by Donovan Neal
There will be many hearts singed with regret this day. Sariel thought.
The angel turned to fly away; the reality of what he was about to do, weighing heavy upon him. However, the moment that he arose to leave the field of battle; a spear pierced his back. His great wings curled as if broken, blood spewed from his wound, and his entrails hung from the spears tip. Standing behind him was a member of Sariel’s own house. Gripping tightly the spear he had moments ago lunged into his brother’s back. He pulled it from the angel’s backbone and the wounded angel fell as a bird to the ground. Without mercy or compassion, he raised his spear a second time and shoved it into the stomach of Lucifer’s henchman. The light dimmed from the fallen angel, and movement stopped.
Sariel became enraged and leaped to the aid of the angel who even now dead gurgled blood from his mouth. The Prince with deftness of hand disarmed his younger sibling, and with tears and anger in his heart swung the tip of the spear across his brother's face and sliced open his jaw. His house brother fell back, his eyes wide opened and confused, for he had been struck by one who did not have Lucifer’s mark.
“If I have done thee wrong, then bear witness to my misdeed, but if not, why smitest thou me?”
Sariel replied, “Is it not enough that a foe would lay down his arms to flee? He who would live by the sword shall die by the sword!”
Sariel then raised the spear over his knee, snapped it in two, and threw the pieces to the ground. He looked away into the sky; he knew that to destroy the Destroyer, there would need to be a sacrifice. He could not stop him––this he knew. However, he could bring Heaven to pause, to ponder his doings, that to defeat this foe required the laying down of one’s life. Sariel then took to the skies and flew to Abaddon to do battle.
Fear and peace fought with one another in his mind, only to be scolded by the resolution to be silent,
Thy will be done, my Lord.
Like a streak of lightning, he flew into the army of locusts, and they immediately stung him. His body became inflamed, and he generated fire from his own body. The creatures seared themselves as they touched him and fell as dross. He smashed into Abaddon, knocking him from his gryphon, and they wrestled as they streaked through the smoke filled air.
Each grappled and contorted to gain advantage, pulling, twisting, and struggling to gain submission.
Abaddon pummeled the jaw of Sariel, and they fell as comets from the sky. Sariel held fast to Abaddon and did not let him go. He reached with his fiery hand into Abaddon’s chest and ripped the second broken stone, tearing the angel’s ligaments. Abaddon cried out in agony.
Immediately, the locust swarm lifted from their prey, releasing whomever they held and came en masse to aid their master. A black cloud of biting teeth and stingers descended to envelope and swallow Sariel and their master in an embrace of venom laced stings.
Sariel crushed the beating stone in his hands. The swarm reached their master in smoke and fire, set upon Sariel, and injected him with their venom. But Sariel had done what he had set out to do. He released Abaddon and allowed the swarm to have him. The two angels plummeted towards the ground. Abaddon’s chest seeped spark and smoke, and he dripped fire as blood, for his innards was open for all to see. He was molten on the inside, and dark ash poured from his mouth.
Abaddon gripped at his chest as he fell and opened his mouth to swallow the swarm. They swirled within him, and as a thing alive, arms and hands reached for Sariel as they fell to the earth. Abaddon wrapped his hands around Sariel's neck, and like a boa constrictor tightened his lock on the prince as they smashed headlong into the ground. The explosion knocked back those that stood near. Buildings collapsed, and rocks and debris flew across the city. Smoke sprinted and blanketed all in dust and ash.
In the smolder a figure stood, seen through the cloud to drag another. The form lifted the motionless angel and tossed him from the bellows. The visage of Sariel could be seen, and he was broken, his spine extended from his back, and from his lifeless body; locusts poured from his mouth, nose and ears, for he was stung from the inside, and his body was as a pustule waiting to burst. Abaddon shouted as a deranged man, spread his great wings, placed his foot over the face of the dead Sariel, and screamed to all in defiance.
When Talus and Gabriel saw their brother dead: they went mad with rage and launched an attack upon Abaddon in unison. In a choreography of death, swords swung, parried, thrusted, and dodged.
