The 24th Aethyr
NIA; en-ee-ah | Movement Through Time and Space: Rebirth
An angel like a warrior in chain armor, Upon his head plumes of grey; About his feet are scorpions, dogs, Lions, elephants and other wild beasts; Crackling of lightning, Rolling thunder and sounds of battle.
In his true form, Castiel is this: a celestial warrior, an angel of the Lord. His armor is the strength of his faith, his blade a manifestation of his will. He is raised, suspended, a constantly fluctuating wavelength of righteous intent, upon multiple dimensions of time and space.
He is thought, point, line and form - a litany of his Father’s creations. He is part bird, part man, part scorpion, dog, lion, elephant... No. No, these and other wild beasts are part him, for angels came beforehand.
Castiel arrived on Thursday, when Father saw that Creation still had far to go. From a single, divine teardrop, the angel was formed. He was named for his lonely journey (casto-, castus-; pure, cut off, separate) from God (-iel).
This angel floats above tiny, tiny armies of creatures. He floats above them all. Yet they are not insignificant. With two pairs of wings that are plumes of black, white and all manner of grey in between - wings are manifestations of an angel’s grace after all - his grace is as untamed as the legion beneath his feet. When he is strong, these creatures flourish, the rapid cycles of their lives like the wind beneath his wings.
But now, there are impurities, stolen necessarily from Lucifer and far too many of their kindred. Castiel's grace shatters in the Morningstar's hands as this new mixture ionizes the air. It lights up the sky and brings thunder upon the surrounding earth.
In the resulting crater underneath, he sees his empty vessel, prone, corpse-like and encased in ice. So broken. He tries to get back inside.
Come away!
Thursday’s child is swept up by the voice, does not see its source, and must reach...
Every moment that we fly shall cover an aeon. And every place on which we rest Shall be a young universe rejoicing in its strength; The meadows thereof shall be covered with flowers.
Nothing. Nothing can be reached. But he tries. And he flies past the story of creation in a whirlwind, in a blink of an eye. It has been so long since he’s been able to do this that he forgets about a physical body...
There! He sees Heaven when it was its own garden and there was no Hell. He spies the little grey fish that carried forth the big plan, and Castiel the Curious almost taking a step-
Come away!
That same voice again. Who? Why art thou hidden from me, whom I hear? He asks in Enochian as he looks about in every which way.
The price of the journey is little, Though its name be death. Thou shalt die to all that thou fearest and hopest And hatest and lovest and thinkest and art. Yea! thou shalt die, even as thou must die. For all that thou hast, thou hast not; All that thou art, thou art not!
Through hearing all this, he begins to tremble. Remembers bravery in the face of fear, anger and iced up tears. Sensation starts seeping back in, as does an incredible warmth. Then he is tumbling, spiraling - spilling onto his mortal shell once more. And tainted grace overflows from his vessel into the Earth, that laps it up greedily.
The fishes that have been frozen barely milliseconds ago are just as quickly thawed. Wildlife carries on as though winter was a passing daydream, and the crater around him, in a blinding burst, becomes a vibrant pasture.
Come...
Let being be emptied in the infinite abyss! For by me only shalt thou mount; Thou hast none other wings than mine.
He opens his eyes to blue skies with bare slivers of white clouds and the coldest, brightest archangel to have ever graced the Heavenly Host. There are metallic hues at the edge of his vision. Castiel tilts his head and looks towards the grass, to the sun-kissed fruit and flowers… He then spies his own wings, full of grace again, but no longer monochromic. Now, they are frost-tipped, almost crystalline at the edges and so light.
Lucifer has granted… Triggered… This. Miracle? Phenomena? Aethyr? Aethyr… With one last look at his stunned brother, Castiel tells him, Liar. You may pretend to know all, Lucifer, but I know you did not see that coming.
The bright angel of Thursday understands. Understands that the Morningstar means to kill him, and wills himself away!
Trigger: In place of angels begotten only by God, the archangel Lucifer destroys yet begets his brother anew when he flays Castiel's grace, thus allowing the Behemoth an opening into the vessel that once housed the Leviathan (Big Plans Little Fish).
Manifestation: Too much grace no longer harms Castiel's vessel but leaks into the surrounding environment, facilitating supernatural growth of the Earth.
Too little grace and Castiel will unwittingly siphon energy from his surroundings, causing unnatural withering, weathering and/or foundation-weakening decay.
