34

~Ali~

I am not on Earth anymore, that much is clear. But if I am not on Earth then I am at a loss as to where I am.

My surroundings offer little information in helping me identify my location. All I see is a warm light and the fog of low-hanging clouds. Vague, I know. So I squint. I don't know why I think squinting will help because it doesn't, so I stop. The air is soft and clean across my sweaty skin, making me feel like somewhat of a stain on new carpet.

My old clothes are gone, replaced by a simple, ivory cotton dress and bare feet. I am alone without a soul in sight -

- No.

Someone is here. I can feel their presence like a dull pulse in the air. Not anyone's presence, though. There is someone here linked to me on some inexplicable level, the tether connecting us stronger and tighter than anything I felt with Ethan back on Earth. It is almost tangible, like I could reach inside of myself and grab the silk-web strings between my fingers.

A weight settles across the back of my head and I know somebody is watching me. They are close. Or maybe not so much. It is hard to tell. But there is a noise; a whisper like chimes in the wind.

"Hello?" A woman's voice chirps, easily distinguished by the chiming lilt to her tone. I spin around in circles, disorientated by the hazy surroundings as I search for her.

"Hello?" I cry out into the starkness. A mild wind picks up and the ruffle of clothing signals someone approaching. I stiffen, suddenly nervous about who might appear from the mist.

Then she appears, manifesting from the clouds. As her shadow appears, I know she is not the one my soul is strung to. But grateful I still am for the presence of another person. Like a theatre curtain being drawn open, her silhouette parts the cloudy veil and I look upon her with a resonating awe.

Golden waves of hair tumble wild and freely down her back, fanning outwards in the wind as she walks. Much like her sunshine hair, her creamy dress floats in the wind, sweeping outwards by her feet and fluttering along the floor. Her features are soft, russet eyes and baby pink lips with rosy cheeks to match. A thin, pale ring of light sits proudly upon her crown, barely noticeable, but enough to make her beauty glow.

"Hello, child. Your soul has returned," she praises with genuine excitement, welcomingly spreading her arms out by her sides. I stand still and awkwardly fiddle with the tightly woven fabric of my dress, feeling utterly inadequate beside her. "Please, come with me." A hand glides towards me, beckoning me to follow her through the misty world. She strides away, her body moving like water, her steps as silent as the bottom of the ocean. My movements are clunky in comparison as with no choice, I chase after her.

The ground is spongey beneath my naked feet yet tough enough to steadily walk upon. Oddly, the floor seems fleecy, too - wispy, translucent arms swaying to an unheard melody along the ground. My toes dampen with condensation as I churn the foggy tendrils.

I tread carefully on my tip-toes like a dancing ballerina as I attempt to lighten my leaden feet. Our walk is short and enjoyable, the silence between us comfortable as we enter a large clearing where the steam lifts. Warmth bleeds from the air, vanilla clouds suspended above our heads as a cool, crisp breeze pushes the puffs of vapour around. A crowd, much larger than the one in my previous vision, sings and caprioles, gliding with fiddles and clarinets and ukuleles as they twirl.

The air clears and so do my ears as a cacophony of symphonic music bursts around me - raspy violins, the rounded notes of the piano, the strident cellos, humming violas, the drifting lilt of the harp and reedy flutes - the tender curves of the melody flourishing harmoniously. The angels mingle amorously with one another, swaying with the delicate tunes. Smiles are exchanged like currency and flurries of ruffling wings sign for their excitement. I morbidly wonder if I am dead.

"You are not, child," my nameless rescuer reassures me. She continues walking straight ahead without pausing and I follow obediently.

As we reach the outskirts of the mass grouping, the lady who found me gently sifts through the congregation and all conversations cease with curiosity. Wings turn as men and women from all directions settle their eyes upon us. Not us. Me?

Smiles broaden impossibly wider as I follow the path being cleared like a river carving through a mountain. I only hesitate momentarily before stepping into the crowd. My foot connects with the floor and the two women either side of me lower their stance, bowing their heads. Their wings level out as they crouch to the floor, extending either side of them respectfully. I tell myself it must be a traditional angel greeting and keep pressing forward.

