“I appreciate your vote of confidence, brother,” Michael said. “But we must entertain that possibility as well. What if I am no longer around? Who among you should take my place?”
Without the slightest hesitation, everyone but Raphael chose Raphael. Raphael chose Uriel and Uriel burst out laughing.
“You’re so sweet, Raph,” Uriel cooed and blew him a kiss.
“You’re all too kind,” Raphael addressed them all, feeling very humbled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you winged fools planned this in advance.”
“And what a wonderful plan that would have been,” Michael said. “You are the strongest and toughest of all of us-”
“Really, Michael?” Gabriel said.
“Okay. Apart from me! How does that sound?” Michael smiled.
“Go on…” Gabriel replied, and Drusiliel smacked his occiput.
“Where’s Samael, by the way?” Michael asked.
“He’s not in his domain and he is not answering my calls,” Uriel said with a worried look on her face.
“I guess it was him then,” Raphael said. “Our systems detected an archangel heading for the neutral zone. The archangel never returned.”
“We’ve lost another to Hell!” Drusiliel’s voice was heavy with rage. “Damn Kazuk! And I’m going to call it first. Samael is mine!”
The rest of the inner council nodded in agreement.
“Anyway, back to more pressing issues now,” Michael said. “I know you’ll take care of Celestia like you always have, Raphael,” Michael continued, but Raphael interrupted him.
“You’re not gone yet, Michael,” he said. “Save the speech for later, because we all know that no matter what happens, you’ll be back.”
Everyone agreed. Michael nodded.
The alarms went off again, and Raphael was gone in a split-instant. He reappeared later with Kazuk in tow. Kazuk stood in front of the council of senior archangels and smiled.
“Hello everyone,” Kazuk said casually.
If glares could end existences, then Kazuk’s existence would end in a way that his very name would be erased from the walls of Akasha.
“What do you want, Kazuk?” Raphael asked.
“I want to return the Zarark, in exchange for something small, of course,” Kazuk replied.
“And what would that be?” Raphael asked.
“That he comes to get it,” Kazuk replied pointing at Michael.
“Forget it!” Gabriel said.
“He can speak for himself,” Kazuk said, holding Michael’s gaze.
Kazuk’s lips curved in an evil smile. There were scoffs and murmurs around the table until Michael raised his hand and there was silence.
“And if I go with you, what happens?” Michael asked.
“You can’t be seriously thinking about-” Gabriel started, but Michael raised a hand in the air silencing Gabriel.
“If I go with you, what happens?” Michael asked Kazuk again.
“Then I return the Zarark, as a measure of good faith,” Kazuk replied.
“Good faith of what?” Raphael asked.
“Peace,” Kazuk replied flatly.
“Broken wings! He must take us for fools!” Gabriel exclaimed. “Peace? Like that will ever come to pass!”
“And you wonder why I would rather speak with Michael!” Kazuk shot back at Gabriel. “Obviously, he is the only one here who seems to want peace as much as I do.”
Kazuk returned his attention to the inner circle.
“We all agree that too many of our brothers’ and sisters’ existences ended because of her. I don’t want another foolish war. I don’t want another senseless massacre. I apologize for stealing the Zarark, but I needed to have your attention somehow. Imagine that I walked in here and started negotiating peace talks. What are the odds of us having a sit-down, without the right amount of motivation, like stealing the Zarark?”
Kazuk studied the faces of the inner council members. He could tell his arguments were striking a cord with them.
“Look. I’m not asking that we all be friends again,” he continued. “I’m only asking that we enjoy our existences in our separate realms without ever worrying about attacking one another. We don’t have to like one another. We just have to agree to coexist peacefully. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“And if you’re so forthcoming all of a sudden,” Uriel said, “why do you insist on Michael coming alone?”
“Michael is the overseer to the Zarark,” Kazuk explained. “I came to your realm alone. All I ask, from one leader to another, is that you accord me the same intent at peace by letting your leader come with me to the location of the Zarark. I can assure you, it is not in Hell.”
“I don’t trust your talk on wanting peace, Kazuk,” Raphael said.
“And it is your sacred duty not to trust anyone at all, Raphael,” Kazuk rebutted. “But these are my terms. So, it’s up to you.”
“I’ll come with you,” Michael replied without giving any of the inner council members a chance to respond.
“In case you have forgotten,” Kazuk continued, feeling satisfied with Michael’s decision. “I don’t stand a chance in a fight against Michael, or any of you for that matter.”
Michael stood up and looked at the assembly. His silent message was clear. If he did not return, Hell Realm and everyone therein must be decimated. The assembly understood. He lingered a little at Uriel. In their connected stare was the hope that all was not lost; that everything would fall into place at the perfect moment. In their connected stare was the hope that the prophecy would indeed come true, even if it meant the final fall of a once fallen angel.
“Shall we?” Kazuk gestured towards Michael.
