“Tell us when you plan on attacking!” Palubiel demanded.
“Very, very soon,” Niziel hissed defiantly between her clenched teeth as she nursed her stump. “I have already sent in my report.”
“Are you the only informant in here?” Palubiel asked.
Immediately, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel and the senior archangels present went on alert and monitored everyone present for any indications of another possible spy. When Niziel did not reply, Palubiel stepped on Niziel’s open stump and pressed hard on it. Niziel screamed until Palubiel released the pressure.
“Answer me!” Palubiel demanded.
“Yes, yes!” Niziel whimpered. “I am the only one!”
Michael regarded his senior archangels. They nodded their affirmation. They did not notice anything out of the ordinary.
“What would you have me do now, Michael Sir?” Palubiel asked Michael without taking her eyes off her opponent.
“Let her go,” Michael replied. “You will meet her again in battle.”
Palubiel did as she was ordered and Niziel teleported away. She dismissed her sword and turned to face the rest of Michael’s group. There was a loud applause from everyone and Michael beckoned her over. Palubiel walked over and dropped to a knee in front of Michael.
“Rise, youngling, and look at me!” Michael ordered.
Palubiel obeyed.
“Who is your trainer?” Michael asked.
Palubiel turned around and pointed at an archangel. Michael nodded.
“You have done very well, Maziel,” Michael said.
“Thank you, Michael,” Maziel replied. “She honors us all.”
Michael nodded. He extended his forearm towards Palubiel. She hesitated before slowly and reverently reaching out for Michael’s forearm. As she clasped forearms with Michael, a golden bracelet manifested on her right wrist. Palubiel was so excited that she threw herself at Michael and gave him a very tight hug. Michael smiled and returned her hug.
“Thank you, Michael Sir! Thank you!” Palubiel exclaimed.
“Well deserved, Palubiel,” Michael said. “We all need archangels like you.”
“Archangel…” Palubiel spoke the word as if in a daze. “Archangel…”
There was more applause for Palubiel’s well-deserved promotion. Palubiel released herself from Michael, thanked him profusely before hurrying over to hug Maziel. Michael seized the opportunity to slip away unnoticed, but not before issuing some final instructions to Raphael and giving Uriel a glance and a nod. Uriel nodded back before he teleported away.
***
Luciel was furious, sad and heartbroken at the same time. Michael had made her look like a fool and Uriel had, once again, outsmarted her. But a bruised ego was the least of her concerns now. Michael had made her an offer and she had declined. Had she been a fool to decline Michael’s offer? After all, this was Michael; a new, flaming-eyes-and-mouth Michael! And the thought of taking out this new version of Michael exhilarated her a lot less. For all she knew, the rebellion may as well be marching into a suicide mission, but she would not dare reveal her concerns to the rebellion. Instead, she would ride the wave of uncertainty and confusion to revamp the cause.
“Brothers and sisters,” Luciel shouted above the noise in the domain.
Silence washed across the domain.
“The moment has finally come! OUR moment has finally come. There is no place for diplomacy, only action. Let us ready ourselves then and upon my signal, we will march out and make our dreams a certain reality!”
There was a thunderous applause and chanting of her name. Luciel walked among them, clasping forearms and patting shoulders. They were ready, she could tell, and she too must ready. Zukael was at the far end of the domain, having conversations with some of the senior archangels. Suddenly, a very badly maimed Niziel teleported into the domain and dropped weakly to her knees in front of Luciel. Luciel rushed to her aid and held the one-armed youngling in her arms. The youngling managed to open her eyes and look into Luciel’s.
“Michael has a message for you,” Niziel said weakly and relayed the message.
When she was done, Luciel signaled. An angel came and took Niziel away for treatment. Luciel rose to her feet and looked at the many pairs of eyes that zoomed in on her. Then, golden light coalesced in her left hand to form a sword and she thrust it in the air.
