by Donovan Neal
His master interrupted his musings. "You are a bother to me. Where is the tally of souls you were required to provide this day?"
Iblis looked upon his Arelim master, Traxiel and bowed, "I have traveled too and fro looking for ways that my Lord might find power." Iblis remained bowed and Traxiel looked upon him suspiciously. "Who gave you leave of my presence to on my behalf look? Do I present as powerless to you? Do you see me as so weak that I need bolstering? Answer me or I will take thy petty frame and feed you to Hell."
Iblis remained cowed, yet he knew this one. This one was filled with vanity and pride. Always peacocking, it would be a simple thing to outwit this buffoon.
"Nay, master, may you live forever; I had heard thee whisper how you desired to rule the Eastern kingdom where Pangu now presides. I believe I have found a weakness in his hold on the region. If my master would hear I would say on."
Traxiel was large and powerful. His white mane flowed from around him and his leathery wings stretched out over his large lizard-like back. He stood on four legs, and carried a staff of sulfur given to him from Lucifer himself. Petty and cruel, he ruled the Hamitic nations and kept them in check, but Pangu had been given lead over the nations in the east, and Traxiel was enraged. Lucifer had told Traxiel that if could not keep the people from the eyes of El, he could not hold to the territory, and so Lucifer deeded it to Pangu.
Traxiel looked upon Iblis and smiled. "You found weakness with Pangu? Speak what is revealed, and I will determine if either your arrogance or lies should cause me to make you a daemon."
"It was Pangu, my Lord that fashioned the sword Lucifer bears. He in league with Ares hath made a forge within the creature Hell, and it fires weapons of such power that Lucifer holds it secret. Nevertheless, in my travels on thy behalf I have found that our Lord seeks one to change his Kilnstone with the forge and to make living weapons against the Host. Pangu shows fear and distrust of Lucifer, but if you, my Lord, stand as willing vessel to Lucifer's stratagems. He will favor thee over Pangu. For alas, what power could be given thee that would cause Pangu thy rival to fear? Use this power and Lucifer will surely elevate thee, even to his inner circle, and you will rule all of the nations as before."
Traxiel looked upon Iblis, and pondered his words. "And how, vassal, did you come upon this knowledge, and I did not?"
Iblis raised himself to look at his master. "Is the thing not known? For there are Kortai builders who have been turned into daemon to build the Forge. Others of my caste have seen it. I believe it and have relayed the word to thee. Would you rob thyself of occasion to dismount Pangu from his perch to gloat at thee?"
Traxiel backhanded Iblis and the angel fell to the ground bleeding. Traxiel then spoke. "Do not presume to know what is in thy Lord's interest. I will spare thee sentence, but know that I will require at thy hands the tally of souls. We are all required to give support to the war effort. You will not be the undoing of me by failing to supply the tally of men for Hell's feeding. For the creature is forever hungry and our control over her must be absolute or she will run amok to devour us all in her lust. Rise and be off with you, as my conference with my Lord draws nigh."
Iblis quickly rose from the ground and flew away.
Traxiel turned to go into his place within the earth. His hovel was adorned with petty trinkets of men, and the sacrifices he had garnered. Each item of gold and silver paled in comparison to the riches that decorated Heaven. And for a moment Traxiel thought about home, and his anger was kindled by El's banishment and their failure to usurp Him. However, Lucifer promised they would have vengeance, and perhaps this Hell-forge Iblis spoke of would be the weapon needed to rip their home from the hands of the Creator.
"Are you lost in thought again?" said Assyrix. Floating on mist within mist, Assyrix, attended by two of his Grigoric lieutenants, entered Traxiel's cave.
Traxiel turned. "I do not recall giving you permission to enter my abode. You would be wise to show respect."
Assyrix laughed, "I would if such was earned but I serve as the Chief of Eyes now. And I have come to share with thee what my eyes have seen."
Traxiel sat down and replied, "Say on."
Assyrix waved his hand and his attendant’s tomes flew in the air and opened, and their pages lifted to the ceiling to reveal Iblis and Chronos talking to one another.
