The Third Heaven : Apocalypse of Kings

by Donovan Neal

  Worship rang throughout all of Heaven.

  Michael watched from his tower’s perch, as humans and angels, as far as the eye could see: sung before God who sat on the throne.

  Humans now occupied Heaven. Humans now freed from the clutches of Lucifer, and previously trapped within the confines of Hades. Human veterans of a celestial war: a war to spread the truth of El in the Earth: warriors, who battled against the Horde within the depths of Hell itself.

  Heaven was now a mass of male and female faces; faces from earth that lifted their voices in choral praise to God. From every corner of the Earth did they spring and from all hues did they stand before God: a throng of now blended dialects; from the nations of Grecia, to the far reaches of Africa. Linguistic variances that originated at the Tower of Babel were now swept aside as the common tongue of Heaven was now understood by all.

  Heaven rung out in unified songs. For in Heaven now were all one: all now understood. Michael marveled at the humans newly issued raiment: clothing which gleamed in brilliant white. Yeshua, the Lamb of God, had washed them in his own blood and given each and every one a new robe.

  Michael stood awed before the morass of humankind that knelt before the throne. Awed at the singing Seraphim, Ophanim, and even his own people. He gazed upon the spectacle that was before him and awareness dawned upon him. An understanding of why El had allowed the house of Kortai to build Heaven’s greatest house: the Temple.

  Each room in the house of God, each chamber, apartment, and walkway was meticulously prepared for a day when all God’s children would be together. Michael chuckled to himself as he reminisced over his past wonderment over why El always created on the scale that He did: wondered why he would create a whole world for just two people.

  Michael smiled as he thought to himself on the day he had asked the Father this query and the Lord’s ever patient and educating reply.

  “My son, my thoughts are not your thoughts: nor my ways, your ways.” The Lord God then presented his open hand for view, and within He held a seed, and showed it to his son.

  “What do you see?” God asked.

  Michael paused, “A seedling my king.”

  El shook his head. “No my son,” replied El. “This is a great forest.”

  El again then presented his other hand and opened it and within was a small stone and the Lord spoke, “Tell me my child, most beloved of angels. What do you see?”

  Michael looked upon it and replied, “It is but a pebble my king.”

  El again shook his head in the negative, “No my child, this is a great canyon, teeming with peaks that reach the uttermost sky.” The Lord then blew upon Michael and when he did, a droplet of water fell upon Michael’s cheek and the angel wiped the small tear of water from his face. A single droplet then beaded upon his index finger. The Lord then spoke once more. “Tell me Michael of the Kortai. What is this that now sits on but the tip of thy finger?” Michael having now been asked by the Lord a third time perceived that his initial responses were incorrect and eyed the droplet of water that rested on his finger. And not seeking to disappoint the Father spoke hesitantly to answer his king. “An ocean my Lord?”

  El smiled in approval and eyed his most beloved of angels. “Do you understand now my son?” said El.

  Perception came over the Chief Prince and Michael nodded and realized that when God thought of water: His mind saw oceans and when Michael saw but two humans. El saw a people vast as the stars in the sky.

  It was a lesson he would always remember. For if in the mind of God, a seedling was a forest. What then must a forest itself be in the mind of God?

  Michael’s thoughts returned to the scene that still played out before him and he smiled as he continued to watch the humans in worship. This was their moment…their time to bask in El’s immediate presence.

  El sat majestic on His throne with rod and staff in hand. Michael took in the view, savoring every image, sound and motion before him.

  For covering the great prismatic throne were the two Cherubim chosen by Talus, High Prince of House Arelim. Each one charged to grace the Mercy Seat of God. And in obedience to the command given by their Prince, each held their six angelic wings wide, stretched out in vain attempt to provide shade to the God who is light. The King of Creation looked upon his subjects with both love and a father’s pride. And although the Shekinah hovered around His person, and all but the outline of his features could be seen: Michael knew that El was smiling. El’s robes flowed in bright crimson, purple and gold. The fabric was lined with stars, and stars upon stars. El’s neck was chained with the finest links of cadmium plated golds. The Lord of Life then spoke into the ears of all that bowed before him.