“WAR!” Luciel screamed and the rebellion chorused her cry.
***
Michael appeared in a barren realm in the dimension. There were rocks of various shapes, sizes and colors everywhere; some floated in the air and others were on the ground. Michael selected a floating rock and perched on it. He wondered why he had such a strong urge to come to this location. What was he looking for? A million thoughts rushed through his mind as he tried to make sense of everything that was going on with him and in Celestia. Finally, feeling the rowdiness of his raging thoughts was starting to get to him, Michael decided he would try to still his mind.
“Would you like some company, Michael?” said a formless voice.
Michael whipped his head around but saw nothing.
“I apologize, I did not mean to startle you, Michael,” the voice continued and a form began to manifest in front of Michael.
Michael marveled at the impressive beauty of the creature but remained wary of the creature.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the creature said as it completed its manifestation. “My name is Ashram.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MEET THE HOUND LEADER!
“I MEAN YOU no harm, angel,” Ashram said. “May I approach, please?”
Michael eyed the creature for briefly and shrugged. What was the worst that could happen? Nothing could be worse than Celestia going to war, anyway. The creature did no exude any form of hostility so far. Ashram nodded and walked towards Michael. He knew he could glide, but he chose to walk.
“You seem troubled,” Ashram said.
“Distracted, yes,” Michael replied dismissively.
“And you come here to find answers,” Ashram said. “At least, you listened to your instinct. You might have what it takes after all.”
Michael shot a suspicious stare in Ashram’s direction.
“What are you talking about, creature?” Michael asked.
Ashram stared silently ahead. Michael waited for an answer. None came.
I don’t have any moments for this! Michael thought. He chose to ignore Ashram and return to self-searching.
“We are the Hounds of Creation,” Ashram said finally. “We have no realm or dimension to call home for Creation is our home. Our purpose is to seek creatures that are… uh… ‘special.”
“What do you mean by ‘special’?” Michael asked.
Ashram was silent for a moment before he spoke.
“What is it you seek, Michael?” Ashram asked.
There was something about the way Ashram asked Michael the question that made Michael drop his aggression and cower a little. This creature was anything but ordinary. Ashram released a tinge of its power, just enough for Michael to perceive a whiff of it. Michael perceived the message loud and clear.
“I don’t know what I seek,” Michael replied. “I… I…” he stammered.
“You are a great leader, Michael,” Ashram said. “Something gnaws in you, which escapes your rational mind. Your mind is racing in so many directions at the moment and you have so many questions.”
Ashram was silent for a moment as Michael waited; this time, patiently.
“Must there be a war?” Ashram said. “Must prophecies come to pass? What do all these mean for me? Will Celestia survive? What is the meaning of all this? And why do some of these rocks float while others stay on the ground? All these questions and more, generated by your personality construct, are running through that mind of yours. But they are just recycled information.”
Michael chewed on Ashram’s words and wondered what Ashram was trying to say. Ashram sat on his haunches and stare
d straight ahead.
“You could have remained in your domain in Celestia and pondered away,” Ashram continued. ‘But you did not.”
He knows so much about me already! Michael thought. But I’m not surprised. Why?
“So, that brings us to the most important question for now,” Ashram said.
“Which is?” Michael asked.
“Why are you here, Michael?” Ashram asked and faced Michael.
Michael opened his mouth to say something but the words died off.
“I don’t know,” Michael confessed. “At first, I thought I did, but I don’t.”
“Instinct…” Ashram spoke calmly. “The eternal compass of Creation that points towards one direction and one direction only. Ah, sweet Creation!”
“What direction is that?” Michael asked, still staring blankly at nothing.
He was not sure whether this creature was here to help him with answers or to waste his moments. His patience was starting to wear thin already.
“The right one, Michael,” Ashram replied. “Instinct will always point you in the right direction. Follow it and you will find what you are looking for. Like I told you just a moment ago, I am a Hound of Creation and my purpose is to find creatures with very special talents.”
