Chapter 4 Visions of Henry
Narrator: Ikart
Location: Celestial Realm

“Melvin, what was Henry’s relationship with Panea like?” I asked, watching the guardian’s carefully controlled expression.

“Friends,” Melvin replied tersely, though the slight shift of his wings betrayed unease.

“Was there a falling out? Could Henry have had any reason to harm her?” I pressed, my thoughts racing. When I scanned him earlier, his energy was wild—unusually strong for a shaman. Most shamans dismiss their guardians after mastering spirit control, yet Henry felt… different. Inexperienced? Unconventional? Or perhaps he’d simply misstepped.

My mind lingered on the possibility. Could Henry have accidentally ‘erased’ her?

“There is no way for a carbonite to hurt a celestial,” Melvin said. His energy levels were steady but slightly raised, consistent with a defensive response. The guardian appeared to shut the door on the idea before it could take root.

I smirked, sensing Melvin might be protecting Henry. “Some shaman surpass warrior-class angels,” I said, letting the words hang in the air. “And I’ve learned Henry had a relationship with Panea. Perhaps it’s time to reconsider your assessment.”

Melvin’s wings twitched again, his deep blue eyes narrowing as he hesitated. “His brother was close to her,” he admitted quietly, his energy betraying his reluctance. “Panea has only spent a little time with Henry since his brother’s arrest by the Archies. Both are carbon—no match for a celestial.” His gaze dipped, the weight of those last words carrying a sorrow he tried to hide.

“Hmm.” I leaned forward slightly, my tone sharpening. “I’m not here to debate hypotheticals, Melvin. I’m here as an investigator. And I suspect your master possesses celestial powers and had a relationship with Panea. So, I’ll ask again: does Henry have a reason to harm her?”

Melvin straightened his tone firm but layered with quiet frustration. “My master wouldn’t harm anyone, not even if provoked. He’s endured more than you could imagine and still clings to his humanity. If you want to speak with him, he’s on the beach now.”

“Not yet,” I said, cutting him off.

Melvin’s expression tightened, but his voice remained steady. “No, Henry has no reason to harm Panea. He’s been his usual self, laughing with friends about life after college. If there’s anything darker, it’s likely demons—maybe he’s fallen for one of their lies.”

I snorted. “The old ‘devil made me do it’ excuse? Really, Melvin? Blaming Lucifer is lazy. Sure, he’s vain and narcissistic, but he’s not orchestrating every screw-up. Even he deserves a second chance—after all, Jehovah made him the scapegoat.”

Melvin’s wings flexed slightly, and his voice dropped into a warning tone. “Ikart, tread carefully. Jehovah’s judgment is swift, even for thoughts.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. “Spare me the sermon, Melvin.”

Melvin’s gaze softened, but his tone stayed firm. “Henry’s struggle is internal. He magnifies his flaws, doubts his future despite his stellar record, and lacks the grounding of a family.”

I raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “No family?”

“Not anymore,” Melvin said quietly, the weight of those words heavy in the air. “He feels isolated, though he has skills far beyond most carbonites—skills taught by shamans and spiritualists of remarkable power.”

I tilted my head, curiosity flaring. “Who were his teachers?”

“Primarily his brother, Tom. More recently, Sodo, Elijah… and occasionally Elizabeth.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Elizabeth? Do you mean… the “Elizabeth”? John the Baptist’s mother?”

“Yes. She guided him as a spiritual mentor,” Melvin said, his tone softening. “Henry is far more capable than you realize. Or maybe you think he is more powerful. I still don’t think he can defeat a Celestial or any spirit.”

“You’re beating a dead horse, guardian. And this brother, Tom—did Panea know him?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, catching the faint flicker of pain in Melvin’s eyes.

“Yes,” Melvin said with a slow nod. “Panea and Tom were close. They met after the Snyder brothers lost their parents, grandparents, and baby sister in a landslide. Henry and Tom were the only survivors.”

“I remember the Snyder case,” I said, my voice tinged with quiet reflection. “Tom was overwhelmed with grief. He suspected his guardian was involved in the tragedy. But I never found any evidence to confirm it.”

“Correct,” Melvin replied, his wings shifting as if the memory unsettled him. “Anyway, that’s when Panea entered his life. She helped him establish his sunrise devotions and introduced him to the creation of prana.”

“How close were the brothers?” I asked, studying Melvin for any hesitation.

“They stayed connected,” Melvin began, his tone measured, “but as they grew older, they drifted apart. When Tom turned 18, he earned a scholarship to NBU and moved into a dorm. Tom was growing in ways Henry couldn’t follow. He became immersed in deeper spiritual practices, ones even the gods barely understood. Panea guided him into tantric energy work, unlocking knowledge far beyond the accepted forms of prana.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion mingling with intrigue. “Tantric energy to create prana? That’s… audacious. And beyond even the gods’ understanding.”

