by Donovan Neal
All of Heaven then shook. The mountain of God rocked violently, and the waters from the mountain that fed into Poseidon’s Fountain, the aqueducts to the city, and the Elysium fields ran dry as if shut off at a spigot.
The ground then cracked and from the rearward of the city a chasm opened up and a geyser of fire spewed high into the sky; the elevation shifted, a craggy peak exploded from the ground and jetted into the air as rock and dirt fell to the ground as it rose.
Conically the mountain grew, and the earthen mount lurched upwards until it belched rock and fire. Pyroclastic flows ejected from the side of the peak, and molten blood vomited from its surface. Smoke rose from a cavernous mouth and belched dark smolder into the sky.
Where previously there had been flowers and shrubs that changed colors, now the flora withered in the wake of an advancing march of sulfur and ash. The small mountain continued to grow, and its acidic noxious stench withered all life that could not escape its path: grass and plants caught unfortunate enough to be in its shadow withered to ash.
Animals that had played around the area previously ran to escape the onslaught of fire that rained down from the mountain’s craggy face.
A tall plume of smoke rose and blanketed the area. Shattered only by glimpses of lightning: thunder pounded, and the peak roared as if awakened from some great slumber.
The fires of the Kiln leapt forth in eruption to embrace this lost distant cousin: A mutual kiss of heat and flame that would sear all who dared to draw near.
Black, gritty ash and flakes of powdered sulfur lined the sides and mouth of the new summit. The body of the volcano inhaled and exhaled like a thing alive. And all of Heaven beheld God create a new thing, a living mountain!
Panting for the choking stench of sulfur, the mount oxygenated itself: its forge of a heart pumped heated magma into granite, and craggy veins umbilically tied it to the Kiln.
Hell was a breathing crucible of arid combustion and steam, and like a newborn babe waited to suckle at its mother’s breast. The furnace hungered and salivated magma and brimstone, yearning to consume and wailing in titanic rumblings of starvation.
Knowingly, the Ophanim turned to the mouth of the great breathing cavern now linked to the Kiln itself.
The Ophanim held Abaddon aloft, lifting him towards the mountains mouth, and he pleaded; nay screamed for mercy and pardon. Yet El was silent: stoic in his flowing robes of light and power.
El had spoken, and there was nothing to add to His word.
The Ophanim carried Abaddon, lacerating him as they went. His clothing became tattered from their relentless onslaught of incisions into his flesh. Then when they reached the summits great mouth, they dangled him helplessly over the mouth of Hell where a tongue of lava waited to greet him.
Lapping like a dog at its first morsel: stalagmite teeth bared, ready to swallow whole the now pitiful creature who once had commanded a sun.
Mercilessly, the Ophanim released him and Abaddon fell screaming into the cavernous mountain. The echoes of his ear splitting cries stretched across Heaven, cut short by his drowning in the gastric acids of the abomination of punishment.
Hell’s lava bubbled and spittle flowed over its heated mouth, and the stygian hue from its entrance collapsed in on itself.
The magma of the mountain's surface cooled, and steam hissed from the rock. A flash of lightning raced across the sky, a clap of thunder followed, and the peak went mute. The mountain was now quiet in hellish digestion as black smoke billowed from its rocky pores. The smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air. The sky darkened slightly from the smoke that escaped from the mount; suddenly, Heaven was silent once more.
It was here in that moment that a collective epiphany overtook them all. El was power on a level they had never grasped. His anger was terrible, and His ways beyond measure. He was indeed worthy of all honor and glory. They had witnessed the birth of a living realm, its hunger satiated only by their own kind.
El is Alpha. El is Omega.
All watched in fear and trembling. For when Heaven was formed none was present, yet now each bore witness to the creation of Hell. An added feature to the landscape of the realm, and they all looked at the mountain knowing what now lived inside.
El turned to return to the temple and as he stepped the, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty,” of the Seraphim could be heard from inside, and the ground quaked with the reverberating of the sound.
The Ophanim flew quickly overhead, zooming low over the knelt populace in the emporium, and each angel instinctively ducked to avoid injury.
Twain settled underneath the feet of El and he rose on their backs as twain covered his rear. Their eyes stared in all directions, never blinking, ever watching.
Watching until the temple doors shuttered fast behind him, and El was out of sight.
********************
Lucifer looked upon the Garden of Eden and smiled upon his creation of pristine beauty.
Surely El will be pleased.
He walked the length and breadth of it and took in every smell and sight. The songs of birds fluttered in the wind, the light breeze grazed his flesh, and each scent of cumin and lily filled him with vigor. He tasted one of the grapes from the many vines within the expanse, and savored its sugary flavor.
Ahh, this tastes so much better than manna.
He walked and admired the various trees unique to this world. The willow tree and aspen, the birch and the pine; each grew in an environment that would allow it to thrive, each environment compatible with the other.
This will be my new home.
From the distance just past a clearing of trees, Lucifer looked and saw them.
A flock of ruminating even toed creatures draped in yellowish-white fleece for hair. Each sported short tails, and their eyes possessed slit shaped pupils and set in faces of black. They seemed to be aware of his presence, yet they bleated while they ate the grass under foot.
