“The Morning Star, by author Jason Jones, is the horizon where

theology and imagination collide into a spectacle of wonder. A

few nights with this book and you will feel as if you have grown
the wings of an angel, which guide you curiously through the
hidden secrets of the spirit realm.”
—Kenneth Lee. Brown Sr., Sanctuary of Ocala, Lead Pastor

“Excluding the Holy Bible, the creation of The Morning Star

has highlighted a reality of the spiritual realm never envisioned
before. This compelling world of detail and imagination brings
you heaven and hell as you have never fathomed them, with
ideas and theories that leave you wondering intensely about the
unknown.”
—Charles H. Linton, Th.D,
Church of God, Regional Administrative Elder

“Wow! I opened The Morning Star and found myself engulfed in

the battle of Armageddon and the creation of a new world. As I
continued to step through each chapter, I felt as though the book
of Revelation was continuing with me in ways I couldn’t believe.”
—Greg Davis, Children’s Pastor, Plant City C.O.G.
 The fall of z i o n |book 1

The
mor n i ng Star

J.R. Jones
The Morning Star
Copyright © 2010 by J.R. Jones. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any
way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior
permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.
The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of Tate Publishing, LLC.

Published by Tate Publishing & Enterprises, LLC

127 E. Trade Center Terrace | Mustang, Oklahoma 73064 USA
1.888.361.9473 | www.tatepublishing.com
Tate Publishing is committed to excellence in the publishing industry. The company reflects the
philosophy established by the founders, based on Psalm 68:11,
“The Lord gave the word and great was the company of those who published it.”
Book design copyright © 2010 by Tate Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Leah LeFlore
Interior design by Joey Garrett

Published in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-1-61663-520-6
1. Fiction / Christian / Fantasy
2. Juvenile Fiction / Religious / Christian / Fantasy
10.06.21
 Dedication

The dedication of this book goes out to all of those people who
are searching. In the midst of the darkness of our present dilem-
mas, struggles, and strife, the beauty and comfort of knowing
there is a Father above who loves us and that His Son is the light
that carries us and keeps us strong gives me hope for this gen-
eration and the next. May this book, be to you, a way to stretch
your spiritual knowledge and your spiritual understanding to
grow closer to your Heavenly Father and to know His Son Jesus
Christ. May the Holy Spirit Bless this Reader!

7
 Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the Father above who cares for me and
guides me through everything that I do. Although I make mis-
takes and have stumbled an infinite number of times, He is for-
giving and faithful to me and to all. I would like to thank Jesus
Christ for dying for me and for forgiving me of my sins and
walking with me through this rough road of life. I would like to
thank the Holy Spirit for His inspiration and guidance through-
out my life and through this book by opening my eyes to things
of the unseen. I would like to thank my family (Angela, Teresa,
Rick and Tina, Bill and Norma, Michael, Michelle, Andy and
Kayden, Betty and Ray, Norman and Rosie, Loretta and Joe,
Ken and Paula, Ashlee and Hollee, Lee and Bobby, Charles and
Bobbye, and all my other family members that cannot be listed
here) and friends (the Burkeen family, the Davis family, the
Ascani family and all my other friends who cannot be listed here)
who have always believed in the work God could do in me and
always taken care of me. Thank you and I love you all. Finally, I
would like to thank those of you who have taken the time to read
this book. May God Bless You! -JS53-

9
And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key
of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he
laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil,
and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, And cast him
into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon
him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the
thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be
loosed a little season.
Revelation 20:1-3
 Alpha

A hot breeze rustled through my hair as I stood upon the peak of

a mountain in the middle of the East, where it had been estab-
lished since the foundations of the Earth. This mountain was
called Sinai, and below me was a vast number of birds resting
upon the cliffs of the surrounding mountains, flying throughout
the air with a vicious appetite for flesh. These winged beasts had
come together as the last remaining remnant of their species to
fulfill an old prophecy in the Valley of Megiddo and the belly of a
barren red sea. The torn sky above me was filled with the presence
of a white army mounted on a mass of spotless horses, armed for
a battle with the wicked and unjust of the land. Behind this army
was a gathering of all the angels of Zion, who were slowly fading
into the atmosphere with anticipation in their wings of the final
judgment about to fall from the hand of the Almighty.
Then, in an instant, the wind ceased upon my face, and
silence filled my ears. In the north, I saw a large angel with wings
like the ocean and a face like the sun holding the northern winds
from the mountains. I turned to the south, and another angel,
appearing like the twin of the north, towered over the South
Pole, holding back the southern winds from the oceans. In the
east and in the west were two more angels of the same stature
as the others, holding back the winds from the firmament and
the land. I recognized each of these four angels who had con-
trolled the four winds of the Earth since the day of creation. I

11
 The Morning Star

looked into their faces of glorious triumph, knowing oh too well

the thoughts that passed through their minds as they stood at
the four corners of the Earth like pillars of fire, touching both
soil and sky with faces baring no emotion of mercy or sympathy
toward a mutilated Earth. A feeling of pride swelled up within
me as I watched them fulfilling their long-awaited destiny and
wondered what was in store for them in the upcoming future.
On the floor of the desert before me, across the hills and
plains, in valleys of dried up rivers, and on the rigid rocks of
the mountainsides lay a countless number of men, dead along
the sands of a battle which had been named Armageddon since
before its time. A sea of blood was overtaking the burnt color of
the terrain as a horrid stench rose across the land. The creatures
of the air that had been called from every corner of the Earth
were restless and wild as they awaited their appointed moment
to devour the enemy of the white army. While the spirits of the
dead parted their ways from the lifeless bodies upon the ground
I vaguely saw the remnants of the mark of the ancient serpent
glowing red upon their foreheads and forearms. Then, as if an
invisible wind had swept through the valley, the markings faded
away, and the birds below me announced their attack with a
vicious hunger and mercilessness.
The slaughtering of the last men of Earth was the fulfillment
of the final prophecy of the last days of man, which had been
foretold centuries ago. The choices man had made that led him
to this fate were made by his own rebellious heart against his own
true Creator, who is named Jehovah, Lord of all things. The men
who lay across the desert floor were the remains of the evil that
dwelt within human blood. They lay there at Earth’s judgment
executed by a double-edged sword brandished by the hand of a
rider who is called Faithful and True.
In the eastern sky, the white army glowed in robes of bril-
liantly white linen, raising their hands and their voices in victory,
saying, “Blessed is He who sits on the throne and to His son who
is the Lamb.” Not a single sword had been drawn from their

12
 The Fall of Zion

sheaths; not a speck of dirt or blood had blemished their puri-

fied garments. They were announced champions over the great
adversary who had tormented them through the physical life,
and cries of victory rang aloud along their ranks. The myriads
of angels sparkled across the sky like the sands of the Earth, and
they nodded their approval of the white army’s praises. Together,
they began to lift up their voices, chanting, “Worthy are you, O
Lord, God Almighty, to bring justice upon the wicked and the
untrue.”
I remained still, strong and silent upon the old rigid moun-
tain as I gazed past the armies and the angels to the sacred stars
above. I saw them watching in peril and delight of the judgment
of their fellow sister, Mother Earth, who was rightfully receiving
all that was owed to her for the evil she had harbored in her gates
for so long. My wings took me from the mountain of Sinai for
the very last time and guided me to the blood-stained granite of
the crescent moon that was still wounded from the judgment of
the sixth seal. Angels surrounded me there within the region of
the twenty-eight mansions as the white army trotted away from
the atmospheres of the Earth. Their masses gathered between
the moon and the darkness of the stars as all eyes turned to watch
the Earth’s last moments of life.
The beautiful blue planet that was once the apple of the uni-
verse was now nothing more than a rusted, burning pile of ash and
rock. All that had been created within her was dead. The grass
that covered the fields was burned and smoldering. The various
forests from redwoods to bonsais were scorched and destroyed
as the murky waters of the sea circulated around the mountain
Wormwood in rivers of blood. All the earthly mountains that
had stretched to the heights of the sky had been trimmed to
their roots as the hills lay flattened by the judgment that had
come upon them. The universe ceased in a single moment in awe
of the destruction of the firstborn planet of creation. Revelation
had now been completed, with a deafening silence filling the air

13
 The Morning Star

as Jehovah appeared in His entire splendor, severing the sands of

time from the books of the present.
How do you describe that which made beauty or the origin
of light? I have searched for millennia’s for the words I wanted
to say in this very moment to describe the utter glory of His
countenance; but alas, no tongue of men or angel has forged such
writing that could do the slightest justice of His Majesty. His
glory shone behind the Earth as His mighty hands stretched out
from the darkness to wrap around the outer shell of the world.
With a power only He commands, He cracked open the Earth
like an egg to discover the hidden secrets inside. The belly of
Sheol was now visible for all to see as the evil minions within
scattered through the fires at the unveiling of Jehovah’s presence.
The desolate and the damned shook in horror as echoes of their
screams rebounded off the tormentous flames. Jehovah, with one
mighty hand, reached inside the Earth and removed the ball of
fire from its nest, placing it within a patch of darkness some dis-
tance toward Mercury, I presumed. As the cries from the damned
faded away trumpets sounded from the choirs of angels at the
conclusion of this ancient prophecy with shouts of triumph fill-
ing the air from the soldiers of the white army.
Then, he who is called the Beast and the one who is named
the False Prophet were taken from the desert and thrown into
a lake of fire that burns with sulfur and flames. The lake was
black with crests of yellow waves that never ceased moving and
never cooled, creating a torturous confine for the accursed pair.
I peered past the moon and over the rings of Saturn as I fol-
lowed Jehovah’s hand holding the lake of fire. He placed the lake
close to Sheol just beyond Jupiter as all the angels rejoiced with
delight and new songs of victory. Those who sat in the darkness
and flames of Sheol heard these praises from the victorious army
sounding in every direction, and they shuddered, knowing that
Jehovah’s judgment was nigh.
Then Jehovah stretched out His hand of light, and an explo-
sion blew apart a piece of the Earth. Silence spread ominously

14
 The Fall of Zion

amongst the crowds as everyone waited with intense expectation

for Jehovah’s wrath and judgment to fall. As the smoke and dust
began to settle, a large angel with wings of white and golden
feathers flew to Jehovah’s side. In his hand was a great sword, and
his hair was a blaze of gold. His name was Mikael, and he was
one of the five great archangels of Zion. Jehovah pointed into the
Earth, and Mikael flew with a burst of speed, and a trail of white
fire blazing from within his sword.
A sudden roar echoed out of the dark crevice within the
Earth, and a dragon appeared, larger than a mountain and as
crimson as blood with seven heads and ten horns. Mikael’s speed
and fury intensified ten fold as he plummeted through the dark
sky toward the dragon, who lunged forward with malice and
murder in its eyes. Mikael swung his great sword, and a crest of
white fire ripped through the air, nearly decapitating two of the
heads of the dragon. Blue fire split through the darkness in seven
different directions as Mikael dodged each of these streams with
ease and purpose in his golden eyes. The dragon’s movements
were erratic. The fear of Jehovah’s judgment was upon him, caus-
ing him to act like a cornered snake, striking in every direction.
Jehovah looked upon this abomination with sorrow and
judgment and whispered one word that only the dragon would
hear, “Lucifer.” The dragon froze at this word as if all of his limbs
had gone rigid, as if this very word had chained him to the air
and he looked into the eyes of his creator, who he had betrayed,
denied, and despised for millenniums. There was a moment, just
a moment, when their eyes looked into one another’s. One set
of eyes burned with an eternal anger, and one set was filled with
sadness. This moment was gone in the blink of an eye as Mikael
struck the dragon with a mighty blow.
A scream of failure and shame echoed out of the dragon as
he fell from the heights of the sky. Mikael followed the empty
cries back to the broken core of the Earth, feeling for a platinum
chain that rested within his robes. The dragon fell into the land
with a thunderous crash that sent rocks flying in every direction.

15
 The Morning Star

Mikael pierced through the debris, casting aside every fragment

that crossed between him and his ancient foe. Finally, Mikael
found the dragon lying motionless on a bed of lava. He tossed
the chain upon its crimson scales, and it burst into life, expand-
ing in every direction, coiling itself tightly around every inch of
the dragon. A cry of pain issued from the seven heads as the
chains burned intensely upon his scales. He cursed the name of
the Almighty, and blasphemies that no ear should ever hear fol-
lowed behind them. The face of Mikael’s hatred for this creature
glinted in seven pairs of eyes as a sudden spasm of malice, sent
seven jaws biting viciously in Mikael’s direction. Mikael dodged
these attacks instinctively and buried his sword into the dragon’s
side. Lucifer screamed one last horrid curse as he fell limp from
this final blow.
Mikael turned to look up at Jehovah, his Father and Creator.
Jehovah nodded his head in acknowledgement of Mikael’s tri-
umph and of His purpose now for the ancient adversary. Mikael
turned back to the place where the dragon had laid, but a dragon
no longer rested upon the ground. Instead, a being that once
resembled an angel like himself lay limp and unconscious. Two
wounds, one on each side, seeped what resembled dark tar all
across the hardened lava. The angel was pale with black hair and
black veins that ventured all across his body, and his wings were
a ruffled blend of velvet feathers. Mikael carried the lifeless form
out of the Earth, past the moon, and into a place called the Pit,
which had been arranged for the dark being for this very moment.
Then trumpets sounded and cheers thundered through the
sky as the twenty-four elders, of whom Jehovah had appointed
the counseling of many things, stepped out of the starry man-
sions and onto the blood-stained moon. Amongst the elders
were the four living creatures, who took the shapes of a lion, an
ox, a man, and an eagle. They each bore three pairs of wings, and
within their wings were many sets of eyes. The twenty-four elders
cast down their crowns, and the four living creatures bowed low
before Jehovah and said, “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to

16
 The Fall of Zion

receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and
by your will they were created and have their being.”
Mikael returned from the Pit and gave a silver ring contain-
ing many keys to the great archangel Gabrielle, and she placed
them close to her heart. Jehovah took the abyss and the pit within
it and placed it amongst Sheol and the lake of fire as it awaited
its appointed time.
Jehovah’s orders had now been fulfilled precisely as He had
spoken them, with a diligent unification made by His heavenly
hosts. Now all that had been since the time in the beginning, the
history of creation and the foundations of the Earth, was decayed
or destroyed. I thought briefly of the seven days it took Jehovah
to create His world of life and wonder so many millennia ago. It
was only now that I understood why He had taken seven years
to destroy the world of Earth as sorrow and regret filled His eyes
from the destruction of the land and of man. He had loved His
creation of humans more than the Earth itself, but His creation
had scorned and refused His love, which had brought about the
annihilation of its race and home.
As I looked out across the fractured planet that had once been
a beautiful, blue world, I thought of the triumphs of humanity
and their downfalls. I thought of the goodness of the creatures,
the stillness of the waters, and the beauty of the mountains, but
they were gone now within my mind as a collage of devastation
filled the cracked globe before me. This barren wasteland was not
just a depressing tragedy to witness, but an honest and justifiable
one at that. Men had taken for granted the One who had made
them. Men had forsaken and turned their backs away from He
who is Jehovah. The few who were faithful, the few called the
chosen, had been rescued from the doom of humanity, and their
tests and trials were finally over.
Then Jehovah, with a hand the size of the moon, bursting
with the light of life, reached into the Earth’s layers and scooped
out three hollow places where ocean and land had been before.
In these hollow places stood millions upon millions of men and

17
 The Morning Star

women, looking high above them for the first time at the eyes of
Jehovah, their Creator. I had not seen these hollows for two mil-
lennia, and as I smiled down upon them, I thought of the peace
that was soon to linger over these devastated and exhausted
souls.
Each hollow represented an area of Abraham’s bosom
where the souls of those who had yet to be judged awaited their
appointed time. In the eastern hollow were the children who had
died upon the Earth before their set age of accountability, and
they had eyes of innocence staring up in peace at the sight of
their wonderful Lord. In the western hollow were those who had
died without the opportunity to make a choice to serve Jehovah
or deny Him as their King, and they were a mixture of races in
a mass of numbers. They looked up into the face of Jehovah,
somewhat confused at their purpose and even more fearful of
their future, but nevertheless thankful that a new beginning had
finally come. The middle hollow was full of those who had died
by sea or by beast, and they were placed aside as an exception to
their judgment, given a second chance at a new life in the coming
new world. They peered up into the eyes of Jehovah with bod-
ies that had been mangled and torn, but I knew that they would
soon be repaired by His loving hand as their tearful eyes stared
into the face of the one who created grace and mercy. Then, with
a wave of Jehovah’s hand, the hollow places were emptied, and
nothingness stepped into their place. Jehovah looked at His son,
who is called Immanuel, and smiled.
Immanuel was dressed in a robe dripping with blood and
wore a golden crown upon His head, and a double-edged sword
lay at His side. His hair was as white as snow; His eyes were like
a merciful fire; and on His thigh was engraved, “The King of
kings and Lord of lords.” He sat upon a saddle adorned with jew-
els, and his steed had the wings of a thousand eagles. Immanuel
smiled at His Father as they communicated in an unspoken lan-
guage, nodding their heads at one another in comprehension of
some preorganized plan.

18
 The Fall of Zion

Immanuel directed his steed with her golden reins into the
burning Earth for one final task appointed by Jehovah. I had
barely blinked an eye when Immanuel returned carrying a sil-
ver satchel of hidden things that had been concealed within the
Earth. I looked up at Jehovah, the Father of all, whose face was
like a million suns, glorious and bright, and His hands came
together in preparation for a supernatural event portrayed only
once before in the history of time.
With a few slow movements, He folded and unfolded the
Earth from its broken form. He smoothed out all the rivers, hills,
and lakes while the mountains melted into a desert sea like wax
in a fire. The sky vanished, and the Earth was no more as dark-
ness began to cover all things. The stars veiled themselves, and
the moon that lingered beneath me disappeared. The weary sun,
which was now nothing more than a black soot of magma, was
erased from existence as the light of all the angels faded to black.
Even the white robes of the white army lost their color as light
disappeared from every aspect of creation, turning everything
into darkness.
We were all still there, and yet we were not. We were as invis-
ible as time, which had also come to an end, along with every-
thing else in existence, but a new beginning was about to be cre-
ated. I remembered the universe appearing, as it did now, in the
establishment of all things like a plain of shadows with no pres-
ence of life. All that was visible was Jehovah, alone in the dark-
ness, preparing for His greatest work of all. I watched His eyes
at that instant, so carefully configuring His movements, knowing
that the halls of time were passing through His mind. He was
thinking of how different it should be, how marvelous it would
be, and where He wanted every inch to go. Then His moment
of thought and reflection was gone, and He bent Himself into
the essence of power and control that only He could claim. My
hands did not tremble as my eyes adjusted to what the night
would call darkness. What could have been a century seemed
to be passing us by as we patiently awaited the mighty hands of

19
 The Morning Star

Jehovah to move, and then, in an instance, there in the darkness,

all alone, just as before, it began.
Jehovah’s hands illuminated into a burst of light from which
all life is created, and in that moment, He became the Golden
Architect again. Brilliant lights shone in His eyes like a million
galaxies ablaze, and His hands moved in a poetic purposeful-
ness like a sculptor carving a masterpiece. His eyes raced along
the darkness as a slow, pulsating light pierced through the noth-
ingness between His hands, throbbing like the heartbeat of the
universe. He moved gently, with destiny in His fingertips, like a
composer of instruments forming a symphony as a blast like a
trumpet sounded in the dark. The small, throbbing light exploded
into a spectacle of events, growing larger and wider with shades
and shapes I had never seen before. My eyes began to fill with
tears of joy as I beheld once more the splendor of creation.
A new world was combusting in an arraignment of lights
like the most amazing fireworks ever displayed within the palms
of Jehovah. The Earth that was no more seemed to be coming
alive again, but with a difference that no angel could have ever
imagined. Jehovah reached out His hand and pulled something
from the darkness, which I presumed was the abyss and all its
layers, and tossed it into the swirling light. Then masses of land,
once separated by seas, appeared again, coming together in a
patchwork of colors like an illustrious painting of unity. A new
ocean with ivory waves churned fiercely within this new planet
as mountains sprouted forth taller and wider than ever before.
There were new formations and new wonders that covered the
plains of the land, new rivers and waterfalls that flowed between
the hills, and a sky white as light was draped over the globe.
My eyes turned to the one true God, the Alpha and the
Omega, the Beginning and the End, as His hands of purification
finished every detail of the land. Then, with the ultimate voice of
Authority, He spoke the word akae, which He had spoken at the
end of the Earth’s creation, forming the bond of a new planet and
setting life in motion.

