All night I whirled in dances with many partners. Some were gentle, then sped up to a beat I was surprised I could follow, but did, very well in fact. Others were quick and purposeful. I knew what was coming every step of the way. Yet still others bewildered me at every turn, but I found myself gracefully matching my partners’ footwork without hesitance or mistake. I didn’t know how I did it, but didn’t question the ease or from where this knowledge of these foreign dances had come.
After a dozen or so of these dances, I looked over my shoulder to see that the man sitting in the chair was even farther away. My sense of safety began to wane. I tried inconspicuously to move closer to the table where he sat, lonely, but with every spin nearer the site, it always seemed that he was always just as far away, if not further. Panic welled in my chest. What was happening? I tried to pull away from the man I now danced with, but he held me firmly. He seemed ignorant of my wish to leave, simply continuing to lead me around the floor, smiling the entire time. The harder I tried to get away, the more tightly I was grasped. I tried planting my feet firmly on the floor, refusing to move, but my partner danced on, oblivious, dragging me along.
I cast a desperate glance over my shoulder, but the man was so far away now that I could hardly make out his figure in the distance. I began to frantically fight against the steely grasp of my dance partner. Nothing availed.
In a few more steps, the song ended and I thought it was my chance to get away. But as the last fluting note sang through the air, a second man, one I’d danced with earlier, cut in. His face was handsome, split into a brilliant, empty smile. I tried to push him away as my former partner finally loosed me, but he merely took my hands in his, and as the next song began, pulled me into a fast-stepping number.
Frantic tears spilled out of my eyes. My partner was smiling and dancing the entire time. I wanted out! Why couldn’t I get out? Why wouldn’t they just let me go? Oh, how I wished to go back.
The dance went faster and faster. This time, instead of being able to move with grace and swiftness, I stumbled once. The tempo increased significantly. I stumbled again, this time nearly falling. The man I danced with didn’t so much as bat an eye.
I began to sob in earnest, begging him to let me go. It was as if he were stone, no other expression but that same stale grin ever crossing his face. My hands were held by iron fingers, like shackles. Whether I wanted to or not, I was forced to keep dancing, over and over again.
Finally, I cried out, “Please! Help me, my Lord! I want to dance with you! I will learn your dance! Please, rescue me from this place!”
At once, the other dancers’ smiling faces disappeared. They were replaced by the faces of dark angels, bent on keeping what they had claimed – me. They drew swords, their postures defensive and stalwart. My heart sank and I dropped to my knees, having been let go, weeping bitterly. I was a captive forever in this house of demons.
The sudden sound of a trumpet, ringing clear and strong, pierced my ears. I looked up in disbelief. The shadows shrieked in fury and fright, but remained, swords upraised. My eyes opened to see the man clothed in the purest white, a cloak dyed bloodred falling to his feet, his face hard and angry, surrounded by an army of his angels. His voice rose and called up his angels to destroy my captors. I watched as the man drew his sword and walked towards me. I was more terrified now than I had been moments earlier before I’d called out, but I couldn’t move or speak.
He advanced steadily, the sword glinting like his eyes, trained only on me.
Then from behind me, I heard a step in my direction. The sounds of battle filled my ears from all directions, but yet I heard this footfall behind me. I slowly turned my head to see the musician – no, wait…a different musician. When had they been changed? I had a feeling it was when I had joined the other dancers. But now, I just watched wordlessly as they both strode in my direction. They both reached me at the same time. The dark one grabbed my arm, his touch searing my arm like acid. I screamed, trying to pull away from him, but it was no use.
“My Lord, save me!” I cried. “Forgive me!”
Then he finally spoke, his eyes glittering dangerously, quietly taking my free hand. It comforted me, even as the touch of the black warrior at my other side blazed. “You heard her, demon.”
The dark angel hissed, his grip tightening. “She turned from you. She refused you. She is ours now.”
“Not so, demon. You lie. You know the law. You know what is written. She has repented. Let her go.” The man’s low voice caused me to tremble, such was the force power and wrath in his tone.
The demon snarled again, and I heard hesitance in his voice when he replied. “She’s ours.” He repeated, even though I felt his hand give slightly. He made as if to pull me away with him to join his dark forces.
The man let go of my hand, raised his sword, and with a thundering battle cry, he plunged it deep into the demon’s belly. A scream as I’d never heard before penetrated the clamor of swords clashing, and the black leader flew into the air and disappeared. I covered my head in horror, trying to block out the terrible sound. It was over in a matter of seconds, and I timidly lifted my head to see if it was safe. My gaze found that of the man towering over me, sword still in hand. I flinched and bowed my head, waiting for my own punishment to come. I felt a breath of warm air breeze past me, that scent I knew so well to be his. A gentle finger slipped under my chin and tipped my head up, making my eyes meet his again. He was kneeling on the ground before me, his eyes now soft and kind.
“It is finished.” He murmured. The sounds around us had ceased. It was quiet. I hesitated, wondering if I was to be accepted back. As if reading my mind, he stood, pulling me up with him. His warm hands held my face between them.
“I heard you call.” His thumbs wiped the traces of my hysterical tears away. “Do you want to learn the dance I have written for you?” He asked, his voice quiet.
I nodded silently, gazing up at him. I wasn’t sure what to do.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. He repeated his question. “Do you want me to teach you the dance?”
It confused me that he asked again, but I managed to say in a small voice, “Yes.” I took a step towards him.
A smile broke out on his lips. He removed his hands from my cheeks and held them out to me, once more asking me, “May I have this dance?”
A returning smile lit up my face, and I took the final step to him. I slipped my hand into his, but paused when I reached for his other hand. I dropped my gaze to the ground. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered, the words barely audible. His hand tightened around mine, but he waited. “I was foolish and prideful. I’m…sorry.” It didn’t seem like enough. Slowly, I looked up into his face again. “My Lord,” my voice caught as I fought against the tears and the lump in my throat. “My Lord…please, will you forgive me?” My voice broke at the last word.
His smile broadened and he reached for my other hand, gently tugging me to the dance floor. The light notes of his song began to play, clear, sweet, and perfectly in tune. When we were in the middle, of the floor, he bent down closer to me and murmured tenderly, “Yes, I do forgive you…but,” he paused, making sure he had my full attention. He pressed his lips to my forehead. “But I can do you one better.”
My heart quickened, waiting; afraid, but hopeful, anxious, but eager.
He pulled me into position, then whispered in my ear. “I will teach you the dance.”
Tears threatened to spill over again, but this time in rapturous joy. I looked up at him, beaming so widely my cheeks began to hurt. “Yes…teach me the dance.”
He threw back his head and laughed, a pure, wonderful sound, ringing around the room.
So he taught me the dance as the musician played. I stumbled, I tripped, and I fell many times. But patiently, he taught me, and slowly I learned, until I was able to follow his lead completely, in that unfamiliar, beautiful, dance.
