Armageddon

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  Yes, there was much glory, but there was also fear.

  Lots and lots of fear.

  To be a lowly man, taken up to Heaven, paraded before God and his holy messengers. Yes, lots and lots of fear.

  But the Lord God had explained that Enoch was chosen. He was the perfect human form in which to create the ultimate being that would watch over the earth while God was away—

  While God was away?

  While God was elsewhere doing what God does.

  Enoch had embraced this new identity, doing as the Creator had intended until—

  Until I was murdered.

  The memory of the experience returned to his consciousness. The power of God and His angels had been viciously cut away, and his human aspect had been left to die.

  The trinity torn asunder.

  Slowly, Enoch opened his young eyes, remembering how he had been taken by the black-garbed Agents of . . .

  The Architects.

  Enoch awoke with a start. He was encased in a transparent sphere of energy, a bubble of sorts that hung in the air above the great room where the Architects had gathered.

  The child knelt in the bubble, placing his hands on the surface of the sphere to observe his captors.

  Twelve Architects stood around a ghostly interpretation of the world. Visuals of what was happening across the world would suddenly pop up, showing some sort of event, but each quickly went away to be replaced by another.

  The events depicted changed as quickly as the Architects themselves.

  They transformed before Enoch’s eyes; first appearing as rolling spheres of fire covered in all-seeing eyes, and then morphing to a more human shape, with multiple sets of gigantic wings growing from their backs, and then to enormously tall figures, covered head to toe in robes that seemed to be cut from the fabric of the night sky—stars and all.

  It was almost as if they couldn’t make up their minds as to what they wanted to look like, deciding that they would look like many things.

  They had assumed the form of the roiling balls of fire covered in eyes again, when he cried out for their attention.

  “Hello!” Enoch called out, his high child’s voice echoing inside the bubble. He banged on the surface, causing his prison to emit a loud humming sound.

  One of the Architects noticed, many eyes flowing into one single orb fixed upon him.

  Enoch waved at the eye. “Hello,” he said again. “I’m awake.”

  “You are,” said the flaming orb in a nearly deafening voice that the boy heard inside his head.

  “May I ask where you have brought me, and why?”

  The flaming body of the orb continued to spin, but the large, unblinking eye remained in place and just stared.

  “You have been brought to the Habitat,” the voice inside Enoch’s head spoke. “To prevent the pursuit of perfection from being interrupted.”

  “Perfection?” Enoch repeated. “You mean out there?” He gestured outside his bubble, at their hologram of the world, and laughed. “You’re joking.”

  “Joking?”

  “Have you been outside your Habitat?” Enoch asked. “It’s chaos out there. There isn’t a sign of perfection to be found anywhere.”

  “We are making perfection,” said the Architect.

  “From chaos? You think you’re going to create something perfect from that mess?”

  “It is our intention, yes.”

  “Let me see if I understand this,” Enoch said. “My existence is somehow threatening your vision of perfection.”

  “It is.”

  “Even though I’m here because of the Creator—because of your Creator.”

  The Architect remained silent.

  “So, you thought that you would prevent God from spoiling your plans by getting me out of the way.”

  The Architect still did not respond.

  Enoch’s voice grew louder. “That if you brought me here and held me captive, everything would work out as you planned.”

  The Architect rejoined his brothers, all ignoring Enoch as they continued to guide the world toward what they perceived to be perfection.

  “But you don’t understand,” Enoch chuckled to himself. He sat down, legs splayed out before him. “You haven’t removed me from the equation at all. . . .

  “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Satan Darkstar flew over his armies, his wings of ebony pounding the air as he flew beyond the circle of islands and wasted crafts of war to where the ocean pulsed and churned.

  “Follow me!” he cried, his voice booming with the intensity of the most powerful of storms.

  His legions surged forward, marching into the churning ocean.

  Satan smiled at their obedience. They were willing to die at his command, but he could not afford to be wasteful. Every able-bodied servant of the Community would be needed if they were to effectively march their way into Heaven.

  Darting down toward the restless sea, the Darkstar produced a spear of shadow and reared back to throw it, piercing the ocean waters.

  It did not take long for this action to bear fruit, the waters starting to glow with an eerie yellow light, and then to bubble and churn.

  Satan flew higher as something of great size slowly rose up from beneath.

  The gray-skinned behemoth broke the surface with an earsplitting roar, its tiny dark eyes, accustomed to the black of the lower depths, squinting even in the feeble daylight. The creature splashed wildly in the froth, its flat tail slapping the surface, creating enormous swells that crashed upon the island shores, dispersing those of his armies that collected there.

  The gray-skinned beast was a cousin of sorts, the spawn between one of Satan’s dead sisters and a primordial aquatic life-form. They had only been able to create one child, but to Satan it was a most magnificent child indeed.

  Satan flew down past the beast’s blunt head, to where he believed one of its ears would be, and whispered what he wished of it, before flying off to take care of the most important of tasks.