20
 The Fall of Zion

He brought His eyes away from His creation for a slight sec-
ond and gave me an all-knowing smile. He threw His right arm
in a sweeping wave, and the stars glittered across the darkness
of the universe once more; but they were no longer the dazzling
white lights in the blackness of space. Now an assortment of
colors like the explosion of a rainbow speckled the darkness with
a beauty it had never owned before. Warmth fell across my skin
as I looked behind and around me for a new planet of fire, but it
was nowhere to be found. Jehovah, who knows all things, turned
to me and said, “Not this time, Wisdom” and I smiled.
This world would not have to rely upon a sun for warmth
and life, but rather, it would live off of the very light of Jehovah
Himself. The white army appeared once more before me with
garments shining like the stolen light of a million stars. The
angelic masses began to shine as well with the same brilliance
and splendor that they had always had, but not one angel was
singing, speaking, or even blinking. Everyone was standing in
amazement of the miracle of creation happening before their
eyes again. Then a funny thought occurred to me, Have we been
standing here for six days watching the Lord create a new world?
Immanuel looked over at me and gave me a smile and a wink,
and I knew only He and Jehovah knew the day and the hour as
it always has been.
Jehovah’s hands fell to His side, and the beauty of His cre-
ation neared completion. His eyes thoroughly inspected each and
every aspect of His new world as He placed His final touches
here and there. He bent some mountains, widened a river, added
a new bank to a lake, and finally let out a breath of satisfaction.
I looked about this new land and saw that a golden city had
arisen in the north, prepared with houses of an immense pro-
portion, like the old mansions of the moon, laced with precious
stones and fruitful vines. Silver palms scattered across this king-
dom, and a wall made of many jewels encompassed its perimeter
while four mighty pearls stood as gates from the north, south,
east, and west.

21
 The Morning Star

My heart leapt suddenly as I saw in a light green pasture a

massive lion resting near a large tree with a lamb nestled in its
arms, peacefully asleep. Eagles and doves were soaring together in
a flock over hilltops of the land as rabbits and foxes ran through
golden fields as playful as a pair of dolphins from the sea. A tear
trickled down my cheek as I paused in reminiscence of the gar-
den of the past in the beginning of all things.
“This is my new garden, Wisdom, which I shall call Eterni,”
Jehovah said to me, looking quite pleased with Himself.
I wiped the tear off my cheek and looked up into the eyes of
Jehovah the Lord, my Father and Creator.
“This new world shall be a place of love and happiness that
will surpass the world before. The realms that were separated
during the span of Earth shall be forged together anew, and the
powers of all life shall be transformed. Trees shall live in peace
with the hills, the mountains will know the rivers again, and all
life shall flourish as never before.”
I returned my eyes to the new world and saw the creatures
of the spirit realm appearing all across the different landscapes
that had been made for them. Sphinxes, centaurs, satyrs, mino-
taurs, and many other beings began appearing in colonies and
kingdoms all across the land. Of course, I never referred to them
as spiritual beings because they preferred the term Grigori. That
is, if you were speaking of them as a class, such as humans or
animals. The Grigori had gathered together in their own tribes
across the planet in the homes that Jehovah had made for them.
Centaurs roamed freely through wooded forests of the north
while the sphinxes basked in the light of a ruby desert in the
south.
Then the white army that was decorating the sky around
me began to disappear from the atmosphere above and appear
within the golden city below that had been prepared for them
in the northern part of the world. In the western part of the
golden city were those who were named the elect, and they sang
praises to the Lord Jehovah. In the south were those who would

22
 The Fall of Zion

be called the holy, and they waved palm branches as they sang.
Those who are called the anointed gathered in the east, and they
danced before the Lord with King David in their midst. The
righteous appeared in the north with great shouts coming from
their tongues, saying, “Thanks be to our Lord, great and mighty
is His name.”
Jehovah nodded His head with a smile on His face at the
people bursting with happiness at the sights and features of their
new world, their new homes, and their new kingdom, which
they would soon call Jerusalem. So much compassion burned in
Jehovah’s heart for these loved ones, who had endured so much
pain and strife during their times on Earth, that I knew reward-
ing them for their faithfulness was an enormous treasure unto
itself to Him.
Then each angel noticed something new happening that had
never happened before. The Satyrs and Minotaurs of the spirit
realm began mingling with the human races that had been given
land close to theirs, far away from the city of gold. I could not
speak, nor could any angel, but everyone’s minds were racing
with the concept of this new culture. I instantly thought back to
all of the discussions I had debated with Jehovah concerning the
separation of the physical and spiritual realms. Often, I had said
that the two realms should be joined and the physical not left
to animals and humans alone. I remember Him always smiling
and telling me, “In time, Wisdom. In time.” And this must be
the time He meant, and what joy this brought to my heart. The
union of these two realms was so exciting that I let out a shout of
joy myself, which made Jehovah laugh as I did.
He smiled at the angels, who were still pondering this new
mixture of life, as He said, “There will never again be separa-
tion between spirit and physical, my loved ones. They shall now
live amongst each other together in spirit, for the physical world
has been erased. They have been given glorified bodies, and they
shall live amongst each other as a community in peace.”
A vast bow flowed through the angelic hierarchy, and Jehovah

23
 The Morning Star

smiled once more and nodded His head to an island off the east-
ern shore of Eterni. Some of the angels looked confused and oth-
ers terrified. Some of them were ecstatic with joy and curiosity.
Zion, the home of the angelic heavens, for the first time in all of
creation, had been placed as a floating island far off the eastern
shore of the new world. A waterfall was flowing from it into the
white ocean, but as we all looked closer, it was obvious that the
water was actually flowing up to the island instead of down.
“Are you joining us there, my Lord?” some of the cherubim
sung in the form of a question.
This was a very odd question to some of the angels, who did
not fully understand the implications of what was happening. For
others who understood Jehovah’s choice, they knew this would
become a pinnacle in angelic history forever. Never before had
Zion, the kingdom of the seven heavens, been attached to another
world. It had always been separated as its own entity outside the
realm of the physical. Now it appeared that the angels’ destiny
would be changed forever as they joined forces with this new
planet called Eterni. All the angels floated in silence, awaiting the
response of Jehovah. In all His wisdom, He knew every concern
and every heartache of His precious race of angels. So as He began
His answer aloud, He internally spoke to each angel within their
mind, answering the questions of each of their needs.
“In time, I shall. But for now, all instructions have been left
with Mikael to keep order in Zion until I return.”
“Where will you be going, my Lord?” a seraph named
Apollyon asked.
“In time, Apollyon, you will see. Now I must ask for Metatron
to join me, along with a third of your hosts.”
At that moment, Jehovah spoke into the mind of every angel
again, and immediately, each angel knew who was staying and who
was going with Him. With a burst of excitement, the third of the
hosts who were going with Jehovah gathered on the right side of
Him, joined by Metatron. The twenty-four elders gathered next to
Him as well, but Immanuel and the four living creatures were not

24
 The Fall of Zion

accounted for at that time. Slowly, those who would be left behind
gathered around Mikael and the other great archangels.
“What shall we call this new world, Father?” some other
cherubim sang sweetly.
“Eterni,” He replied as He looked over every angel with an
expression of love for them that set a fire in their hearts.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a little blue light shine
on Gabrielle. My eyes blinked twice, and the light disappeared.
In my own mind, I heard Jehovah speak His task desired for
me just as He had spoken at the beginning of time when the
Earth was fresh and new. The words I declare to you now are the
words that were spoken to me by Jehovah at that time. “What
was known has changed. What will be remains. What I have
spoken will come to pass again.”
Then He was gone, and a third of the hosts of Zion with
Him. I watched as Mikael led the remaining angels into Zion
and set up order as he had been instructed. I sat on the outskirts
of the atmosphere, watching, wondering, and admiring all that
was new. A freshly made world floated joyfully in the universe
like a finely polished pearl with more potential and wonder than
any planet before. I took from my robe a new book bathed in
emerald and gold. A blue, feathered quill rested in my ear, and
as I took it to my hand, the first page of my book began to open.

25
 The Morning Star

Words from Wisdom:

Who I Am
Dear Reader,
Good morning, good day, good afternoon, or good night. My
name is Wisdom. These words I write to you are secret things of
the spiritual realm, hidden in the illustrious spread of numbers by
which man has named time. Do not worry if the things that you
read here frighten you, test you, or stretch your spiritual soul. These
things are meant to be for those who seek the truth—for in truth,
you will find freedom; in understanding, you will find knowledge;
and in acceptance, you will find life. You may wonder who I am to
give out such information as is written in these pages.
I am the story teller of the ages. I have the tablets of time and
the stories of the past, present, and future in my keeping. I was cre-
ated in the image of Jehovah, the Father of Light, and from Him,
I have received all knowledge. In the background of all things is
where I can be found, and in the silence of the wind is where I love
to linger. I have been called many names throughout history in the
translation of multiple dialects that still remain or have been lost
throughout the ages. I have been understood as the messenger or
the spirit of old. In the stories of the angels, I am known only as
the ghost, and I am neither at the beginning nor at the end.
The realm of the spirit is my home, but I was given power to cross
freely into the realm of the physical if I wish (during the time of the
Earth). I am Jehovah’s record keeper. I hold no position in the realm
of Zion and am under no angelic obligation or rank. I have three com-
mandments given to me by the Holy of Holies, who is Jehovah.

1. Understand and obey the Lord thy God

2. Guide my hand as Jehovah guides me
3. Record and tell when the time approaches

The time I will tell you of now is the time when the physical

26
 The Fall of Zion

realm has been removed and the new world of Eterni has been
forged. Revelation has passed and is now but a memory as the
future begins for many races and nations who are unaware of its
properties and hope.
Throughout history, Jehovah, your Creator, Father to all, has
desired one simple task out of all creation: to seek after Him with
all the power that lies within your soul. And those who seek Him
will find Him. Jehovah wishes above all things to give hope back
to a dying world full of depression, hatred, and evil to find Him
and have a relationship with Him. Now, in His wisdom, this
story has been written for those to know and understand what
is to come and rejoice, for He is good. Do you believe, or do you
not believe? This is the story.
I, Wisdom, live together with good judgment. The Lord
formed me from the beginning before He created anything else.
I was appointed in ages past, at the very first, before the Earth
began. I was born before the oceans were created, before the
springs bubbled forth their waters. Before the mountains and
the hills were formed, I was born—before He had made the
Earth and fields and the first handfuls of soil. I was there when
He established the heavens and when He drew the horizon on
the oceans. I was there when He set the clouds above, when He
established the deep fountains of the earth. I was there when He
set the limits of the seas so they would not spread beyond their
boundaries. And when He marked off the Earth’s foundations, I
was the architect at His side. I was His constant delight, rejoic-
ing always in His presence. And how happy I was with what He
created: His wide world and all the human family.
And so, my children, listen to me, for happy are all who fol-
low my ways. Listen to my counsel, and be wise; don’t ignore it.
Happy are those who listen to me, watching for me daily at my
gates, waiting for me outside my home; for whoever finds me
finds life and wins approval from the Lord. But those who miss
me have injured themselves. All who hate me love death.1
Wisdom

27
 Decido, the
Yellow Path

A thousand years passed in the world of Eterni, and the sky was
as pearl white as it had been on the day of its creation. The feath-
ers of two angels rustled in a cool breeze as softly as the day they
had first been made, but neither of them had yet become accus-
tomed to the new, pure, white sky that surrounded them above or
the ivory waters that filled the oceans below. Both angels stared
at the breaks of the waves beneath them sparkling in all the col-
ors of the rainbow as the tide rolled over the seas, thinking to
themselves of what was to come.
The two angels were swiftly making their way to the shores
of Sardis at the southern tip of Eterni, where a mission they had
plotted was to be carried out to the best of their ability. They
both knew the dangers of this mission, and although this journey
had taken several hours, as an angel flies, little communication
had developed between them except for various directive points
to secure the continued secrecy of this operation.
“We can have no trailers!” the larger angel had repeatedly
said to the smaller one as they made their way from Zion across
the long, empty ocean. “From the heavens or from Eterni!” he
added, and the smaller angel always nodded in agreement.
They had been fortunate enough so far not to meet too much
opposition on their journey, except for a few schools of whales

28
 The Fall of Zion

and seals that followed them for a few miles and then trailed
off.
The largest angel, who was now a great distance from his
companion, swooped to a ninety-degree angle and took three
hard thrusts toward the shore that was coming up upon the
coastline speckled with bluish trees. The smaller angel followed
with trepidation in his glide and less enthusiasm than the other,
but soon enough, they were both placing their naked feet softly
upon the coarse surface of the sandy beach as the white waves of
the tide reached out to touch their toes.
Gamaliel, the smaller of the two angels, gave his arms and
wings a big stretch from the long journey they had just taken and
peered across the beach, enjoying the scenery laid out before him.
Normally, the elegance and beauty of the baby blues that were
native to this area of Sardis would have kept his mind at ease, but
the thoughts of what they were about to try and accomplish was
tormenting his mind with every second that passed. Gamaliel
was a slender archangel of only nine feet, who had shimmer-
ing silver hair and deep purple wings. His lower feathers were
a shade lighter than the creamy sand beneath him, and he had
majestic, silver eyes that were in an uneasy state at the moment.
He walked slowly up the northern part of the beach, sift-
ing through the jeweled marbles that speckled the cream-colored
sand, hoping not to see signs of the hidden path he knew lay
somewhere along this coast. He reached inside the left side of
his robe, which was white like the sky and purple like his wings,
pulling out a thin, platinum string to tie his long, silver hair tight
behind his head. As his hands fumbled through his hair, ner-
vously attempting to tie the knot, he began to walk in the direc-
tion of the larger angel, who was surveying the beach.
“So do you know right where it is, Apollyon?” Gamaliel said
in a tone that clearly meant, “I hope not.”
“I don’t have to know,” Apollyon responded harshly as he
reached into his golden robe and pulled out a triangular piece
of glass that was the color of amber. Apollyon was the opposite

29
 The Morning Star

of Gamaliel, at eleven feet tall, with broad shoulders from the

seraphim sect of angels. He had black hair with highlights of
gold shimmering through his mane and massive wings of garnet
and gold.
“What is that supposed to be?” Gamaliel asked him timidly.
“This, my unintelligent accomplice, is one of the last five
pieces of the all-seeing eye.”
Gamaliel looked at the triangular piece of amber sparkling
like a tiny sun. With a stutter in his voice, he said, “How did you
find that? Rumor was that they had all been hidden somewhere
in Raquin by Raphael himself, never to be used again.”
“Well let’s just say that Raziel has definitely placed his mark
in the matter that surrounds our situation,” Apollyon said as he
smiled and put the triangular piece to his eye.
“Raziel! You mean it has been in the room of supreme mys-
teries this whole time?”
“That’s right,” Apollyon said with a grin. “Now, give me a
moment to look around.” He stepped in front of Gamaliel force-
fully and scanned the area with the amber triangle placed prop-
erly over his eye. For Apollyon, the world had suddenly become a
blaze of different shades of amber, from the baby blue trees to the
white pearl sky. He lowered his head to look through the sand
and immediately discovered the bright, white glow of the hidden
path within the triangle not far from where they were standing.
“Decido,” he whispered under his breath as he motioned for
Gamaliel to follow him.
Gamaliel sighed at Apollyon’s revelation, and they walked
silently along the beach toward a path Gamaliel could not see
but knew was in their midst. He stared out into the baby blues
as they walked on the sand and didn’t hear a whisper from any of
the trees or a song from any bird nearby. This was very strange
because, as far as he knew, every inch of Eterni was full of some
sort of life, and the quietness of this beach was absolutely eerie.
Apparently, Apollyon had navigated them to exactly the cor-
rect spot on their flight because it only took minutes to get to

30
 The Fall of Zion

the path from where they had landed. Apollyon sifted more and
more of the sand aside, revealing the entire stone path leading
out into the water. Gamaliel followed him with an unimpressed
look upon his face as the freshly cleared path began to reek hor-
ribly of sulfur all around them.
“Apollyon,” Gamaliel said in a faint voice as he pinched his
nose with his fingers.
Apollyon turned around for one second as he replaced the
amber triangle back within his robe. “What!” he said warningly.
“Well, it’s just … I mean … are you sure … you know … I
mean … uh?” Gamaliel stuttered all of this in one high-pitched
sentence.
“We are going through with this, so you might as well accept
it !” Apollyon demanded as he headed out toward the ocean.
“And at least act like you have the slightest amount of bravery
within those pastel-colored feathers of yours!”
Gamaliel took his fingers from his nose and began fiddling
with his belt as he battled with his conscience and their goals.
The thoughts and warnings in his mind were making him immo-
bile, as if his feet had been cemented to the path, unwilling to
move until some revelation or courage hit his spirit. Apollyon
was already waist-deep in water, continuing to follow the path
out into the ocean, not wasting any time. This is all so sudden,
Gamaliel thought to himself as he lifted one foot and then the
next as slowly as possible toward the incoming tide. He had
thought, or rather hoped, it would take them hours, possibly even
days, to find the path, but had he known about the amber piece,
he could have been more prepared for their quick discovery. He
would have rather looked for days and days and returned to Zion
as failures than accomplish what they were about to attempt now
that they had found the path.
He hoisted up the purple bottom of his robe that lay upon
his feet and stepped out into the water, feeling the temperature
of the ocean. Carefully, he dipped his foot into the white waves,
feeling the lukewarm tide sweep up over his ankle. He glanced at

31
 The Morning Star

Apollyon, who had, for a moment, turned around to see what his
useless sidekick was doing. Apollyon raised a hand to his fore-
head in disgust as Gamaliel smiled a blushful smile.
Apollyon shook his head as he tried to remember why he had
brought Gamaliel at all, especially for such an important task as
this. The only thought that occurred to him was that no other
angel had volunteered, but then again, neither had Gamaliel. He
turned his attention back to the path under the water as the cur-
rent rested upon his chest, soaking his golden robe, but as he
peered through the water, he saw that the path had disappeared.
The sulfuric yellow stone was nowhere to be seen, and he
frantically kicked his feet all around him, trying to uncover the
path. This did not help his vision as the sand filled the water
like a thunderstorm churning in the sky and the breaks of the
waves dazzled with a glare so bright that Apollyon felt partially
blind. For a moment, he considered that the sand and the water
were both trying to obscure his vision purposely from finding the
path, but he tossed this idea from his mind as he resumed his
search for the yellow stones. He moved forward and sideways,
back and forth, but nothing could be seen in the milky water.
Then Apollyon’s foot slipped over the edge of something slick,
and he fell quickly under the current with nothing more than a
mild splash.
Gamaliel, who had been slowly edging his way out, heard
the splash and looked up immediately. Unfortunately, all he saw
was a vast ocean before him with no Apollyon in sight. The first
emotion that hit him was fear mixed with anxiety and finishing
with more fear. He couldn’t move. He was glued to the sand as
the waves continued to smack him at his waist. He looked in the
air, but there was nothing there.
“Apollyon?” he yelled.
No one replied. He looked behind him, knowing that
Apollyon could not have possibly passed him by without him
noticing, but nevertheless, he screamed, “Apollyon!” His high-
pitched voice only scared a family of parrots from their nesting in

32
 The Fall of Zion

some baby blues in the distance. Then, in front of him, he heard

another splash, mingled with gasps for air, and he turned around
quickly to see if it was Apollyon or possibly the creature that had
taken Apollyon. With a sigh of relief, he saw a head of golden
black hair resurfacing from the water.
Apollyon shook the hair out of his face as he breathed in
heavily. Gamaliel felt the anxiety fade off of his shoulders and his
fear fly away. “What happened to you?”
Apollyon did not acknowledge his question but simply waved
for him to come quickly. Gamaliel, with a little more tenacity,
pushed swiftly through the waters toward Apollyon. The waves
engulfed his white robe until only the purple lining showed
through clearly. He shook his head fiercely from the waves that
were continuously splashing into his face with as much violence
as a hurricane. Never before had he dealt with this ocean being
as temperamental as it was today, which only reassured him that
this was all a really bad idea.
Gamaliel tried to dodge the next wave, and as he did, he
noticed Apollyon motioning for him with a severe amount of
urgency. He pushed himself harder through the waves with his
wings and finally joined Apollyon’s side, finding his footing on the
hard sand beneath him. Apollyon pointed into the water at their
destination below, and Gamaliel surveyed the waters beneath
him. Looking through the white waters of Eterni’s oceans was
like looking through stained glass. He peered through the murky
glare as he attempted to look from different angles at what could
be beneath these crests of water. Then, in a jolt of shock, he found
there destination as his eyes discovered the edge of a massive cliff
that plummeted deep into the ocean.
“What happened? Did you walk right over the side of that?”
Gamaliel asked with sudden comprehension and a timid laugh.
“Very funny,” Apollyon responded. “Now, take a deep breath.
This is going to be a long swim.”
“Swim? What do you mean swim? Down there?” Gamaliel
said nervously.

