. . .

Silly seraph!

There is no sound effect. There is no sound. The seraph had forgotten, apparently, that space is airless. He had forgotten that nobody can hear you blow the Last Trump — if you are in space.

He hesitates.

Then he plunges into the atmosphere and draws a deep breath. He gathers chunks of air around him with his mandorla and his seven wings. He rises again. The wolf-wind blows around him.

He sets the trumpet to his lips.

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