Each pressed their attack
Talus matched Abaddon’s strength, for he was Abaddon's prince. He backhanded the rogue angel and sent him reeling into the ground. Gabriel was swift to take advantage of his brother’s attack, and before Abaddon could respond, Gabriel’s staff had smashed itself into his face. Abaddon screamed and sought to flee, but Gabriel was everywhere, and kept him off balance. When Abaddon predicted where Gabriel would be next, Talus caught up to them and again punched Abaddon with such force his chest cavity caved, and his bones splintered. Abaddon doubled over in pain, stumbled back wheezing, and opened his mouth and chest plate to unleash the swarm to attack them.
Talus lifted up his hand to protect himself and be overwhelmed when Gabriel suddenly appeared before him, and spun his staff and wings so that the swarm could not touch them. Still they moved towards him, undeterred, stopping for nothing but the cessation of Abaddon’s heart. Lo, they fought him even as one man, each using the other’s attributes to keep Abaddon off balance, to beat him into submission, to defeat the Destroyer.
While they pressed him, the battle waged citywide. Ashtaroth having charge of his troops held back to survey his army from on high. He saw that with the addition of Talus and the horde from the Elysian Fields, the battle still favored his cause. He smiled knowing that his master had succeeded in drawing all attention to the city while he himself was set to the true prize.
“Note brother, how the princes smite Abaddon,” said Asmodeus.
Ashtaroth chuckled. "They know not that they merely act in accordance to the master’s will.” Ashtaroth smiled as he watched the princes subdue Abaddon and hold him fast with chains of iron, yet they struggled to contain him, for the battle still raged about them.
Ashtaroth smirked, sighed, looked up, and breathed in Heaven’s air, now filled with smoke and the ash of the broken and crushed stones of his master’s adversaries. As he watched a flock of gulls that hovered over the battlefield, his eyes strained to see flashes of what seemed like balls of lightning coming towards them.
The luminescent birds of Heaven flew over the city, squawked at the bodies of the fallen, and wailed for the dissolution that was beneath them. Manna fields burned to the east, black smoke filled the sky to the south, and below them, the dead lined the streets as fallen autumn leaves waiting to be raked.
As a school of fish flees a predator, they too dispersed as the air crackled with thunder and lightning as Chronos and a host of angels that possessed the power of teleportation fell to the ground shouting a cry of battle. Thousands descended like electrified hailstones unto the city streets and instantly took up arms to fight those who possessed the mark of Lucifer.
With the landing of Chronos and the host, the clouds themselves gave up the ghost. Each opened their mouths to whisper the word, “Woe,” between them until it covered the whole of Heaven. When their sadness had pillowed to overflowing, rain fell from the sky, for the clouds were alive and cried tears. The angels had taken no notice of their presence and pierced them with Ladders so that their wounds were such they now bled out as it were great drops of foul smelling vinegar. A filmy liquid that splashed from the sky of Heaven and the birds cawed and sought escape, for they found themselves now covered in slime. Many dropped from the sky, while others flew to hide themselves for the whole of Heaven’s armies had gathered themselves to war; and none considered that reality had begun to tear at itself.
Brother slew brother, and with each angel felled, Heaven's glory diminished. The celestial realm became unhinged and with the loss of each Archon,
planets were decimated, and great tears in space opened to swallow galaxies whole, for there was none to watch over El’s word, and none looked to keep it. Creation groaned, for her stewards had turned their face from her. Each looked to his own, and none cared for the things that were El’s. They left their first station to clash with one another.
Darkness reclaimed realms that once gleamed in light, and even the Earth convulsed as continents shifted and leviathans and dinosaurs assailed by earthquakes were buried beneath rock, sand, and water.
The great armies clashed steel against steel. As the rage of angels burned towards one another, Asmodeus frowned as he looked about him, for he saw that the way to the Kingdom of Heaven was open and the legions of El had found passage. He looked disapprovingly at Ashtaroth and said, “Did we cause with Lucifer to bring asunder the very fabric of all things? Behold the host has come. We are undone.”