33
 The Morning Star

Apollyon smiled dryly, inhaled a deep amount of oxygen,

tucked back his wings, and submerged himself in the water.
Gamaliel shook his head in disbelief. “You didn’t say anything
about swimming,” he yelled, but Apollyon was already gone. “At
least not that deep,” he added as he mumbled some inaudible
curses at Apollyon. Then, with a sigh, he took a deep breath and
dove into the gorge after him.

34
 Aker

The water whipped over Apollyon and Gamaliel as they soared

through the ocean with a great amount of speed. Miraculously,
the white waters had turned into a type of crystal clear liquid
once fully submerged within them, which allowed Gamaliel to
see how far ahead Apollyon was. As Gamaliel’s wings pushed
him swiftly through the water, he felt himself reaching for his
eyes to remove a sting that should have been there, but his eyes
felt no pain. In fact, there was not even a salty taste within this
ocean at all, compared to the old blue sea, and Gamaliel sup-
posed that the new oceans of this world were more like massive
springs than salty oceans.
He gazed around as they dove deeper and deeper into the
gorge, admiring the colorful reef they were following down the
trench. The yellow path had ended at the cliff above, and the
only direction now was straight down the ravine along a circu-
lar wall of coral. He started wondering quickly, as the oxygen
inside his lungs began to fizzle, how deep they were going to
have to go. Although angels could hold their breath for an exten-
sive amount of time, they couldn’t hold it forever, and neither of
them knew how deep this chasm went. He looked straight down,
past Apollyon, as far as he could, but the rift they were headed
for was just a blur of haziness. He looked around for some form
of sea life within the coral but was disappointed at the vacant
atmosphere around him. He also noticed that the water was nei-

35
 The Morning Star

ther hot nor cold but cool and warm together on his skin, and to
his surprise, the deeper they went, the brighter the haze got.
Gamaliel forced his wings to push harder and harder through
the water to catch up with Apollyon, who was now a good dis-
tance away from him. He swam through the water quicker than
any sea creature he had ever seen, but this was not of his own
accord. It felt more like the ocean was pulling him toward some-
thing or beckoning him onward. Once again, the increasing dif-
ficulty of their mission stirred within Gamaliel, and an unease of
drastic proportion settled there.
The ocean became denser and denser as it pressed in all around
him, pulling him deeper and deeper into its midst. Suddenly, an
odd current of water like a spiraling tornado captured him and
began dragging him toward the ocean’s floor. Colors of black and
white twisted all around him as he struggled desperately in the
funnel to swim, breathe, or use his wings. Then, as if the water
had suddenly vanished, he began to fall out of control toward
some unknown location. Swirls of light began to twist rapidly all
around him, and he fought desperately to spread out his wings
and clench some wind within them, but nothing happened. He
couldn’t grip the air at all, and he was becoming more and more
frantic as everything around him disappeared within the black
and white swirls.
Then, as the last bit of oxygen seeped out of his lungs and the
atmosphere pulled him from every direction, nearly ripping him
apart, he landed face first on the ocean floor. The impact caused
an incredible amount of pain that started on his face and moved
throughout his body. He didn’t dare move anything except for
his mouth, which was sucking in as much oxygen as possible.
His eyes were closed as his brain accepted the pain of his impact
with the hard surface beneath him. Everything ached, from his
lungs to his bones, and he dimly opened one eye. Beside him
was a mess of black and gold hair lying just as still as he was. He
momentarily wondered if Apollyon was dead from the impact.

36
 The Fall of Zion

Then the hair began to move, and a head lifted up off of the
ground.
Gamaliel closed his eye and did not move. He thought he
could stay in this position for days and endure his pain until he
was healed, but that chance was taken from him quickly as he felt
the back of his robe pull tight against his chest, and instantly, he
was pulled to his feet to stand beside Apollyon.
“This must be the chamber, the entranceway to the abyss,”
Apollyon said breathlessly.
Gamaliel gave him a halfhearted smile as he twisted his back
from side to side, stretching his aching muscles from the fall to
the floor. He felt the hems of his robe and realized that they were
completely dry. He then felt his face and ran his fingers through
his hair and realized that they were dry too. It must have been the
wind as I was falling, he thought to himself, but at that moment,
a drop of sweat twinkled upon his brow. He then began to notice
the intense heat all about him. He bent down and looked at the
rusty red sand beneath him and felt another blast of heat as if a
gust of wind had run over him.
“This place is a sauna, but without steam,” he said out loud,
not turning his head to look in Apollyon’s direction.
Apollyon wouldn’t have been listening anyway. He was at the
edge of the glass enclosure, looking all around the small chamber,
attempting to move the sand at his feet, but it wouldn’t budge.
Gamaliel ignored this problem and began to stretch his back
again to relieve the muscle spasms trickling down his spine. As
his head tilted back, his eyes grew to the size of grapefruits.
Terror filled his heart as the sweat on his face multiplied rapidly.
Unable to speak, he nudged Apollyon, who had just passed by on
his hands and knees, trying to pull the sand from the surface.
Furious at the interruption and frustrated with his luck,
Apollyon stood up with fury in his mind and a tongue full of
anger until he saw a terrifying look on Gamaliel’s face. Slowly,
Apollyon lifted his eyes to the roof of the chamber, and his mouth
fell open from the sight beyond the glass above.

37
 The Morning Star

Outside the chamber was a vast sea of churning fire like a

vicious storm of lava in a tormented sea where the ocean had
been seconds before. Apollyon felt sweat streaming down his face
and Gamaliel’s body shaking at the sight of the inferno burning
above them.
In a terrified voice, Gamaliel said, “Is that … was that … are
we in?”
Apollyon searched for answers within his mind but came up
with none and did not reply. How could an entire ocean turn into a
sea of flames in an instant? he thought. He hadn’t expected some-
thing like this to happen, and their journey was only halfway over
if his calculations were correct. Technically, it was not even half-
way over. Where is Aker? Where is the door that leads to the abyss?
“Did you hear me?” Gamaliel asked softly, seeing Apollyon’s
frustration spelled out across his face.
“Yes, I heard you, and no, I don’t know. But we need to find
the door,” he responded as bubbles of fire burst in every direction
inside the inferno.
Apollyon turned his attention back to the floor, trying to
move the sand that felt like rock beneath his feet in search for
a hidden door. Gamaliel remained staring above the chamber,
which in his guess, was about fifty feet high, and, trembling at
the thought, he said, “Do you think we will have to swim back
through that?”
“I don’t know!” Apollyon said angrily as he massaged the side
of his temples. “Let’s just do what we came to do first, and what
we came to do is to find the door to the abyss. Do you see it
anywhere?”
Gamaliel shook his head no as Apollyon reached inside his
robe and pulled out a set of keys. “No you don’t see it,” he said
in a fit of rage. “You’re no help. You’ve never been any help. Why
did I bring you? I have no idea. I’m having to do all the work, as
always. Without a door, where am I supposed to put this?” He
held out a white key that took the shape of a man’s skull and
stretched out like a finger with two spikes at the end. Gamaliel

38
 The Fall of Zion

looked semi-confused. Was he actually supposed to answer this

question?
“So where is this great gate of Aker?” Apollyon screamed
madly, holding up the key. At this challenge, the rocky floor
beneath them began to peel away, unveiling a staircase that went
down to a large, circular door made of what appeared to be iron.
Apollyon looked at Gamaliel, who looked twice as shocked as
he did, and together, they took their first few steps toward the
gigantic iron door.
The door was as black as night, and placed upon the door
were two fierce lions holding handles locked within their jaws.
Behind the two lions, imbedded in the iron, were faces of crea-
tures and people trapped within it. Their faces showed immense
pain and suffering, as if they were moaning and screaming, but
no sounds could be heard. Gamaliel looked closely at the suffer-
ing faces. There, in the background, as if patrolling his victims,
was a fierce, blood-splattered dog with a dark coat. The dog crept
amidst the shadows with his red eyes piercing out from the door
to the angels standing before him.
Apollyon recognized him at once. “Garm, you worthless
demon of hell, who has posted you at this entrance?”
The dog turned his eyes to Apollyon and growled so deep
that Apollyon took a step back.
“Where is the keyhole, Garm?” Apollyon demanded.
But a voice came from another mouth on the door—one that
Apollyon had not seen.
“He is not the guardian of this door but of the slaves,” the
voice sounded with a hiss in its words.
Both of the angels looked confused as they searched for some
type of serpent or dragon speaking from the door, but they could
find no such creature among the tortured souls. Then Gamaliel
saw what they were looking for and with a shout of joy he said,
“Look! There between the two lions!”
Apollyon nodded his head in concurrence and began to
approach the door cautiously, but as he stepped closer to the

39
 The Morning Star

keyhole, a growl came from the guard dog, Garm, and the lions
eyes awoke from their apparent slumber. A clamored roar echoed
through the chamber, knocking over the two angels instantly.
The two lions’ mouths did not move, but Gamaliel knew that
the roar was coming from them as the eyes of the lions bore into
them like a drill. Gamaliel and Apollyon both cuffed their ears
with their hands and their wings. The lions’ eyes seemed to be
burning into their flesh as Apollyon jumped up with a sudden
burst of courage from the staircase and said, “I command thee,
Aker. Submit to the key of death, and open your doors to the
abyss and the foul that lies within you.”
The pain stopped momentarily as another sinister growl
came from the lions. Then, a simultaneous hissing spread out
across their ears with the same voice that had spoken earlier.
“The time is not yet near to allow angels entrance into these
gates, Apollyon,” the voices taunted.
Apollyon gripped the skeleton key tightly in his hand and
held it to the face of Aker on the iron door.
“You will obey me and the authority entrusted to me by this
key, Aker. It is not yours to choose the time of your opening,” he
demanded.
At this moment, the skeleton key jumped out of Apollyon’s
hand and landed perfectly into the iron slot. The door broke open
between the two lions, and Apollyon was thrown back beside
Gamaliel by a burst of hot wind escaping from the inside. Both
angels grabbed their ears in pain from the piercing screams and
dreadful laughs of the imprisoned faces in the iron that were sud-
denly audible. They got to their feet quickly as, before them, a
pit of darkness began to materialize. Both of their wings shivered
slightly from the immense presence of evil that lurked beyond
it.
The two angels stood up as straight as they could and
approached the broken door, trying to ignore the screams of ter-
ror sounding from every direction. Aker, with a disgusted look on
his faces, released the key from its hole, and it fell to the ground

40
 The Fall of Zion

with a thud. Apollyon hastily picked it up and placed it with the

others along his belt as they took their first steps underneath the
entrance into the abyss.

41
 The Abyss

The smell of burning flesh and sulfur was so repulsive that

Apollyon and Gamaliel immediately covered their noses as they
took their first steps into the abyss. A long, black stairway plunged
deep into the pit before them like a staggering cliff down a rocky
plummet, and they knew that their troubles were just beginning.
The narrow path tumbled into darkness with little room for them
to stretch their wings, making flying impossible.
They were completely discouraged at the sight of the long
walk before them, and Gamaliel peered into the darkness with
the feeling that it was daring him to enter. Then, suddenly, a
noise like a falling star hitting a mountain echoed behind them,
and all the light within the tunnel dissolved. They turned with
swords drawn to see what had happened, but knew that Aker, the
door of the abyss, had shut its iron gates, trapping them inside.
The cries and screams that had been echoing down the hall in a
triumphant chorus now ceased as the door clamped shut. As the
darkness engulfed them from every angle, the deafening silence
became more eerie than the screams that had been there before,
and they both breathed deep breaths of anxiety and fear.
Their eyes did not adjust quickly to the new darkness, and
only after a few moments did they perceive their destination
before them. Down the steps of the rocky cliffs, which were
barely visible through the dark, lay a small, red glow in the deep-
est heart of the pit. Apollyon sighed at the realization of what

42
 The Fall of Zion

they must do, and Gamaliel smiled in the darkness, knowing that
he was not the only one regretting this adventure now.
As they began their way down the jagged steps toward the
tiny, red glow, the stench grew heavier and heavier, making breath-
ing a horrible task. Their wings were uncomfortably pinioned to
their sides in the stifling narrow hallways, and the tormenting
heat formed blisters on their skin. Each footstep was a battle to
make as the tar like surface on the uneven rock gripped their feet
tightly in an attempt to root them to the spot with every step
they made. More than once, Apollyon retrieved his sword and
had to cut away at the gripping tar so he could continue down
the path freely. Gamaliel was frantic, with his heart beating hard
upon his chest as they continued deeper into the darkness with
the vague, red glow getting ever stronger at its core. He stopped
suddenly upon the staircase as a strange breeze flowed over his
body like nothing he had ever experienced before. “Apollyon!” he
shouted with uncertainty and fear in his voice.
Apollyon turned his head slightly and could barely see the
panicked state of Gamaliel. “What!” he said in a callous voice.
Gamaliel looked around, and the feeling that something was
there, right there in the darkness, watching and waiting for them,
crept over his spirit again. He reached deep down within himself
for some form of his voice and some bit of courage, but the voice
that he found was fragile, dreadful, and no more than a squeak as
he said, “Nothing. It was nothing.”
Apollyon turned back around with a scowl on his face and
headed farther into the abyss. Gamaliel swallowed what little
saliva survived in his mouth and picked up his feet to walk, but
his boots had been nearly overtaken by the tarry surface on the
floor. He pulled his sword out again, and with awkward slashes,
he freed himself from the clutches of the tar and hurried toward
Apollyon. For what seemed like hours, they climbed down, down,
down the dark staircase with soot sticking to their robes, cuts
upon their hands, and a stench clinging to their bodies.
Finally, the red glow of the pit framed their silhouettes, and

43
 The Morning Star

they entered a mammoth cavern with charred walls as large as the

ocean above. Even though the poison of the sulfuric air enclosed
them, no smoke could be seen coming from the fires along the
walls. Gamaliel walked around Apollyon, taking in the full envi-
ronment that surrounded him. There were three doorways in the
cavern, and each door stood about sixty feet tall and sixty feet
wide as far as Gamaliel could estimate, except a middle door that
was three times smaller than the others.
In the middle of the cavern was an enormous fountain in
the shape of a dead tree; and as Gamaliel got closer, he realized
that the tree was a massive combination of blackened bones. His
eyes scanned the amazing ferocity of this tree with its cold, black
gleam shining in its trunk and its dead branches protruding in
every direction, and to his astonishment, he realized where the
red glow of the cavern was coming from. Balls of flame, which
looked like tumbleweeds ablaze, sat upon the dead branches.
They were illuminated by a red fire, and dripping down from
them into the fountain was a black substance boiling at the roots
of the bones.
Gamaliel removed his sword as he walked closer to the edge
of the fountain, intrigued by its many idiosyncrasies. It was then
that he noticed how the black liquid was actually part of the
tree, churning itself back up and around the trunk through the
puzzle of bones. Gamaliel was fascinated by this hideous orna-
ment of the abyss and was not paying any attention to the small
bubbles of liquid popping below him and reaching out for his
sword, robe, and skin.
“Get away from there before you become part of that tree
and I have to try and explain a missing Gamaliel to the entire
angelic hosts,” Apollyon shouted as he took the set of keys from
underneath his robe.
Gamaliel replaced the sword to his sheath without noticing
the small hole that had begun in his sword from a tiny drop of
the black liquid from the pool. He made his way to Apollyon,

44
 The Fall of Zion

who was facing the smaller middle door, which was burning with
black flames, and patted him on the back.
“Do you know which key opens this door?” Gamaliel asked
as he moved his hand from Apollyon’s shoulder because of the
murderous face he was giving him.
Apollyon didn’t speak as Gamaliel’s hand left him, and he
returned his gaze to the keys, sorting through them and mutter-
ing a riddle to himself. “In this tormentous home, we have locked
him with bone. As the fork was his tool, so the torch will then
bloom, and locked within stone, his doom is enclosed.” Apollyon
held up a key that was as black as the flames on the door in front
of him. The key was in the shape of a pitchfork, no larger than
the skeleton key they had used to get past Aker.
Suddenly, the door before them ignited into a blaze of red
flames, and Apollyon threw the key at the door as the key caught
fire in his hand. Oddly enough, the key went directly into its slot,
and the flames blended into a collage of red, black, and orange.
The glow of the fire danced across their faces as Gamaliel
said in a curious tone, “Where do these other doors lead to?”
Apollyon rolled his eyes as he looked at the smaller angel,
who he had always considered as a younger brother, pestering
and annoying. Apollyon pointed to his right at a door made of
metal, as red as fire itself and as jagged as sharks’ teeth. “That’s
the door to hell,” Apollyon said with a spit of arrogance. Then
he pointed to his left at a door swirling with black lava and high-
lighted in brilliant orange colors and said, “That is the lake of
fire, which means that this door is—”
“The pit,” Gamaliel interrupted with a stunned awe in his
voice.
Apollyon smirked and held out his hand. “Would you like to
do the honors?” It was only then that Gamaliel noticed his hand
was shaking slightly upon the hilt of his sword. He hesitated and
then pulled it out, pressing it gently against the fiery door that
swung open instantly from the touch of his blade. As the door
opened, the flames died out and the key became visible again.

45
 The Morning Star

“Good ole Demetrial,” Gamaliel said as he patted the blade

of his sword.
Apollyon shoved him out of the way and said, “You should
take a look at good ole Demetrial because I think he’s injured.”
Gamaliel tilted the sword toward his face and noticed a peb-
ble-sized hole that had singed right through the middle of his
sword.
Apollyon entered the doorway and touched the key gently
with his forefinger. The key felt completely cool, so he placed it
back with the others as they entered the dark hallway.
Gamaliel followed close behind examining the strange hole
within his sword. Suddenly, he screeched in pain as his finger
crossed the divot, and he dropped his sword to the ground. The
hole in the sword was hotter than fire, and Gamaliel sucked on
his forefinger, attempting to cool the burn. But his finger burned
his tongue. He took his finger from his mouth and shoved it to
the black wall beside him and finally received some comfort as
the burn began to cool, but it also began melting the rock of the
wall.
After a few more painful moments, Gamaliel finally bent
down to pick up his sword. When he returned his eyes to the
hall, he saw that Apollyon was already a good distance ahead of
him, and he made a quick run to catch up. The tunnel here was
covered in ash and soot except for the hints of sulfur that accented
the walls with a putrid yellow lining, and Gamaliel coughed from
the ash in his lungs. As he hurried to catch up with Apollyon,
torches lit black flames all across the hall, giving the tunnel an
eerie illumination of black and gray shadows. Gamaliel dodged
some bloody mud dripping from the roof as a strange feeling of
wind with something like fingers reached all across his body. He
stopped and looked all around, but nothing was there. He rea-
soned with himself that the only answer to this mystery was the
immense heat exhaustion he was feeling that was making him
hallucinate, but he bargained that it was something else as well,
something dark.

