Chapter 27 – The Celestial Banquet, Part One

“Hold still!” Alia demanded.

“I-I AM holding still,” Grace muttered. “You’re the one bouncing around like you’ve had ten cups of that… that… weird… angel coffee!”

Alia continued yanking Grace’s arm up to measure it against a flowing sleeve of silver fabric. They stood in the middle of the Divine Wardrobes, a chamber so massive Grace couldn’t see the walls in any direction. Just endless rows of shimmering fabrics, glittering accessories, and ceremonial attire stretching as far as the eye could see. The air smelled like fresh linen and some kind of flowery scent Grace couldn’t name.

“It’s not every day your friend gets invited to the CELESTIAL BANQUET,” Alia said, emphasizing each syllable like it was the most important event in history. Which, based on everyone’s reactions so far, it might as well have been.

Zephyr circled Grace with a critical eye, holding up different color swatches against her skin.

“Mmm… Gold washes you out,” she decided, tossing the fabric aside. “Silver is better with your coloring.”

“Does it really matter what I wear?” Grace asked. “I’m just going to stand in the corner trying not to embarrass myself anyway.”

Alia and Zephyr gasped in perfect unison, looking scandalized.

“JUST going to stand in the corner?!” Alia clutched her chest. “Grace, this is the CELESTIAL BANQUET. It happens once every CENTURY. Important angels have KILLED to get invitations!”

“She’s exaggerating,” Zephyr said, then paused. “Well, mostly exaggerating.”

[… What?]

Before Grace could respond, two slim angels with identical platinum-blonde hair and impossibly perfect features swooped down on them, their wings leaving trails of glitter in the air.

“Darling! DARLING!” the first one said in a bizarre accent Grace had never heard before. Maybe they were from some distant part of Lianaria. “Is zis ze little one everyone is talking about? Ze demon killer?”

“Ze tiny but mighty wahrrior?” the second one added, circling Grace like a vulture eyeing its next meal.

Alia beamed.

“Lumi, Sol, this is Grace! Grace, these are the Divine Wardrobers. They dress all the important angels.”

“And now we dress YOU!” Lumi (or possibly Sol, they were quite similar and Alia failed to designate them appropriately) declared, producing a measuring ribbon from thin air.

The next hour was a blur of fabric, pins, and the twins talking over each other in their strange accents. Grace stood like a doll as they draped different materials over her, occasionally making noises of approval or disgust.

“No, no, NO!” Sol (or… possibly Lumi) cried, ripping away a blue silk. “Zis shade of blue is for ze Ascended Choir! We cannot put her in ze wrong faction colors!”

“She needs something neutral but memorable,” the other twin agreed.

“Um, could someone explain the color thing to me?” Grace asked, raising her hand like a schoolchild.

Zephyr stepped in, her expression turning serious.

“Well, angel fashion isn’t just about looking good. It’s political. Each faction has their colors and styles.”

“Here in the Dominion, we have gold and red for Bravery Sisters,” Alia added, counting on her fingers. “Blue and silver for Compassion. Pink for Love.”

“Black for ze Seraphim Guard,” one twin supplied.

“Green for ze Earth-Tenders,” added the other. “Gray for ze Veil.”

“Rainbow shades for Archangels like Celestia, though she’s the only one right now,” Zephyr continued. “And white is reserved for celestial neutrality—those who don’t align with any faction.”

“Which is why YOU,” Lumi/Sol, one of them, poked Grace’s nose, “are so complicated, darling! You are a Bravery Sister, a Compassion Sister, and a Love Sister! At once! Unprecedented!”

Grace’s head spun with all this new information.

“So what CAN I wear?”

The twins exchanged glances. Then, they nodded, smirking at each other.

“Silver base with gold, blue, and pink accents,” they said in perfect unison. “Subtle enough to honor all three without claiming any one above the others!”

“Smart,” Zephyr nodded approvingly.

“BRILLIANT!” Alia clapped her hands.

“… I’ll take your word for it,” Grace mumbled.

The twins disappeared in a flurry of fabric and returned moments later with arms full of shimmering material. They worked with frightening speed and precision, draping, cutting, and somehow sewing without any visible needles or thread.

“So,” Grace said, trying to distract herself as they worked around her, “who else will be at this banquet?”

“Everyone who’s anyone,” Zephyr replied. “The Radiant Council… Which is basically just Celestia. All three sect leaders too.”

“The Seraphim Guard will handle security,” Alia chimed in. “They’re super intense. Like Diana, but worse. Oh, and, in case you’re wondering, yeah they were named after Seraph. They’re kinda like fans of hers.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Alia nodded. “Seraph has tons of fans. She’s kind of a big deal for warrior angels. Huge inspiration for them.”

[Wow.]

“The Ascended Choir will be there too,” Zephyr continued. “They’re the scholars and mystics. Very stuck-up, think they know everything.”

“And…” Alia lowered her voice to a whisper, “rumor has it even some of The Veil might show up.”

Grace tried to remember where she’d heard that name before.

“The Veil? Aren’t they the fallen angels?”

“Not fallen, darling,” a new voice purred from behind them. “Merely… independent thinkers.”

The twins froze. Alia’s eyes went wide. Zephyr straightened her posture immediately.

Venus stood in the aisle, her long black hair cascading down her tanned back like a waterfall of ink. Her golden eyes were fixed on Grace with that usual expression of hers that made Grace get butterflies in her stomach.

“Lady Venus,” the twins said in unison, bowing deeply.