  Above the wide expanse of ocean, Satan Darkstar summoned a sword of endless night. The blade was enormous, and bolts of darkness like tendrils of electric current leaped from the shaft of the blade.

  Satan had created it not for battle, but for cutting through the fabric of reality.

  For making passages from here, to there.

  But this would not be just any passage, but an entrance large enough to march his legions through to where the war to end all wars would begin.

  Armageddon.

  Satan hovered in the air and closed his eyes. He remembered what the Sisters of Umbra had seen, what the power of God had recalled.

  The Darkstar lifted the mighty sword and slashed at what appeared to be nothing, but in actuality was creating a perforation in the planes of existence. An enormous gash appeared before the Lord of Shadows, but he did not stop there, hacking and slashing away, making the slit larger, and larger still, until he believed that the hole that he’d cut was large enough.

  Once satisfied, Satan turned to observe the great sea beast.

  The behemoth swam close to the islands, allowing the legions who could not reach the passage on their own to climb upon its massive back for transport.

  Hovering before his portal, Satan Darkstar raised the sword of endless night to the shifting skies.

  “Onward to Beth-El,” he bellowed, his voice carried like thunder on the wind across the ocean.

  “Onward to the House of God.”

  * * *

  A fully armored Aaron strode into the Unforgiven command center with Levi by his side.

  The place was abuzz with activity. Unforgiven agents darted about the large, circular room in front of a curved wall, made up of multiple monitors showing events transpiring across the globe.

  From what Aaron could see of the broadcasts, it was eerily silent around the world. There didn’t seem to be a monster around.

  And he was about to fin
d out why.

  “Status update,” Levi ordered, descending from the chamber entrance to the floor where the agents worked.

  “Portals of transference have manifested across the globe,” one of the fallen angels reported. “And the monster hordes have been using them to leave their territories.”

  Aaron followed Levi to the thick of the command center.

  “Portals of transference?” Aaron questioned as his eyes darted to the monitors, some of which showed scenes of empty cities, while others showed swirling portals of black energy, armies of nightmare beasts marching obediently inside. “But transference to where?”

  It was the first that the Unforgiven workers noticed him, their attention drawn to him as he waited for an answer. They seemed almost mesmerized by the sight of him.

  By the being that was gradually becoming the new Metatron.

  Levi stepped forward, punching some keys on one of the control panels. Three smaller screens merged into a larger one.

  “We have some difficulty seeing through the thick cloud cover, but it appears they started here,” the fallen angel said.

  Aaron felt an icy chill electrify his spine at the sight of the churchlike structure that rose up from the middle of the ocean like a victory flag. There were other, smaller islands surrounding the larger, as well as what appeared to be a graveyard of ruined warships and aircraft; attempts at aggression easily thwarted.

  “What is this place?” he asked in awe.

  “It has been hidden to our satellites up until now,” Levi said, hitting buttons and twisting knobs, trying to get a better view of the nightmarish place.

  And suddenly the answer came to Aaron in a flash of pain.

  “The Darkstar,” he said, eyes locked on the ominous-looking citadel. “This is his place.”

  The screens were intermittently marred with static, the satellites’ signals being disturbed by outside forces, but they could still see through the disturbance.

  “Possibly,” Levi said as he continued to play with the controls. “Our sensors currently indicate that the transference portals all opened here.”

  “All right,” Aaron said as he leaned forward for a closer look. “Then where are they?”

  “I don’t know,” the fallen angel said gravely.

  “Sir,” one of the other Unforgiven technicians called. “I’ve managed to clarify a video transmission from a weather buoy close to that vicinity that you should look at,” the tech said.

  “Put it up,” Levi commanded, pointing toward the great screen before them.

  The Unforgiven tech’s fingers danced over a computer keyboard.

  The major monitor shifted to hissing static, before a moving image appeared. Attached to an ocean buoy, the picture rose and fell with the waves, the lens splashed periodically by the sea.

  At first Aaron could make out nothing, but then . . .

  “What is that?” he asked, leaning in closer to better discern the image.

  There was something enormous in the water. The unknown creature was whale-like, but with short, muscular limbs that propelled its cumbersome body. The sea beast was swimming toward what looked to be another portal, only this one was easily ten times the size of the ones they’d seen across the world, and it hung just above the ocean.

  “Look at its back,” Levi stated, pointing to the screen.

  Aaron focused on the great beast moving in the water, finally seeing what it was that the Unforgiven leader was calling attention to.

  Riding upon the sea monster’s back were what could have been hundreds—maybe thousands—of nightmarish beasts, heading toward the larger portal of transference.

  “Looks like we found the missing legions,” Aaron said as the behemoth rose up out of the water to begin to climb up into the swirling passage torn in the fabric of reality.

  “We still don’t know where they are going. See if we can recalibrate one of the satellites to give us even a glimpse into that portal,” the Unforgiven leader commanded.

  The techs immediately went to work. The camera on the buoy shared a final glimpse of the great beast, its finned tail swishing as the monster disappeared through the supernatural doorway, with all its riders, to the other side.