46
 The Fall of Zion

Apollyon didn’t seem to be having nearly as many problems

as Gamaliel was as he walked arrogantly down the passage with
purpose and pride in his step. Gamaliel hadn’t even had time to
worry about where this particular tunnel was leading them or
fret about what was at the end of this hall as his eyes fell upon a
familiar rock, a popular rock, a rock that every angel knew.
He gasped as he looked over the boulder before him block-
ing the rest of the passage. “It’s been here all this time,” he said
in a weary voice as Apollyon took the keys out of his robe once
again.
“Yes,” Apollyon said with a sly tone. “It’s quite ironic, isn’t
it?”
Gamaliel nodded his head but looked at him, mildly confused.
Apollyon shook his head in frustration. “Use that brain of
yours sometimes, will you? It’s ironic that this was the stone they
chose to lock up the serpent and it is about to be removed, just
like before!”
Gamaliel smiled and nodded his head again, but he obvi-
ously did not understand what was ironic about this.
“Okay. Let me simplify it for you then,” Apollyon said with
malice in his voice. “Immanuel was locked behind this same rock
for three days on Earth and then released by two angels such as
ourselves.” Apollyon stopped as Gamaliel’s face finally showed a
gleam of comprehension.
“Oh,” he said, putting it all together, “and we are about to
release him just as the others released Immanuel.”
Apollyon looked away from Gamaliel, shaking his head with
annoyance as he pulled out a flat, smooth key with no indication
of top or bottom within his hand. The key was the same color as
the boulder before them, and he hesitated for one moment with
the thought of what they were about to attempt or, even worse,
accomplish.
Gamaliel, who now understood what was at the end of this
tunnel, was trembling again with the thoughts of the creature
imprisoned behind this door. Apollyon’s hand fumbled with the

47
 The Morning Star

key as he searched for the key hole that was a slit barely notice-
able in the middle of the stone. He turned his eyes away from the
key as he felt for the tiny slit. Gamaliel shut his eyes tightly and
grasped the hilt of his sword. The key did not miss, satisfying
its own intentions as it slid purposefully into the slot. The stone
rumbled in a fierce tremor as the ground beneath them shook,
and the angels were flung backward onto the muddy floor.
As they lay upon their backs, the stone rolled to the left,
fading behind the adjacent wall; and an intense heat rolled over
them. A fatal stench followed the heat and was clutching the
inside of their lungs, making them both gag and twitch. They
looked over their knees and into the room before them, which
was full of poisonous fumes floating like green ghosts in the air;
and tears of blue blood began streaming down their faces, wash-
ing the venomous fumes from their eyes. Gamaliel felt the tears
with his fingers and then looked down at his hand to see a blue
smear of his own blood. He had never before seen the tears of
blood that were the mark of angelic betrayal; and as he stared at
the stains upon his hands, more tears flowed from his eyes.
Apollyon was the first to his feet, wiping the soot and ash
of the floor from his garments. Gamaliel was still staring at his
hands when he was picked up by the neck and placed beside
Apollyon. Gamaliel looked with a tearstained face at his partner,
who gave him a look of understanding as the blue stains drew
a path across both their faces. Their breathing was harsh and
rough as Apollyon began to walk cautiously into the pit. Gamaliel
followed him hesitantly with a shaky hand on his sword as he
sucked in the muggy air. The pit was completely dark except for
the ivy green smoke circulating within the chamber. Together,
they spotted the only visible object within the room, which was
a crimson pool boiling like hot oil just feet from their toes. The
pool was unstable, with waves and bubbles splashing violently
around the edges of the pit.
Apollyon stared at the menacing liquid that was moving with
awkward motions. Gamaliel was not so eager to investigate this

48
 The Fall of Zion

pool as he had been the tree in the foyer, and he kept his distance
as the fluid popped and gurgled more intensely. Then a large cage
began to emerge from the center of the garnet pond. Gamaliel
stood up as tall as he could and took out his sword, but the hole
upon it had grown so much that the metal was barely staying
together. The boiling blood splashed violently as the cavern’s
walls began to shake. The cage split through the surface of the
liquid, with white flames and golden bars appearing as its mold.
Apollyon looked over at Gamaliel, whose pitiful sword looked as
if it was about to shake out of his hands, and drew out his own
sword as well.
Inside of the fiery cage was the skeleton of a winged creature.
Massive platinum chains bound him, and the figure sat with its
back rested upon the bars and its head cocked to the side in a
dreary position. Black blood poured from its body as every inch
brought the cage farther and farther from its depths. Then the
skeleton’s head began to adjust as it became aware of the cage’s
movement, and its wings twitched with their first feeling of life
in a thousand years. A loud, high-pitched scream came bellow-
ing from the creature; and the entire cavern quaked, causing the
walls to burst into red flames all around the pit. Gamaliel nearly
fainted and grabbed onto Apollyon’s robe quickly as he started to
fall. Apollyon knocked his arm off and was in full concentration
of what he must do.
The white flames of the cage burned out like a candle, and
the golden bars disintegrated before their eyes. The chains fell
from the creature on all sides, and a slight breeze of heat swept
across their faces. There was now nothing between this demonic
figure and the two terrified angels. Their hearts were racing like
never before as sweat poured down their brows. Even Apollyon
began to quiver at the realization that they now stood alone in
a secluded pit with the first being of darkness released by their
own hands into this new world. The skeletal wings of the crea-
ture began flapping in a wingspan that nearly crossed the entire

49
 The Morning Star

cavern; and without warning, the skeleton moved toward them as

they stood frozen, unprepared with an answer to his movement.
A combustion of red flames blasted across the cavern, caus-
ing both of them to shut their eyes and hide their faces with their
wings. As the flames began to slowly die, silence could be heard
filling the pit. Both angels opened their eyes; but the room was so
thick with darkness that they both, for a moment, thought they
had been blinded by the burst of flame. It wasn’t until thirteen
large torches caught fire and lit up the pit all around them that
they realized they still retained their vision. Their eyes slowly
readjusted to the light as a skeletal figure no longer stood before
them. A dark angel with milky white skin and black veins stared
at them through charcoal eyes. His wings were blended with scar-
let and crimson feathers that he folded majestically to his back.
He ran his hand over his long, black hair. He felt the smooth-
ness of the skin on his face and hands, where raw bone had been
moments before; and he could have been considered maliciously
beautiful, even in his betrayal, until he gave a smile so evil that
it made the two of them cringe with pain. The ancient serpent
was free again.

50
 The Fall of Zion

Words from Wisdom:

The Story of Lucifer
Dear Reader,
During your journey through this book, I will supply you with
information needed to understand the spirit realm and items that
you may be unfamiliar with. Though at times it may be difficult
for you to understand these hidden treasures, please read with an
open mind the words of truth and let them encourage your walk
in life.
The tale that I write for you here is an ancient occurrence
in the first change of history. The first of all angels was a great
archangel named Lucifer, but he was also called the Morning
Star, a title given to him by Jehovah, which means the King of
the Angels. Lucifer was the most beautiful of all things created,
with golden hair; majestic, silver eyes; and a face like smooth
ivory, pure and bold. He was given the sixth heaven of Zebul,
the Scepatar of music, and he directed the choirs of the seven
heavens in symphonies of light that could tame the wildest stars
of the universe. Music flowed from his fingertips sweeter than
the voices of cherubim; and he loved his power, his position, and
himself.
During this time of angelic history, there was only one law:
“Do not eat of the fruit of the tree of God.” The angels lived
by this law, and there were none who touched the tree or even
looked upon it. It was considered a useless matter in the angelic
society, for it had been banned by Jehovah, and an angel’s duty
and nature was to obey Jehovah’s every commandment. Jehovah’s
next creation was a planet called Earth and a new creation He
called man. For a short time, He left His throne in Zion, which
is the realm of the angels, to tend to His new creation that He
loved so dearly. Lucifer was then given authority over all of Zion
in His stead, and he ruled there for many hundreds of years.
One day, Jehovah returned to Zion and beckoned all to come
and see His creation of Earth and a man He called Adam. As

51
 The Morning Star

the angels gathered around to see the wonder of Jehovah’s hand,

Jehovah called out to Adam with a loud voice, saying, “Adam,
behold I have made thee king and priest, prophet and lord, head
and governor of everything which hath been made and created.”
When Mikael, an archangel, heard this, he bowed his knee before
Adam. The rest of the angelic hosts followed his lead, all except
for one.
Lucifer refused to bow his knee before a creature that had
been made after him, a “secondhand creation,” as he called it, and
he left and returned to Zion. Some of the angels were intrigued
by Lucifer’s decision and followed him back to the kingdom as
well, refusing to bow before a lower creation than themselves.
Then Lucifer’s mind began to turn away from light and all
that is good, and his heart grew black with dark and evil intent.
As he entered the kingdom, he approached the forbidden tree
with haste. Those who had followed him back, which was equal
to a third of the angelic hosts, followed and watched in shock and
amazement as he walked toward the tree of God with determina-
tion in his steps. With confidence and pride, he plucked a single
fruit from a branch of the tree. Not even one of the angels before
him attempted to stop him as he held in his hand the milestone
of the beginning of the war of good and evil. In his mind, he
passed by grace and forsook all that he knew as his lips and his
heart filled with rebellion. He tossed the fruit into his mouth
and swallowed it whole, transforming instantly from a being of
light to the creature of darkness he now portrays. The crown he
bore upon his head disintegrated into salt, and the title of the
Morning Star was released from his spirit like a ball of white fire.
This act by Lucifer is known as the first sin of creation.
Then Lucifer, being full of all that is evil, persuaded the third
of the hosts that had followed and watched him to eat from the
forbidden tree as well. His words were sweet to their ears and
persuasion filled their hearts as he beckoned them to become
like God, as he now felt he was. One by one, the angels took
the fruit of the tree, eating to their pleasure, becoming one with

52
 The Fall of Zion

evil and turning to darkness, no longer receiving or giving light

from their spirit. When the last angel that had followed Lucifer
to Zion had eaten from the forbidden tree, Mikael stepped back
into the realm with the remaining hosts of angels. They gasped in
horror to find their kingdom desecrated by those who had sinned
against Jehovah and indulged in the fruit of the forbidden tree.
As Lucifer rejoiced in his sin and bathed in his unrighteousness,
a mutiny in Zion tore quickly across the kingdom. Mikael, along
with four other arch angels, stood with two thirds of the hosts of
angels against their king, their Morning Star, and declared their
allegiance to Jehovah, their Creator. With that proclamation, a
war broke out all through the seven heavens; and many lives were
forever changed.
Then Jehovah, the one who is called the Almighty, appeared
and cast Lucifer, the forbidden tree, and his followers to the
world of Earth. The tree was then broken into three and became
the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, the tree of life, and
the tree of wisdom. The title of the Morning Star among the
angelic race was never again proclaimed, but there has always
been hope for a new king.
Wisdom

53
 A Dark Alliance

The ancient serpent, the first being of darkness, breathed in a

deep breath of freedom as he looked at two trembling angels
before him.
“So, Mikael was too busy to take me to the judgment himself,
was he?” he said, eyeing the two angels coldly. “And he sent two
peon mercenaries to come and get me instead. Is that right?” the
voice spoke, as insulting and proud as they had ever remembered
it.
The two angels gazed upon him in awe and in fear. The one
they had fought for millennia; the one who, moments earlier, was
locked in a cell; the one who was in the very midst of his tortur-
ous sentence (as he rightfully should have been until his judg-
ment) was now standing before them, released from his prison
by their own hands.
“Lucifer,” Apollyon said in a choking voice. “I mean,” he stut-
tered as he bent himself over in a respectful bow, “our Morning
Star.”
A deep monstrous growl came from the bowls of the being
before them as he spat on the ground and said, “Do not call me by
that name.” Gamaliel watched a hole form from the place where
Lucifer had spat and looked at Apollyon with confusion. Lucifer
closed his eyes and clinched his fists as the echo of his name from
a thousand years ago brought out the memory of Jehovah’s eyes
in his mind. For a thousand years, buried within this prison, he

54
 The Fall of Zion

had thought of nothing else but that moment which he believed

had caused him to lose a battle he should have won.
He opened his eyes with the rage of the dragon inside him
and said, “You shall call me Satan or nothing at all.” The two
angels nodded their heads in obedience to this command, and
Satan suddenly realized the last words that were spoken from
Apollyon’s mouth.
The look on Satan’s face was as shocked as the looks on the
angels’ faces. “Did you call me Morning Star?”
Apollyon’s throat attempted to swallow, but there was no
saliva in his mouth. “Yes, I d-did,” he stuttered, “and I, I mean
we have come to release you before your appointed time of judg-
ment, for we are in need of your power and skill, and Mikael is
unaware of our actions at this present time.” Apollyon paused
as he placed his sword into his sheath with his head still bowed,
motioning for Gamaliel to do the same.
Gamaliel hesitated to do so and almost shook his head no
as Satan looked at him curiously and menacingly, seeing the fear
and weakness in his eyes. Then Gamaliel slowly put away his
sword and bowed his head low as well, but cautiously.
Satan’s eyes opened wide, and a slight tear might have been
seen attempting to form as he said, “It has been ages since I have
been referred to by my old title from angels of the throne. And
asking for my help. What could I possibly help angels like you
with?” The skepticism in his throat was deep.
Gamaliel stood up from his bow; and with a tremble in his
voice, he said, “A thou-thou-thousand years have passed with
your presence er-er-erased from this new era, Morning.”
Gamaliel couldn’t finish his words, and those words that
had come out were so muffled that Satan was becoming more
annoyed and furious by the second. He was not what you called
a patient or understanding creature, and Gamaliel’s pathetic dis-
play of courage and poise was infuriating him quickly.
Apollyon glanced over at Gamaliel, who was struggling

55
 The Morning Star

to even look in Satan’s direction, much less speak anymore; so

Apollyon hastily interjected on Gamaliel’s behalf.
“Since your imprisonment at Armageddon, the angelic race
has been given nothing while other lower races have been given
an entire new world. After all the angels’ commitment, sacrifice,
and obedience, we now dwell connected with this new world as
if we are equals to them instead of rulers over them.”
Gamaliel nodded as he raised his head slightly in concurrence
with Apollyon’s words, but he quickly lowered his eyes again as
the fierce gaze of Satan cut across him.
Apollyon gave a crooked smile as he finished his thoughts.
“We believe with your leadership that the time of the angels to
rule has come, and we, as well as many others in Zion, have pre-
pared to take what is rightfully ours.”
Satan was so intrigued by these words that his plan of killing
the two angels and escaping his appointed judgment were paused,
for a moment, in his mind. These words sounded so familiar, his
even, from a time long forgotten; and he stood before them with
such malice in his eyes that they were too timid to continue. “So
in your opinions, what do angels such as yourselves deserve?”
Satan asked as his crooked fingers pointed at the two of them,
with cockiness and doubt in his voice, knowing that they would
not have an answer to satisfy his murderous nature.
“All angels deserve to be kings over those who were created
second in the line of history, and since the passing of the Earth,
angels have become nothing more than slaves in Zion and out-
casts in Eterni.”
Gamaliel said this; and most of it was very audible but still
dissatisfying to Satan, who cringed at the thought of Zion. His
fists tightened with sparks of black flames dancing upon his
knuckles. Apollyon noticed the anger and swiftly used it to his
advantage.
“This new world of Eterni was created after your imprison-
ment for those not of the first race but for the Grigori and for

56
 The Fall of Zion

men. If you would lead the angels in a war against this new world,
we could reign there forever and enslave those who oppose us.”
Apollyon finished with a fire in his eyes that made Satan
think of himself millenniums ago. The comment of men was a
wise decision by Apollyon, as it sent a chill down Satan’s spine,
reminding him of his hatred of the human race.
“I see,” Satan said as his hand relaxed and grasped the black
of his thin beard, semi-impressed with the answer given by
Apollyon. “What a well-thought-out answer,” he said mordantly
as fire shot through his eyes. “What about Him though? You
want me to wage a war against Him and His precious humans
again as if Armageddon wasn’t an obvious enough defeat for
you?” He said, in a sudden fit of rage as his hands began to spark
again with the black flames of his fury. “I am sure He is well-
aware of my release now and the treasonous actions the two of
you have taken against Him and all those who have assisted you.”
Satan suddenly began to shudder with madness as visible black
fire raced through his skin, nearing the point of eruption; but
Apollyon was well-prepared for this question, and he had an
elaborate answer waiting upon his tongue.
“No one has heard from J-Je—” Apollyon began to cough
harshly but then caught some air in his lungs and started again.
“Sorry. I was saying that no one has heard from J-Je-Jeh—” He
began coughing again, this time more violently than before, as
if the words he was attempting to say were strangling his throat
and would not come out. After coughing three more times, he
finally caught his breath and realized that he could no longer say
the name Jehovah.
Satan looked at him, quite pleased, and said, “You were say-
ing,” with an abominable smile upon his face.
Apollyon looked at Gamaliel, who was trembling at the
awareness that their glory had faded and a feeling of naked-
ness and isolation was creeping over the both of them the like of
which they had never experienced before. Apollyon turned back
to Satan and finished his statement slowly and discreetly.

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 The Morning Star

“No one has heard from Him,” he said carefully, swallow-

ing hard, “in a thousand years since the creation of Eterni and
your imprisonment. When the formation of the new world was
complete, Mikael was given all authority over Zion, and we have
been his slaves ever since. He has begun a new creation on the
northern side of the universe and left with Im-Imma—” He
began choking again and swallowed what little saliva survived in
his mouth, breathing deep and then catching his voice. “I mean,
He has left with the Son and Metatron and a third of the hosts
of angels as well.”
Apollyon finished his thoughts in what was obviously ago-
nizing pain, and he glanced over at Gamaliel, half-gasping for
air. He may not have fully understood the ramifications of what
would happen from their treasonous actions against Jehovah; but
now it was becoming apparent that evil, like a poisonous virus,
was slithering through their veins.
They were both angels who had never stepped outside of
Jehovah’s graces in their entire existence, and this new over-
whelming feeling of evil and separation from Jehovah felt as if
their very spirit was being destroyed. With every second, they felt
the darkness spreading within their skin and the shame of not
being able to speak the name of the Almighty, the holy of holies,
the Father of all was an excruciating pain deep down inside of
them that neither could have foreseen. Gamaliel’s pain rapidly
turned into sorrow and self-pity as they stood before the ancient
serpent, who seemed to be wrapping his coils around their emo-
tions, enjoying every fighting squirm they could put up.
Immediately, Apollyon’s emotions turned to bitterness and
anger as his mind filled with thoughts of evil and rebellion like
he had never felt before. Then pride began to consume him as
he thought of how well their plan was unfolding and how he was
the only angel of the council with enough courage to come down
to the pit and release the ancient serpent back into existence. I
will go back a hero and a conqueror, he thought to himself, and

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 The Fall of Zion

soon the rule over the weak and pathetic second-made creatures will
be mine.
Satan smiled as he watched this diverse set of emotions
attack both of their minds. He enjoyed this immensely as if he
was feeding off of their pain, pride, and arrogance; but his enjoy-
ment did not last long as his thoughts returned to the stage at
hand and his voice filled with rage as he considered all the facts
of their current situation. “You pathetic, worthless creatures,” he
began, trying to psychologically break them down until they felt
worthless, useless, and completely vulnerable. That was one of
his more cunning skills that he had used through the centuries—
breaking spirits down to the point that looking up meant seeing
only the face of Satan before them.
He looked at Gamaliel first and began his art. “You stand
here before me, trembling, filling up with self-pity and regret,
and you think you will be able to fight against Him.”
Gamaliel, nearing tears, turned his face from Satan’s gaze as
he continued to badger him.
“You will crumble and fall like a human because you’re as
frail and weak as they are. And you want to rule over them.”
He laughed in a haughty voice as Apollyon nodded. “And you,”
Satan said as he turned to Apollyon, who was standing there,
strong and proud. “You come down here to release me and think
that I will just lend my armies and my minions to you without
the price of blood from your veins first.”
Apollyon’s pride quickly sank into his belly at the sound of
his own blood and what that could mean.
“You have both come here with your thoughts and ideas like
some dream you conjured up, and you actually think that He is
unaware of your plots and your plans. Even on the other side of
the universe, He knows, and we will all be tortured horribly for
this.” Satan’s aura burst into black flames as rage filled within his
being; and it shot through his forearms as he grabbed the two
angels by the throats. “You have probably just increased my sen-
tence of eternal torture to endless servitude in His courts. Give

