Rafael snuck into Gomorrah under the cover of the night. He'd stuck to the river and avoided contact, the blade, he'd slipped in his pants and the sheets, he'd used to cover himself like a shawl.
If the blade had found its way down there, then he could too. and he did, wading the water, for a short while to reach the town. He'd planned to sneak into the log house, but he overheard a conversation that changed his mind.
"When does the night shift start?" A sinner asked another, sitting across the fire from him. He had a small wineskin with him and he seemed to take sips from it regularly.
"For the silos? It's already begun." His friend replied offhandedly.
Rafael paused at this point, what silos were they referring to?"
"Darn! And I got the sin silo today, he scrambled to his feet, "Brut will surely have my head." He added and took a swig, leaving the other man there. Rafael followed him, sticking to the shadows till they got to a clearing where the silos were mounted. The place was crawling with sinners and Brut was barking out orders in the distance. He was completely confused.
"Hey man."
The sinner turned; a bit drunk. Rafael waved him over, he didn't want to come into the light. The man came over, his movement, a bit slow.
"What are these silos for?"
"Pfft, are you the only one that doesn't know what's happened in Rothgard in these few days?" He leaned in, getting a view of Rafael before he could back away. "It's for the gifts the family received upon yer death, sir."
Rafael gasped.
The man's eyes widened in the realization of what he'd just said and Rafael dragged him in before the yell could escape his mouth.
"Yer alive-"
"Keep it down." He squeezed through tight lips. "Now what do you mean by my death?" He asked, loosening his grip over the man's mouth.
He made some muffled sounds and Rafael pulled his arm higher behind him.
"I'll tell you without any hesitation, sir. There's no need for this." He managed, puffing in distress. Rafael let him go and he faced him, flexing his arm. "The news is that Chadnezzar of the Bull Order felled you and your burial is in a fortnight. But how are you alive?"
"All in good time my man. Now, I'll need your help."
"Anything sire."
Rafael chuckled, *And Mycroft thought coming here was wrong. * …
***********************************
A few minutes later, Rafael was on his way to the silo. He'd added a slight stagger to his steps. A man that carried a wineskin stash around was definitely a habitual drunkard so he had to look the part. He also drooped his shoulders a bit, leaning back. A combination of this, his tattered clothes, and a dirtied face giving him exactly what he'd planned.
Brut was there, along with some other sinners and he was dishing out commands on their posts and everything.
"Late again Lot, you drunkard. You have no idea what your post means right?"
Rafael didn't respond, rather waving an arm in apology.
"Are you too drunk to reply? I can't have a drunken man on duty.' Brut walked closer and Rafael knew he had to speak up.
"The tales of this scorch ale ain't lies after all." His voice was as loud and coarse as he could manage as he held out the wineskin and the men erupted in laughter. Brut shook his head and walked away.
"Now yer oafs 'ave to guard this silo with yer lives! I don't have to remind yer all who sent it. And we don't want any problems with Lady Medea do we?"
"No sir!"
"Good. Now, for yer places. Ger you take the top level. Lot, you get the midway line, and Mel, you stand guard at the foot here. Grab your torches." He watched as a deep sigh escaped the man's lips and curled his lip. "I'll be making my rounds too. Just to make sure everything is in order." He added, his eyes on Lot.
Rafael looked about from his vantage point, he could see most of Gomorrah from here, and surely Ger could see the rest and even into Sodom, he thought, looking up. He checked positions, according to Lot, Brut would come by again shortly before the second watch of the night. He needed to kick his plan into action.
"Whatcha doing here?"
"Hold yer horses Ger." Rafael coughed a bit, he'd taken the coarse part too far.
"Shoulda knew you were dead drunk. Wait till Brut gets here."
"Hey, hey, I'm fine." He defended, supporting himself on the banister. "But you aren't."
"What you talking about?"
"Yer kissin' up to Brut, following him around. Wait till he finds out what yer been doing behind him."
"What you talking about?" The question was repeated, however this time the voice faltered and, he looked slightly flushed, even with the light available from the torches.
"Sure yer could call it the way of sinners. We'll see just what Brut makes of that when he arrives. That is if Anais doesn't get to him first." Lot added, "offhandedly".
Ger rushed past him, pausing slightly. "Stand in for me, I beg of you. My life is at stake."
"Go for it," Rafael whispered.
As soon as he was alone, Rafael uncovered the silo and put his regalia in it, the hexagonal plate had a latch that could be opened up to let the sin in. He filled up the plate, even the tubes. The sin seared him a bit, upon contact with his fingers and he had to adjust slightly.
He looked within, and it seemed to draw him into endless depths. He bent over slowly, the darkness drawing him to itself.
"Lot!"
…
"Lot!"
…
"Lot, you drunk oaf! You fall asleep?!
"Don't make me come up there!" He yelled, the voice faltering a bit. He gripped the rail with both hands and repeated the statement, faltering even more.
He took a step at a time, planting his feet firmly. His boots clanged against the metal rungs, making a continuous ringing sound like a bell. He nodded with each clang like it was some kind of assurance of the support beneath him.
Rafael was falling into the deep, but this familiar sound came ringing in his head. A bell pealing in the distance.
Suddenly, he was home and everything was normal.
Elysha came to him and took his hand, he tried to tell her about the sound but he couldn't speak. The words won't come out. He motioned but she shook her head, she couldn't hear anything.
She was leading him to Zion and away from the sound but it seemed to draw closer too. He tried to let go of her but her grip turned adamantine.
He looked at her, confused, and tried to pull his arm out but his movements were becoming slower like he was underwater.
His wrist burned with a searing pain but when he tried to yell, nothing came out. Fear kicked in. He struggled to no avail.
She was ahead, walking on like nothing was going on.
He moved forward, reaching for her shoulder, his hand moved like they were leaden and just before his fingertips could make contact, she turned and faced him, but there wasn't any face there.
He gasped, but the exhale wasn't coming. There was a grotesque mask where her face should've been.
He struggled with a renewed vigor, fueled by confusion and fear but he wasn't making any headway. She kicked the gates open, Rafael could see the Apostles' home, standing in its majesty. For a moment, he paused, lost in his memory
As if someone set a page on fire, the place began to burn up, from the edges of his vision, turning into something darker.
As if suddenly struck by the realization, he struggled against her grip but he was choking. He still couldn't exhale.
His eyes widened in horror, the darkness, was revealing itself.
Suddenly a bright light struck from the sky and into the ground. It dissipated and he stood there, in his golden robes.
The setting exploded with his arrival and they hung in darkness.
"Ayzikel!" Rafael yelled, without making a sound. He fell on "all fours" except the arm still within her grip, coughing.
Elysha left him, squealing as his presence burned her away.
Rafael's arm dropped, then went to his chest. He was gulping the air but it drove spears into his lungs with each breath. He looked at Ayzikel, his eyes brimming with tears.
He walked to Rafael, from his combed back grey hair and slim eyes and down to his covered feet, he shone with a blinding light.
"Cumi." He extended his arm and Rafael felt some kind of force eject him.
When he opened his eyes, he was crashing through the air, his regalia in his arms.