"One in thine own house has conspired with the enemy. He meets with the Lord of Time, Chronos of House Harada. Yet what the Time-Lord does not know is his Grigori is absent, and serves our own people. Hermes, our agent, now reports of his comings and goings. Although, he cannot rise to Heaven with the Lord of Time. He can report of his doings while he dwells in the realms below. Lucifer was wise to target Chronos to spy Heaven's mind. For with the spying of his knowledge, we have freed Wormwood, who now will return many days from now. From Chronos we have learned that Heaven still reels from our absence, and they are not yet made strong. With him, we have learned rumor that Shiloh will enter this world. However, most importantly, tyrant, we have learned that a traitor exists under thine own nose and you are imbecile to not see, and even more of a fool to allow. I should delete you where you stand."
Traxiel grew uncomfortable, for he knew the power of a Grigori's pen, and meekly muttered in inquiry. "And what is to be done of my command?"
The attendant Grigori's books floated back towards them, and smoke ushered from beneath them and they moved closer and hovered over Traxiel, and then misted out of view.
"For now, Lucifer would keep your station on hold. You, buffoon, will watch over your charge Iblis and we. Simpleton, will abide here."
Traxiel looked up nervously. "Abide here? What will you do here?"
Assyrix smiled as he too misted out of view. "We, principality of fools...we will watch you."
*********************
"Decide!" roared Eladrin.
"Nooo!" Michael cried.
And he turned to fly away from Eladrin, but Eladrin was King of the Ophanim, and like God: eternity and time were as nothing to him. Hence, when Michael flew, he turned thinking he was moving away from Eladrin, but when he faced forward, Eladrin stood in his path as if Michael had never moved.
"Decide!" The mighty king roared a second time.
Michael again shifted to his left and when he did so, all of heaven itself seemed to move with him, and once more Eladrin stood before him. His wheels churned in gyroscopic turns, and lightning issued from his body. The eyes of his four faces were alight in flames and stared at the angel.
Michael began to clutch at his chest, as the beating of his stone pumped in erratic rhythm, and he collapsed to his knees. Eladrin hovered over him with each face mouthing the words
"Decide!"
Each utterance was a consistent drumming to choose between fear and faith. Michael writhed in agony and when he beheld Eladrin, Eladrin showed him a hundred different scenes that played themselves before his eyes, from conversations of Lucifer speaking to Abaddon, to him and his brother's playful banter before the war. Like marching apparitions, the visions assaulted him as the images of lost loved ones, the vision of El's heel, and His impending death on a cross—caused him to gasp for air.
Eladrin was relentless, playing for Michael the scenes of his life, making him relive each moment, splaying the scenes as if trained by the Grigori. Thus, Eladrin moved time forward and backward, and Michael staggered from reliving each painful moment of his past. His failure with Iofiel rose to his mind, his decision to destroy the Kiln. His terror as the explosive power of the Kiln's detonation flung him and Lucifer in a downpour of flaming Godstones. His sensation of dissolution from the digestive grip of Hell. Relentlessly, the images assaulted him, thoughts, but not just thoughts, whole reenactments of his life, and Michael's mind reeled with the images and visions that paraded themselves before him. He spasmed, coiled, then howled as a caged animal, and when he did, the fear that had plagued him manifested as a dark shape and began to lift from his body. Michael looked on in horror a
t the ethereal dark form—the dark image of himself.
Winds whipped around Michael, and Enoch could no longer be seen. All that was held to view was Eladrin and his bellowing four faces that roared at him. Eladrin - and now an entity drawn from within Michael. The manifestation of his own anxiety held aloft for him to see. Anxiety that now began to tug at his spirit to form a union and leave Michael lifeless.
"See the fear that lifts from you. Behold the entity within that would in time leave Heaven waste once again. With Lucifer pride lifted from his soul. But with you, young prince— fear is that which shall have you." Eladrin was merciless, as he was the keeper of eternity and the boom of his four mouths belted out the now-familiar pounding tenor.
"Decide!"
For a moment, Michael's mind snapped and he was lost in the currents of remembrance, imagination, and madness. Each vied to grapple with the remnants of his sanity and still fought to lay claim to his thoughts. The fear of his soul was now exposed before him, as an ethereal thing that hovered over him. The tortured entity wailed in pain, for the creature mirrored Michael's own wails for relief, and it screeched as a banshee for wholeness.