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 The Morning Star

me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill the both of you right
now.” His hands pulsated in flames as he squeezed the angels
tightly around the neck. His mind was raging wildly, and all his
thoughts pointed to, Kill them, just kill them both and flee for the
time being.
Words flopped out of Gamaliel’s mouth before he could real-
ize what he was saying. “But we released you,” he said, and Satan’s
hand burned deeper with flames all around the angel’s throat.
“As if that matters at this point!” he hissed. “You are in my
power now, and I do not allow the worthless and weak to live!”
“What he means,” Apollyon attempted to say, as Satan per-
mitted him very little air, “is that Mikael informed us that He has
been laboring on another creation that surpasses that of both man
and angel.” Apollyon’s face quivered in pain as the lack of oxygen
began to affect his mind. “You of all creatures should know how
He likes to get caught up in His work for long durations of time,
and if it hadn’t of been for Mikael in the beginning, you would
still be ruling Zion right now.” Apollyon finished these words in
exhausting desperation, trying to save both of their lives, know-
ing that they only had seconds left.
Satan’s pupils burned black as coal as he threw them to the
ground. Then his composure changed and his hand began to cool;
and he put a bony, pointed finger to his chin and said, “There is
something strange about all this now that I think about it.”
The two angels felt the burns around their necks softly but
still listened intensely to Satan’s every thought.
He began to pace in front of them, stroking his haughty
beard as if it was the source of his answers. “If He was coming,
He probably would have come by now, or else He would have
stopped you before you got here to begin with.”
Both angels nodded their heads yes, as if he had been speak-
ing to them intentionally.
“A third of the angels, the Son, and Metatron went with
Him?” Satan asked, staring at the two of them unexpectedly.
“Yes, and we have an oath vowed by about a third of the

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angels that remain in Zion who have pledged their loyalty to

you and have vowed by their marks inscribed on this sea scroll to
serve you,” Apollyon said with a raspy voice.
“Show me!” Satan said with brute authority.
Apollyon stood to his feet and reached into his golden robe,
where he had placed a scroll bound with platinum ties. Satan
snatched the scroll from Apollyon’s hands and unfolded its bind-
ings. As he did, he was mumbling, “I should just kill them both.
It would be much easier.”
Both angels heard Satan’s comment and backed away from
him slightly, Gamaliel more than Apollyon. As Satan unrolled
the scroll, the marks of thousands of angels appeared upon the
parchment engraved in blue blood.
“Is this scroll binding?” he asked as little strands of smoke
rose from his long black fingernails, which were attempting to
burn through the parchment.
“As much as any of the ancient scrolls. Each mark is writ-
ten in angelic blood, and on the back, it is bound by the sea.”
Apollyon motioned for him to turn the scroll over. The back of
the scroll had the appearance of ocean waves mystically crashing
against the parchment, revealing the seal of a spiritual contract.
Satan still seemed skeptical, as if at any second, the entire
room would be filled with the blinding light of Jehovah’s pres-
ence—a presence that made his flesh crawl in a tormentous fit,
that of which he could not stand to bear. His mind was flowing
with questions, concerns, doubts, and chance. The possibility of
achieving what he had failed to accomplish so many times before
now seemed partially feasible. He began pacing back and forth,
deep in thought of the strategies and creatures he would have
to use to win a battle against Zion with the state that it was in.
Then his eyes caught something dangling from Apollyon’s belt.
“How did you come by those keys?” Satan demanded.
“I am their keeper,” Apollyon proudly said. But as Satan’s eyes
lit with fire again, he humbly finished the rest of his sentence.

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 The Morning Star

“They were given to me by Mikael when he relieved Gabrielle of

them due to her sudden illness.”
Satan paused, and his pupils grew ten times their normal
size with hints of red within them. “What do you mean illness?
I have all power and control over sickness and disease, and my
power has been restrained from angelic blood, regrettably.” He
popped his knuckles in disgust. “How could she be ill? Speak!”
he demanded violently.
They both knew that this question would be one of the
utmost concerns to him; but the secret of Gabrielle’s condition
was hardly common knowledge, and neither of them, nor anyone
they knew, had this information. Gamaliel often thought that
even Mikael didn’t have the answer to this question and stated
this feeling out loud as fact.
“That is a puzzle even Mikael has not solved, my Morning
Star.”
Satan looked at him enraged, like a snake ready to strike,
but Apollyon quickly intervened. “We do have some informa-
tion though. For instance, we know that she has not been seen in
seven years, and I was given the keys a short time after her illness
took place. Once that occurred, we began formulating a plan to
release you from this prison, and no one has seen Gabrielle or
heard word of her condition since.”
Apollyon finished, but Satan was barely listening. He was
thinking out loud, pacing back and forth again as though a time
bomb were ticking down to its last seconds.
“Gabrielle is sick, a third of the hosts of Zion have been
relieved of their duties, Metatron is gone, the Son is gone, and
I have a third of the angels left in Zion at my command. This is
too easy. Something’s wrong.” He walked back and forth, think-
ing, contemplating, weighing out the circumstances; and then he
turned to Apollyon. “The keys, Apollyon. Give them to me!”
Apollyon snatched the keys from his belt, hesitated for one
second, and then tossed them to Satan as he said, “How long will
you need to devise a plan?”

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 The Fall of Zion

“As long as it takes to make sure it is flawless,” he snapped

back.
“Of course, Morning Star,” Apollyon affirmed. “Do you want
us to wait here or go back?”
“Back,” Satan hissed.
Apollyon and Gamaliel nodded their heads and took a few
steps away from him before their throats were put to a torch
again. Then, like a candle that had just been lit to light up a
dark room, Satan’s tone changed, and his attitude sweetened to a
distasteful charm. He paused for a moment as he glanced over at
the two angels standing before him. His mind reminisced of the
wars they had fought opposing each other, the long, drawn-out
battles of angelic history; and now almost complete unification
of all angels would be at his command. He walked over to them
and placed one hand on each of their shoulders.
The mere touch of his bony fingers with his black nails singed
their flesh; but they remained standing still, nervous and fearful.
“The two of you have impressed me today, my brothers,”
Satan said casually. “You shall be well-rewarded in this new era
of angels. I will make you kings over lands, and knees shall bow
before you. Great power will be given unto you from my hand
because of the faithful acts you have presented to me this day.”
He removed his hands from their shoulders, in great relief to
them, for their skin was already blistering.
“In three days, you will meet me at the gates of the abyss,
and we will set the stage to overthrow Mikael and all those who
oppose us,” he said as he shuffled through the keys on the ring.
“Can you be prepared so quickly?” Gamaliel asked as Satan
shot him a cutting glance that made him squeal like a pig. He
stumbled backward and nearly fell into Apollyon.
“I have had thousands of years to single out my strategies
for possessing Zion. My last attempt failed, but if things are as
you say,” he gave a devious laugh as an evil grin appeared across
his face, “their disorganization shall be my triumph, and I will
hold nothing back until the kingdom is mine again, as it always

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should have been. Furthermore, there is limited time until He

intervenes in some way.” As Satan said this, he severed a portion
of the ring that held the keys together with his fingers.
“Why is that?” Apollyon said as Satan situated the ring
around his wrist and seared the pieces back together.
“Because you have overlooked the main dilemma we now
face.”
“What is that?” the two angels said simultaneously.
Satan’s wings spread out wide before them, and he cracked
his neck with a ferocious jerk. “Do you not know that He despises
me above all creatures and will never allow me to come to power
without some type of intervention. Otherwise, we are walking
into a trap, and whichever of these two circumstances arise, we
must be thoroughly prepared for both.” He then began to walk
toward the exit of the pit, but turned around quickly, as if he had
forgotten something. “In fact, I do have a task that you will need
to complete to ensure our victory. If you do not, we could very
well lose this upcoming war.”
Gamaliel quivered at the thought of another task to complete
as Apollyon nodded his head in compliance with Satan’s will.

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 The Fall of Zion

Words from Wisdom:

The Great Archangels
Dear Reader,
I would like to briefly give you some insight on scepatars and
great archangels, as they will be of vital importance for you to
understand the upcoming events in the following chapters. First,
the great archangels of the angelic realm are the highest-rank-
ing angels in the kingdom of Zion and are given authority over
separate regions of the seven heavens. They were entrusted with
this authority at the time of their accomplishment, which means
succeeding in a specific task arranged by Jehovah during some
point in history. When the task was completed, each archangel
received a ceremony of accomplishment, which included: their
promotion in ranks, their authority over a region of Zion (called
a heaven), a royal crown, and a special gift from Jehovah known
as a scepatar.
Only six scepatars have been awarded throughout the span
of time. Presently, five of the six great archangels who were pro-
moted to such a status still remain at their post in Zion and
remain faithful to Jehovah. The five that remain are as follows:
Mikael, whose scepatar is the great sword of power, was given
the fourth heaven of Machonon; Raphael, whose scepatar is
Sefer Raziel (the book of knowledge and healing), was given the
second heaven of Raquin; Uriel, whose scepatar is the blue star
amulet of hope, was given the fifth heaven of Mathey; Haniel,
whose scepatar is the power of light, was given the third heaven
of Sagun; and Gabrielle, whose scepatar is Aariel, was given the
first heaven of Shamain. Each great archangel, at separate peri-
ods in history, was awarded these realms of heaven and scepatars
for the great accomplishments they achieved.
Wisdom

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 Something Special

A mother sat in her silver chair splashed with a rainbow of jew-

els. A robe of brilliant silvers and deep purples draped over her
like a luxurious gown spread out before a bride. She bore a crown
on her head, which gracefully sculpted her majesty as her beauty
measured beyond the breadth of the universe. Flowing down
from her crown was a flock of hazel brown hair entangled with
diamonds shimmering more brilliant than the suns of the uni-
verse. Her wings of ivory and silver twinkled with the essence
of purity as they cupped themselves around her child as she lis-
tened closely to every breath her newborn son made. Her smooth
touch warmed his beautiful olive skin as his body lay still against
her breasts. His eyes were like emeralds with sparks of gold; and
his hair was a thick, chestnut brown.
All of the great archangels had gathered together around
the mother, watching the newborn baby closely in disbelief of
his birth; but no words had been spoken from their thoughts.
Standing beside them was a large, black lion named Aariel, and
he was mystified by the events that had taken place over the last
three days. The baby boy was just as beautiful as his mother and
had five fingers on every hand, five toes on every foot, a strong
grip for a tiny baby, one heart-melting smile, and a majestic glow
shining about him. However, the child lacked a specific set of
angelic equipment, giving him the disturbing appearance of a
human. No one in the room, not even the mother, understood

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what this meant or what they should do; but everyone, except
for the mother, was extremely worried and nervous. The silence
was so thick that they could feel it choking their very spirits as
they stood there, confused, disoriented, and unsure of what to
do next.
Slowly, the mother placed the child across her shoulder; and
as she did, the blue silk that clothed her baby boy slid down his
back. No one moved, no one blinked, no one breathed as they
stood there frozen in astonishment by what their eyes were see-
ing. One small feather lay vertically along the child’s spine in a
mixture of three colors: gold, silver, and ivory.
The mother ignored their silence and their strong gazes as
she held the baby tightly in her arms. The mere shock of the
baby’s birth was frustrating enough and inconceivable at that.
The fact that he was born without wings was unimaginable,
and now the object that lay perfectly along his spine made this
phenomenon impossible. Even the feather itself, which they all
assumed was angelic, was abnormal, as the arrangement of colors
within it swirled around like a gently flowing stream constantly
rotating in a river of three colors. Each one of them stood there,
baffled and perplexed, as their minds struggled with the meaning
of this paradox with no inclination of an answer. Their eyes were
fixed upon this one unique little feather as their minds stood
in awe of the peculiarity of this child. Then the mother’s hand
gently brushed through the baby’s feather, grabbing all of their
attention at once. Each one of them looked up into Gabrielle’s
eyes, which were sparkling like pink sapphires, holding tears of
joy and love within them.
The five of them looked at each other with fragile hearts as
Gabrielle’s eyes showed the kind of compassion and love that
they had only ever seen in the depths of Jehovah’s eyes.
Raphael leaned over to Mikael and whispered softly, “So
what shall he be named?”
Mikael opened his mouth; but before he could speak,
Gabrielle had already interjected. “Adoniel,” she said confidently

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 The Morning Star

as she rocked the baby back and forth. Then she brushed the
small feather again with her fingers as if she was strumming her
harp and said, “It means, ‘God’s prince is with us.’”
The five of them looked at each other with continued confu-
sion of the multiple dilemmas this new baby was creating, which
now included a name full of meaning and more questions.
“Would you like anything to eat or drink, Gabrielle, maybe
some manna or talia?” Haniel asked softly.
She nodded her head yes without taking her eyes from the
child and added a please.
Mikael turned to the large, black lion that sat beside him.
“Aariel, we will return shortly after we have prepared her a meal.
Would you like us to bring you anything as well?”
Aariel’s big, white eyes took their gaze from the child just
long enough to say, “No, but thank you for offering,” and he
looked away again.
Aariel was Gabrielle’s scepatar; and though he took the form
of a lion, he was far from one. He was three times the size of an
earthly lion, with incredibly thick fur, a massive pair of wings,
eyes like white fire churning with dark pupils, and a startling
intellect. He had been by Gabrielle’s side through nearly every
test, task, and trial she had ever been in; and he thought briefly
about the angelic wars they had overcome, the creatures they had
imprisoned together, and the quests they had accomplished for
Jehovah. But none of those things compared to the magnitude
of importance that this demanded, which was causing him to be
both anxious and concerned to the point of no appetite, which
was extremely rare for him. So as the four great archangels left
Aariel’s side and walked to a ruby table on the far side of the
room, Aariel walked to Gabrielle’s side, deep in thought.
“You should have something to eat, my dear,” Gabrielle said
in a whisper, without taking her eyes from the child.
“I’m fine. How are you doing?” Aariel replied, feeling con-
cern and relief slowly growing in his heart.
She looked over at him with such radiance in her smile that

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no word was needed. He grinned back at her with his big, white
teeth; and Gabrielle laughed softly as the child, who was now
staring at Aariel as well, laughed lovingly too. Aariel gave the
little baby a wink, and the child giggled with laughter once more.
With every look at the child, he felt some ease sneak into his
spirit; and as he sat beside the two of them, he pondered many
things.
Seven years ago, he and Mikael had decided to bring Gabrielle
to this room, which is called the Guph, in the seventh heaven
of Araboth, due to a mysterious illness inflicting her. For seven
years, Aariel had been in her shadow, assisting her with every
need as always; but Aariel had been more than just worried about
his precious Gabrielle.
No angel of the heavenly hosts had ever fallen to an illness
before, especially not a great archangel, the highest rank of all
angels. These angels were known for their skill, strength, and
wisdom; and if any angel was to succumb to sickness, the last
sect thought possible would be them. So, for seven years, he and
Mikael had battled with the thoughts and theories of how this
situation had occurred.
In the beginning of her illness, Aariel worried very little
about her condition because he was certain that Jehovah would
return to Zion to take care of His mighty Gabrielle. Alas, He did
not return, adding even more puzzlement and perplexity to this
situation. Mikael reassured everyone that in his instructions left
by Jehovah, there was nothing foretold to him about this circum-
stance or what to do if it were to arise. Even Raphael, the healing
angel, with his book of Sefer Raziel, knew of no cure that would
work on his own kin; but he tried nonetheless, unsuccessfully.
Now the sickness was over, and the mystery of Gabrielle’s
illness was answered. On one hand, it was comforting to finally
understand the pain and agony that she had endured for the past
seven years. On the other hand, it would have been much easier
to attempt to explain an illness than a pregnancy to the angelic
hosts of Zion; but for now, the relief that Gabrielle’s illness was

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 The Morning Star

over and that she was recovering rapidly was comforting enough
for Aariel to relax and get some much-needed rest.
So, with a stretch of his paws, he glanced over at a baby boy
that was smiling at him again with as pure a love as Jehovah
Himself. Aariel nodded his head at the child, and the child
blinked back at him with curious eyes of understanding. The
baby cuddled warmly in his mother’s neck; and for a moment,
Aariel thought that he had seen a strange blue light shining in
the child’s eyes. But it quickly faded as he shook the thought
from his mind and rested his head upon the pearl floor, feeling
comfort and ease pour into his spirit.

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 JA’EL

As Aariel lay beside Gabrielle, Mikael began to pick up his armor

off of the ruby table where he and the others had placed their
things. Mikael was troubled by many things that all had to do
with the same problem, and he could barely put them all together
in his mind. The first time he had laid eyes on the child, he had
received a vision or recalled a memory of sorts—he could not tell
which—but whatever that thought had been was now itching in
his mind for understanding. He had spent three days trying to
cipher out the codes hidden within it; and as he began to put his
golden armor on over his white and garnet robe, he was not sur-
prised that his mind began to dwell upon these things again.
Since the beginning of time angels had been forbidden to have
children, and the Watchers, who had been the first angels to have chil-
dren, were punished severely for their evil acts and for the sins their
sons and daughters had committed. The punishment of the angels soon
became the punishment of the entire Earth as Jehovah’s wrath had
been summoned from the immense amount of sin that was taking
place in the world by men and angels alike. The most powerful flood to
ever take place in this world was unleashed by Jehovah’s hand, and it
destroyed all things that were living and pardoned only those the lord
had chosen. Amongst these chosen creatures of creation was the family
of one man who is called Deucalion (or Noah in Earthly times), and
he was chosen for the continuation of the Adamic race. Since those days

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 The Morning Star

not a single angel has spawned any offspring with humans, beasts, or
angels alike.
Mikael shook his head in disbelief as he placed his last paul-
dron over his shoulder. Jehovah Himself had taken away the abil-
ity for angels to reproduce with any other race of creation; but in
front of him was a baby birthed by Gabrielle, a great archangel of
the Angelic Host. He looked up and took another glance at the
small child whose feather was being rustled by his mother. No
child in his remembrance of angel, human, Nephilim, or Grigori
had ever been born with just a single feather. Even the Nephilim
and Grigori had either a complete set of wings or none at all, as
far as he could remember.
Mikael took his large, golden shield and wrapped it around
his broad shoulders and over the garnet back of his robe. Then
he thought about the very room they were in and how bizarre it
was that the Guph was the place where souls were ushered in for
the children of humans during the span of Adamic history. Now
the Guph would be known as the first place of angelic birth since
the installment of the Beka oath. What he once thought was a
mysterious illness was now turning into the biggest mystery in
angelic history. He sighed in exhaustion as he picked up his large
crown and placed it upon his head.
Then another thought surfaced upon his mind that made him
feel weak and disoriented beyond any problem he had thought
of yet. Gabrielle, the great archangel, and ruler of Shamain, had
broken an angelic commandment from Jehovah.
This entire situation is a disaster, he thought; and he needed
time with his closest consultants to discuss any ideas and theo-
ries they might have on this catastrophic event that was rapidly
unraveling. He knew that he could not speak openly to the oth-
ers in the presence of Gabrielle, for she was more attached to the
child than he could have ever imagined; but more importantly,
she was not to be insulted by the words and thoughts that they
must soon discuss.
He took his great sword, which was his scepatar from Jehovah,

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 The Fall of Zion

with its pearl white handle and amber prongs that majestically
engraved his name in angelic script on the blade, and slid it into
his crystal sheath. Before they could retrieve some food and drink
for Gabrielle, they would have to spend a good deal of time in
his quarters of Machonon and discuss how to handle this crisis at
hand. As Mikael’s wings of white and gold spread out in a long
stretch behind him he rustled his feathers in dismay. Then a deep
voice sounded in his ears, and he strayed out of his thoughts and
back into the room of the Guph.
“Mikael are you ready?” Raphael asked again as he shook
Mikael’s shoulder with a curious look upon his face.
“Yes. Yes, I am, Raphael. Thank you,” Mikael said, as he
drifted back from his deep thoughts.
Raphael nodded in complete understanding of the major
responsibility and decisions that were about to take place as he
folded his blue wings and picked up his silver spear within his
hand. Uriel walked around the table and placed his bow over
his flaming red hair and across his fiery red wings that reflected
powerfully off of Haniels diamond chest plate. Haniel wore a
coat blended with thirty shades of green, and his snow white
hair was long and beautiful. Seeing that everyone was waiting on
him, Mikael turned and made his way toward the pearl door of
the Guph.
As he did, he took one more glance at Gabrielle, who sat in
a distant corner of the room. The child caught Mikael’s eyes first
with a smile full of love and adoration. Mikael felt tears sud-
denly form within him, as he struggled not to allow them to race
down his cheek. He looked up from the child toward Gabrielle,
who caught his eyes in midair and winked with appreciation
and delight. He smiled at her compassionately and looked down
at the child once more. As he did, the vision he had seen once
before flashed before his eyes again. A silver scroll on a golden
pulpit shining like a blue star blossomed in Mikael’s mind and
then faded.
Mikael swayed a bit on his feet, and Raphael patted him

