The Light and Fallen

The Light and Fallen

By Anna White

Copyright 2012 Anna White

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the
express written permission of the author except for the use of
brief quotations in a book review. For permission requests, contact
the author by email at:
[email protected]

100% of the proceeds from this book will be donated
to The Water Project.

http://
www.thewaterproject.org

As a child my dream was to go to Africa and
make a difference. I literally slept with a map of the continent
pinned to the wall above my bed. This is something that may never
be a reality for me, but now I know that I don't have to go across
the world to make a difference. Pain and hurt and need are all
around us, no matter where we are. So I will try to make a
difference in my place, and support the people that go where I
cannot.

For the past year or so I have been drawn to
organizations that build wells, because clean water is something
that is fundamental for human health and survival, and it is also
something that I never have to think about. It is something I am
privileged to take for granted. My family and I hope to fund a well
in Uganda, and we hope you will take the journey with us. You can
help by posting, blogging, tweeting, pinning, emailing, or
otherwise sharing this novel.

For updates on our progress visit
AnnaWhiteWrites
on Facebook

or follow me on Twitter
@annawhitewrites

This book would be incomplete without thanks to my
husband, who gave me the gift of time so that I could write this
novel. He believes when I can't believe for myself and loves me
more than I deserve. His sacrifice is love in action.

Time is too slow for those who wait,

too swift for those who fear,

too long for those who grieve,

too short for those who rejoice,

but for those who love,

Time is eternity

~Henry Van Dyke

The nephilim were on the Earth in those days-

and also afterward…

Genesis 6:4

Lucian gripped the edge of the banister and
peered down into the darkness.
How much would it hurt?
he
wondered.
How hard was it to fall?
He pulled his right foot
up and slid it onto the edge of the smooth rail, pressing down hard
into the tips of his fingers as his weight shifted forward. He
waited a few seconds, then slowly pulled up his other leg and
crouched with both feet pressed against the cool metal.

Even with his eyes closed he could sense the
hazy golden light that surrounded him. It refracted into the Hall
through the crystal floors and threw faint rainbows around the
edges of the room. Farther away, in the outer passages, voices rose
and fell in harmonious conversation, the occasional moments of
silence punctuated by the singing of the river. He kept his eyes
closed and pushed himself up, inching his fingertips away from the
rail until he was standing at full height.

He only had time to inhale one breath of
incense-scented air before he slipped. He lurched forward, barely
keeping his toes in contact with the narrow banister, and his wings
snapped open. Their sudden motion jerked him upright; he extended
his wings fully and rocked gently back and forth in the golden air
as he found his balance again. The Void was directly below him.

He had never been so close to the suffocating
darkness that separated Heaven from Earth. He knew if he climbed
down from the banister and took a few steps back he would see the
world hanging in the sky like a luminous blue star, but from here
it was invisible, completely hidden in the deep, inky stillness of
the Void.

"It's almost time."

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of
the silken voice. Anthea stood behind him at the raised dais in the
center of the Great Hall. Her wings were extended in authority, and
her fingers rested lightly on the Book. He felt a pang as he saw
her standing there, exactly where he had stood for over a thousand
years. She was standing in
his
place. His replacement.

Lucian raised his eyes to the ceiling of the
Hall and scanned the Timeline for signs of change. The future had
faded quickly, but he still hoped. Scenes from the past continued
to shimmer across the domed ceiling. A new one appeared as he
watched, one that captured the most meaningful events of the last
hour on Earth. Each of the figures in the scene moved in their own
small space, and he glanced past them. They would still be there
when he returned, waiting beside the millions of other scenes from
other hours. It was the future that was a mystery. It remained
frustratingly dark.

"There's been some change today." Anthea's
ringing voice cut into his thoughts. "I've been seeing flashes of
color."

She made a sweeping gesture toward the
darkest section of the Timeline, and as if in response to her words
two neon pink flashes arced across the ceiling. "It's because of
your decision."

Lucian tore his eyes away and nodded. She was
right. He had been watching since the very beginning, so he knew
better than any of the others how one choice could reshape the
future. He had witnessed it thousands of times.

He squared his shoulders and turned his back
on Anthea. Toward the Void. He had always had only one mission: to
guard the Timeline. He couldn't protect humanity's future from a
distance any longer. The Great Hall had been his home forever, as
long as he had been in existence, but he was strong enough to leave
it.

"Remember your mission," Anthea cautioned.
"The key…"

Lucian heard her voice, but he couldn't focus
on her words. Far below him a spark had appeared. It was brilliant,
one shining ray that pierced the darkness of the Void. It was
calling to him, bright enough to guide him down.