But the bowing doesn't stop. With each step I take, the angels fall either side of me like a ripple across a sheet of mirrored water as they widen their grey, cocoa, white, caramel coloured wings; an organised ocean of angels lined like stringed pearls, gently bowing as I pass. The wave of movement through a group of people this large is dizzying and it takes everything in me to keep my eyes focused ahead.

And then I feel a tug again. Right in the bottom of my stomach. That tether to someone - it is tightening, reeling me forwards like I have been snagged on the golden hook.

As I reach the front of the crowd I sense rather than see that everyone has silently stood up again. My back tingles with their incessant gaze but I keep my spine straight and knees locked to mask their shaking.

The girl that has guided me here stops on the second step of a small set of hand crafted marble stairs. My eyes take their time walking up each step to the base of two thrones reaching up seamlessly from the marble floor. An itch tickles annoyingly inside of my head as déjà vu rattles my mind.

The vision. It was here. Was my vision a prediction of this moment? Or a memory of it? There are no angels on the Throne this time. But the entity is here, glimmering between the chairs just as I remember. My guider sails onto one knee respectfully, her skirts pooling down the steps behind her.

"I found her on the boundary, disorientated. I trust the Prince found his way back safely?"

"Ali!" The string in my stomach becomes rigid and I turn to the familiar voice. Angels in the crowd are carelessly pushed aside, a line of gasping faces bisecting the crowd as my angel rushes through them.

Ethan's eyes are wide and unguarded, swirling in a way they never could do in the mortal realm. Light blue and dark blue clash like a tempest colliding with a summer morning, simmering within the tight confines of his irises. The silver brushes in his eyes glow and splinter like forks of lightning sewing the ribbons of colour together. I can barely hear the thunder of his boots over my heavy breaths as he rushes to me.

I am lifted from the floor instantly, his arms secure around me. He is breathing erratically, running his hands down my hair, sides, arms - every exposed part of me to ensure my wellbeing. I laugh ridiculously and hug him tighter. Eventually, I pull back and affectionately grasp his stubbled face in my little hands.

Burning with desire but having to keep it a secret has caused me the greatest pain thus far. So I stand here and make the conscious decision that I will free myself from the cage of my forbidden desires for if I can never have Ethan, I shall never love again.

"I love you, too," I whisper, remembering his last words to me on earth. He swallows thickly and the most glorious smile breaks across his face, brightening even the darkest spaces in my heart. "I love you, even though it is forbidden."

"A forbidden love is always the truest." In front of the assembly, he clasps my lips with a tender kiss full of promise and hope and love. I smile through our connected lips, a slow and soft and sensual kiss that makes my knees weak and heart race. It seems like I am feeling everything for the first time, all my senses firing off in every which direction as we pull away, bashful.

A canorous voice interrupts our reunion, an unseen but pervading presence expanding around us.

"Prince Hamon." We break apart and stand beside each other, facing the two empty thrones and the shimmering light between them. It ripples with vitality. "It is time to return to the throne."

Ethan drops to one knee, resting his forearm over his bent leg, this greeting clearly routine. I copy his movements and let my knee kiss the rubbery floor.

"Throne, my view of ruling remains. Without Angelina... it would seem that this throne can never be a home to me again." I swallow back the sting of jealousy and quickly smother the stray emotion as it has no place in my heart.

The Throne seems to pulse heartily, amused at the situation that has sprouted before him. "Open you heart and let your soul listen to her song." Ethan casts a curious glance at me and I suppress a face of confusion. "I knew love was blinding, Hamon, but I did not know your eyes were closed."

"I apologise, Throne. It appears that I do not understand," he stutters anxiously.

The Throne neglects Ethan's bafflement and instead His attention turns to me, warm tendrils of clean energy capturing my skin.

"I'm sorry, there must be some mistake. I am not sure how or why I am here, but if I return home you have my word I will never speak of this day to any soul," I promise. I shift uncomfortably on my knees, His silence stretching as He ponders me.