“Nay–– not yet.” replied Ashtaroth. “There is still the master.” Ashtaroth then pointed towards a giant protrusion that swelled from the mountain of God.
Without warning, a great shock wave burst through the air, and trees, rock, and fire streaked across the sky. The ground itself heaved, buckled, and caused all to hesitate and stop to see this new thing. A blast of thunder and rock erupted to the north, and each beheld with mouths agape: all now frozen in awe at the mountain of God and the source of their birthplace.
The Kiln had exploded.
********************
Jerahmeel ran into the Spire of Tomes and yelled for Raphael. “Raphael, are you here? Where are you?”
“Over here!” cried Raphael, “in the steward’s room.”
Jerahmeel ran past desks and tables with maps, parchments, and volumes, tripped, and fell to the floor, landing with a great thud. He pushed himself up and looked behind him to see that by his feet laid the dead body of Hariph sprawled behind his help desk.
He died even at his post. Jerahmeel raised himself to his feet, continued to walk, and entered into the steward’s room.
The room was as a dome with a pinnacle that shot high into the sky. Round about the dome were projections of all the happenings in all realms.
Raphael stood motionless and watched the panoramic display of galaxies, stars, and life across galaxies begin to deteriorate, for Elohim, which were charged to watch over the course of all things, were now vacant from their posts, and with El’s and their absence, the realms slowly fell into ruin.
Raphael stared at the projections and said, “All things are upheld by the word of His power. But El stands mute, still in Sabbath, and the stewards appointed have left their first estate.”
He pointed and they both watched as a planet seeded with life ripped apart, for the star which orbited it went nova, and its Archon was absent.
“We must hurry Jerahmeel, or there will be no multiverse when El awakes from his rest.”
“Will El return? And what will be his mind when he sees what the people have done?”
Determined to bring sanity to the madness, Raphael took the Tome of Iniquity and quickly set it upon a golden pedestal in the center of the room. Then faced his brother and spoke.
“He will be wroth.”
********************
“In El’s name!” said Chronos. When he spoke the clocks within him stopped, and suddenly around him, all things slowed. He moved to knock a brother from the path of a large boulder that had ejected from the Kiln, and when the angel was safely out the way, the clocks within Chronos moved again; the giant boulder then resumed its original speed and smashed behind them barely missing them. When Chronos looked down, he had saved his comrade from destruction. Noting that he bore the mark of Lucifer, Chronos rose from atop him and asked.
“Whom do you serve?”
The angel replied, “I am with El, but my deeds have brought me shame.”
Chronos hugged him and covered him with his own body as fire fell upon them all. The skies lit as fireworks as the ejected Stones of Fire cooled and dropped upon them, obliterating all that they touched.
“We are undone, for the God stones fall on us,” cried Chronos. “I know not what this day will bring. Nevertheless, thou shall not be brought low by my hand. Take heart. For God is with us.”
The heavenly host, which had assembled in the city, ran for fear as pyroclastic bombs of rock and smoke jetted from the mountain's side, and hurtled across the cityscape, smashing into buildings, and set shop and angel ablaze.
The Kilnstones landed as falling stars, living things, which hitherto fore had sung, ‘to be.” Now removed from the heated womb of the Kiln, they echoed their terror and wailed in anger across the land. Each swallowed into great light anything that they touched, and angels and every living thing ran from them, for their yearning "to be" disintegrated all that was.
From the side of the mountain a dust cloud pillowed into the sky, and two bright lights streaked like lightning across the sky. In the midst of the tumult, Michael and Lucifer plummeted towards the temple.
Lucifer, scarred from battle, was unlike anything the host had ever seen, for though his sigil was clear. He was a huge dragon with 10 heads, and he flew with wings to hold up his monstrosity of a body. He had two tails with barbs that protruded from their tips, smoke and fire simmered from his mouth, and another larger stone that sung pulsated within him. Fire belched from his carnivorous mouth, and he flew through the sky raining flame upon all that he saw. He twisted falling out of control as he hurtled towards the ground.
