“Oh, what happened to her or him?” Maziel asked.
“I ended her existence,” Michael replied flatly.
Maziel’s jaw dropped.
“So, do you still want the job, Maziel?” Michael asked.
“Yes, sir!” Maziel replied with enthusiasm not wanting to pass up such an opportunity to work with Michael, or so he hoped.
“Very well then,” Michael added and waved his right hand in the air.
The scene changed and both archangels were swallowed into what looked like a whirlpool of ether. The two archangels emerged in front of a gigantic building made of pure, white marble-like material. It shimmered and shone in the brightness of an all-engulfing golden light. Michael floated in the air and beckoned for Maziel to join him. From an aerial perspective, Maziel could appreciate the immense grandeur and resplendence of the heptagon in its simplicity and purity. Shortly afterwards, both men floated back to the ground.
“Behold the Spawn Sanctuary, where your brothers and sisters are spawned!” Michael said. “This will be your post to guard and protect at all cost. And I mean, at ALL cost!”
And that was how Maziel, a lowly archangel, received an instant promotion to a much higher rank of archangel. Everything had been going smoothly until he had an unexpected visitor.
Maziel’s visitor’s reputation preceded her. She was Michael’s undesignated second-in-command. She was the second-born of the archangels and angels, while Michael was the first-born, and was the only one who came closest to matching Michael’s combat skills. She commanded respect and authority, second only to Michael’s. Still, when she visited Maziel that day, he thought it was very odd. Regardless, he had entertained her presence.
“Greetings to you, brother,” she smiled as she greeted Maziel.
“Greetings to you, sister,” he replied in kind.
“So, how does it feel, being THE guardian, brother?” Luciel asked Maziel, stroking his ego.
Maziel chose to ignore her plot.
“It’s a task, Luciel,” Maziel replied flatly, addressing her by her name.
“You do know this is a very important task, don’t you?” Luciel continued, ignoring his feeble attempt at sternness and seriousness.
“Michael told me already,” Maziel replied with the same flat tone.
“Yes, I’m sure he did,” Luciel spoke with a pinch of sarcasm. “He does a great job at reminding us how special we all are, doesn’t he?”
When Maziel remained silent, Luciel continued talking.
“Tell me, Maziel,” Luciel said, redirecting her attention towards Maziel. “Did he tell you why he chose you for this task? Oh wait, don’t answer just yet! If I know Michael as well as I think I do, he must have said something about how he’s looking for someone who is honest, with a strong sense of integrity and secrecy… Not to mention the superb fighting skills, no?”
Luciel scoffed and mindlessly traced something on the floor with her toes. She was barefoot, and her plain, white gown accentuated her features. She then raised her head and brushed some strands of hair from her face with her left hand and placed them behind her right ear.
“Yes, indeed he told me those things,” Maziel affirmed.
His eyebrows furrowed as he wondered how Luciel came to know about such a private conversation. Damn Michael! Maziel cursed in his thoughts.
“And he also said you have superior fighting skills, right?” Luciel pressed on as she noticed the seed of doubt slithering through Maziel’s mind.
Maziel opened his mouth to speak but Luciel cut him off.
“Because you lasted more than three moves…” Luciel added.
Maziel’s eyes furrowed even more, and Luciel burst into a most derisive and obnoxious laughter.
“Oh my!” Luciel exclaimed. “Seems as if someone is having some serious trouble with practicing what they preach. So much for honesty, integrity and most of all secrecy.”
Luciel burst into another fit of laughter, more for her performance than anything else.
“Well, brother,” Luciel managed to say in between fits of laughter. “I shall let you carry on with your task. I would not want to cause any distraction while you work, would I?”
She turned around to leave and then added.
“After all, I certainly wouldn’t want to be chastised for my indiscretions now, would I? But maybe I do want to be chastised!”
Luciel winked at Maziel.
“Wait!” Maziel called after Luciel, as she was getting ready to teleport away.
“How did you come to know all this?” he asked.