“Lumi, Sol,” Venus nodded to them. “Your work is impeccable as always. But I believe our little demon-slayer needs more than just the right dress to prepare for the banquet.”

[I don’t like the sound of that.]

Venus glided closer, her movement so smooth she might have been floating.

“Eternia smiles upon me finding you here, little one,” she said, reaching out to brush her fingers through Grace’s hair. “I was just thinking you might benefit from some… personal instruction before your debut.”

Grace’s face heated up immediately.

“I, um, instruction?”

“Of course. The banquet is as much a battlefield as any demon nest,” Venus explained. “Just with smiles instead of swords, and whispers instead of screams. You’ll need to know how to navigate it, dear.”

She turned to Alia and Zephyr.

“You two may go. The twins and I will take good care of Grace.”

“But—” Alia started to protest.

“Go. Don’t worry, I won’t melt your friend,” Venus repeated, her voice honey-sweet but leaving no room for argument.

Alia and Zephyr exchanged looks, then reluctantly backed away.

“We’ll see you later,” Zephyr promised.

“If you survive,” Alia added with a nervous giggle before Zephyr dragged her away.

[NOT HELPING, ALIA!]

“Now then,” Venus turned back to Grace, her golden eyes gleaming with something that made Grace’s heart race. “Let’s begin your real education.”

GULP

—

“No, no, little one. Like this.”

Venus’s hands were on Grace’s wings, adjusting their position for what felt like the hundredth time. Her touch was gentle but firm, and each brush of her fingers sent shivers down Grace’s spine.

“You want your wings half-raised when greeting the Bravery Sisters in a formal event like the Banquet,” Venus instructed. “It shows respect without submission.”

Grace tried again, raising her small white wings to the angle Venus demonstrated.

“Better,” Venus purred, circling around to face her. “Now, the greeting itself.”

She demonstrated the motion, a closed fist pressed against the heart, then extended the fist forward.

“Strength offered in service,” Venus explained. “That’s what it symbolizes.”

Grace copied the movement, feeling ridiculous.

“Good. Now for the Compassion Sisters.”

This time, Venus showed her a different wing posture—wings fully lowered. Which, at Grace’s height, almost had them dragging on the ground.

“Complete humility before those who heal,” she explained. “And the greeting…”

She placed her hands together as if in prayer, then opened them outward like a book, still touching at the pinkies.

“The offering of one’s heart to be read and healed.”

Grace mimicked the motion, trying to memorize each distinct ritual.

“And for your Sisters of Love?” Grace asked, already dreading the answer based on Venus’s growing smile.

“For us,” Venus stepped intimately close, her face mere inches from Grace’s, “the greeting is more… personal.”

She tilted Grace’s chin up with one finger, then pressed her lips softly to each of Grace’s cheeks before finally placing a third, lighter kiss at her lips.

Grace’s entire body went rigid, her face burning hotter than a blacksmith’s forge.

“T-That’s the official greeting?!” she squeaked.

Venus laughed, a sound like silver bells.

“Have you forgotten my lessons already, dear? What did I tell you?”

“… A kiss is just a kiss,” Grace muttered.

“Indeed. And this kiss signifies the offering of pleasure and connection. Each kiss symbolizes mind, heart, and body—all unified in love.”

“And I’m supposed to do that with EVERY Love Sister I meet?!”

“Oh yes,” Venus’s eyes danced with mischief. “Though as a member of our sect, you’ll be receiving more than giving.”

Her cheeks heated up, just imagining how embarrassing that would be.

[Kill me.]

“But since you walk all three paths,” Venus continued, brushing a strand of hair from Grace’s face, “you must be prepared to both give and receive all three greetings. It’s… unprecedented.”

That word again. Unprecedented. Grace was getting sick of it.

“What about the other factions?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “The Seraphim Guard and the, um, Ascended Choir? The others?”

“Simple nods for all” Venus replied. She leaned in close again, her breath tickling Grace’s ear. “But if you encounter someone from The Veil… Well, some would say you should simply avoid eye contact and move away.”

Grace swallowed hard.

“And with Archangels like Celestia?”

“Celestia is the only Archangel,” Venus said simply. “At least, officially. When you see her, kneel. Wings fully extended on the ground. Head bowed. No eye contact until she touches your shoulder.”

“That’s a lot to remember,” Grace muttered. “Feels weird having to be so formal with her given how she usually treats me.”

“As I said, this whole event is about appearances,” Venus smiled. “In any case, practice. Again and again, until your body remembers even if your mind forgets.”

For the next two hours, Venus drilled Grace on every possible social interaction she might encounter at the banquet. Despite her embarrassment, Grace found herself growing more comfortable with Venus’s touch, her closeness, even her flirtatious nature.

[Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.]

Then, a firm knock interrupted them.

Diana stood in the doorway, her perpetual scowl somehow even deeper than usual. Her short black hair was mussed like she’d been training, and her gray eyes landed on Grace with all the warmth of a winter blizzard.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked coldly.

Venus smiled, unperturbed.

“Perfect timing, actually. I’ve just finished teaching our little demon-slayer the social graces.”

“Good,” Diana grunted. “Because now she needs to learn how not to die if things go wrong.”

[Oh joy. More training.]

Venus pressed one final kiss to Grace’s cheek.

“Remember everything I taught you, little one.”

“I’ll try.”

With that, Venus glided past Diana, leaving a trail of sweet-smelling perfume in her wake.

Diana watched her go, then turned back to Grace.

“Come on, let’s head to the training grounds.”

“Ugh.”

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