaw and settling back into his chair. "I let my frustration get the better of me. I offer my apologies to you, Your Majesty, and to my fellow council members." There was a murmur of acceptance from the other angels, and Promethiel returned to his seat as well.
"Since I have the floor, I shall speak," Grimirath went on, hands clasping together in thought. "The others will each be bringing their own opinion to the table, but I will say we are not blind to what is happening in Edenara. It is clear that the Seal is near its breaking point and we cannot simply ignore the increase in demonic activity. We can all also agree that we are looking at the possible creation of a second seal at any time now," Grimirath said, glancing around the room. "That is why I propose that we begin gathering volunteers for martyrcosting. His Majesty's suggestion is not without merit, but we need to be prepared with some certainty when Edenara's seal breaks."
More of the Council lent their voices in agreement; Daltien, Elasiare, Nieriam, Zirthil and Belloziel. Some more sympathetic than others as they spoke of their pride in those that had gone on to create this ultimate protective barrier from the lawless, shattered wilds outside. How it saved far more than it absorbed.
"We have been discussing this for millenia, Your Grace," Iorifrei said quietly. "We all have friends and family that make that very Seal that is now crumbling. We know the price better than you could ever imagine."
Promethiel felt ice in the pit of his stomach, his guts clenching at the familiarity of this conversation. One that he'd had with his parents since he was young enough to be naive but old enough to know the gravity of Edenara's very existence. This wasn't honor, it wasn't a gift or an act of love. It was mass suicide of the soul.
The icy pit in his stomach melted away, boiling now.
Promethiel felt warmth in his throat as fire threatened to spill over, swallowing to keep the angry flames from billowing with his next long exhale. They were so determined to do this, do keep doing this. They didn't care about the cost, they only cared about preserving Edenara in the same self destructive way they always had.
He doubted that any of them would be first in line to feed the Seal when it came time to make the sacrifice.
"Prophetess Crucifel would be the one to lead the way in the next Martyrcost, as our kingdom's spiritual leader," Zirthil said, drawing Promethiel's attention sharply onto the pale eyed angel. "I think that you should rejoice and be proud of your sister, she is going to do something amazing when the time comes, Your Majesty."