Yet through the anguish and pain, Michael perceived and reflected past doubt, and reached out to his own spirit that quickly was leaving his body. Eladrin pulled at the floating spirit, and the winds generated from his grinding wheels reached as tentacles to tear Michael's spirit away from him. Michael fought to reach for his divided spirit, but the thing was as ether and floated on eddies of eternity moving steadily towards Eladrin, and Michael perceived that the wheels would shred his spirit.
Eladrin's four faces mouthed in a quartet of judgment, "Behold, son of God. I will consume the fear that assails you and that you refuse to face, and then when it is banished, I will consume you who would infect Heaven with it." Immediately the inner gears of Eladrin moved faster and winds raced, and the spirit of Michael's fear moved towards Eladrin.
And when Michael saw that he was on the verge of oblivion, he summoned the sword of Ophanim and the blade split into seven swords and whirled about his person, even as Eladrin's wheels. Great winds tugged at Michael's spirit as the gusts from the Sword of Ophanim matched the revolutions of Eladrin's wheels and Michael's spirit halted its floating march away from him.
Eladrin flexed and the gears within him moved even faster, that sparks began to fly, and the grinding of steel and iron created even more winds to wrestle Michael's soul. And when he saw his fear as the blackness dangled before him, Eladrin smiled and each of the faces spoke.
"You possess fear Michael of the Kortai," said the human face.
"He that feareth is not made perfect in love," roared the face of the lion.
"For fear hath torment," growled the face of the bear.
"See how we torment you with your fear," cawed the face of the eagle.
"For there is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear," said them all.
Michael was pulled towards Eladrin, staggering against the winds of the two forces that sheared and tore at all things that were reality. The specter that was Michael's spirit slowly began to scream and Michael cried aloud in exertion to reclaim his life - to own his fear, and to overcome it. His cry echoed off the sides of the holy mountain, that it reached the lower spaces of Heaven. Angels underneath Heaven's canopy looked up from wherever they were towards the clouds of the mountain of God. Each heard the cry of Michael and perceived that the Builder of Heaven was in pain. As one man, they lifted into the air, dropping tools and station, commerce and manufacturing ceased as all left their posts to fly towards the mountain. For in all of Heaven only Michael had put Lucifer to pause and held back the hand of the First of Angels. From the great Library to the armories of Heaven, all Heaven lifted themselves, each stripped of fear of the unknown, each rising as a gathering cloud to ascend the mountain of God and assist their prince, whatever the cost.
Michael looked below him and saw the legions rising to come to his aid. Legions who had heard his spirit cry out, legions who rose to do battle with what ever held him in distress. Eladrin also took note with his four faces and summoned the flock of Ophanim from their nest and they too came to rush to the cause of their leader. Darting in swaths of prismatic light, they jetted from the aerie and encircled Eladrin, awaiting command to dive and accost the rising Host.
And lo two great armies of Heaven, one ascending and one descending, moved to intercept one another, and Michael knew that his people would be destroyed, for the Ophanim were the living Ladders that moved Creation at the word of El. And when he saw that he was cause for the actions of Heaven. Understanding assaulted his heart to know that the word of El was coming to pass—that here, he would die.
For here in the valley of decision, here in the center of struggle, did Michael realize that El had given him choice. Choice to succumb to the fears and limitations of what he knew, choice to arise to see God past his limited understanding of the Creator. Here, choice was given to die to either faith or fear. For the angels hearkened to the pain of one, and the Ophanim hearkened to their leader’s call, and all moved because one angel was unstable in his belief.
Deeper Michael looked at his spirit’s ascending dark apparition. It loomed closer towards Eladrin's shearing wheels. Eladrin then took the spirit of fear that floated in the air and with it showed Michael, that the angel Marduk had moved Darius King of Persia, to lift men alive upon hewn beams of wood, and nailed them thereon.
Michael recoiled in horror, for now in the Earth men now practiced what he had once seen in a vision: a horror of affliction to kill the God of the universe. A vision he had dismissed as impossible, a vision he held back and refused to acknowledge. A vision of El wasting away dying as his limbs were stretched wide for all of Heaven to see—a vision of defeat.