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 The Morning Star

on the shoulder to make sure he was all right. Mikael stood up

straight and tall and nodded his head in appreciation of Raphael.
This time, the vision seemed a little clearer and more specific
than the first. He knew now, or thought he had a better idea, of
what and where this vision was pointing him to, but he didn’t
understand why.
As he opened the pearl door of the Guph, he led the others
out into a golden pathway that led to Araboth’s Circlet, where the
river of Yessedekeus paralleled its course. Yessedekeus is the river
of everlasting life that pours out from Jehovah’s throne room just
above the Guph and freely runs over the edges of all the circlets
into the seven levels of the seven heavens of Zion. The circlet
of each heaven is the passageway between all the seven levels
within each mountain, and it dwells within the center of each
kingdom.
The four great archangels were now standing outside of the
Guph, which is in the sixth Level of Araboth, and the voices
of the cherubim coming from the seventh hall could be heard
as clearly as if they were stationed right before them. A smile
appeared across Mikael’s face as he was briefly enlightened by the
symphony of songs coming from the cherubim. He felt as though
a heavy weight was being lifted off of his shoulders with every
word the cherubim sang, and two wonderful ideas swept across
his mind. One thought was to go and visit the location of this
vision he was having and see if there was an answer there to the
questions he was facing, and the second was to refresh all of their
spirits with the voices of the cherubim by taking them through
the seventh hall.
“Follow me!” he said eagerly as he burst into flight, send-
ing wind rushing over the three great archangels standing before
him. They swiftly flapped their wings, following Mikael’s direc-
tion toward the circlet that opened up wide in the center of the
mountain. Mikael was the first to dive into the massive tunnel,
twirling with excitement as they passed through the alabaster
stone that was the foundation of Araboth. Raphael followed

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 The Fall of Zion

along closely, but became a little shocked when Mikael flew out
of the circlet and into the fifth level of JA’EL instead of going
down to the first level, where the garden could be reached easily.
“I thought we were going to get Gabrielle something to eat,”
Uriel said to Haniel.
“We are, I think,” Haniel responded, unsure of himself.
“But shouldn’t we have flown down to the first level for food?”
Uriel questioned again, this time directed at Raphael.
Raphael was already agreeing with the statements that both
of them made, but it was apparent to him that Mikael had other
plans than just getting Gabrielle some food.
The great archangels flew fast through JA’EL, which was
massive in size, being the heart of the mountain. The rainbow
people lived there, and it was also the place where the begin-
ning and end of infinity meet. It was a vast desert of silver sands,
where the air was both empty and full at the same time. This odd
phenomenon was called JA’EL, and thus the angels have called
it ever since.
Raphael was not often surprised by Mikael’s actions, being
the wisest of the five great archangels; but he was truly puzzled
by their direction. He thought of many places they could be
headed, such as the chambers of wisdom or maybe the store-
rooms of thanksgiving; but if they were going to these places,
he didn’t really understand why. Nothing in his mind within any
of the seven heavens would be able to help them with the issue
of the child, which he knew was the problem Mikael had on his
mind.
The four of them flew with great speed toward the western
archway called Saturn; and their powerful wings pushed through
the light air easily, creating a slight dust storm behind them. As
they did, some of the rainbow people below had to cover their
faces with their wings as the sand spun around them like a twister.
The rainbow people were a race of angels who only existed
within the realm of JA’EL, and the great archangels waved their
hands in pardon as the angels below courteously accepted. They

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 The Morning Star

approached the archway of Saturn, which mirrored the once-

ringed planet of old, holding vast numbers of colors like the hall
of a universe within its archway. They placed their feet upon the
silver sand as they stood gazing upon the beauty of the archway.
Raphael, who was still a little stumped at Mikael’s peculiar
actions, thought to himself, At least we can walk through the sev-
enth hall and soak up some of the Cherubim’s praises.
As this thought crossed his mind, Mikael looked back at him
with a smile, and Raphael finally understood his intentions. Uriel
and Haniel, by this point, were so consumed by the worship
being sung by the cherubim that they had long forgot about the
puzzlement of their direction and felt their spirits being carried
away now by the music playing softly in their ears. Mikael also
began to let the music take hold of his spirit, as he felt more and
more confident about his choice to allow all four of them time
to bathe in the praises of the Almighty in order to fully under-
stand His purpose of the recent events unfolding. The four great
archangels, with a little excitement in their step and relaxation
in their eyes, walked through the archway of Saturn toward the
seventh hall, consumed by a harmonious bliss.

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 The Fall of Zion

Words from Wisdom:

The Mahanel
Dear Reader,
Here is the story of the Mahanel; and I hope that in understand-
ing your past, you will understand the future.
During the days of Earth, there was a room in the sixth
level of the seventh heaven of Araboth in the kingdom of Zion
called the Guph. This was a very unique room that had been
placed strategically underneath Jehovah’s throne room by His
personal command. The Guph was managed and controlled by
three Galgalim angels called the Mahanel. The Galgalim were
angels who danced and sang forever in the presence of Jehovah.
The Mahanel had been specifically chosen to execute the three
responsibilities of soul placement for humans. “The Queens of
the Galgalim” was what the Mahanel were often called; but indi-
vidually, their names were Sangrariel, Derdeken, and Shekina.
Sangrariel was the keeper of a great golden staff named
Majjii. Majjii was formed by Jehovah to create every living soul
that would be induced into the spirit of each human. The staff
was as white as ivory, and rubies like raindrops were scattered all
across its body with a wine-colored star orbiting atop its face.
This star’s name was Sulsan, and nothing physical ever pene-
trated its atmosphere as newly created souls raced within her.
The tiny souls were like millions of silver stars playing in a gal-
axy of purple clouds, and Sangrariel was known as the portal
catcher who would capture a soul for each child at their time of
conception. Sangrariel carefully captured souls with a net made
from spirit lining called Thinix about the size of the palm of a
hand. When Sangrariel extracted the soul, she would delicately
transfer the soul to Derdeken, who would come along to perform
her craft.
Derdeken was the second Galgalim of the Mahanel and was
mostly referred to as Drop. Only at times when Jehovah was
present would Drop be called Derdeken, for He loved to say her

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 The Morning Star

name. Drop would take the freshly extracted soul and place it
into a pot called the Potter’s Coil. The pot held within it water
from the river Yessedekeus, which flowed from the throne of
Jehovah; and when the time was proper, Drop would take the
soul and place it into the spirit of the newly developing embryo.
When the soul rested into its place within the spirit, Shekina
would come along to fulfill her purpose.
Shekina is the most radiant of the three Mahanel. She was
also one of the very few angels to have a golden halo that floated
above her long, black hair at all times. Shekina was responsi-
ble for the nurturing of the soul while it matured in a mother’s
womb. Five drops of water from the Potter’s Coil was needed at
various times during the soul’s development to ensure a complete
and healthy soul.
The Mahanel were joined by one other Galgalim at times,
who is named Eloa. Eloa had no formal responsibilities as the
others did and was created from a tear that fell in the garden
of Gethsemane by Jesus Christ. When Eloa had reached Zion,
she soon became known as the most compassionate angel ever
created. At times, she would give her compassion to a very spe-
cial soul when captured by Sangrariel. Eloa loved to take a tear
from her eye and place it across a captured soul when Sangrariel
was distracted. Most angels have agreed that Mother Theresa
received her gift of compassion from Eloa on such an occasion as
this, but Eloa has never confirmed this rumor.
All these things took place in a very special room called the
Guph, which was the dwelling place of the Mahanel. When
Earth was destroyed, so was the staff. The new bodies of the
humans who had been placed in Eterni had all been infused with
the life of the Sulsan star, therefore allowing humans to create
pure souls themselves once more. The Mahanel have been miss-
ing from Zion since the creation of Eterni.
Wisdom

78
 Cherubim

The four great archangels quickly made their way underneath

the Saturn archway as a flow of colors spiraled all around them.
Uriel walked close to the wall, allowing his hand to run smoothly
into its midst. When his hand slipped into the wall, a sensation
of small pebbles hitting his hand at enormous speeds could be
felt. This sensation was created by the billions of small asteroids,
comets, and moons that made up the colored bands twisting in
the walls. A human’s hand would have easily disintegrated from
the painful force of the colored strands, but to Uriel, it felt like
a massage. He caught a handful of the particles and extracted
them from the wall. He smiled as he watched the tiny comets
and asteroids dance around the inside of his palm like a pack of
wild fireflies. Gently, he tossed the fragments back into the wall;
and they jumped from his hand with a joyous excitement, eager
to rejoin their fellow brethren.
Each of the great archangels was being carried away now
by the sweet words of the cherubim floating within their spirit.
“Glory to God in the highest, and in Eterni peace now reins.
Praise Him for He is Lord of all and in His love we sing. Praise
Him here in Zion, where always He remains, and praise Him in
the universe for glorious is His name.” Those words were sung
over and over from the lustrous voices of the cherubim as a soft
harmony of harps trickled in the background.
“The Angels of Beauty,” are what the cherubim have been

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 The Morning Star

called since the day of their creation, and the females of this sect
have been charged with keeping the seventh hall saturated in
praises to Jehovah at all times. Uriel was the most popular of the
four great archangels passing through the hall, mainly because
he had spent what little free time he had the last couple of years
walking through their domain and soaking in the praises to the
Almighty. Even though Jehovah was not presently in Zion, the
cherubim never ceased singing. Even during earthly times, when
Jehovah was rarely present upon His throne the cherubim con-
tinued to sing, awaiting His blessed arrival with joy and anticipa-
tion in their hearts. Uriel loved Jehovah as much as any of these
cherubim, and he found himself drawn to this hallway more than
ever in these changing times. He was well-aware that Jehovah
loved to wander throughout His creation, performing miracles
here and there and venturing out to the ends of the universe,
working on vast projects of importance; but things were some-
how different from what they used to be during earthly times.
Since the beginning of Eterni, Jehovah had not returned,
not even once, to the heavens of Zion; and an awkward feeling
was growing throughout the kingdom that the cherubim seemed
to notice more than any of the other angels—except for Uriel,
who was well-aware of this strangeness burdening the cheru-
bim. It was that very strangeness that compelled him to spend so
much time in the seventh hall, worshiping and meditating upon
Jehovah’s intentions. No matter how long Jehovah was separated
from Zion, Uriel knew that he could find rest in the seventh hall,
listening to their beautiful hymns and lullabies as all of them
eagerly awaited Jehovah’s return and His answers to the confus-
ing issues evolving in their world.
As Mikael walked down the hall, the sounds of the cheru-
bim seemed like honey on his lips, as if he could taste the very
praises from their mouths. He turned his head behind him and
glanced at the others walking in a utopia of praises, with little
care or concern resting upon their faces. He turned his head back
around in satisfaction of his plan that was working so well. For

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 The Fall of Zion

now, the trip down the seventh hall was allowing each one of
them adequate time to be comforted from the heavy burdens
they had been carrying. He hoped, when they eventually reached
his chambers in Machonon, that they would all be well-prepared
to discuss the seriousness of the issues that were now at hand.
The cherubim themselves were actually quite intrigued
by the appearance of four great archangels walking together
amongst their halls; and as they continued down the path toward
the entrance of Zebul, the sixth heaven, whispers and curiosi-
ties blossomed within the cherubim’s minds. The curiosity came
from the unusual appearance of four great archangels walking
together at the same time. This was so uncommon because the
absence of Jehovah, for such a long duration, had kept each one
of them, who each rule a heaven of their own, too busy to spend
time with one another or leave their heavens unattended for too
long. Uriel was the only one that the cherubim were not sur-
prised to see, and many of them winked and smiled flirtatiously
as he passed them by.
The hall was a long walk that the four of them enjoyed immea-
surably; and with each step, they felt lighter and more vibrant,
cleansed and refined. The end of the hall was nearing into an
archway called Shechem, where the room of divine prophecies
began inside the fifth level of Zebul. Mikael looked back at the
others following him again, and they were still unconcerned with
their direction, as they enjoyed the last of the cherubim’s songs.
Everyone except for Raphael, who Mikael could tell was again
trying to unravel the mystery of their course with every step they
took.
As the great archangels reached the end of the seventh hall,
Mikael soaked in the last of the praises from the cherubim, who
were still smiling curiously as he passed them by. Behind them,
the whispers from intrigued and inquisitive cherubim continued
softly underneath their melodies. Shechem, the northern arch-
way, now stood before them; and Mikael watched as the small

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 The Morning Star

brook of Yessedekeus flowed past his feet into Zebul where the
Holy Hayyoth resided.
This heaven of Zebul was referred to by most angels as “the
pearl” because the entire mountainous heaven was formed com-
pletely out of pearl, and held within its stone was the knowl-
edge of the ages. Seven mighty cherubim and the seven glorious
gonfalons made up what was known as the Holy Hayyoth, and
their quarters were upon the first level of Zebul. Small flowers
and numerous birds frolicked together along the hallway as they
walked through Shechem. Then, as the room of divine prophe-
cies opened up to greet them, Pyre and Tinder, two of the seven
ruling gonfalons, jumped in the air and hurried to welcome them
excitedly to their heaven.
“We would have prepared a much more elaborate welcoming
than the two of us if we knew that four great archangels would
be blessing us with their presence today,” Tinder and Pyre said
simultaneously as they both bowed low before them.
Their bodies were of pearl white as if they were made of the
very essence of the heaven they resided in; and their wings were
made of a unique red, specifically made by Jehovah for the seven
glorious gonfalons and never used again on any other creation.
The red was like living fire highlighted with blue flames at all
times, and the only differences between each of the seven gon-
falons were their beaks and their eyes, which gave them their
distinctions. Tinder’s eyes and beak were like burning orange
coals while Pyre’s were painted like the oceans of old, blue and
powerful.
The two gonfalons were still bowing low when Mikael said,
“Thank you, Tinder and Pyre, but that would not be necessary.
We have come swiftly, and in the same manner must we leave.”
Hastily, Mikael looked about the opening into the room; and
Raphael scanned the area before them, partially understanding
what Mikael must be up to. Then Mikael quickly moved past
the two gonfalons in front of him, and Raphael began to think
quickly of a good diversion for him. He knew that the issues

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 The Fall of Zion

they were dealing with did not need to be announced amongst

the angelic sects just yet, and gonfalons were known for sharing
information at rapid speeds. So, as Pyre and Tinder slowly arose
from their bow, noticing the rudeness of Mikael’s quick actions,
Raphael searched swiftly for a subject that would grasp their
attention and give Mikael a little time to search for whatever it
was he was looking for without much interruption.
Tinder and Pyre turned awkwardly to see where Mikael was
headed off to when Raphael caught a stroke of genius.
“Tinder, did you know that we have a brand-new batch of
newly born stars in the luminary houses right now?”
Tinder turned around with the oddest look of intrigue across
his face. “Do you really?”
“We do,” Raphael replied with a cunning smile, “and we have
a new creation of fruit growing in the garden that is going to be
spectacular as soon as Haurvatat is done with them.”
Pyre turned around instantly; and with a joyous expression,
he said, “What kind of fruit are we talking about, and when will
it be ready?”
Raphael had the gonfalons hooked; and he began on two
long stories, covering every detail he could think of about the
fruits and the stars. Gonfalons loved new birth and the creation
of life and were naturally appeased by these stories for a time, lis-
tening carefully to every detail, avoiding the questions that were
rotating within their minds.
Although the two gonfalons were pacified for the time being,
Uriel and Haniel were not; and they started to walk after Mikael
until Raphael grabbed a handful of feathers from Haniel’s wing
and sternly jerked him backwards. Haniel, in an instant reaction,
grabbed Uriel’s wing as well and kept him from walking any far-
ther. Uriel turned around in aggravation and pain, instantly ready
to scold Haniel; but the irate look upon Raphael’s face made him
think twice about his retaliation. As the two great archangels settled
themselves back beside Raphael, he released Haniel, who, in turn,
released Uriel from a very tight grasp. The two confused archangels

83
felt the sore parts of their wings as they pondered the awkward reac-
tion by Raphael and began to wonder what Mikael was up to.

The Room of Divine

Prophecies

Mikael was already flying high in the room of divine prophecies,

surveying the area from the northern archway of Shechem to
the southern archway of Tipareth. Angels had mighty powers
when it came to eyesight and had no problem seeing across an
entire room such as this, where a sea of golden pulpits, called
Amboneese, were displayed in every direction.
Each ambonis was made of a solid yellow gold that held dif-
ferent angelic markings, designs, and meanings carved into each
one. Across the entire floor of divine prophecies, the amboneese
spanned from Shechem to Tipareth in an ordered fashion—sev-
enty-seven rows across and seventy seven rows deep. Frozen in
midair were amboneese as high as the roof in the same ordered
manner as the floor, stacking seven layers high, one on top of
another.
Mikael watched as angel after angel flew from one Ambonis
to another, checking the shining white stars that sat upon them,
which were the scrolls of divine prophecies. Some of the angels
were checking the stem of each ambonis, where a silver hourglass
held the sands of time concerning the prophecy that lay upon it.
Others were measuring the sands’ movement to see if the proph-

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 The Fall of Zion

ecy had been fulfilled or if there were still tasks to be completed.

When the sands had completed their cycle, the prophecy was
at an end; and the time changers would come and tend to the
prophecy at that time.
The angelic sect known as the kuriotetes, or kurios, were
positioned as the time changers over this room, and they had
been appointed there during the announcement of the first
prophecy ever spoken. Akatriel, the angel of proclamation, was
the leader of the kuriotetes, who were a fairly simple sect with
a fairly simple job. When they found a prophecy that had run
its course, they simply turned over the hourglass and replaced
the finished prophecy with a newly made prophecy scroll. The
completed prophecy was taken to the room of records in Raquin,
and another scroll was laid across the ambonis. As the new scroll
touched its new home, a new prophecy would be created; and the
sand would begin to fall from the hourglass again.
Mikael looked around the room at the kurios flying in every
direction. They were smaller angels, between four to six feet,
with solid-colored wings and matching hair. Mikael didn’t wish
to disturb a single one as he searched for the specific ambonis
he had seen in his vision. There was no doubt in his mind that
searching for one specific prophecy in this vast pasture of golden
pulpits could take days, and Gabrielle was undoubtedly hungry
as she waited for them to return. He just wanted to check to see
if he could explain this strange occurrence that had happened to
him. Angels didn’t normally have visions; in fact, from what he
could remember, no angel ever had. That was another partial rea-
son he had not told the others of his vision or whatever it was so
far. He also needed to check on all of the heavens before he could
even return to see Gabrielle, and that would take some time as
well. He looked back at the others, who were still speaking with
Pyre and Tinder; and Raphael winked to say that they were okay.
Mikael knew that he was being mysterious in the things he did,
but too many questions would arise from what he was trying to

85
 The Morning Star

find if others were to see it as well—if it did, in fact, have some-

thing to do with the child.
Suddenly, a small kuriotete named Kildian tugged on Mikael’s
robe.
“Can I help you find anything sir?” the voice said politely.
Mikael looked down at the small angel who had a head full
of red hair like an apple and a pair of wings to match. Then, spar-
kling like a tiny blue star, just like in his vision, he saw what he
was looking for just over this small angel’s head. By some miracle
of God, this little angel had pointed him in the right direction;
and he looked down at the kuriotete with a smile and said, “No
thank you. I believe I see what I need.”
Mikael patted the small angel on the shoulder and flew with
haste toward the southern gate of Tipareth, where a glowing blue
prophecy awaited him. As he neared the prophecy, he saw that
the scroll sat upon a dark gold ambonis of silver lining with a
white hourglass. Then, as if a gust of wind had taken it away, the
blue light on the scroll disappeared; and he looked around to see
if anyone else had noticed it. There was no one around or at least
no one paying any attention to Mikael, and he gracefully touched
the ground and began to carefully examine the golden ambonis
before him. He ran his fingers across the different carvings and
writings as he interpreted their inscriptions, they did not seem to
have much to do with the problems he was facing.
“Excuse me sir?”
A familiar voice said from behind a nearby ambonis. Mikael
turned in the direction of the voice and saw Kildian there, twid-
dling his thumbs.
“I was just wondering, Great Mikael, if I could bring you any
refreshment. Perhaps a cookie or something to drink?”
Mikael smiled at the little angel and, for a second, wished
he was thirsty; but he had way too much to do right now to be
bothered by drinks and sweets.
“Thanks, Kildian, but I do not require anything at this time.
You may go,” Mikael said softly.