He leaned forward without thinking. There was
no more time for thinking. The choice was made.

The warm, golden air rushed across his wings
as he plunged forward, and he tucked them back into his
shoulderblades so they would offer no resistance. A burst of air
rushed up to meet him, and then his feet left the banister.

Lucian fell into the darkness and the
darkness swallowed him whole. Parts of himself were tearing and
ripping away. He was freezing, and he was on fire. He tried to
catch himself, but his wings were broken.

He was a stone. He was skimming across the
surface of a black river, and then he slid down, down into a pit
where there was no more light.

There was no life. There was no memory. There
was nothing.

Only darkness.

The pain didn't come from any specific place,
it radiated across his entire body. At first it was the sensation
of a deep ache, and he was able to focus on the bright light
shining behind his eyelids and the soft rustling sounds coming from
somewhere nearby. Then the pain erupted into a scorching agony that
stole away any other awareness. His body curled in on itself, and
his unfamiliar hands clawed at his knees.

The first wave of pain passed and he heard
the loud, shallow gasps of his own breathing. The sound was strange
and harsh. He fought to control his physical responses, but he
couldn't stop his heart from slamming violently against the wall of
his chest as he choked down gulps of air.

"Don't fight it."

The voice was so close that it startled him
and he grasped out blindly with his hand. The owner of the voice
had to be human, but it was somehow beautifully familiar. He opened
his mouth to speak but a wave of nausea hit him and instead he
rolled to the side and retched. He clutched at his stomach and
coughed at the sour taste in his mouth as his head fell back onto
something soft and cushioned.

"Shhh."

A cool sensation brushed across his forehead
and something hard edged pressed against his lips. "You're here,"
the voice whispered. "You're safe."

He swallowed gratefully as a stream of cool
water trickled down his throat.
Where was he? Where was
here
? He tried to find his voice but his body was rebelling. He
struggled to open his eyes, but their lids felt like they were
weighted shut and he gave up with a moan of frustration.

He heard more movement and felt the coolness
again, this time sweeping over his cheeks and lips. "Go to sleep,"
the voice said. "This body needs rest. When you wake, things will
be better."

As the voice spoke a wave of exhaustion
rolled through Lucian's body and he panicked.
No, not the
darkness!
He tried to fight it, but the urge to sleep was
irresistible. He felt like he was falling again. The darkness was
stifling. He was drowning; the darkness was pulling him under.

It was dawn when Lucian finally opened his
eyes. A ray of light shone in through an open window, and outside
he could see what he knew must be trees. As he watched one of the
limbs shivered and a small animal leaped across his field of vision
and disappeared. He probed his mind for its name.
Squirrel?

He lay still and focused on his body, letting
his awareness drift from his head to his toes. Although he could
feel a series of strange, unfamiliar movements beneath his skin, he
was relieved to discover that the blinding pain was gone. His chest
rose and fell with the rhythm of his breath and beneath that, lower
and deeper, he could feel the steady rhythm of his heart.

His heart. He concentrated harder, blocking
out the early morning sounds outside his window, and heard the
blood pushing through his veins.

Swish
.

He counted to twelve in his head before it
happened again.
Swish.

He rested his hand against his chest and
waited for the small bump of the muscle. He concentrated as he
waited, idly trying to force it to pause, but the heart ignored
him.
Swish.
He laughed out loud as he was seized with a
sense of being out of control.

He threw back the covers and watched his toes
twitch as he flexed his calves experimentally. He rubbed down their
length with his hands and felt soft hairs brush against the
delicate nerve endings in his fingers. His skin was perfect, smooth
and warm. He pressed against it with his finger and it yielded
slightly before he felt the resistance of hard muscle.

A clattering sound outside the room caught
his attention, and for the first time he noticed his surroundings.
He was in a small, light colored bedroom with whitewashed floors. A
chair next to the bed had clothes draped across it, and a bag of
toiletries in masculine green and gray colors sat on top of an
otherwise empty dresser. A full length mirror hung beside the door
and in it he could see the reflection of one defined arm.

He kicked the covers away and pulled a pair
of pants and a t-shirt off the chair. He was surprised that he knew
the name of every item in the room, although he knew he shouldn't
be. He would've known the name of any item, in any room, anywhere
on Earth. That was part of the training.

He heard another clatter, followed by a
crash, and tentatively crossed to the door of the bedroom. He
peered out into a short hallway. He could see a few closed doors,
and at its end a bright, high-ceilinged space. He thought he was in
a house, but he wasn't sure. Everything seemed to be unusually
white.