Michael closed his eyes and bid a silent farewell to his friends, his brothers, his sisters and his family. As they teleported away, he was convinced it would be the last time he would see Celestia again. They appeared in an abandoned realm somewhere in Lemuria. Michael could feel absolutely no connection to Celestia. He looked around. As far as the eyes could see, the realm was nothing but a lightless barrenness. The only source of light in the realm came from their angelic glows. Michael’s was bright and golden while Kazuk’s was red.
“Where are we?” Michael asked.
He was on extremely high alert.
“Right this way, Michael,” Kazuk said, walking ahead of Michael.
Michael hesitated and then decided to follow. After a few steps, he could make out a chest that was suspended in midair. Kazuk pointed at the chest.
“Therein lies your artifact,” Kazuk said.
“And how can I be sure you’re not playing a trick on me?” Michael asked.
“You’re welcome to strike me down if I am,” Kazuk replied. “After all, you trusted me well enough to follow me to this place that is so very far from your home, no?”
Michael glared at Kazuk, but Kazuk pointed towards the chest. Michael turned and walked slowly towards the chest, expecting a sudden attack at any moment. If this was how he was meant to fall, then he would ensure that he took as many of them down with him as possible. The dimensions of the chest were a little larger than the dimensions of the Zarark. Michael thought it was a good sign so far. He reached for the chest and opened the two locks. His hands paused in front of the chest as if he were debating for a moment on whether or not he should proceed with opening the chest. He had come this far already, anyway. So, he might as well proceed. He lifted the lid of the chest, and the moment he did, he knew it was a terrible mistake.
“NOW METATRON!” Kazuk ordered telepathically.
Michael tried to teleport away from the chest, but it was too late. His mark glowed and burned, and paralyzing pain shot across his body. He collapsed to the ground and cursed Metatron. Within the chest was an egg-shaped piece of milky-white crystal. But this was no ordinary crystal. It was a crystal used to create an energy field around a creature that would prevent that creature from ever escaping regardless of the creature’s effor
ts. It was a crystal of incarceration. Michael struggled against the energy barrier that was now his cage. He punched, he kicked, he stabbed and yelled, but nothing happened. Kazuk glided towards Michael, hands clasped behind his back.
“Looks familiar?” Kazuk asked, tapping on the field. “The Prisoner’s Yoke; I love the name of this crystal!”
Michael glared and let out a barrage of curses at Kazuk.
“I know, I know,” Kazuk said giggling. “Same thing you used against her, no? I’m curious. How did you come across this? I know you did not obtain it from The Scribe. You’re too…” Kazuk searched for the word. “Tainted! Yes, you’re too tainted for The Scribe; and by tainted, I mean you two can’t share a common goal.”
“Why not just kill me?” Michael asked through clenched teeth.
“Because, Michael, you’re far too important to me alive than dead,” Kazuk replied tauntingly. “Don’t you see?”
Michael punched harder into the energy field out of frustration, though he knew his actions were pointless.
“You’re wasting your precious moments!” Michael said.
“And precious moments are all I have to spare,” Kazuk replied.
“Celestia will decimate Hell if I do not return!” Michael assured him.
“And you think I don’t know you gave them orders already? Come on now, Michael, even you have to know that I did not rise to my ranks simply because of my good looks.”
Kazuk shook his head in disgust.
“You, on the other hand, are not in a good place right now, and I mean that literally,” Kazuk said.
“When I get out of here-” Michael started saying.
“IF you get out of here,” Kazuk cut him off. “But enough with all this moment-wasting! I’ll ask you one simple question, and I’d strongly suggest you cooperate willingly. Where is she?”
Michael stared at Kazuk for a moment as if Kazuk had lost his mind. Then he erupted into the most derisive laughter Kazuk had ever heard. But without warning, the insignia in between his shoulder blades flared and excruciating pain possessed his body. Michael writhed on the floor of his incarceration and screamed like he had never screamed before.
“Do not stop until he starts talking,” Kazuk ordered telepathically.
“But it could end him,” Metatron protested telepathically.
“Then so be it! Keep going!” Kazuk yelled.
Michael was in the worst pain he had ever felt in his existence. He could feel his mind slipping away slowly but surely, as his body suffered under indescribable torture. His resolve was getting weaker by the moment. His identity was slowly vanishing, and so was his life force.
“Where is she?” Kazuk asked calmly.
“Where… is… who?” Michael asked weakly, as if in a trance.
“He’s about to end, Kazuk!” Metatron was in a lot of pain as well, but not as much as Michael was.
“Keep pushing!” Kazuk commanded.
Kazuk dropped to his knees and brought his lips as close to Michael’s head as the energy barrier would allow. Michael’s eyes had rolled backward, and his life force was growing weaker by the moment, thanks to the crystal of incarceration and Metatron attacking the mark of The Logos. Kazuk knew Michael did not have much longer.
“Where is Luciel?” Kazuk asked softly. “Where is your lover?”
Michael whispered a few words and Kazuk inched closer to make sure he heard correctly. Michael repeated the words like a mantra as his mind, and life force ebbed away irreversibly, even though Kazuk had teleported away to the location and Metatron had stopped the torture process.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DESPIERTA!
