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Asmodai
Appears to Miriael
Miriael was determined
to stay awake all night. She lay motionless on the floor of the
nest, eyes closed as if asleep. She was filled with an immense yearning,
pulled out tight like stretched elastic. Hour after hour she waited
. . .
The first thing she experienced was a soft golden glow on her eyelids.
Then a warmth on her skin. As she lay there motionless, the warmth
penetrated into her skin until she seemed to be glowing all through.
It was unutterable bliss. She felt that her heart would burst. Then
the light changed. The golden glow became a pure white radiance.
The radiance grew stronger and stronger. She opened her eyelids
the tiniest fraction.
'I know you're awake, Miriael,' said a firm, gentle voice. 'You
can look when you're ready.'
Her eyelids flew open - then snapped shut again. He was so incredibly
bright. Her first image was only of a hovering globe with rays pouring
forth like a wind. Her sight was no longer attuned to the intensity
of spiritual light. She had spots behind her eyes.
It took many attempts and many blinkings before she could form a
better impression. She saw a purple robe, sixfold wings, a silver
circlet around his brow. He carried a kind of wand, a long clear
cylindrical tube. The light spilling from the edges of his robe
was like light spilling out of a crystal. Even without moving, he
seemed to shimmer.
'I am the Seraph Asmodai,' he told her. 'Also known as the Tenth
Angel of Strategy.'
She gazed in awe. She had seen male angels of greater power, but
never one so beautiful. His face was dominated by great lambent
eyes, his hair was like fine spun glass. The curls of his hair streamed
out in the light.
'I've been visiting you,' he said. 'Did you know?'
She hardly heard the words. She was thinking of moral beauty, the
special celestial beauty which was so superior to mere beauty of
appearance. His heart was the very centre of his light, she knew.
The centre of goodness, love and care . . .
Then she realised he was waiting for her to speak. She went back
over his question and produced an answer.
'I knew in a dream. And someone observed you. But I was never awake
myself.'
'No.' Asmodai understood why she was puzzled. 'I didn't want to
wake you. This isn't an official visit.'
'Heaven didn't send you?'
'Nobody in Heaven knows about it. I'm sorry. I wish I could bring
you an official message of reconciliation.'
Miriael was too full of joy to feel disappointment. 'But you've
come anyway!'
'Yes. And in myself, so far as I can, I represent the love and mercy
which Heaven ought to offer.'
'Thank you.' Miriael blinked, not solely from the brightness of
his light.
'I've been watching over you,' he said. 'As often as I can get away.'
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