Michael sat silently for a while. Ashram sympathized with Michael’s worry. He remembered a moment in the ever-running present when he faced a similar situation. They, The Hounds, had coexisted in harmony and Ashram was their leader. Chiram had been his next-in-command but something had changed in Chiram and Chiram had started a rebellion against him, Ashram, and Ashram’s followers. Chiram had no room for either diplomacy or an alternative to the problem at hand. Alas, The Hounds had gone to war as well.
So many hounds had perished in that pointless war. So many hounds were the collateral damages of one hound’s lust for something Ashram could neither fathom nor indulge in. And so, it had come to pass that Ashram had offered to surrender in order to stop the senseless losses on both sides. Chiram did accept Ashram’s surrender, but turned on Ashram and Ashram’s followers, ordering them to the arrested and detained for an impending execution. Ashram could not let that happen. As such, Ashram had given up his Roar and a part of his essence, to shield his friend’s from Chiram’s heartless intentions. Ashram’s loyal followers would remain in detention and safe from Chiram, while he, Ashram would flee from Chiram and continue his Hound duties across Creation; and Chiram would forever be on the hunt for Ashram because, without the Roar, she could never truly be the leader of the Hounds of Creation.
Ashram thought it best not share this story with Michael. Michael must find his own path without Ashram’s interference. Ashram could tell Michael was special the moment Michael was spawned. Michael still was not fully aware just how special he was. Hopefully, Michael would come to that awareness eventually. Ashram was pleased so far with Michael’s esoteric signature. There was much promise. Ashram rose to his paws and started walking away.
“Wait!” Michael called out to Ashram.
Ashram stopped, without turning around to face Michael.
“I still don’t know why I came here,” Michael said. “Maybe the meaning will become clear to me, later. Maybe it won’t. Still, I am grateful for your company. So, thank you, Ashram.”
Ashram nodded.
“You coming here was no coincidence,” Michael added. “That I know.”
“You are wiser than you are aware of, Michael,” Ashram said.
He resumed walking away and began slowly disappearing with each step.
“Our paths will cross again, Michael,” Ashram added and disappeared.
Michael was alone again. He sought solace and solutions in the silence that surrounded him. After many moments, his core was still troubled and the stirring in his gut were still too strong. Michael heaved his shoulders. He did not come here to philosophize. He already knew what he had to do regarding the rebellion. His instincts had led him here; but why? Michael pondered for several moments and grew tired of pondering. Finally, he let go of the ramblings of his mind and followed his instincts. As such, Michael lay on the rock, closed his eyes and relaxed his body.
“Mother,” Michael said via telepathy. “Please, help me….”
“Hello Michael,” Mother replied. “How may I be of assistance?”
***
The Scribe watched as the angels form groups on opposite sides of the vast, open space in some corner of Celestia. Look how cute they all look in their little, shiny armor! He thought. He smiled at the memories of when Luciel fell into the body of the dead soldier. She was a fierce one, and in that fierceness was a fissure in her psyche, or maybe it was in her essence, that The Scribe had capitalized on. It was always so easy working up these lowly creatures to his purpose; to bend their wills to suit his. Not align, just suit. They were not of the same level as he was. They could never be. And after all those Earthly years of a very mutually beneficial friendship, he was very proud of himself at the fruits of this labor.
The Scribe did admire Luciel, though. She was a force to reckon with, unlike that Shemsu, whatever his name was again. Oh yes! Lunok! What a hard-head, acting all righteous et cetera! Damn that creature for trying to threaten him! Well, Lunok did not try; that Shemsu did threaten him and he, The Scribe, had behaved himself. Such guts! He promised to make Lunok suffer slowly and painfully. Torture never crossed his mind as he schemed to unravel Creation; but when it came to Lunok…. The Scribe grinned with wild gusto at the thought of giving Lunok the honor of being the only creature in Creation he planned on torturing; pleasure for him, The Scribe, but not so much for Lunok!