Luciel turned around to face him. There was concern on her face like an angelic neon sign.
“I’d tell you, brother,” Luciel replied. “But I’d rather not get in trouble; at least not right now.”
Luciel took a few steps towards him.
“Before I go, I must ask you something,” Luciel said, not wanting to let the momentum die. “Did he tell you about your predecessor?”
“Michael said she tried to access the sanctuary,” Maziel replied.
“And what did he say happened to her?” Luciel asked.
Maziel saw it in Luciel’s eyes and heard it in the tone of her voice. It was passion unlike any he had ever seen in any angel or archangel before. He felt it as it reached out from her to him and connected with him.
“He said he ended her existence-” Maziel replied.
“And what gives him the right to end the existence of a brother or sister?!” she erupted.
Luciel’s anger was unhidden. But Maziel knew it was not directed towards him. He knew because, for a moment, he shared her passion, her pain and her lust for something he could not quite lay a wing on. All he knew was that he wanted more, whatever constituted ‘more’. It was there, and he felt it. Like the wings on his scapulae, he felt it! Moreover, it resonated within his being and he welcomed it. She then closed her eyes for a moment as if to calm herself. When she reopened them, the anger was gone but the passion lingered like an undying, unfading spark.
“I apologize for my sudden outburst, brother,” Luciel said with pretentious genuineness.
“It’s alright, sister,” he replied. “I know it was not aimed at me.”
“Thank you, brother,” Luciel said. “I must go now. Perhaps later, we could talk some more, if you’d like.”
Luciel offered a weak smile.
“Of course, sister,” Maziel affirmed. “It would be my pleasure.”
Luciel bade him farewell and teleported away before Maziel could see the smile of satisfaction that crept across her face right before she vanished.
***
“My king!” a demon called out, wrenching Kazuk back to the present as he prostrated himself in front of Kazuk.
“Speak!” Kazuk commanded.
“He is here, my king!” the demon replied, daring not to raise his eyes from the ground.
“Bring him in!” Kazuk commanded.
“No need for that,” said The Scribe as he summoned a seat next to Kazuk.
Kazuk dismissed the demon before turning towards The Scribe.
“I despise your open disregard for my authority in front of my subjects!” Kazuk hissed.
“Spare me the grumpiness, Maziel!” The Scribe replied patronizingly. “Remember who gave you your throne! Now, shut your mouth and pay attention to what I have to say.”
“That is no longer my name, Scribe!” Kazuk was so angry that yellow flames spewed from his eyes.
“I will call you whatever I want, child!” The Scribe rebutted. “And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it!”
Kazuk closed his eyes. The flames disappeared, but not his fury.
“Someday, Scribe,” Kazuk spoke as calmly and as softly as he could, “I will have my revenge. That I promise you, old friend!”
“First of all, Maziel,” said The Scribe with disdain. “I’m not your friend! You’re a tool in my arsenal. When I say jump, you jump. When I say sit, you sit because you are ve
rmin. But I upgraded your status to ‘bitch’ level. Second of all, you don’t even have the balls to attempt what you’re thinking. Your predecessor has balls bigger than you could ever have, and even her balls aren’t big enough for her to begin to fathom any form of vengeance towards me, you buffoon!”
The Scribe turned around and spat on the floor and his spittle corroded the patch of floor it landed on. It was more for show than anything else.
“Let me know when you are done being a grumpy, nagging youngling, and then we can talk business!” The Scribe added.
Kazuk gritted his teeth in anger and frustration. But he was at least thankful that no one was around to witness the humiliation he was suffering. It would have been very bad publicity and it could even stir thoughts of rebellion within the realm. He could not let that happen. So, he decided, at least for now, to bury his ego and let The Scribe get on with business.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Scribe,” Kazuk gestured in the air. “Pray tell, what business brings you to this beauty of Creation?”
“Finally!” The Scribe exclaimed. “It’s time to speed up the process. A perfect cycle is close at hand and we need to unravel the final phases of the plan.”