TIMELESS
I beheld eternity
A blessing to infinity
When care-freedom was my mark
Creeping, my means of mobility
Crying, my channel of communication.
I saw eternity
A timeless serenity
Despising the distractions of this dungeon
Watching the bonds of eons past
Break off like fetters of straw.
I walk towards eternity
Gaze glued to my destiny
Slowly, steadily and in total humility
Surrendering all I am and will be
To that surreal beckon in reality.
I step into eternity
Accepting my identity
Finally free from illusion’s tragedies
Becoming who I have always been
And never knew, but now know.
I dwell in eternity
Dining with divinity
Melting to that melody
Swaying to that symphony
Finally free, finally me. Leo E. Ndelle.
THE FACT THAT Donald made it safely back home was a miracle by itself. The events of the past few hours had taken an enormous toll on him physically, mentally, emotionally and psychologically. Raising his elbows with Patrick had only been helpful to a certain degree, providing a very temporary emotional escape. He was tipsy, not drunk. Donald was grateful for Patrick’s offer to drive him back home. But he preferred to drive himself home. He wondered how Patrick could handle so much booze without even being tipsy. Donald shoved the thought to the side; it was not a priority at the moment.
Donald jerked to wakefulness. He had not realized when he had fallen asleep behind the wheel. He could have sworn he had already made it up the stairs and into his room, but that journey had only been in his head. The engine was still running, and the headlights of the truck were still beaming. Using the last bit of energy he had left in him, Donald killed the engine, turned the headlights out and opened the driver side door. Or so he thought. He let his left leg land freely onto the ground, but when his right leg followed, the last thing he remembered before everything went black was the ground rushing towards his face and a feeling that was both alien and subconsciously real to him at the same time; death!
***
Donald awoke with the sun shining on one-half of his face and the other half buried in the ground. He expected a splitting headache and sore muscles, but none of those greeted him. He pulled his hand close to his ribs and pushed himself slowly to his knees. He, surprisingly, felt strong and rejuvenated. What happened to the hangover?
Donald wiped the sand off his face and his bare torso. Sand?! How come his torso was bare? And where were his clothes? He liked the pair of shorts he was wearing, but, where was he? He looked around and then he remembered the familiar scenes from his earlier dream. He smiled and scanned the area for his friend, but his friend was nowhere to be found. He was a little disappointed but remembered that his friend was there for a purpose and when the purpose was served, the friend had left.
Indeed, his friend never left! His friend was still there, with him and in him. Donald chuckled and took a few moments to enjoy the view once again before turning to face the forest that lay behind him. He sighed, knowing he had to go in there. He knew what he expected to find, but he did not know what to look for. He felt a longing, a yearning. He wanted answers; but most of all, he wanted liberation. His intellect and logical mind kicked in full gear and he decided he would look for signs or something that would indicate the direction towards what he was looking for. Feeling a little more confident about his lame game plan, he took his first step towards the forest. He took a step into an unknown and unexplored territory, and all he had were his mind, logic, and will.
There was some shrubbery between the beach and the forest. There was a clear footpath that led through the shrubbery into the forest, and Donald followed the path. With every step he took, the path became more defined for him to follow. He took this to be a good sign and walked on. However, with every step Donald took, he never got any closer to the forest, and when he turned around to see how far he was from the shoreline, he realized that had not moved at all. He walked faster thinking that would help, but nothing happened. He broke into a run and ran as fast as he could and even though he fe
lt like he was covering some distance, he was in fact right at the same spot he was when he had woken up. In the end, he gave up and decided to re-evaluate his situation and why he was not moving at all.
Donald took a moment to study the footpath he was on. The path appeared and disappeared repeatedly. Donald furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand what this meant. There was a hidden message in there, which he could not decipher. He had followed a footpath, which led him to nowhere. Normally, when people walk or run, they covered some distance. But that did not work in this situation for some reason. Why? What was he doing wrong or not doing? Keyword: doing! And Donald had his moment of clarity.
Walking or running would be the logical thing to do. But in his ‘dream’ nothing was logical. And this was not just a ‘dream’; this was his subconscious; and in his subconscious, his conscious mind was useless. If he had to access his subconscious, he had to let go of as many conscious hindrances as he possibly could. A good place to start with was his logical mind. No more heavy reliance on linear thinking or logical analyses. He would take action without hesitation or excuses. So how would he get into the forest?
“By willing myself there!” Donald heard himself say and he blinked.
Donald appeared in the forest. The ocean and the beach were no longer visible. Around him were various species of trees and the sounds of a myriad of creatures. He enjoyed the scenery, but only for a moment, because he knew he could easily will the view to his taste. He appreciated the impermanence of everything and respected it. Donald would have loved to stay and continue appreciating the view, but there was no time for that.
“Perhaps you could consider stopping and smelling the roses,” said a young lady who appeared from nowhere.
Donald whipped his head to his left, startled by the sudden intrusion. She was stunning and wore a pale green, flowery, transparent, lace-like gown over her physique. Donald could tell she wore nothing underneath. She held a red rose in front of her, with the petals to her chest.
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