  “I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, the Amen; and who holds the keys of Hell and of Death.”

  The great assembly erupted in cheers and massive displays of jubilation and praise. Flags waved and many of the humans broke out in spontaneous dance. Some fell to their knees in tears while others stood in awe of El, mouthing nothing but the word “Hallelujah” repeatedly, unable to fix their eyes on anything but He who had rescued them from the clutches of Lucifer and their own slavery to sin.

  Michael enjoyed this moment…until he did not.

  “My Prince,” the familiar voice of Argoth spoke. “My apologies but I require your presence.”

  Michael sighed, then turned to his rear, and before him stood a glowing door. He walked through and behind him the singing and scene of billions of humans worshiping El disappeared and he saw Jerahmeel sitting and frowning across from Argoth waiting for Michael quietly.

  Michael looked at his friend and motioned with his head raising his eyes expecting Jerahmeel to speak, but his brother said nothing and just solemnly locked eyes with Michael, then with his eyes, directed Michael to Argoth.

  Michael looked upon the Chief of Eyes and spoke. “What have you to report?”

  Argoth floated towards Michael and replied. “It is finally here Michael.”

  Michael hesitated, and then looked at Jerahmeel who nodded his head in agreement.

  “How much time do we have?” said Michael, unsure if he really wanted to hear Argoth’s answer.

  “We have run out of time Michael; for the Day of the Lord is here. The Lord has given me nothing more to dictate. And when a Grigori has ceased to write…”

  Michael nodded in understanding; he turned his eyes to the ground; realizing they had little time before the events foretold would soon be calling upon them all to act. He looked at Argoth and then Jerahmeel and spoke in somber authority. “Then we must hurry, lest no flesh be saved.”

  Chapter Two

  Chess and Angels

  The wings on Olen’s feet moved as a hummingbird. And with the swiftness of the same he darted between swords and stave's as the dark cloaked angels of Marduk's Imperial guards dashed after him.

  “Do not let him escape!” yelled one.

  Arrows flew towards him from the guards which blocked his only way of escape.

  Bolts flew to his left and right. An arrow glanced his face as he twisted and turned weaving between each projectile. He was but one messenger of house Malakim…one against a hundred.

  He knew he would not survive. Yet survival was not necessary. Only the will of El be done. And Olen would see that Gabriel’s mission to bring back the scroll of the renegade Marduk would not fail. This information must be made known to the council.

  Another arrow whizzed by his face as he turned his cheek to avoid it; when suddenly he felt pain: indescribable pain.

  He looked down and his leg was grazed. Blood slowly began to seep through his layered beige clothed thigh. Then flashes of white hot spasms caused his legs to tremor. And he stumbled forward, falling unto his hands.

  Concentrate! Get up! Just get beyond the gate. Vantress will be waiting.

  He lifted himself back up and sprinted to escape.

  The cadmium entrance was closed: bolted from the inside
and before him lay over fifty angels each with arrows knocked and ready. Their tips aimed to strike him down.

  “Release!” cried a gruff voice.

  Once more the sound of whizzing arrows pierced the air and swished passed Olen’s ears.

  Fighting through the guards of the gate was not an option. Although, he was fast, there were simply too many. And his injury diminished the chances of success.

  He eyed the opening above the guards and contorted his body to avoid the myriad of arrows that flew as a swarm of bees to strike him down.

  It was then that he saw it. A stairwell leading to the top of the dark keeps walls. If he could leap to the railing he could leap over the wall itself.

  “Thunk.”

  Olen paused looking down to see an arrow head protruding from his left pectoral muscle. He staggered and with his right hand broke the shaft, and faltered ever so slightly.

  The chasing angels who hunted him also saw the means of escape and like a pack of wolves could smell that their prey was wounded and soon would be theirs.

