The Better Part of Valor

In the beginning were the Angelic Brethren. When the Creation was first made, the Angel of Valor looked down on the beings of Creation with a cool, impartial eye, as did the rest of the  Brethren. Creation was his ward, and he was a groundskeeper. That was all. For countless years, he lived watering and pruning a grand garden- any piece out of place, he slipped into the physical world and quickly smoothed it out of existence. But he did not stay in Creation for longer than he needed.

Lingering in the mortal world  struck him as as a waste of energy- anything he saw would be removed by the ravages of time when he next visited. There was nothing that would last in the mortal world, anything he met would be nothing more than a distant memory in his mind. So in the heavens Valor chose to remain, unchanging, uncaring. There was only one purpose, and that was the Divine Plan. Any other attachments were unnecessary. Inefficient.

But things changed. Quickly. The Old Gods came from another world and they saw that this world was good, and they descended upon it, to seize fruits of labor not their own. They were not a part of the Divine Plan, so the Angelic Brethren struck at them but the Old Gods did not go quietly. War raged in the heavens, as far as the eye could see. As countless shattered bodies of his siblings fell from the sky, the Angel of Valor received a mighty blow in battle, and joined them, plummeting into quiet Creation below. 

His wound was far too deep, it would not heal without help. But there was no intelligent mind in the mortal world, only mere animals. He would not be receiving help for the time being. Creation was quiet today and there was no use for him here at the moment. But he could not return to the war in the heavens, he was already badly injured, and he feared to die vainly, for Heaven would still need soldiers after the war.

As Valor sat there, for the first time without a clear and obvious purpose in his mind, he heard something. The melody of birds swam into his ears. It tickled at his mind- a song that was without purpose. Without purpose. Strange. Why would they sing, if not for a purpose? But for once, thinking of his own sake, Valor shook off these thoughts crawled into a cave, falling asleep to the sound of birdsong.

In time, the Old Gods would be defeated. They and their children would settle the earth below and till the soil and guide rivers to barren fields, leaving Creation more fruitful than it was before. “Demons”, they were now called. The Brethren accepted them, as long as they kept Creation orderly, to the Divine Plan.

Valor had his old wound sealed and returned to his old post. He continued to maintain the Divine Plan- all on Creation was still peaceful, even with the demons around. But he had listened to birdsong too long, and its melody remained in his ears. It was a curious thing. He found himself thinking about Creation where he did not before. He turned that song around and around in his mind, cutting it into pieces, looking at it at every angle, trying to decipher why such a small, insignificant creature would choose to sing this particular song. Did it not have better to do with its brief existence? Why would did it choose these exact notes? Was it even thinking at all?

The Old Gods stayed quiet for a while, but not forever. This time, the demons rose up, bearing unnatural machines forged from the bones of the earth and sorcery extracted from the inner workings of the mortal mind. They had kept revenge alive in their hearts, and so again a war raged in the heavens.

Then a wise angel called out to her Brethren. Brothers, sisters, she said. Should we not learn more of the source of the demons’ new strength? Some of the Brethren did not agree, Creation is beneath us, they believed. Creation is a corruption, only The Divine Plan will see us through, we need nothing else. Some Brethren saw truth in her arguments, but also believed the study of the earth would not help them in time for the war. Creation, after all, was now enemy territory, and we cannot afford to stand by while the gates to Heaven are forced apart. And a few Brethren, especially Valor, heard and listened intently, mulling over those words. Perhaps Creation was more than simply their burden, perhaps it held the key to its own problems as well.

These few Brethren, the Angels of Creation they called themselves, followed the Angel of Wisdom down into the physical world. They took on the forms of mortals, native to the world. For his form, Valor saw merit in the mortal creature called a changeling. The Brethren created changelings as earthly kings, shapechanging masters of the animal world, and many changelings took on a form similar to the demons; it stood on two legs, and two hands, with five smaller digits on each limb, and two ears on its head, although in its ears, it resembled a lower animal more than the demons did. The changeling was purer of heart than a demon and smarter than a simple animal. But many were still swayed to the demons’ side and fought against their creators. Still, that was good, for the demons were not expecting angels to lower themselves to the level of mortals. So Valor became a changeling, at least for today.

Clad in a body of flesh, Valor immediately felt lighter, somehow. He no longer heard the Divine Plan quite as clearly, its screams to address the imbalance in Creation were now muted to a quiet drone. And he heard an old friend, the song of birds, unperturbed by the industry and noise now blackening the earth and sky. Now, Valor was keenly aware of the ticking of time, the beat of his heart, the blinking of his eyes, the breath in his throat, and he realized he did not have much time before the demons would find him in his new form, and put him to death. He had to learn what he could, and he turned towards the nearest habitation to learn more of the demons.  

But the birdsong again teased Valor’s ears and he stopped to listen. It was… nice. All this urgency, all this death around them, and the bird somehow still found time to- aha! He understood now! The birds simply rejoiced in the moment. No goals to race against, no enemy to rage against, no imperfections to hammer out of their world. Not for them. They were free to simply be, to exist.

And so he listened for a little while. For a little while, he was free too. He wished he could stay like this. But he could not. So Valor tore himself out of the moment and towards his duty. A duty that weighed more heavily on his little shoulders, for he now knew what it kept him from.