The subsequent blows landed with regularity until he was unrecognizable.

His crime was unforgivable and I was blinded by my anger. I didn't know I was capable of rage. When I stood and looked down on what I had done I knew I had transgressed the rules of my station. The punishment was immediate. I bent down to claim the head of my fallen kin, but was unable to remove it from the bag. Next I attempted to will myself back to the mountain where Nakir had fallen. My power of movement by thought was gone.

It took me a while to understand my new limitations. In so understanding them I came too to realize that Nakir could not be made whole again without his head. Since my reach as an angel had been limited to the mundane I would have to walk until I was able to reach one of the powerful faithful. Three days of walking brought me to the Abbey of Saint Rose. The bishop recognized me at our initial meeting, but explained he was powerless to remove the head from the bag. Only Cuthbert himself would have the power to rectify that matter. For a time I tried to contact others of my kind, but no one answered my call. I found a room deep within the mountain abbey to contemplate my punishment. I do not feel time in the way that mortals do. My way is to move through time to the emotionally significant moments. Much like a rock climber reached for a hand-hold on the steep incline. In this way I have remained for three hundred years in this room. I feel a hand hold coming into view. Several now approach that will give meaning to the moment and something for me to grasp and pull myself from the shadows. Redemption is at hand, but I am not the same as I was. I am changed, my horizons broader. There is complication in my being that ads depth, substance and character.

The fermentation is complete I have come of age.