“I would love to, Scribe,” Kazuk replied with a tired expression on his face. “But like I told you before, I have had trouble reaching Jamael, the new guardian to the Spawn Sanctuary. He’s a tough nut to crack and Michael is more than cautious ever since the rebellion.”
“I had absolutely no idea, Maziel!” The Scribe said with ironic sarcasm and shook his head in mock disbelief. “Anyway, I took care of Jamael already. The seeds have been sown. He’s on your side now, basically. You just have to go over there and work your charms.”
The Scribe paused to admire the look of astonishment on Kazuk’s face.
“How did you do that?” Kazuk asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
“Pressure points!” The Scribe replied with an air of exasperation. “Jamael has a huge ego, which is inversely related to his self-esteem. A few subliminal thoughts here and there acted as fuel to his big ego and low self-esteem, thanks to yours truly. The poor fool believed his thoughts were his. He’s all yours now. Go work your charms, my king. You can take all the credit too, if you’d like.”
“I must admit, Scribe,” Kazuk conceded. “That was quite a feat!”
“Now that Jamael is on our side,” The Scribe continued, ignoring Kazuk’s compliment, “we can now proceed to the next phase.”
“You actually want me to capture and imprison Michael!” Kazuk said and burst out laughing.
“Hence, why I said your predecessor’s balls are bigger than yours are!” The Scribe added with exaggerated exasperation.
Kazuk immediately stopped laughing.
“And how do you propose I do that, Scribe?” Kazuk asked.
“Within the Spawn Sanctuary lies the only piece of artifact that could bind an archangel as mighty as Michael himself. This artifact, the Zarark, along with three other artifacts, is used to summon the angelic vibrations to the level of manifestation that would create angels. So, the plan is simple; obtain The Zarark with Jamael’s help, lure Michael and keep him confined at least until the cycle is over!”
Prior to Kazuk’s defection to Hell Realm, Michael had shared knowledge of the existence of the Zarark with Kazuk, whose name was Maziel back then. So, The Scribe’s information about the Zarark was old news to Kazuk. Hell Realm did need the Zarark for one major reason. Once Hell Realm had this artifact, it would be much easier to increase their numbers by spawning new creatures, instead of relying on defectors from Celestia and immigrants from other realms. With the Zarark, Hell Realm would significantly tip the scales of victory in their favor when Hell Realm attacked Celestia.
Kazuk had a pensive look on his face. He chewed on what he had just heard, and The Scribe allowed him the moments he needed. Finally, he looked up at The Scribe.
“I take it you have the details of this plan?” Kazuk asked rhetorically.
The Scribe outlined the details of his plan. When he was done, he left the throne room in the same way he appeared; like he was never there. Lithilia waited for a few moments before walking up to her husband. She cradled his head to her bosom and whispered words of comfort and promise in his ear.
“We’ll get him!” Lithilia promised. “Even if it’s the last thing we do!”
“Yes, we will!” Kazuk agreed. “But first, we must play our roles in his grand scheme and once it’s over, he won’t know what hit him.”
Lithilia knelt beside her husband, took his face in his hands and kissed him on the lips. He returned her kiss. She then peeled her lips away from his, stood up and started walking away. She knew Kazuk got her invitation of what was to come next. She could feel him grinning with unbridled anticipation. Lithilia knew her husband’s eyes were fixed on her back… her buttocks… her disrobing body… Lithilia knew as she felt his energy build like that of a geyser until finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he teleported and snatched her away to their domain.
CHAPTER THREE
DO OR DIE!
ELIEL WANTED TO believe he was only imagining everything. Even when Michael’s bracelets glowed, and his casual robe transformed into his battle outfit. Even when golden flames flared from his eyes and mouth, and Michael charged towards him, Eliel still thought it was just in his imagination. But Eliel’s survival instincts took control of his body, and he rolled forward as Michael slashed at his neck. Eliel chased his forward roll with a side roll to the left as Michael spun his sword backward in a downward arc. Eliel crouched on one knee. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Michael’s flaming sword aiming straight for his throat. Instinctively, he jerked his head back, just enough for the tip of Michael’s sword to barely miss his throat.
