Chapter 58: The Higherest Up

Serenith feels, for the first time in what might be centuries, absolutely, uncomplicatedly blissful.

Her whole body has gone light and breezy, her mind dipped in something warm and slow and syrupy, every thought arriving soft and languid.

Her frame sinks in on itself, melting into her own contentment like she’s finally set down a weight she forgot she’d been carrying.

Then her eyes flutter open, and the eldritch hellscape that nearly cracked her mind apart a moment ago has resolved itself into something else entirely. Before her was a vast, immaculate, impossibly clean transport hub, angels darting between platforms in every direction, tiered levels stretching further than her mind would let her properly process.

It’s mind-numbling serene.

Gold and pale marble underfoot, water features trickling somewhere unseen, columns rising into a ceiling that seems to be several different skies at once, all of them cloudless.

Everything polished and ordered and utterly free of anything as disorderly as a plant, an animal, or a stray leaf.

Nothing here to catch on, nothing to interrupt the smooth, endless choreography of billions of angels crossing paths without ever once colliding.

She hums to herself, bobbing gently in place as she patiently waits to be collected.

A swirl of holy light opens beside her, and an angel folds out of it, his body shifting between realities instantly. The swirl neatly contracts until it forms into a halo above his head.

"Welcome to Angel Transports, Sector MD-14. My sincerest apologies for the wait," he says warmly. "My name is Harold, Angelic Transportation Assistance."

"Oh, that’s entirely alright," Serenith says, just as warm. "I was enjoying the scenery. I am Serenith," she offers, cheerful, "1st seat of the Ninth Choir, Eighty-Seventh Epsilon Order, Three Hundred Fifty-Sixth Branch of the Chorus of Mercy, Mortal Affairs Division. I’m here to deliver a report regarding mortal plane E47-G3-A."

He bows slightly, clearly delighted to be of use. "Of course, Serenith. A pleasure to be of assistance. If you’ll follow me."

He leads her onto a small circular platform, taps a console, and smiles. "Wings inside the glyphs at times, please."

She tucks hers in, and gentle golden light rises to swallow them both, elevator music drifting in from nowhere and everywhere at once as the platform shifts beneath her feet.

"Apologies for the length of the trip," Harold says. "Mortal Affairs is twelve sectors out. We’ll be passing through a few juvenile realities to get there." He glances at her. "Would you like to enjoy the scenery in the meantime?"

"Please." she smiles appreciatively, "I’ve always found trans-dimensional travel rather charming."

He taps the console again, and the golden light fades in a slow ring until a small portal-window opens beside her.

Serenith leans against it, gazing out as a quiet, content warmth settles over her.

Outside, countless realities fold into and over and through one another. Worlds blooming and collapsing in the same breath, timelines braiding together and pulling apart again, an endless, mind-melting amalgamation of existence that would detonate a mortal skull on contact and leave nothing behind but a disjointed plasma of burnt-out cells.

Serenith just tilts her head, admiring the shifting, alien colors like she’s watching clouds drift past on a lazy afternoon, utterly unbothered by the fact that she’s currently looking directly at the seams of creation.

"How’s the mortal plane?" Harold asks.

"Same as always." Serenith replies. "Complete chaos."

They share a short chuckle, and Serenith turns back to the view outside.

Eventually they arrive at the administration building for Mortal Affairs. It appears to her as a small, unassuming structure sitting alone in the middle of an endless and serene heavenly plain.

Inside, a reception desk sits in the centre of the room. Serenith notes she cannot actually figure out the geometry of the desk at all, which seemed to shift and fracture with the movement of her own vision.

And behind it, or in front, sometimes in between, sat an angel who brightens the moment they walk in.

"Mortal Affairs." Harold announces, gesturing ahead with a sweep of his hand.

"Thank you, Harold." Serenith bows.

"A pleasure." Harold says as he bids her farewell, "I hope you have a lovely eon."

His halo flares above him, winding into a swirling, sparking vortex before swallowing him whole and vanishing with a satisfying pop.

Serenith smiles pleasantly as she approaches the desk. "I need to file a report, please."

"Of course," the receptionist says, and leads her through a side door into a room the size of a small star system, filing cabinets stacked like mountain ranges float through reality in every direction, their drawers glowing faintly with the light of every report they hold.

Serenith steps up to a console, types something in, and the entire room shifts.

Cabinets orbiting slowly past each other like planets recalculating their paths, drifting into new formations with the low, groaning hum of something built on a scale that was never meant to move quickly at all.

"How’s the mortal plane?" the receptionist asks, making easy conversation while they wait.

Serenith shrugs. "Same as always. Complete chaos."

They share a soft, knowing snicker, and then both their halos flare at once, and their eyes go wide.

A wide golden swirl of holy magic tears open beside them, and an angel steps through, radiant enough that both of them immediately bow, heads lowered from the sheer brilliance of her appearance.

"Are you Serenith," the angel asks, "of the Ninth Choir, Eighty-Seventh Epsilon Order, Three Hundred Fifty-Sixth Branch of the Chorus of Mercy... here to deliver a report on mortal plane E47-G3?"

"E47-G3-A, yes." Serenith says, still bowed low. "That’s me."

"Follow me please."

Serenith rises and has to shield her eyes from the angel’s overwhelming brightness. The angel notices.

"Filed the complaint weeks ago." She says with the slightest hint of irritation, "Still waiting on someone from maintenance to actually fix it."

She taps her halo a few times and the brightness dims enough to not sting Serenith’s eyes.

"Come on." She smiles, already moving, wings snapping open with an urgency Serenith hasn’t seen from anyone since she arrived. "Hurry. The higher-ups want to see you."

Serenith’s contented haze flickers, just slightly, something almost like nerves surfacing underneath it.

She falls into step behind the glowing angel anyway, the overwhelming urge to comply with her heavenly mandate, winning out over whatever’s left of her caution.