Atop his back was Michael in white robes encircled by seven blue swords and each was as the Ophanim but smaller, and they sliced through Lucifer as the brothers plunged to the earth. Michael rode Lucifer as a beast and struck his sword deep into one of Lucifer’s skulls, and the great dragon roared in pain.
They fell from the sky headlong into the court of the Burning Ones, crashing into the steps of the gates and blasting into the doors of the throne room and into the Holy of Holies.
All of Heaven watched as Michael with seven levitating swords fought Lucifer. When Michael pointed at the neck of his brother, a sword flew through the air and embedded itself into his throat, causing Lucifer to let out a gurgling scream. The concussion of his voice knocked the Seraphim to the ground, and their flames extinguished because the blast was of such force. The temple doors creaked from the impact of Lucifer’s cry: all onlookers knelt and covered their ears.
Michael then leaped towards his brother, grabbed a sword, swung from it, and pulled with his weight until it tore Lucifer’s flesh open as a zipper would a coat. Lucifer roared with pain, and with one of his great heads fired, a mouth of flame at his own neck to cauterize the wound. With another head, Lucifer opened his mouth, and a blast of sound screeched towards Michael and knocked him back.
Michael raised his flaming sword that El had made him and flung it into the mouth of Lucifer. The great dragon let out a scream, the pillars of the holy place smashed, and the temple began to shake as if to collapse. Lucifer choked on the sword and attempted to withdraw it from his mouth. Michael seized his opportunity, with his thoughts, sword after sword lodged itself as a stepladder, and Michael climbed them. With each step taken, a sword retracted, and Michael climbed higher upon Lucifer and continued to stab at him.
Michael reached the neck of one of Lucifer’s heads and raised his hands. The swords flew through the air and into his palms, and with them Michael sliced through one of Lucifer’s necks and the great appendage fell to the ground bleeding fire. Lucifer roared in pain and turned over to crush Michael under the weight of his hulking body.
Jerahmeel viewed the images on the Library’s Dome. He watched helplessly as the God Stones fell and destroyed all things. He anxiously watched Lucifer and Michael battle within the temple gates and knew he and Raphael had little time.
“Hurry Raphael, the throne room, hast been breached. I do not know how much longer Michael can withstand Lucifer!”
Raphael slowly began to speak angel-speak over the grea
t volume. The Tome of Iniquity glowed a bright orange hue, and as its pages opened, each page ripped from the book and plastered itself to the domed ceiling of the Great Library.
The dome burst forth into color and erupted with images that began to pulse upward when suddenly a blazing white light screamed and hurtled into the dome spire, and glass fell upon them in great shards. Jerahmeel leaped as panes of crystal crashed to the floor below. He lifted his head and turned to look for Raphael, and despair filled him.
“No!” He screamed.
Raphael was sitting up; his inkhorn and stylus floated near his head, and he coughed up blood. His hands covered his abdomen as blood oozed from his stomach. Jerahmeel beheld that he had been run through with a great pane of glass, and in the middle of the room, a Kilnstone glowed and slowly was digesting him, taking back the very life that El had once given, and absorbing all things into itself. Jerahmeel screamed running to succor him.
Raphael still conscious motioned him to stay away.
“No!…there… there …is not much time. The dome…destroyed, and I am to return soon to El. Take the book, my …inkhorn, and stylus.” Raphael removed his tome from within his chest and the items floated to Jerahmeel. “Go to… quickly now…awaken Argoth. The people…my people–they will hear…they will listen to him.”
Jerahmeel picked up his brother’s instruments and tucked them into his robes.
Raphael smiled at him.
“Fear not; all is not lost. Go…,” said Raphael. “Quic…” He beamed at his brother, and his eyes widened; smiled and then spoke no more.
Jerahmeel fell to his knees and watched as the Kilnstone consumed Raphael and all that it touched. Raphael’s stone hummed and sang with the same pitch of the stone, which now absorbed him. The melody was soprano and melancholic in tune. Jerahmeel wept, and Raphael’s tome ceased writing pages.