“Yes,” Melvin said quietly, his voice almost reverent. “Tom uncovered secrets that few possess and even fewer can wield. Panea guided him, but their bond only widened the distance between the brothers.”

“And then Tom was murdered,” I said, my voice flat but deliberate, the words slicing through the air.

“Yes,” Melvin admitted, his shoulders sinking slightly. “Last year. Henry hasn’t fully recovered. His world collapsed—again.”

*****

Henry rolled two mugwort spliffs infused with Acapulco Gold. The spirits who inspired its creation would have approved. The kid had good taste. The cool morning air wrapped around him like a familiar embrace as he strolled toward the water.

For two months now, Henry had made this ritual his anchor: sunrise, sand, prayer, and reflection. He removed his clothes and knelt at the water’s edge. After a brief prayer, he lay down in the sand. As the vision unfolded in his mind, I entered his unconsciousness. Melvin was there, too, watchful as always.

An Archangel descended from the heavens, his enormous wings shimmering with silver and white feathers. He landed gently on the water and stood nine meters tall. He wore a bronze helmet, a breastplate, and a crimson tunic. His piercing hazel eyes made him appear both a benevolent guardian and an unyielding enforcer.

Removing his helmet, he tucked it under his arm and rested his hand on the hilt of an ornate sword. His wings retracted until they were completely hidden. When he spoke, his voice boomed with authority.

“I am Michael, the Archangel. I am here to warn you. Henry, brother of Thomas, a messenger, is forthcoming. Beware. Turn your eyes away. Do not read or interpret any signs from this messenger. You are warned. What you see, you cannot unsee. What you hear, you cannot unhear.”

Henry blinked, then frowned. “I can’t believe you are threatening me. Nope. No, no no! I am not letting you do this. I don’t care that I’m naked. I don’t care that it’s breezy. This is NOT the revelation I’ve been praying for; you are not who you say you are.” He scoffed as he sat up, lighting his second spliff. “Speak the truth. Who are you, really?”

“Michael.”

“Dude, you are not Michael. Sure, you are big, and you put on a good act, even if it’s a little scary. But I don’t feel the energy of an Archangel. I know my energy levels. My guardian is at the same level as you. And whoever he is with now has more than all of you combined. I honestly don’t know how my brother put up with celestials. I’m going to ask you one last time before I suck every joule of energy out of you and send your angel ass into the sea. Do you want to test me?”

“You can’t do anything to a celestial.” The angel stiffened his chin proudly.

“I am asking you one last time, and then you will find out what I can or cannot do. Who are you? And don’t lie to me.”

“I was not lying.”

“Who are you?”

“I was sent to observe you.”

“And?”

“I’m a remote monitor, ” the angel said quietly. However, Henry’s enhanced hearing picked up on every word and every nuance.

“Do you want to repeat what you said louder?

The angel repeated what he said louder.

“Who sent you?” asked Henry, clearly annoyed, taking another puff.

“Okay. Enough. I am Remard, I was sent by Michael, an Archangel of the Lord Most High.”

“Why did he send you?”

“My master is aware of your earnest prayers for revelation. I am here to observe you with the coming messenger. I am here representing him. Anything you say to me is relayed immediately to Michael.”

“That’s not happening. You lied to me. Not a great first impression.” Henry shook his head. “Tell Michael I appreciate the heads-up, but I don’t need a nosy spy hovering over me. I will meet with this messenger and determine my next actions. You need to go.” Henry snuffed out his spliff and laid back down.

Remard stiffened. “You are a foolish carbonite. Very well. But you have invited your death.”

Henry’s expression shifted from defiance to regret as the angel disappeared into the sky. He couldn’t help but think he had wasted his spliff. Henry reached over to his bag and pulled out a bottle of water and a blunt.

Two blunts later, a brilliant light pierced the sky, descending through the puffy clouds and bathing them in a fiery orange glow. Henry squinted, struggling to discern the diminutive figure emerging from the light. He barely caught a glimpse of wings through the haze and assumed it to be a female angel.

Though smaller than the last angel he had encountered, this one was no less radiant. Hovering gracefully a meter above the waves, she wore a delicate pink-and-white garment that shimmered softly, her piercing blue eyes locking onto him with unsettling clarity. As she drew closer, her luminosity intensified, engulfing her form in an overwhelming brilliance. Henry shielded his eyes, unable to bear the sheer magnitude of her light.

“Henry, I am Panea, guardian of Gwen; I was your brother’s first teacher. You can learn many other skills from Ikart, a scribe for Jehovah. He is present through me to provide a record of our meeting. I come to present to you a message from the Tree of Knowledge.” Her voice was faint.

“Panea, I can’t see, and you need to speak up.”

“Sorry. Please come forward and sit under this olive tree.” Panea spoke much louder this time. A large tree appeared. As Henry squatted, the angel’s radiance dissipated, and another Angel appeared behind him, looking a bit timid. Henry wondered where this tree came from.