"A power has been unlocked, too great to be ignored. The Book of Angels has been opened by your tongue, your hands." I can't tell if He is speaking out with curiosity or accusation, so I swallow nervously and dry my clammy palms on my thighs.

"I am sorry about The Book, I understand how that was not my place to do so. But there really has been some kind of misunderstanding," I repeat.

"A misunderstanding this is not, Angelina,." The air prickles with electricity as the crowd of angels shift on their feet, shocked at The Throne's brazen proclamation.

"Oh, no. How rude of me, my name is Ali." I clear my throat nervously at the lack of response. "Um, Ali Bliss."

"No, Ali, you are the one who is mistaken. You are our Princess reincarnate; my prized child in another's body. After you fell, Ethan and I worked tirelessly to track the movements of your soul from mortal body to mortal body, but as the centuries progressed, we unfortunately lost you to the growing population." The voice seems so sad and apologetic. But this is madness.

I glance to Ethan, waiting to see his look of my shared dubiety. But uncertainty I do not see. His face is ashen, eyes swirling with deep-set emotion. He is silent, lost to the seas of his storm.

"My Child, I sense your soul - the soul I created to be partnered with Ethan's. She is singing to me now and I know you can feel it, no matter how much you attempt to convince yourself otherwise. Your soul has always sung for Ethan, even in the mortal realm, because that is how I crafted you to be. You cannot deny this, Angelina."

The Throne's light begins shifting and swirling like a typhoon of stars. The golden flecks within the entity pulsates as His silhouette begins to expand, moving through the air like a warm, deep-ocean current. The creamy light floats towards me and I scuttle out of my deep bow back onto my feet. But He catches up to me, encasing me in a sphere of His brilliant light.

Without warning my body convulses and a searing pain fires across every neuron webbing through my body. I double over onto the floor and clutch my wailing stomach, the aching overbearing. Every one of my bones cries out in agony as they lengthen and fortify until it feels like the very marrow is going to explode inside of me. My nails grow and harden, my eyes dipping in and out of focus as they blur with agony. When I feel that the pain may be subsiding, my muscles constrict painfully, toning and pulling - thinning my arms, cinching my waist, flattening across my stomach. My body is changing and for the life of me, I am petrified.

Like the settling of the tides, the waves of pain slowly wade out until there is only a dull throb left. I breathe heavily, finally able to expand my ribcage again in a full breath.

I test my feet first, standing again on legs that feel stronger and leaner, lifting a body that is lighter and lithe. I gasp at the transformation and run my eyes across my gently sun-kissed skin, admiring the definition to my arms and the elegance of my fingers. My body is no longer a hindrance and I take a step forwards feeling weightless.

"Wh-what have you done to me?" I stutter, completely taken aback by the change and yet utterly enamoured by my new physic.

"I have done nothing more than return you to your prevalent body. It should feel familiar." And strangely, familiar it does feel; like déjà vu of a frame I once occupied. But that is impossible.

"Nothing is impossible, my dear," The Throne assures heartily and just as his words finish, pain lashes across my back like I have been whipped by a leather tail.

Shards of pain puncture my spine in a careful line before flaring out across my shoulders. I spin in tight circles and claw at my shoulder blades, tears springing to my eyes as the fire burns brighter. Ethan flashes to my side, torment filling his blue eyes as my agony becomes an orchestra of wails. Determining that writhing across the floor brings no less pain, I give in and drape myself over Ethan's supportive arms, burying my head into his chest and letting my screams be muffled by his clothes.

It is surreal to be so hyperaware of your body - the way the bones extend outwards, pushing against the underside of my muscles before breaking out and slicing through the tight skin of my back. And when the skin is thoroughly torn, it is even more surreal to feel no pain at all - just relief.

My knees buckle beneath me as my body wilts with fatigue. Ethan catches my dead weight and lowers me onto the floor, resting my head in his lap as he strokes the sweat-soaked strands of hair away from my face. He smiles at me and tenderly kisses my forehead, a tear slipping happily from the corners of his eyes.

"Hi, baby," he sobs, tears glinting with happiness. His smile is illuminating; a ray of sunshine and I the sunburn in its wake.