  Eridu, one of Marduk's soldiers rode upon Wyvern-back and reached into the folds of his robe to reveal an obsidian dagger. With an underhanded throw he flicked his wrist launching the blade into the air. The low flying shank of cadmium steel sliced through the air closing towards its mark. As it flew; red eyes opened across the course of the blade and glared at Olen as he ran to escape; droplets of his blood trailing in tow.

  Olen approached a guard, backhanded him across the face and bolted up the stairwell to potential freedom. He reached the top of the walled battlements and he saw the cutting swath of the Tigris River before him. He scanned the horizon and looked for the signal that Vantress hid in the brush beyond the castle walls.

  There.

  He leaped from the top of the battlements, his winged feet beating furiously to keep him aloft. He whizzed in air, and smiled seeing Vantress only yards away.

  He looked on in confidence even as he closed his eyes knowing that he had fulfilled his mission to bring the Hordes secret information to light. His face contorted as he grimaced in pain: his hand clenched around a sealed parchment as he fell to the ground.

  ✽✽✽

  Vantress had waited patiently for Olen’s return. Grumbling under his breath the old angel had always made it a point to tackle the most challenging of Heaven’s assignments and looting Marduk’s stronghold fell nicely under that banner. The two angels had once been friends, but that was millennia ago. For Heaven was in civil war: a war where brother fought against brother and a war that ripped the royal houses of heaven into factions. El promised one day the conflict would end in victory for the Host. Vantress hated factions. For some said they were for Jerahmeel; and others for Marduk, and some said of Yeshua. Vantress frowned upon such division. It was a corrosive thing division: causing all sorts of brittleness to occur within the fabric of Heaven. Vantress frowned as memories flooded his mind of better times. A time before Marduk left the House of Harrada; before the renegade left the oath of his house to follow the rebel Lucifer: a leaving that opened a chasm of fellowship.

  Vantress looked at the sky and marked the passage of the moon across its ceiling. Each position of the stars screamed that Olen was late in his return. The angel sworn to House Harrada paced back and forth; watching as various satellites of men streaked in their arc across the moonlit night, and he scowled his displeasure.

  “Harrumph,” Vantress said. He thought upon the presumptuousness of men to think that now that they could harness the atom they possessed power. But Vantress knew better. Power was not in the splitting of the atom, but to speak into existence the very stuff of atoms themselves. THIS was power: to speak creation itself into existence. To say, “let there be light,” and there be light. Vantress shook his head as he paced in his mind while awaiting Olens’s return. He once more looked into the night sky as satellites orbited the earth and spoke complainingly under his breath, “God creates, but man invents.” And Vantress’ thoughts turned towards the sworn foe of the Host: Lucifer.

  Rumor had persisted among the Horde that Lucifer had devised a scheme: a scheme to mimic the Father by begetting a son. To once more defy the order of God and to interbreed angelic-kind with human: to create Abomination. A rumor he was intent to know the truth of. And for this reason Vantress and Olen traced the source of this information to Marduk. And now Vantress waited anxiously for Olen to return: to see if the information was as reported to Heaven. To know whether the Horde had indeed done according to the whispers that circulated in the Earth. And of this rumor Vantress would know.

  Light flashed in the distance. Vantress jumped to attention: undoubtedly the signal of Olen. He gathered his manna leaf into his pouch and hoisted his sword over his back; lacing it with the golden threads of the manna-leaf tree. He would have to be careful to meet Olen at the rendezvous. For the patrols of Marduk had increased. They seemed to be changing their guard rotation.

  Vantress slipped through the vegetation that concealed his presence. Darkness served as a good cover. For what remained of the Shekinah glory, glowed over his angelic skin which he took great pains to hide so as not to reveal his location. It was a strange thing to think of the Shekinah as a burden. But despite his absence from Heaven he still retained the vestiges of the glory of God and needed to cover his face. He moved further towards the compound’s walls. Marduk was wise to place his stronghold near the great city of Mecca. It was rife with all manner of daemons and principalities. Great angelic strongmen saw that humankind would never penetrate this region with the gospel of Christ. It was a powerful fortress indeed. For Marduk had influenced the princes of this land to police all forms of worship and religious expression.

