Baraqiel sees a daughter

Baraqiel rose slowly over the baby’s shoulder like a tiny sun. The infant watched him with her eyes and tried to turn her head to follow him. This was already remarkable. She was worth a closer look.

He drew away from her and slipped fully into the world, coming to hover over her cradle.

The baby’s eyes went wide, and she held her breath a moment in surprise. There was no doubt she could see him.

Each waited to see what the other would do.

Baraqiel had come scornful and mocking, prepared to prove himself right. He did not like to be wrong.

Nevertheless, he could not quite hide a smile.

Remembering the bleary vision of infants, he leaned his face closer to hers. Now her gray eyes were looking directly into his. He thought that Araphel could almost have been forgiven for thinking himself the father of such eyes.

But it was not unheard-​​of for small babies to retain their soul-​​seeing eyes, at least for a while, and their gray could easily darken into blue or brown. He would have to make certain.

He waited until his appearance had ceased to be a novelty to her and she was squirming again. Then he began to sing: “Holy, holy, holy…”

At once her little body stilled.

“You hear me!” he laughed. This was unheard-​​of. “Can you touch me?” he wondered aloud.

But she could not: his hand passed through her. She was of this world; she was mortal.

However, her tiny body was inhabited with a softly shining soul, like a sad little moon whose light is palled in mist. She was very like what he imagined Araphel would have been, if he had been made flesh and female.

An hour earlier Baraqiel had not believed it, but now his brother’s strange story seemed the least impossible explanation.

However, there was one part of the explanation he still lacked. Even if Araphel was the father–especially if he was the father – the mother must have been unusual as well.

He spoke her name aloud, but she did not stir. He leaned over her until his light shone hard on her face, but her eyelids did not twitch. To her he was not there. She was not what her child was.

He looked deeply into her, scornful and a little mocking at his brother’s affection for this flawed creature.

He thought to find only the warm clay of which her race was fashioned. At best, she might possess a spark of something more: perhaps she was the one Amarel was seeking.

What he found was a dull ruby light, a dark fire incarnate.

Now he understood how a son of heaven could have a child with this young lady, in spite of the Covenant. She was not a daughter of men.