"Hey back," I murmur and take a blissful second to breathe. Confident in myself again, I tentatively push to stand, not entirely sure of what just overcame me.

I splay my hands on the floor, ready to stand and regain some dignity. I give a little hop and draw my knees up underneath me, noting that as I do so two white sheets drape annoyingly over my shoulders. I huff around the intrusion and stand to brush the dead weight from my body. But my fingers thread through downy feather instead.

I gasp and my eyes cut to Ethan who has also stood by this time, but slowly - ever so slowly he stands and never does he look away from me as if he even blinked, I might just disappear.

"You are even more gorgeous than I remember," he chokes against a lump of emotion. He works his throat upwards and downwards, the blues of his eyes deepening behind the sheen of moisture. His hair is tossed carelessly over his head and he adjusts it nervously with a shivering hand, the faint band of light pulsing rapidly above his head. He has never looked so beautiful in his entire life.

"Remember?" I scoff and that is when he takes a wing - my wing - in his hand and pulls it outwards as if he were inspecting a broken bird's wing. My white feathers splay wide and proudly, catching the light and turning the fine tips translucent as they ruffle in the honeyed breeze.

"Oh my days..." The words spill from my mouth in a shuddering gasp. I spin in tight, clean circles trying to better glimpse at what has sprouted from my shoulder blades. I stop suddenly and throw my wings wide open forcing Ethan to leap out of the way, shouting with joy. They explode beside me in a burst of white brilliance and soft power.

I cry out in exultance and spread my arms wide, gently flapping my hefty appendages with merriment. My feet lift delicately from the floor, toes skimming the earth before I drop.

"I don't understand!" I shout excitedly. My eyes are wide - too wide, maybe, like a mad woman. But I finally feel freed. "Why did I get turned into an angel?" I gush, not the least bit displeased about the metamorphosis.

"Princess, you didn't get turned into an angel, you always were the angel," Ethan answers through a watery smile. "You are my angel," he whispers and gently touches his lips to mine in a tantalising flurry of emotion that leaves my head spinning and heart pounding just from the whisper of our breaths.

"The lost Angel has returned!" An anonymous member of the crowd hollers. Like a chain reaction of explosives, the entire crowd erupts into cheers and whoops, hollering and praising. Their clamour is like claps of thunder which rumble to my core. I stumble on my feet, telling myself that I am just overwhelmed, but soon my head feels like a helium balloon and then the visions start again.

Scene after scene, life after life and event after event flash behind my eyes; Ethan and I dancing under the umbrella of newborn constellations, Ethan's blazing gaze as I float down the immortal aisle, the magic of our kisses, the power of our touches.

And then another vision occurs, but this one I remember vividly involving the small gathering of angels, the two occupied thrones, the God and the Goddess, the touch of their hands. And now I realise my misplaced nostalgia at the vision, the familiarity of the God and the sense of return in The Kingdom. I have lived through this before. Those touches, those kisses, those mannerisms and glances. These are not visions at all. These are memories flooding back to me in broken images from my subconsciousness.

Diamond tears slip freely down my face as long-forgotten recollections flood my mind. The material world around me disintegrates and I am lost in the deluge of the life I forgot I lived.

Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Only The Throne knows how long I stand there, stoic as a Grecian statue, tears leaking down my face, a wistful smile casting my features. But the memories eventually cease and I look at my kingdom, tangible and strong before me through a blurry gaze of love and devotion.

It is still me, Ali Bliss, but I am more. With Angelina within me and the countless other women I embodied in each life, I have filled that hollowness inside of me that always aspired for more. I knew I was destined for something greater than the life I was living but little did I know that it was this.

The Throne seems pleased with my transition and Ethan sweeps me into his arms with a fiery kiss waiting for me at the top. My wings flutter excitedly and laughs, pulling our foreheads together, lost in the endlessness of one another.

"I remember," I breathe. "I remember everything."

"And I never forgot," Ethan whispers back, stroking the side of my damp cheek.

"Our Princess has returned!" The crowd praises and song wells from the people - their voices and instruments and cheering and applause coming together, knitting The Kingdom whole.