What an intriguing animal.
“I take it, Chief Prince, that you are not impressed with the creature?”
Lilith had noticed Lucifer’s thoughts, saw that they had a measure of privacy, and decided to make his appearance.
“Impressed? No Lilith, impressed is not the word that I would use to describe this creature. Look at it. It grazes in peace unaware of the dignity of my presence. I could but speak a word and the creature would be razed, yet it chews the cud with oblivion. If I but move my finger, the flute within would sing alto and soprano within the breeze. This—this thing neither roars with the power of the great Leviathan nor thunders as Behemoth. It—it bleats. It does not glisten against the sun, nor does it stand erect. Its function baffles even one such as I. I despise its existence; it reeks of weakness, dependence, and docility. It ravishes the lush emerald I have gone to great lengths to create. There is nothing that would engender me to such a thing.”
“I have recorded your thoughts Lightbringer, but never until now can I say that I have understood them. This then is how you see El?”
Lucifer paused for a moment and then spoke. “I will say that there are others more suited to govern this realm.”
Lilith laughed. “Of course my Prince. No doubt you would have insight as to who might be worthy?”
Lucifer raised his eyebrow and turned around to look at his watcher.
“Do you mock me, Grigori?”
“Nay, Chief Prince, I would not presume to tell you that which you know so well. Your thoughts are open to me, and I know that thou are not satisfied in your status.”
“I am the first creation, and I yet I walk amongst the docile, those who chew manna as these creatures here chew the cud. I would see El’s plan for me accomplished, and it is to be more than this…this grandiose orchestration of husbandry.”
“And what is thy desire, Chief Prince? What would satisfy you?” asked Lilith.
Lucifer thought for a moment. His eyes scoured the land, and surveyed the sky. His gaze looked past the second heaven a
nd deep into the third.
“That I might ascend into Heaven,” he said. “That my throne be exalted above the stars of God. That I would sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: To ascend above the heights of the clouds…”
Lilith smirked, amused and somewhat startled by Lucifer’s reply.
“You already walk within the Stones of Fire, and you are first among your brethren, nay above all creation save God himself. Would you be God?”
Lucifer turned to continue his stroll through the Garden of Eden, walked to inspect the small helpless sheep before him, and softly replied to himself, “Indeed.”
********************
“Speak” said El.
Sariel was the first to enter the fray.
“Lord, in thine wisdom I see why you showed us the vision of Abaddon. He was a portent that you saw; a warning of what could befall us all if we were to deviate from thy will. Yet the Destroyer has taken the life of my charge Corlus. Why then hast he been allowed to live? Will not the judge of all the realms do right? How does captivity in Hell requite the deeds done this day?”
Talus and his other brethren gazed upon Sariel with displeased looks; never had El been queried thus. The events of the last several days were new in a way none had ever imagined or experienced.
“Sariel, mind your tone. Your words offend. El is Alpha and Omega. How shall Kilnborn ask its creator, why hast thou made me thus?” said Michael.
El looked at Michael and smiled. “Michael, Sariel hast obeyed me in all things. I know his heart as I know yours. Speak.”
Talus was quick to comment. “My God I take issue that an Arelim, even one as Abaddon would be destroy…”
Sariel was even quicker to interrupt, “Nay and why should you? Your people were not made sport of as Abaddon was quick to make with Ashtaroth; Lucifer’s own aid the Chief Prince of us all. Perhaps if the heart of Breagun, your own attendant, had been clutched in Abaddon’s hand, then might thy heart desire vengeance! Perhaps the death of an Arelim such as Saesheal does not move you with compassion?”
Talus rose and moved towards Sariel as if he might strike him. Michael jumped to stand between the two. Gabriel sensed the passion of the moment and stood at the side of Talus ready to restrain him if necessary.
Jerahmeel looked at El and spoke. “I say let 'em go at it. Maybe they might knock some sense into one another.”
Never had Michael witnessed such a careless abandonment of protocol. He glanced at El and hoped that they would not all join Abaddon for their foolishness. Michael wished that Lucifer or Raphael were here; surely, their words would bring reason; for zeal now seemed to fill these two.
El stood in the front of his throne, and a cool mist ignited from the heat that El’s presence emanated. The rainbow from the refracted light filled the throne room. His immediate movement made all the brethren to kneel before their Lord.
He stepped down from the mercy seat and walked before them; his crimson train followed as he turned to the side of the throne room towards the door that housed the Kiln.
The Kiln was a simple chamber. There was only one entrance, which was from El’s throne room, and one exit out: a hollowed fiery channel that lead only to Hell. Strewn on the Kiln’s floor were white-hot coals called the Stones of Fire.
“Michael,” said the Lord, “come walk with me.”
Never had Michael actually entered the Kiln. It was a privilege of the first Kilnborn, the Chief Prince. Michael looked curiously at El, but he rose and followed his master into the Kiln. Michael could feel the eyes of his brethren on his back and was sure their jaws dropped in wonderment of El’s actions.