This was NOT a drill! Eliel thought. He remembered Michael saying something along the lines of ‘ending his existence.’ Regardless of whether he was guilty or not, Michael had pronounced his sentence! Michael may be the best of them all. But may he, Eliel, be damned to Hell Realm if he went down without a fight. So, when Michael unleashed a left stomp kick at Eliel’s chest, Eliel caught Michael’s left foot and twisted Michael’s ankle violently to the right. Michael rolled to his left to neutralize Eliel’s counter and threw his right heel at Eliel’s temple in the process. Eliel let go of Michael’s left ankle as he evaded Michael’s follow-up attack with a backward roll.
Eliel did not know he had just survived Michael’s first move.
Eliel rose to his feet and Michael did the same. Angel and archangel stared each other down, and then, Michael smiled. But there was nothing friendly in his smile. He charged again towards Eliel and thrust his sword towards Eliel’s chest. Eliel took a left sidestep, gently placing his left forearm perpendicularly against Michael’s right forearm. It was a basic checking motion. Eliel pulled back his right arm and his left hand landed on Michael’s wrist, holding Michael’s right wrist in place, in case Michael tried to continue attacking with his sword-bearing hand. Then, Eliel brought the full force of the middle knuckle of his right hand into the back of Michael’s right hand.
Excruciating pain radiated from the point of impact on the back of Michael’s right hand to the rest of Michael’s body in the form of golden light. Michael screamed in agony and involuntarily dropped his sword. In one perfectly fluid motion, Eliel kicked Michael’s sword away with his left foot, while grabbing Michael’s right palm in both hands. He turned his body towards Michael and sank his weight at the same time by dropping his hips. Michael’s sword vanished, while his body was tossed in the air like a rag doll. Michael’s back and occiput hit the ground with enough force that caused the floor to crack around the points of impact.
Eliel did not know that he had just survived Michael’s second move.
Eliel wasted no time in straddling Michael and aiming a right punch straight at Michael’s face. It was a mistake. Michael moved his head to his left and used Eliel’s momentum to ro
ll Eliel over to Eliel’s right as Eliel’s fist crashed into the floor, sending a burst of golden light outward from the point of impact and leaving a three-inch deep hole in the floor. Michael was on top of Eliel now, and Eliel braced for a similar attack. Instead, Michael grabbed him by the throat and zipped straight up in the air. Then, he accelerated towards the floor intending to crash Eliel into the floor.
But Eliel spread out his wings just long enough to reduce the acceleration. Almost immediately, he folded his left wing, causing an aerial displacement towards the right. That fraction of a blink was all he needed to flip Michael over to his left and fold in his right wing at the same time. He then zipped with full, angelic acceleration towards the floor. Michael’s body absorbed the impact of the crash and a golden beam radiated from his body’s profile at the point of impact.
Eliel did not know he had just survived Michael’s third move.
Eliel picked Michael up by the throat and threw him like a spear towards a wall. But Michael summoned his wings, spread them out and slowed himself to a stop before he reached the wall. Michael floated to the floor and closed his eyes. Golden light washed over his body as he rejuvenated and healed his broken body. Angel and archangel stared each other down once again. But there was something different about the way Michael looked at Eliel this go-round. Michael gazed at Eliel with unconcealed respect.
“Not bad at all for a youngling,” Michael mocked.
“Why?” Eliel asked, ignoring Michael’s compliment.
“Why what?” Michael asked in turn.
“Why are you trying to end me?” Eliel asked.
“I told you already!” Michael snapped. “Don’t you get it? I can’t let it happen again!”
“So, you pass judgment on ME for something YOU are afraid of?” Eliel spat with anger and disbelief in his voice. “For something I am not even guilty of? Something that hasn’t even happened yet?”
An Archangel's Ache Page 3