“NO!” Michael cried out.
The echoes of his shriek sent waves of panic into Heaven’s populace as angels rose to encounter the realm of the living clouds. Each rose to confront whatever lay before them and rescue their leader. Legions once more left their stations to bring what would unknowingly incite war between celestial beings; and as Michael faced his vision, and while all of angelic kind ascended into the descending army of the Ophanim. El Pnuema, third person of the Trinity, spoke quietly into Michael’s mind.
Look into the darkness, my son. For I am the LORD, and there is none else. I form the light, and create darkness. Do not fear, my son, what I have devised.
Michael listened to the gentle voice of the Spirit of God, and did as bidden and looked into the darkness of his own fear. He stared into the heart of the blackness and examined the contours of his terror. Perception crept into anxiety and his eyes grew wide. For with the eyes of the Almighty he understood that it was not fear that that hovered above him, nor fear that held him captive to indecision—but selfishness. A disguised desire of one’s own will above the will of God was where fear germinated, and the soil that doubt grew.
Michael peered at the cross, a vision that incessantly plagued, him and in so doing, he perceived it was a vision that El also did not fear.
For, in the shadow of fear, Michael knew he would die. Die for exalting himself above God. For here in the blackness, he understood that he could yet choose to follow El into darkness, to trust the Almighty despite his own imaginations.
And lo, in the troposphere of Heaven, amidst the sounds of impending war, and the grinding wheels of Ophanim – it was then that Michael of the Kortai decided.
"I am the builder of heaven. If my life need be given as a cornerstone for her support, then my stone I offer up to thee, but let Heaven live forever. I am Michael Kortai, the hand of the living God. THE WILL OF EL BE DONE!"
Michael then surrendered to the wheels of destruction and raced towards Eladrin his sword spiraling in cutting motions around him. Michael embraced his spirit, and the sword of Ophanim cut through the spinning wheels of the King of Ladders. Michael reached to grasp a spinning ring from within Eladrin and strained
to rip it from its gears. Tendons and ligaments wrenched apart pulleys that whistled and whined in objection. Each of the four faces attempted to bit and snap at him, but it was to no avail as Michael pulled until a ring snapped and a great flash emanated from within Eladrin.
The shockwave raced as an expanding circle across the skies of Heaven. And everywhere the wave touched, time stood still. The Ophanim hovered in the air motionless, and the armies of Heaven that rose to come to Michael's aid were also stayed, suspended, and all but the Lord God Himself was subject to the suspension, as He watched His children from afar.
Michael reached to touch the face of Eladrin as his giant wheels and gears rotated around him, each one pressing against his frame to crush him. He grasped the faces of Eladrin, and when he held the king's face firmly in his hands he spoke. "I am the servant of the Lord, His Chief Prince and I turn wither-so-ever HE wills!" And when he said that, he tuned the face of Eladrin to the right, and a snapping sound could be heard. An explosion rocketed across the skies and the skies turned red, and the eyes of all Ophanim turned to Eladrin, for Michael stood atop their leader.
And when the dust was cleared, Michael held in his hand a gear of Eladrin, and placed it as a crown atop his head, and immediately it floated over him. And when Michael turned his head all the Ophanim turned, and he was surrounded in prismatic colors as an amour about him, and the Sword of Ophanim rotated gyroscopically around his person. Michael then looked to the Ophanim; which descended upon his people, and he raised his hands and when he did so, the Ophanim stopped flight and stood as twirling rainbows of light in space. Michael then spoke to all and his voiced boomed above the mountain of God.
"I am Chief Prince. Return to your duties, let the will of El be done!" And when he moved his hand the Ophanim returned to their nest, and continued as before. Eladrin was floating and the space where his gear had been made a whirring sound, and he hobbled as his wheels compensated for the gear that was missing within him. He looked upon Michael and spoke. "You have been judged fearless in thy house. Thou now hast token of the Ophanim about thy head. Call when needed, Chief Prince, and we will come when bidden. Keep the secrets of El, and the mountain. Go to and let the will of El be done." Eladrin then bowed before him.