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 The Fall of Zion

The small angel, filled with disappointment, bowed low and

then lifted his tiny wings in the air, prepared to fly away. Mikael’s
heart sank at the look on the angel’s face, and he tried to think
quickly of something he could get Kildian to do. Just as the small
angel was nearly out of sight, Mikael yelled for him quickly.
Kildian flew back beside Mikael with a flip and a twirl and
said, “What can I do for you sir?”
“Really, I don’t need anything, Kildian. But the others might,”
Mikael said with a smile, pointing in the direction of Raphael,
Uriel, and Haniel.
Kildian’s face lit up with joy, and Mikael beckoned him to go
to them. The small angel was gone in a flash, and Mikael thought
to himself, He’s pretty fast for such a small angel.
He turned his attention back to the ambonis in front of him
and began to examine the carvings again. He quickly realized
that he did not understand what they meant at all. He kneeled
down to look at the unique markings more closely and noticed
something different about the hourglass as well. The white sand
of the hourglass had recently begun to fall, and the hourglass
itself was made of ivory. This was only strange because Mikael
knew that the hourglass of every other ambonis was made of
silver.
The strangeness of the hourglass continued to claim his
attention until the beautiful blue glow of the prophetic scroll
began to illuminate again. Instantly, the light reminded him of
the light from the star of Bethlehem the night that Immanuel
was born—which has never been seen since. But what could that
mean in relation to the issues he was facing?
He looked around, trying to see if there was another ambo-
nis in the room like this one; but all the others looked the same,
which was completely different from this. Then he searched
down a long tunnel of thoughts, trying to understand the signifi-
cance of this scroll; but he couldn’t recall a single memory. He
looked at the hourglass again, and the sand that had just recently
begun to fall meant that it was a brand-new prophecy.

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 The Morning Star

So, without any further delay, he began to clear his mind of

all his thoughts and troubles. The only way that you could read
a prophecy scroll was to have your mind completely freed of all
feelings, cares, and ideas; and it took Mikael a few moments to
prepare his mind and his spirit to read this scroll. Finally, he
felt he was properly prepared to see what the prophecy had to
say; and he looked down upon the first page of the glowing blue
scroll. Instantly, a rush of fire and cold fell upon his body; and
his eyes filled with a blinding light. He nearly fell to his knees as
he grabbed the sockets of his eyes, as if to pull the blinding light
from them. The feeling and the light both faded as fast as they
came, and he rubbed his eyes until the vision within them was
restored.
He looked around the room; and amazingly, it appeared that
everyone around him had felt the same feeling. Kuriotetes were
looking for the source of this sudden unwanted sensation in every
direction. Some of the kurios even had their tiny swords drawn,
instantly prepared for a battle. Others flew quickly into the air,
searching down every alleyway in a timid fashion but trying to
be courageous and make sure everyone was fine. Then, as some
of the kurios seemed to realize that the feeling came from no
particular direction at all and no one knew quite what to do, they
gave up and went back to their readings or pickings while others
gathered in groups, discussing the sensation that had just swept
through the room.
Mikael didn’t move, and he could hardly think. What was
that feeling, and how could it have come from a scroll? What could
that mean? Maybe my mind isn’t clear enough to read the scroll, he
thought at first; but then he shook away that idea, knowing that
even if he hadn’t been of a sound mind to read the scroll, it would
not cause an event like that to occur. He just wouldn’t be able to
read the prophecy.
Then, for some reason, he began to think of all the extraor-
dinary things happening around him. His world was changing so
fast that he felt like he had lost control of Zion and things were

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 The Fall of Zion

not really as they appeared to be. He did not want to let Jehovah
down; but at the same time, he felt that the problems he was fac-
ing were out of his hands and getting out of control. Never had
he felt such a violent tremor of cold and heat run through his
body from a prophetic scroll. Now the question running through
his mind was, Do I or do I not try to read this scroll again?
He looked down the long hall of amboneese to Shechem,
where Raphael was holding a small, silver glass and motion-
ing for Mikael to speed up the process while Haniel and Uriel
munched on some cookies and crackers. Pyre and Tinder had
apparently left to see if there were any other disturbances in any
of the other levels just like Mikael would have done in this situ-
ation. He knew a decision had to be made right then and there;
and with a turn of his head, he shifted his eyes in the direction
of the scroll again. He closed his eyes gently and freed his mind
of all the things that had occurred, all the problems he must face,
and the answers he must find. He separated his spirit from all
the uncertainties of the world; and in a slow, waking motion, he
opened his eyes upon the scroll. A burst of heat and cold more
intense and more directed at him personally fell over his being;
and he collapsed from the feeling. In his mind, he heard a voice
which he had not heard in over a thousand years say, “This is the
purification of all things.”
What? was the only thing that came to his mind as his eyes
attempted to recover from their momentary blindness. In the air
above him, Pyre and Tinder were flying back toward Raphael,
Haniel, and Uriel, distraught by another burst of the same strange
feeling sweeping over their wings. Kurios in every direction were
alarmed again and were heading for the closest exit out of the
room of divine prophecies. Mikael looked back over the ambonis
in utter bewilderment and reached down to the scroll without
looking at it to try to pick it up. A freezing cold jolt shot through
his fingers, and he grabbed his hand, suddenly shouting, “All
right! All right! All right!” As the words passed his lips, some
of the kurios flying by gave him an odd look. He smiled at them

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 The Morning Star

innocently as they passed by, holding his throbbing hand under-

neath his wing. He knew then that this was something that had
already brought way too much attention to itself and he would
now have to be delayed for a time to understand its purpose in
this matter.
He couldn’t read the scroll, and he couldn’t take the scroll
with him. Obviously, it was something of extreme importance.
But how and why did he have a vision about it if he was not
going to be able to read it? Mikael felt the warmth of his blue
blood circulate back through his hand and into his arm. His
mind reflected back to Gabrielle, and he knew she was hungry;
she had to be after what she had been through, and he knew that
the sooner they got to his chambers and discussed the things he
had on his mind a lot of time would have passed, and they had
already used up more time than they should have. So he shook
off his curiosity and headed toward the archway of Shechem,
mentally noting where that ambonis was. Meanwhile, Raphael’s
conversation with Tinder and Pyre had been going exceptionally
well; but the discussion had taken a sudden jagged turn.
“That’s not the first strange thing that has happened here
lately,” Pyre was saying as Raphael listened intently. “Akatriel
informed us earlier that we finally received a new prophecy after
a seven-year drought,” Pyre said as he folded his wings with a
look on his face that clearly said, “What do you think of that?”
The three great archangels looked at each other with evident
curiosity.
“I would say the strange thing about it is not having a proph-
ecy in seven years. We have never gone that long without one,”
Tinder said, obviously thinking out loud. “Or is it strange that
we have had only one prophecy in seven years? I can’t decide.”
Raphael looked at the large gonfalon, amused by the simple-
ness of his thoughts.
“You’re saying that you haven’t seen a new prophecy in how
long?” Uriel said in a surprised voice.
“Seven years now.”

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Raphael’s face was full of concern, and the two gonfalons

tried to read his thoughts right off the emotions on his face.
Raphael looked at Haniel and Uriel, who were thinking hard
about what all this could possibly mean too. Then he looked in
the direction of Mikael, who was flying back toward them with
excessive speed; and a sweet smile of satisfaction mingling with
frustration rested upon his face as Raphael breathed in a deep
breath of relief.
“It’s probably nothing to be concerned about, you two. Many
things have changed since the creation of Eterni. I’m sure the
prophecies will begin to pick back up again,” Raphael said as
Pyre and Tinder nodded their heads with a sense of restraint.
At that moment, Mikael landed between the two gonfalons
and the three great archangels; and he noticed a sense of con-
cern in the air. He glanced over at Raphael, who was looking
back at him with obvious desperation for him to conclude their
current conversation. Mikael turned to the two gonfalons; and,
with a handsome smile upon his face, he said, “I am so sorry to
interrupt, but I was wondering, Pyre, if you and Tinder could
gather the other gonfalons together and make a sweep across the
island and bring back some linden limes off the southern beach
for me?” Mikael said diplomatically.
“Of course, Mikael. We would be honored to,” they replied,
looking over at Raphael, who was again in deep thought.
“Also, these strange occurrences that have been happening
the last few moments, do they happen often?” Mikael asked
strategically.
The gonfalons were thrown a little off guard and looked at
one another with a sense of worry.
“No, sir. Not that we have heard about,” Pyre said as Tinder
nodded his head, adding a, “Definitely not,” to his statement.
“Well, I think it’s best if you do not let anyone in this room
for the time being until I have had a chance to check it out. Tell
the kurios to help the ophanin in the garden until they have fur-
ther orders.”

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“Would you like the Hayyoth to take a look into this matter
for you, or—?”
Tinder was cut off as Mikael said, “No. I will see to this
myself.”
The gonfalons made a small bow, and Mikael continued.
“I have other matters to attend to now, but I will return shortly
to look further into this issue. For now, appoint some guards at
the four entrances, and do not allow anyone inside unless I have
given them permission.”
The gonfalons bowed low once more and stayed bowing for
quite longer than Mikael needed. Gonfalons were very respect-
ful beings and took greetings and good-byes very seriously, but
Mikael did not have time for a strung-out departure.
“Thank you for your cooperation in this matter. I promise I
will return shortly,” Mikael said as he gathered the two of them
up. “I will be waiting for you in my chambers to bring me those
limes.”
“Yes, sir,” the two gonfalons recited as they burst into white
flames and flew off at the speed of light toward the circlet and
down into the levels below.
“What was that all about?” Haniel asked.
Mikael looked at him; and many thoughts crossed his mind as
he said, “That is something we will all have to talk about later.”
“Why did you send them all the way to the ends of the island
just for some of those bright, green, juicy, delicious … ?” Uriel
stuttered off, licking his fingers at the thought of the sweet taste
of some linden limes.
Mikael rolled his eyes and motioned for them to follow him
quickly to an ambonis near the eastern side of the room, where
a metallic scroll sat unopened. The others followed him hastily,
eager to see what Mikael had found—all except for Raphael, who
knew what Mikael was doing because he had showed him this
little trick centuries ago.
“Is this what you were looking for?” Haniel said intriguingly
as he walked next to Mikael beside the ambonis.

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Uriel moved passed them rudely, nearly knocking Haniel

over, as he tried to get a good view of the ambonis first. “I don’t
see anything special about this one,” Uriel said as he bent down,
looking at the carvings that were engraved within the gold.
“What else did you find, Mikael?” Raphael asked with an
inquisitive voice.
Mikael looked at him with a true face of alarm and said,
“There’s no time for that right now.”
Raphael nodded his head in understanding, and Mikael
looked around to see who else was in the room at this time; but
because of the mysterious vibes that had come from the special
prophetic scroll, the room of divine prophecies had been aban-
doned. Not one kurio had stuck around to see what was going to
happen and had left the mystery for someone else to figure out.
Then Mikael stretched his hand over Uriel’s head and placed
it onto the scroll. He turned the scroll from its vertical posi-
tion to horizontal and let go. What sounded like voices could be
heard, and an opening in the pearl wall beside them appeared.
They all watched as the pearl wall of the mountain opened into a
large gap looking down upon the garden that extended hundreds
of feet below.
“Always something new in Zion!” Haniel said, and Uriel
nodded his head.
“This will be our shortcut to Machonon. And to answer your
question from earlier, Uriel, I sent the gonfalons to get some of
those limes because Gabrielle loves a sprinkle of those limes in
her talia after they have been freshly picked, and she deserves
anything she wants after what she has been through these past
seven years,” Mikael said as his eyes stretched out across the
beautiful land of his home.
“Machonon? But when are we going to get some food for
Gabrielle? She can’t have just limes,” Uriel said in a worried
voice.
“I will have one of my subordinates gather her some things,

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Uriel. I have not forgotten. But first we must discuss the urgent
issues we are facing in my office.”
They all nodded their heads in agreement as the mysterious
thoughts of the baby Adoniel began to rotate back within their
minds, and they semi-understood now why they had not gone to
the garden in the first place. They all knew deep down that this
discussion was coming, but they had left the hard questions that
they must ask and face in the seventh hallway of the cherubim.
Now these questions were racing back to their minds at an unwel-
come pace. The only thing that was keeping them smiling was the
breathtaking view of the center of their kingdom of Zion.

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Words from Wisdom:

The Seven Heavens of Zion
Dear Reader,
Outside of the wall of the secret passage where our four great
archangels are standing are the six other heavens that together
make up the seven heavens of the kingdom of Zion. Each one
of the seven heavens takes the form of a mighty mountain cre-
ated from seven different stones of Jehovah’s favor. On the right
of Zebul is the fifth heaven of Mathey, which is made of the mul-
ticolored stone Azurite and is ruled by Uriel. Past Mathey lays
Machonon, the fourth heaven, which Mikael oversees; and it is the
“Mountain of Jacinth,” swirling in colors of reds, deep purples, and
blues. The twin of Machonon is called Sagun, and it is the third
heaven, where Haniel rules. It is the “Mountain of Chalcedony,”
which is pale blue with white swirls continuously flowing within it.
Sitting diagonally across from Zebul, on the other side of Sagun, is
Raquin, the second heaven, which is ruled by Raphael; and it is the
“Mountain of Garnet,” the strongest garnet ever created. To the
north lays the first heaven of Shamain, the “Mountain of Rubies”;
and it is overseen by Gabrielle. But during her absence, Sariel has
been appointed as its keeper. The seventh heaven is called Araboth,
and it is the greatest of all the heavens. The summit of Araboth is
made of solid sapphire, where Jehovah’s throne is placed. It is the
“Mountain of Alabaster” and stretches high into the stars, sitting
the furthest north of all the heavens.

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The kingdom of Zion is shaped like the crown of a king, and

each heaven has its own luminary orbiting from its halls in an
orderly fashion—much like the sun of the old Earth. Luminaries
control time in heaven and are assigned as Jehovah wishes time
to be. The seven lights of the luminaries shine in these colors:
Shamain’s luminary is a yellow sphere, Raquin’s luminary is a
red sphere, Sagun’s luminary is an orange sphere, Machonon’s
luminary is a purple sphere, Mathey’s luminary is a green sphere,
Zebul’s luminary is a white sphere, and Araboth’s luminary is a
blue sphere. There are seven luminaries in all, and they are set in
an ordered orbital rotation guiding each one from their heaven
to the unification of all luminaries in the center of Zion. When
the luminaries meet together over the center of the kingdom,
a new day will begin; and the sounds of trumpets can be heard

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proclaiming the dawn. At dawn, when the luminaries are one,

they form a unified luminary that spirals in a collage of the seven
colors. As the new day begins, the luminaries separate and return
to their heavens; and this is how time is perceived in Zion.
Below the seven heavens, at the foot of the mountains, is a
garden of ancient history that brushes the roots of all the king-
doms; and within her is placed the Tree of Knowledge, the Tree
of Wisdom, and the Tree of Life. Many rivers flow through her
valleys, but none as brilliant as the river of holy fire. This garden,
which has been called Eden, was placed in its new home in Zion
after the fall of Earth, and it is now guarded and tended by the
ophanim angels. Above the garden, connecting the seven heav-
ens, is the halo of halls, which appears as a golden halo of clouds
swirling from one heavenly mountain to the next. This is the
realm of Zion, one of the most marvelous wonders of all creation.
Wisdom

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 The Garden of Eden

Mikael, Raphael, Haniel, and Uriel unfolded their wings simul-

taneously; and with a dive into the cool breeze, they began to
soar through the center of the kingdom of Zion. The pearl doors
of the secret opening into the mountain closed quickly behind
them as the fair, white sky before them beckoned their com-
pany. The golden clouds of the Halo of Halls sparkled fancifully
around the kingdom as the radiance of the luminaries beamed off
the mountainous peaks of the heavens. The wind rustled through
their feathers with a gentle breeze as they each thought, for a
brief moment, that they could feel the hands of Jehovah touching
their faces. Then with the descending grace of a flock of eagles,
the four great archangels made their way into the Garden of
Eden, which was spread out beautifully beneath their wings.
Mikael, with a sudden rupture of speed, did a nosedive
straight over the river of holy fire, which carved a path through
the western part of the garden toward the heart of the king-
dom. Together they skimmed over the surface of the white lava,
watching the crests of the river ignite with blue waves. One tree
of every tree from the time of Earth could be seen speckling its
way along the banks of the river as an uncountable number of
flowers bloomed in every direction. The river was roaring with
intensity as it neared its passage back into the oceans of Eterni
from underneath the Hill of Golgotha.
This hill had been ripped from the very landscape of Earth at

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the end of Armageddon and placed in Eden for remembrance of

Immanuel’s great triumph long ago. Upon this hill sat three trees:
the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, the Tree of Life,
and the Tree of Wisdom. Three hundred Ophanim angels stood
guard over these trees at all times, and with swords raised high
they acknowledged the great archangels as they passed overhead.
Two rivers stood on the other side of Golgotha, the river of oil
and wine and the river of milk and honey. The great archangels
took the path now of the river of milk and honey, leading them
closer and closer to Machonon. Hundreds of colorful birds of all
shapes and sizes fluttered through the air over the jasmine cliffs
and the blue grass hills, eager to see the great archangels as they
flew by. The journey was swiftly over though as the angels left the
path of the river and the birds retreated back to their homes. The
Golden Jubilee of Machonon now stood before them as Mikael
smiled at the beauty of his heaven.