The presence of El within the Kiln simply fanned the flames hotter. Like a match sparking gas, the furnace of heat blistered. El was the fuel that kindled it. Even his absence was such that the Kiln blazed from the presence of his embers. It never extinguished, and it never went out.
Michael watched as El walked among the stones as he had done in times past. Each stone was a separate element. Littered on the floor were stones of alkali metals - actinides such as uranium, and neptunium, halogens - and nonmetals, each was alive and containing the stuff from which the universe was composed. Stones upon stones, colors vibrant and hot to the touch, all called to El like schoolchildren who clamored for their teacher's attention, all competing for the chance to be.
El pointed to one stone and motioned to Michael to pick it up. Michael walked over to take it and placed it into his Lord’s hands. It was a stone of iron and he handed it face down to the Lord. El took the stone into his hand and covered it with another as if to mold it. A figure soon developed and El returned the small sculpture to his angelic son.
“Place it within the wall's flesh,” said the Lord.
Michael placed the figurine within the wall of the Kiln as commanded and watched in amazement as the sculpture slowly transformed and germinated from a smooth stone of rock to a figure that grew with arms and legs.
Boney wings sprouted from its back, and powerful cloven hoofs attached themselves to muscular legs. Sinew and veins of cast iron chains soon appeared. Links of rusted iron composed what looked like a rib cage.
Its face was like the bleached skull of a mare. Its body was clothed in a tattered dark cowl; putrefaction and rust slowly dripped from under its robes, and its arms were like hammers and it held a bladed curved steel scythe in one hand. It had three tails composed of what looked like rusted manacles, and from its chest dangled six steel chains that were like the tendrils of a squid.
Like a stillborn child it fell from the walls of the Kiln to the floor, covered in a white, red, and black filmy and fiery membrane.
El said, “Stand before me and be thou charged.”
Obediently, the pitiful creature rose to its hind legs; its height cast a shadow and darkened the Kiln. The clanking sound of its dangling chains joined the sounds of the fires of the Kiln. Each step it took was as a hammer would hit an anvil; its chains scraped the ground, and Michael looked in horror at this hollowed out shell of an Elohim, an automaton of celestial life. Throughout his entire existence, there was only one thing in creation that he truly feared.
Today there were now two, and both stood next to him.
This new horror of an Elohim stood erect before him, 20 feet tall. El then spoke to the creature.
“Thou art ferrous in nature. Thou art the wall and none may pass. Stand between the darkness and the light. Thou art Archon of Hell, the ferryman of doom. Charon shalt thou be.
"Now go to and stand thou at Hell's mouth and watch. Journey thou through the umbilical to Hell’s womb and exact mine fury on all that lay therein.”
From the fires of the Kiln and flesh of Charon, the Lord then fashioned two glowing keys. One to control Death, and the other Hell, and gave them to Charon that he might bind and loose the forces of Hell.
The Godstones shook as the heavy weighted creature turned to march away; its manacled legs, somehow able to bear its weight. Charon trudged and dragged his dangling chains behind him. Unmoved by the heat and seething flame: Charon plodded slowly towards the Kiln’s fiery exit.
Blistering heat engulfed the creature as black acrid smoke swirled from around it. Where others of Michael’s kind, might flee such a blaze; Michael realized that here within the furnace of both the Kiln and Hell. Charon was home.
He watched as this myrmidon of El slowly marched across the umbilical of Hell, this newly formed tunnel of fire, a passageway that connected the Kiln with the new prison of fire and brimstone El had named ‘Hell’.
Fated to crawl through volcanic intestines only to exit from its sulfuric throat, Charon dragged his charcoal staff with its anvil like arms to journey through the bowels of the mountain. Forever a guardian to Hell’s infernal maw, Charon became a sentinel that none within could ever hope to pass.
Michael discerned that Charon, this warden of Hell sent to execute the vengeance of God and Abaddon would meet somewhere inside.
The Lord stood in the midst of the Stones of Fire and flame draped around his form as one might wear a shawl. He looked back on the members of the court that were present and who peered through the doorway of the Kiln, and spoke in authoritative finality.
“Vengeance is mine,” said the Lord. “I will repay.”
No one dared to speak a word.
Chapter Four
New Additions
Day Six
Receiving word that his master was Heaven bound, Ashtaroth stood at the waypoint near the cliffs of Argoth anxiously awaiting his Lord's arrival. His wait was not long as the familiar boom of a Ladder and the concussive wave of spectral light penetrated the realms.
“Welcome back Chief Prince,” said Ashtaroth. “I trust that your time on Earth was fruitful?”
“Indeed,” said Lucifer. “I have completed my task as assigned by El and am returned to acquire the Lord’s next assignment. Report of thy stewardship.”
Ashtaroth lowered his gaze and ceased to look his master in the eye.
“My stewardship Lord Prince?”
Ashtaroth gulped and staggered backward, his eyes darted feverishly as the wheel’s of his mind turned to develop an explanation of all that had transpired in his master’s absence.
The second floor of your residence is in ruins, and I am responsible.
Lucifer looked upon his attendant with irritation. “Ashtaroth, I await a report.”