It was frustrating how every time he tried to turn a Shemsu into an ally, or a catalyst, the Shemsu would end up self-destructing. Who made these creatures so perfect and yet so faulty to the point that they could not even handle a basic vibration of polarization? It was not just Fallok, his first Shemsu victim. He shook his head. At least, they found a way to contain his handiworks, or tainted Shemsus as they preferred to call their kind. While that was a good thing, not one tainted Shemsu had remained locked up long enough to become the ultimate catalyst. They were always too unstable and eventually self-destructed.
Oh look! He thought. They are about to start killing one another! This is going to be so much fun! Camp Luciel is wearing a silver-colored armor while that of Camp Michael is golden. Two smaller groups are gliding towards the center now. To the left, were Luciel, Zukael and Malichiel and to the right were Raphael, Uriel and Gabriel. What were they going to do now? Work a miracle? Oh no, no, no! There will be a war and existences will be ended! The Scribe rubbed his hands vigorously together and stopped before he caused a cosmic event significant enough to stop the war.
No compromise! No diplomacy! Just heads rolling and existences ending! Yes! This will be wonderful! The Scribe was rooting for Luciel, of course, especially since Michael left. The coward was smart after all. He planned a nice escape, pretending he was on some self-searching mission, while the others took the blows for him.
“Last chance, Luciel!” Raphael called out. “Take your followers and leave, and I guarantee that you all will be spared.”
“Perhaps you should follow your leader, Raphael,” Luciel counteroffered. “Leave now and we might consider sparing you all.”
“Very well then,” Raphael replied. “You know I am not one for idle chat. If it were up to me, you’d all be paying for your treason this very moment. But-”
“But your coward of a leader doesn’t have the wings to do what must be done,” Luciel interrupted. “Even in his absence, which was very smart of him by the way, you’re still kissing up his wing stumps. Why, brethren? Why?”
And she even thinks like I do! He giggled. I’m a proud… I don’t know. Daddy?
“Because we are angels, Luciel,” Raphael replied. “We took an oath and we will uphold that oath. That’s what loyalty, respect and honor are all about. Unfortunately, those are concepts you have absolutely no n
otion of, do you?”
“I know enough to stand with those who share in my vision and challenge the very concepts of which you speak,” Luciel replied. “We make our own way and we will live free from the bondage and chains of the angel’s oath.”
“It must be pulling at your wings to not be number one,” Uriel said calmly. “You could never beat Michael in combat, you could never outsmart me and you could barely contain your urges. For a senior archangel, you sure do act like a youngling just spawned a moment ago!”
Uriel smiled when she noticed Luciel wince.
“And while I’d so love to stand here and dilly-dally with you,” Luciel tried to recover from Uriel’s stinging words. “We’d prefer to do what we came here for. You can delay all you want! But, as you can see, your fearless leader is NOT coming to your rescue.”
Raphael scoffed and smiled out of the corner of his mouth. He then floated upwards and addressed Luciel’s camp directly.
“Brothers and sisters,” he said telepathically so that everyone could hear. “I urge you not to do this. We do not have to go to war. Hence why we are offering you the chance to either join us or leave peacefully. If you leave now, we guarantee that you will not be harmed. We have tried without success to reason with your leader. Please, take our offer. I implore you all.”
Raphael waited and there was no movement from the rebellion’s camp. He could see the eagerness, the anxiety, the fear, the lust and the confusion in their eyes. These were similar sentiments shared by his camp as well, as was expected. This was not a training session. They were going to war and not all of them will survive. To all of them, this would be their first experience or war and to many or most of them, this would be their last. Raphael floated back to the ground and rejoined Uriel and Gabriel.
“What did you think you could achieve with your pathetic speech, Raphael?” Luciel teased and Zukael joined her in laughing at Raphael.
Celestial Crisis Page 31