  “Release!” A voice in the distance cried.

  Vantress watched as scores of arrows darkened what was already a black starry sky. His heart raced at the realization that Olen was under attack. He ran full sprint to see Olen jump over the black gate of Marduk's stronghold.

  Olen seemed to fly confidently and waved at Vantress as he approached him. Relief washed over Vantress and he smiled and waved back. Olen suddenly grimaced and his smooth arc of flight towards Vantress crumpled into an uncontrolled descent. Vantress watched in horror as Olen smashed into the ground.

  He raced to his comrade’s side to find his friend spitting up blood.

  “Olen!” cried Vantress. “Can you make it?” Vantress wrapped his hands around the waist of Olen’s back to lift him up and he could feel the cool moist blood that began to drench his shirt. “Here, let me help you up, and we can still get out of…”

  “There is no time old friend,” Olen replied. “Take the scroll and be off with you, for the rumors are true. Abomination once more lives in the Earth. Quickly now…get this to the council before it is too late. For, Lucifer moves in ways both new and old. And the Chief Prince must see this.”

  Olen coughed up blood; choking and gasping as his angelic lungs struggled to supply him with oxygen to sustain him.

  “Leave me…for the mission is all that matters. Let God be true and all things a lie.”

  Olen looked up as the rustling of footsteps and voices and shouts came from about fifty yards away. In the distance he spotted Eridu their old nemesis closing in on their position. Adrenalin and rage rushed through his system and Olen knew that Vantress would fight in vain to save them both.

  “Leave me I say! Be off with you!” Olen said.

  Vantress grimaced and saw a lieutenant of Marduk, Eridu make his way towards them. He bit his lip in angst and tightly closed his eyes. He then released Olen and sprinted away into the dark carrying a scroll.

  Olen set himself upright and just as he lost sight of his brother. Several of Marduk’s officers broke through the tall grass and stopped short of him. Chief among them was an angel of great beauty: a Draco. He was adorned in silver and gold and the banner of Marduk encircled his arm and he wore the coat of arms of his master.

  “Ah, Olen, Olen, Olen.”
shook the head of the angelic chief soldier. “Wherefore didst thou think that you could escape the reach of Marduk?”

  Olen coughed as he spoke spitting up blood. “Eridu, your master dooms the world. For all know that to trifle with the ordained laws of El invite disaster. Abomination cannot exist!”

  Eridu reached down to stare into the dying eyes of one he had once called comrade. “I have always perceived that you were false. Always questioned your alleged story of what you said you did during the uprising in Heaven. You see; I do not believe that your stone was ever warped…never darkened as ours. You see Olen; I believe…you are false.”

  Eridu reached towards Olen and lifted up his breast plate then his shirt. He stared at the stone that slowly emanated light and pulsed. It was unmarred, without taint or stain; with no visible effects that if had been affected by the Withering. Eridu’s eyes moved from his captor’s stone and locked with Olen’s and smiled knowingly. “Even now the Shekinah emanates ever so softly from your frame. Rumor has it that for angelic kind; El has sanctioned no afterlife. And it is even said that we are returned to the Void. Some conjecture that the Mist which underlies Heaven is naught but the disembodied spirits of our kind, each captive and aloft in a haunt of screams. Some say that the Void is the primordial state of all things…even God.”

  Eridu then stood to his feet as Olen's features became frozen and his shallow breaths came to a silent halt. The eyes of Marduk’s adjutant narrowed and he smirked in satisfaction at the expiration of his deceased prey.

  “If the Void is indeed where our kind goes…then know: that I bid you Godspeed.”

  * * *

  Eridu an adjutant of Marduk; principality of Persia returned from his hunt and bowed before his lord.

  “Report!” Marduk growled.

  “My liege it is done. The lackeys of Vantress which had infiltrated our palace have been eliminated. Moreover he has the information we have given. It is only a matter of time until Michael and the Lumazi are aware of Lucifer’s schemes. Your plan has been a success.”