Introduction: Blameless Duty                             

SARA - A Christian Fantasy Novel by Cynthia Handloser

     Nearby climbs a monstrous peak in Heaven. The ancient rock engulfed and encircled by cloud. Hidden by haze and spray upon the tip of the towering needle rests a perched and solemn seraph by the name of Michael. Many eons he was awakened pale and delicate, his features shown now growing ashen and blanched by the glory of God.   

    Below him lie multitudes in the Spiritual (realms of light radiated by the will of God, the Creator). Armies of angels guided by the diligent seraph constantly prepare for their calling. Beyond his realm, Michael senses the other armies of other seraph doing their duty blamelessly underneath his command. Beyond this, within the Fair Heavens, the cherubs sing praises so divine the angels conducting the harmony of the universes can not compare to it’s brilliance. So many stop to listen, stop to gather and listly fly away. How perfectly aligned in attendance the pure dwell chanting holiness and glory before a graceful and guiltless God. 

    Michael sat in resolution seeing many tainted worlds and realms outside of the Spiritual. While at times all around him was tainted, he grew more and more faithful and unscathed. He never asked God for a choice like he had witnessed God design for mankind. Why would he? He had seen many men falter the choice away. The Creator had given him singular power to fight the battles the seraph prepared for. Many times God sent warmth to him when his duty was in places of horror. Yes, Michael grew ancient, but the treasure was always the same. God’s love was abundant, how wonderful, how simple.

    Below, an old man walked the rock to Michael for some time while the feathered angel sat nestled, taking it easy. He had been unsighted by Michael. The air tingled and tickled the tip of his many quills. Michael had dosed off in reflection and suddenly felt the old man close by. It was one of the many faces of God.

     The seraph stood tall and dove deep, falling unfathomable heights, to his Master.

                  “Michael, that was not necessary,” murmured the cheery and weathered old man as the seraph flipped and 

             landed wholly in a bow.

                   “Yes well I am use to …”

                   “Easy now. No need to explain. I was in need of a deciding stroll; I have a job for you. Sara?” The old man  

              inquired with wide unsuspecting eyes and adjusted his walking stick.

                   “Yes, the human in the Dreaming. The Ethereal land of Faesyde’,” Michael shifted his wings to ease. 

               “Is she okay?”

                   “Yes, yes, quite fine. It is her journal that I am concerned for.”

                   “She threw it in the waterfall Lord. I witnessed her do this.”

                   Tapping his fingers on the tip of his cane, the old man goes on, “And the cherub that flew out of my choir has it. 

               The Powers have stopped the dream and the realm lay still and unprovoked. You need to wake the cherub and she 

               will do the rest.”

      The gray eyes of the old man settled warmly upon Michael’s black and innocent gaze. 

                   “She is in The Deep of that realm. She sleeps with the journal lying like a heavy burden upon her chest. Wake 

                her, but do not show yourself. Cherubs are not designed as you. She doesn’t know how to interpret what has 

                happened to her. She’ll accept what is revealed, but seeing you will cause her great sorrow.”

                    “Why Lord?” Michael asks kindly.

                    “The answer to that would cause you sorrow. So best to trust me.” The old man pats the seraph on his arm and 

                pulls his rugged robe about him turning to walk back down the rock. 

      Michael watched the old man walk away and in a glance took flight. Climbing to heights beyond his peak, a higher perch called the Angel’s Arch hung in the distance. Upon this arch was passage to every world and realm in existence. Michael flew untouched by the task to walk the arch eagerly onto the heavy mists of Faesyde’.

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