  “We have something!” one of the techs announced. They all turned their attention to the latest signal.

  “Freeze that image,” Levi commanded.

  The techs were cleaning up the image when Aaron felt it. Just as when he’d recognized the home of the Darkstar, he suddenly knew what was waiting on the other side of the transference portal. The power of God that now resided within him told him all he needed to know.

  “I know this place,” Aaron announced, his voice sounding out with divine intensity.

  As the image improved, they saw a desert.

  “This is where it is buried,” Aaron proclaimed.

  “Where what is buried?” Levi asked him.

  “Beneath the sands of this Israeli desert lie the remains of the ancient city of Megiddo,” Aaron proclaimed. “And beneath that, I fear, is the prize that the Darkstar seeks.”

  “Megiddo,” Levi repeated. “Where it has been prophesied that the final battle between good and evil would occur.” Onscreen the vast armies of monsters swarmed around the desert.

  “He is searching for Beth-El,” Aaron said. “The Darkstar is searching for the House of God.”

  It took a moment, but Aaron saw from the looks upon the Unforgiven’s faces that they understood the enormity of the situation.

  “The Ladder,” Levi stated flatly.

  “Yes,” Aaron answered him. “This was where the Ladder once existed, and where Satan Darkstar plans for it to exist again.”

  “But that’s impossible,” Levi protested. “Without the power of God . . .”

  “He has something just as powerful in his possession,” Aaron explained. “He has the power of the Son of the Morning—the power of Lucifer . . .

  The power of Hell itself.”

  * * *

  Undeterred by the superior number of the newly awakened Nephilim Inheritors, the Angels of the Void attacked without hesitation.

  Cameron recoiled from the scenes of wanton savagery.

  William drew first blood, eviscerating two of the revived Nephilim who came at him. The expressions of shock and fear on their faces as they realized that they had been killed were truly chilling. The other Void Angels followed their leader, leaping into the fray with cries of excitement.

  “We have to help them,” Cameron said, still attempting to shrug off the effects of the Void Angel’s poisoned claws.

  Melissa went to the Custodian, who lay still on the floor.

  “I think he’s dying,” she cried.

  Cameron managed to stand, focusing on his divine fire to try and burn away the poison’s effects.

  “We’ll all be dead if we don’t do something,” he told her. They both looked up at the maelstrom of wings, fiery weapons, and slashing claws. The blood and bodies of Nephilim rained down within the chamber.

  “These Nephilim have been in cold storage for God knows how many years,” Cameron said. “They haven’t a clue what they’re up against.”

  “We barely understand what they are,” Melissa agreed.

  “Yeah, but you beat one,” he reminded her. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “We connected somehow and . . .”

  “How did you connect?”

  She shook her head. “We were fighting, my sword struck her claws, and . . . I really don’t remember.”

  “Is that how you did it?” he asked.

  Melissa watched the slaughter unfold above them. The Nephilim were dying, one after the other, the Void Angels cutting them down with ease.

  “It was the connection,” Melissa then said.

  “We’ve already established that—but how did you connect?”

  “No, it’s the connection,” Melissa said as she placed a hand upon her chest. “Us to them.”

  S
he looked at him. “These Nephilim have no connection to them,” she attempted to explain. “They’re just enemies to be cut down.”

  “We have the connection: our friendship,” Cameron said, at last understanding what Melissa was getting at.

  “Only we can stop them,” she said.

  “I knew you were going to say that,” Cameron said.

  “It’s the only way to save those who are still alive.”

  “Then we better get going,” Cameron said as he spread his wings and leaped into the air. “Wouldn’t want to be responsible for the loss of any more lives.”

  * * *

  Satan Darkstar remembered the desert landscape as it had once been.

  He saw not the broad expanse of desert with its sparse vegetation that spread before him, but a thriving city.

  Megiddo.

  And nestled deep within the bosom of the earth, existing before the great city had even been built, was his prize.

  The House of God.

  It was not Satan’s own memory, but that of the Sisters of Umbra, who had acquired the recollection from God’s power, which they had received from the Architects.

  The Architects.

  Satan realized that there would soon come a day when he would need to deal with these mysterious angelic beings, but today was for other concerns.

  A horrible, mournful death cry rolled across the harsh desert region.

  The great beast of the sea that had transported Satan’s troops across the ocean was dying.

  Cut off from the sea, the gray-skinned behemoth thrashed in the white desert sand in the throes of death. His legions fled from the monster, not wanting to be crushed.

  The Darkstar reached out to the creature with his mind. The behemoth begged for mercy, begged to be returned to its blessed sea, but the Darkstar ignored its pleas.

  It would be far more convenient to just let the beast die.

  Which it did, slumping in the sand with a final, mournful groan.

  And with the beast’s death, Satan looked upon the passage he had created and wished it no more.

  The pulsating tear crackled and hummed at the edges as reality attempted to repair itself, and he allowed it. The hole grew smaller, collapsing upon itself in a rush of air and the nearly deafening crack of a sonic boom.