"Of course," Solomon murmured dryly as he folded the handkerchief neatly in half again to make use of any clean sections left. "A bare-footed Archangel in a cowboy hat. Please excuse me." Despite himself, Gabe almost smiled. Skul and Solomon were more similar than he'd been expecting. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised by it, given they both had Valkyrie's loyalty.
"Thank you," the Archangel said softly, meeting and holding the detective's gaze. Solomon sighed in response to Skul, wiping the last of the blood from his throat and then running a hand across his face to feel for any bits he'd missed, in lieu of having a mirror.
"I'm hardly in a position to argue, now, am I?" He was still half-expecting to be smote if he objected, Gabe could see.
Gabe wouldn't, of course, but that wasn't something by which Solomon would be convinced until it happened--or didn't, as the case may be. Still, Gabriel chose to take a seat on the bench beside the necromancer, a good foot away so that Solomon wouldn't feel too much more uneasy, and looked up at Skulduggery.
"The Passage," Gabe said, and his voice failed on him for a moment as he remembered just what he had seen, the casual certainty in Solomon that came from a strong faith. It was such a waste, for faith like that to be directed in such a place.
Please, Master, help me turn him to the better path, he whispered to the air, and tried again.
"The Passage refers to the intent, or the act, of uniting life and death," he said. "The Death Bringer is a necromancer so powerful that he or she can break down the barriers between life and death, make it so there is no difference. No one is born, but no one dies either." He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine just how this would happen in too much detail. It was difficult; the necromancers clearly had a measure of how the plane beyond the physical worked. They couldn't see it on their own, but they knew enough to know the generalities, and that meant they knew enough to have a specific plan.
Gabriel could see, in his mind's eye, all too well what would happen if they succeeded. The death of three billion people all at once. Three billion people, cast like debris into the resonance that bound every reality, blocking off this one until there was no exchange. No way to Heaven. Nowhere to go but to rot in a Hell on Earth.
This wasn't working. He opened his eyes. "It's not really a breaking of barriers," he said. "It's more like putting a blockade or a dam into the resonance between this world and the rest, to prevent souls from moving on. But such a blockade ..." His voice cracked and he blinked rapidly against the dampness in his eyes. "Such a blockade would have to be created of souls to begin with. Three billion souls, to block this world from Heaven."
Because that, truly, was what frightened him the most about the idea. Heaven was beyond, part of that stream the necromancers visualised. Hell was right here on Earth, and always had been, ever since Lucifer's Fall. No one would die, but no one would need to. If there were a Lucifer here, he would have leave to come right onto the right and do what he willed with the Hell the necromancers themselves had created.
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"Thank you," the Archangel said softly, meeting and holding the detective's gaze. Solomon sighed in response to Skul, wiping the last of the blood from his throat and then running a hand across his face to feel for any bits he'd missed, in lieu of having a mirror.
"I'm hardly in a position to argue, now, am I?" He was still half-expecting to be smote if he objected, Gabe could see.
Gabe wouldn't, of course, but that wasn't something by which Solomon would be convinced until it happened--or didn't, as the case may be. Still, Gabriel chose to take a seat on the bench beside the necromancer, a good foot away so that Solomon wouldn't feel too much more uneasy, and looked up at Skulduggery.
"The Passage," Gabe said, and his voice failed on him for a moment as he remembered just what he had seen, the casual certainty in Solomon that came from a strong faith. It was such a waste, for faith like that to be directed in such a place.
Please, Master, help me turn him to the better path, he whispered to the air, and tried again.
"The Passage refers to the intent, or the act, of uniting life and death," he said. "The Death Bringer is a necromancer so powerful that he or she can break down the barriers between life and death, make it so there is no difference. No one is born, but no one dies either." He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine just how this would happen in too much detail. It was difficult; the necromancers clearly had a measure of how the plane beyond the physical worked. They couldn't see it on their own, but they knew enough to know the generalities, and that meant they knew enough to have a specific plan.
Gabriel could see, in his mind's eye, all too well what would happen if they succeeded. The death of three billion people all at once. Three billion people, cast like debris into the resonance that bound every reality, blocking off this one until there was no exchange. No way to Heaven. Nowhere to go but to rot in a Hell on Earth.
This wasn't working. He opened his eyes. "It's not really a breaking of barriers," he said. "It's more like putting a blockade or a dam into the resonance between this world and the rest, to prevent souls from moving on. But such a blockade ..." His voice cracked and he blinked rapidly against the dampness in his eyes. "Such a blockade would have to be created of souls to begin with. Three billion souls, to block this world from Heaven."
Because that, truly, was what frightened him the most about the idea. Heaven was beyond, part of that stream the necromancers visualised. Hell was right here on Earth, and always had been, ever since Lucifer's Fall. No one would die, but no one would need to. If there were a Lucifer here, he would have leave to come right onto the right and do what he willed with the Hell the necromancers themselves had created.
Beside him, Solomon stirred.