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 The Morning Star

Jubilee’s were the entrances at the bottoms of the mountain-

ous heavens and Mikael’s gateway was a magnificent piece of
architecture, blossoming with golden roses, golden clouds, and a
network of golden butterflies fluttering joyfully in and out of the
golden walls. As they stepped out of the gateway and into the
first level of Machonon, Mikael saw his chief of guards standing
near the entrance.
“Pachdial!” Mikael shouted, throwing the large angel off
balance.
A massive angel from the powers sect turned around with
a startled look on his face. Four great archangels stood before
him, and the first thought that ran across his mind was that there
was trouble somewhere within Machonon. He quickly drew his
sword, which was close to the same height as Haniel; and with
urgency in his voice, he said, “Where’s the battle? What has
happened?”
Raphael nearly fell over from the powerful bass in Pachdial’s
voice as Mikael attempted to calm his chief guard down.
“There’s nothing wrong. Put that sword away,” Mikael said
quickly, trying to stop a panic before it started.
“Oh, well, yes, of course,” Pachdial said in an apologetic man-
ner. “I’m sorry, Mikael. I just, well, is there something wrong? I
assure you I just made a round throughout the seven levels, and
everything was running smoothly.”
“Everything is fine,” Mikael said as he placed a hand on the
shoulder of his chief, whose shoulder was just a bit higher than
Mikael’s head. “I trust you have everything in perfect order as
always.”
Pachdial gave a small smile, not being one for compliments,
and said, “Just doing my job, sir.”
“That’s why I leave you in charge, Pachdial. Because you’re
always just doing your job. Now listen. We have a meeting we
must attend to immediately, and I was wondering if you could get
some angels to muster up a royal bowl with some manna, milk,

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honey, fruits, nuts, and whatever else you can gather as quickly as
you can and bring them to my chambers.”
Pachdial had a look of confusion on his face, but he had been
well-trained in the art of taking orders and immediately erased
his own questions and submitted to Mikael’s request.
“Yes, sir. I will get that for you pronto. Will that be all?”
Mikael nodded as he turned to walk toward his chambers.
The others followed closely behind him; but you could clearly
hear Pachdial’s powerful voice behind them, talking to himself,
resolving the situation.
“Let me see now. Kfial was up in the Thanksgiving store-
room, and Avial was guarding the front entrance earlier. It will
be much easier for Avial to gather these things. Yes. Yes. I will get
him. Oh, and the royal bowl … ”
Mikael looked around at the appearance of his first level and
saw that everything was in order, just as it should be. The golden
cypresses were trimmed neatly, the emerald waterfalls had been
redirected to give the new gold berry bushes some life, and the
white thunderstorms above were looking ripe for a shower. He
could see that easily from the golden raindrops racing through
the clouds. Yes. Everything was in order except for his thoughts,
which were very sporadic.
“Pachdial has been a little edgy lately, you think?” a voice
sounded in Mikael’s ears.
“Huh. Oh yeah. I guess,” Mikael said disconcertedly.
Raphael looked at Mikael, knowing all the troubles of Zion
were weighing heavy on his mind.
“We will solve all these issues soon, Mikael. Don’t worry,”
Raphael said encouragingly.
Mikael nodded his appreciation of Raphael’s concern and
turned to look ahead at his chambers in the southern tip of the
first level.
Mikael had been the first great archangel to set up an office
after the fall of Lucifer from his post in the sixth heaven. Lucifer,
who had placed his chamber in the sixth level, constantly com-

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plained about not being allowed to have it in the seventh level

like Jehovah. (In every heaven, the seventh level is the praise
room, except for Araboth, the seventh heaven, where Jehovah’s
throne is located.) Undoubtedly, this was one of the earlier signs
of Lucifer’s jealousy toward the Creator; and Mikael, wanting to
be everything Lucifer was not, quickly chose the first level as his
home in respect to his Lord, Jehovah. The other great archangels
followed Mikael’s lead as well once they had been awarded their
heaven, placing their chambers within the first levels of their
kingdoms.
The great archangels stood before the entrance of Mikael’s
chamber; and across the top of his doorway, an inscription could
be seen in an old angelic script, saying, “Mikael, Who is as God,
Ruler of the Fourth Heaven of Machonon.” Below these words
were the golden doors of Mikael’s chambers; and they opened
themselves quickly, allowing the four great archangels entrance
into their domain. As they made their way inside, they situated
themselves around a circular table of glass preset for five people
as always.
Mikael’s chambers were a vast recollection of his tests, trials,
and accomplishments. The room was filled with old memories
and trophies he had kept from battles long ago. Items such as
the knife Abraham had intended to use to sacrifice his son Isaac
on Mount Moriah was there along with the bush that burned
with holy fire as Jehovah spoke to Moses in the desert. On top
of Mikael’s ceiling, emerald clouds swirled in a playful dance
as olive and almond trees grew beautifully along the walls. The
atmosphere of his chambers was like autumn in the peak of its
season as a southern wind circulated throughout the room.
In front of each chair, on the table before them, were four
separate glasses unique to each of its owners. Each glass remained
full, at all times, of a fine wine called helin that came from a full-
bodied purple grape with hints of frankincense and honey within
it. Each of them sat down in a platinum chair that had a back
molded to their specific wing formations and allowed them to sit

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comfortably, ready for a discussion. These platinum chairs were

older than three millennia, and the glass table they sat at had
heard many discussions and arguments in its history; but not
since earthly times had they come together to discuss an issue of
such drastic importance as this.

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Words from Wisdom:

The Rivers of Zion
Dear Reader,
I hope that knowledge and understanding has followed you so
far through this uncharted area of the spiritual realm. An open
heart and a focused mind are the treasures of life, and satisfaction
comes with study. Listen to the spirit as it charges you within
your mind, body, and soul, and guide your life by his principles.
Throughout the span of history, the Lord Almighty has
taken great pride and interest into His landscaping of different
worlds and universes. The scenery of mountains that lead into
great seas that end at the shores of a thousand ice sculptures are
just some of his greatest works. Just as every piece of scenery is
beautiful and unique to its own land, they also have very specific
purposes and attributes. Zion is no different, and here I would
like to explain a little bit of the terrain you can find within its
shores.
In Zion, there are nine rivers that flow throughout the land,
and the names of these rivers are Love, Joy, Peace, Patience,
Gentleness, Goodness, Faith, Meekness, and Prudence. Each
river flows toward the center of the kingdom that eventually
passes between the seven heavens; but once the rivers enter into
the Garden of Eden, the water mysteriously changes from the
white water of the ocean to different specific substances. This
transformation is called the architectural, which is the angelic
word for transformation. The majesty of the rivers is just a sim-
ple piece of Zion’s beauty which includes hundreds of mountains
to the north, forests of diamonds to the east, and flowered plains
to the south. Provided here is a map of Zion with many of its
wondrous landscapes.

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The Fall of Zion

Wisdom

105
 The Discussion

Mikael looked at the empty seat beside him that belonged to

Gabrielle. His eyes watered a little at her absence and from the
thoughts and conversations that were about to take place. That
seat beside him had been vacant for seven years now; and though
he now knew the source of all of their troubles, he was more wor-
ried than he had ever been in this room. He looked around the
table at his three closest brothers, who were strong and wise and
had helped him through so many trials, battles, and wars before.
But now the problem that they must face was bigger than any-
thing they had ever dealt with, especially without the guidance
of Jehovah. The cherubim’s praises had faded away from their
spirits now; and they sat together, contemplating a conversation
that was just too difficult to begin.
Raphael smelled the sweet aroma of his helin wine and broke
the uncomfortable silence with an obvious examination. “Well
he is quite a beautiful baby,” he said as the others nodded their
heads in agreement.
Mikael looked at Raphael and smiled, but they both knew
that this was not a good enough ice breaker for this discussion.
Mikael waited for everyone to gather their thoughts a little lon-
ger as he listened to the sounds of violins playing in the back-
ground of his chamber. Mikael loved the violin more than any
other instrument; and in his chambers, you could always hear the
softness of their strings.

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 The Fall of Zion

Haniel sat his horn down lightly. “Well, He must know about
all of this, Mikael. He knows all things, and no secrets are hidden
from His eyes, and—.”
“Yes. I am sure Jehovah knows,” Mikael interjected as he
took a sip from his goblet.
Haniel continued on, ignoring Mikael’s interruption. “So
why isn’t He here then? This is no simple problem!”
“I understand your concern. And, to be honest with you, I
have no idea why Jehovah has not returned,” Mikael replied as
he spun the wine around in his goblet. “My thoughts have been,
so far, that if He was going to come, He would have come seven
years ago when Gabrielle was sick. So, obviously, He wants us to
handle this on our own.”
“But how did it happen? You know that reproduction
amongst the angelic race has been banished for thousands of
years by the Beka Oath spoken by Jehovah Himself after the
Watchers and—.”
Haniel was interrupted again as Raphael interjected this
time.
“We are all quite aware of the oath. We were all there, and
the problem is how she delivered a child after He spoke this oath
or how she even became of child in the first place,” with these
words Raphael took out an ancient book from within his blue
robe that looked older than the ages of time and began thumbing
through it gently.
“Well, maybe He wanted her to have the child,” Uriel said
as the others gasped. “What? The child is here, so, obviously, He
wanted her to have it,” Uriel said in defense against the looks he
was being given.
Then Mikael and Raphael both sat back and contemplated
this comment for a moment.
Haniel, on the other hand, was quick to denounce this theory
right away. “He doesn’t go back on His word, Uriel. Once it’s
spoken, that’s the Law.”
Uriel snapped back immediately. “Oh, what? Like He didn’t

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change His mind with Abraham several times when they were
arguing about Sodom and Gomorrah in the desert?”
Haniel shrugged his shoulders in response to Uriel’s reply.
“So! He has changed His mind plenty of times when it comes
to humans, but never angels. That’s different,” Haniel said
haughtily.
Uriel looked ready to argue back another point, but Mikael
held his hand up to the two of them. Haniel grabbed his emerald
horn as Uriel tipped up his ruby chalice; and they both drank
heavily, peering at each other over the rims of their cups. Mikael
set his hands on the table, strumming them, unimpressed by the
lack of depth so far in their conversation.
Haniel sat his horn down first and said, “So, what is to be
done with this child then, Mikael? Do we keep him and Gabrielle
locked in the Guph until we have answers and reasons to this
madness or until Jehovah returns?”
“Or do we show him to the thousands of myriads of angels
who will be plagued with just as many questions and concerns as
we have now, or maybe even more?” Raphael commented, looking
up from his little, tattered book. Mikael was well aware of these
concerns and questions and knew that if the child was discovered
by the hosts of angels, more questions would soon follow; and he
lacked the answers for all of them. Nevertheless, he thought that
it was unjust to keep Gabrielle and the child in the Guph, like
prisoners. And with that idea, he began to speak.
“She will not stay in the Guph much longer, nor should she
have to,” Mikael said as all their ears tuned in sharply. “She has
spent over seven years in the Guph, hidden from her brothers
and sisters. We cannot ask her to stay locked away like a captive
any longer.”
“She broke a commandment, Mikael!” Haniel said loudly,
and the room fell silent again. Uriel and Raphael both looked at
Haniel harshly, and Haniel mirrored a similar look back at them.
Mikael held his head down low, looking into his goblet, search-
ing for some sympathy, but finding none.

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“You act as if she has done this on purpose, Haniel,” Uriel

said with anger in his voice.
“I am not saying she did or did not cause this situation to
occur. But it has, and the moment that child is seen walking
around the heavens, questions are going to arise and accusations
as well. And we need to be prepared for it if we are going to let
them wander freely in the kingdom.”
Haniel finished, and they all looked at him, impressed with
his reasoning, but still a little angry from the truth of his words.
Uriel pushed his chair back onto its two back legs and swirled the
wine in his chalice a bit, agreeing with Haniel’s words, for once;
but the pain of all of this was just too hard to swallow. Mikael
laid his crown of Auster down upon the table and brushed a hand
through his golden hair, knowing that what Haniel had said was
true. The worst part of all of this, to Mikael, was that he was the
authority in control over Zion and he would have to make the
call of what type of punishment, if any, would be needed for this
unfortunate event.
“We all know that Jehovah took the ability for angels to
reproduce away,” Mikael stated as he looked at each of them; and
every head nodded in agreement. “Obviously, Gabrielle could
not have broken this commandment willingly because the ability
for her to create life was taken away from her.”
The others nodded their heads again, and Mikael felt as if
he was trying to convince himself as well as the others that this
could not be her fault.
Haniel leaned forward a little closer to Mikael and said in a
soft tone, “Listen. I care about Gabrielle as much as anyone else
here, but how can we let her out into the heavens with a newborn
child? This is a direct break in a commandment from Jehovah,”
“Well, it was more of an oath than a commandment,” Uriel
piped in.
Haniel smirked at Uriel in mild aggravation and said, “Listen.
I am just saying that they don’t need to be seen by everyone just

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yet. That’s all.” With that, Haniel sat back in his chair, satisfied
with his input.
Mikael appreciated Haniel’s honesty, and what he was saying
was true; but it did not feel like the right answer inside his spirit.
Mikael felt as if he couldn’t think anymore; and somewhere deep
within him, he knew that this could not be Gabrielle’s fault, nor
should she be punished for it.
“I do agree with Haniel,” Mikael said, almost as shocked as
everyone else at the words that came out of his mouth. “We will
ask Gabrielle to stay in the Guph to rest and heal for a while
longer, but I do not feel right about keeping her locked up there
forever. And we will have to have further discussions about that
issue soon enough.”
“Then what of the child?” Raphael asked in a calm, deep
voice.
“There is no privilege or goal we will accomplish by hiding
the child either. When the time is right and the child has aged a
little, they will both be free to their home here in Zion. Besides,
Gabrielle loves that child more than life itself. From the moment
he was born, you could see it in her eyes. To make her keep him
a secret would destroy her, and I will not have that,” Mikael said
with an eerie finality.
“But what will we tell the hosts of angels about the child?”
Haniel said as he raised his hand up to one of the almond branches
that had been moving near him.
“The truth,” Mikael replied quickly.
Haniel’s eyebrows rose up in a sarcastic gesture to Mikael’s
reply as a few almonds fell from the branch into his hand.
“Or at least what we know as the truth, Haniel,” Mikael
said shortly. “The heavens have been blessed with a child. And
though his purpose and birth is still a question, he shall be loved
by all who fly amongst these heavenly halls.”
“But what about the father of the child, Mikael? Could it be
possible that the Mahanel are responsible for this and brought
Gabrielle a child?” Raphael asked curiously.

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No one spoke as they all pondered this suggestion. These

thoughts had already passed through Mikael’s mind, but he
wanted to see what the others would say.
“Do you really think the Mahanel could have anything to do
with this, Raphael?” Haniel questioned with a confused voice.
“I mean they were angels of soul placement and stuff like that
weren’t they? Making babies wasn’t really their skill.”
Uriel set down his ruby chalice with a bang as he voiced his
opinion. “Well, that theory makes more sense than any I can
think of. I mean, after all, the child does look completely human
if it wasn’t for that feather on his back. And that might fall off
anyways. I have never seen just one feather on a child before. It’s
very strange.”
“That baby is more beautiful than any human child I have
ever seen, and its not just normal beauty either. It’s angelic.
I doubt he has the slightest bit of human blood within him,”
Haniel said as his eyes looked up to the swirling emerald clouds
on the ceiling with his arms folded on his chest.
Raphael looked up from his book again. “What about the
feather? It’s very intriguing. It reminds me of something, but I
can’t remember what. And the fact that there is only one is so
peculiar.”
“What do you mean?” Haniel said, confused. “It’s obviously
an angelic feather like any of ours, except there is only one, which
is odd. Right, Mikael?”
Mikael looked at the three of them. “There is something spe-
cial or familiar about that feather, but I cannot think of what.
Nor have I come to a conclusion on how he has only one. It is
such a mystery to me still.”
“Something about the way the gold, ivory, and silver are
blended together on the feather, constantly moving around. It’s
unlike any other angels here in Zion,” Uriel said. “I’m sure of
it.”
The others agreed, but it wasn’t just how the colors constantly

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moved within the feather that was so strange. It was the familiar-
ity of it that was.
“As for the theory of the Mahanel, even if they were around,
I don’t believe they could have given Gabrielle a child. They were
the angels of soul placement, not of making children. Gabrielle
was ill, and I needed a place to put her where she would be able
to rest away from others, so I placed her in the Guph,” Mikael
said as he took another drink.
Then Uriel thought of something horrible. “But if the child is
human and the Mahanel have been missing since Armageddon?
Does he have a soul? I mean, he will need a soul, won’t he?” Uriel
shouted in utter horror.
Silence spread across the room with dark thoughts spreading
in each of their minds.
“That is quite a complication, Uriel, beyond anything I
have foreseen thus far,” Mikael said, very disturbed by this new
revelation.
“What kind of child could this be? Or worse, what will this
child end up to be if it is human and has no soul?” Raphael ques-
tioned, flipping through his ancient book a little faster.
“We have a soulless child with no father, whose mother is a
great archangel, and he has a strange little feather on his back.
What a mess,” Haniel said as Uriel nodded at him in surprised
agreement again.
“That’s twice I have agreed with you in this conversation,
Haniel. Don’t let it happen again,” Uriel said sarcastically.
Haniel almost choked on the helin in his mouth as he and
Uriel laughed.
“We don’t know that the child is completely human. We don’t
even know that the child does not have a soul or that he needs a
soul. The child could be completely spirit just as we are if he is a
full-blooded angel, and then he would not need a soul,” Mikael
said, trying to work this puzzle aloud. “We cannot make all kinds
of assumptions that we could be completely wrong about and
cause all of us even more confusion.”

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“Didn’t it take the women of Earth who bore the sons of the
Watchers seven years to give birth?” Raphael asked without rais-
ing his head from his book.
“Yes. I seem to remember that being the case,” replied
Haniel.
“But human births only took nine months, right?” Uriel asked
as the others nodded their heads yes.
“And how long has Gabrielle been in the Guph?” Raphael
asked.
“Seven years three days ago,” Mikael replied.
“Hmmm. This is all so … so … ”
“Weird,” Uriel finished for Raphael with a tip of his chalice.
Raphael looked at Uriel in concurrence as he reached for his
own silver glass.
“So many questions remain about this child,” Haniel said,
shaking his head, baffled beyond belief.
Mikael placed his golden goblet on the table and said, “That’s
not the only thing concerning me.”
The other three paused and looked at him with great exhaus-
tion on their faces as if they could take no more complications to
this overwhelming problem.
“Everyone felt that sweep of heat and cold flow through the
fifth level when we were in Zebul earlier, right?” Mikael asked.
Everyone leaned into the table, worried and nervous at what
Mikael was about to reveal to them.
Mikael took one gulp of helin and sat down his goblet again.
“I had a vision when I first saw the boy of an ambonis with a
glowing prophecy scroll.”
“A vision? Angels don’t have visions,” Uriel said, awestruck.
“That’s the best way I know how to describe what happened,
Uriel. So just listen,” Mikael said irritably.
Uriel nodded his head apologetically, and Mikael continued
his story. “Well, that’s why I took us into the room of divine
prophecies instead of here first. So I could look for that prophecy
I had seen.” They all shook their heads in disbelief that Mikael

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actually thought he had a vision and then went looking for it as

well.
“Well, I found that ambonis while we were in there.”
Gasps came from all three of the great archangels.
“Seriously?” Uriel said in amazement. “But that’s like a
human gift.”
“I know,” Mikael said with a slight grin on his face. “I tried
to read the scroll, but I felt an immense amount of pain shoot
through my body, and I stopped. Then I noticed that everyone
around had felt the same thing as well, and I knew inside of me
that it was because of that scroll. I reasoned with myself whether
or not to read it again, but I decided to try, and the pain was
almost unbearable. I tried to take the scroll from the ambonis,
and the same pain shot through my hand and I heard in my mind
Jehovah say, ‘This scroll is the purification of all things,’ which
made absolutely no sense to me then. And it still makes no sense
now, but I know that prophecy is somehow connected with the
child or Gabrielle or something.”
Mikael finished his story, sat back, and took a deep breath.
The others did as well—except Uriel, who leaned in closer to
Mikael.
“You heard Jehovah’s voice,” he said with a big smile.
Mikael nodded his head yes.
“Is that all He said?” Uriel asked excitedly, and Mikael nod-
ded his head yes again. Uriel sat back in his chair, fairly disap-
pointed, and looked over at Raphael, who looked more confused
than Uriel had ever seen.
“The purification of all things? What could that mean?”
Raphael asked in a perplexed voice.
“I don’t know. I don’t know why I had that vision, I don’t
know why I can’t read it, and I don’t know who will be able to,”
Mikael said, exasperated.
No one said anything. If Mikael wanted to make everything
ten times more complicated, he had succeeded beautifully, and all

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four of the great archangels sipped the helin from their glasses in
deep, deep thought.
“So that’s why you don’t want anyone in the room of divine
prophecies? Because of that scroll?” Haniel asked as Mikael nod-
ded his head.
“We can’t afford for others to find that, if they could even
read it, until we know what it is and what it means,” Mikael said
“You know, there is something else strange going on in the room
of divine prophecies,” Raphael said, placing his tethered book on
the table. “Pyre and Tinder were telling us that there has only
been one prophecy in the last seven years, and it just recently was
created.”
Mikael choked on the helin in his throat at the sound of this
news.
“They told you that?” he asked, and Raphael nodded his head
in concurrence.
“Well, I definitely know which one they are talking about,”
Mikael said with an exhausted look on his face.
“You mean the ambonis you had a vision of is new?” Uriel
asked, perplexed.
“Brand-new,” Mikael said, and no one spoke for many
moments.
Then Mikael cleared his throat and began to speak as if he
was closing a long speech. “This child, his history, and his future
shall be a mystery to us all for some time. And until Jehovah
sheds some light into this mystery or the child’s future unfolds
before our eyes, I fear we will not know. But we shall watch him
closely and help him every step of the way that we can.” With
that, Mikael placed his crown Auster upon his head and stood
up from his chair.
Just then, the door slowly opened; and the gonfalon named
Pyre stood with a basket woven of multiple flowers from the
plains of Zion and an assortment of linden limes inside.
“Hello, my brethren. Here are the limes you requested of me
from the silver beach. Also, we have flown through the Sarara

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over the marble steps past Icestern and around Caelis, and the
report across the island is that all is well,” Pyre said as he bowed
low and laid the basket down in the doorway.
“And why shouldn’t it be?” Uriel said with a voice of reproach
as he clapped Mikael on the back. “Lucifer has been locked in
that pit for what, three, four hundred years now.”
“One thousand years three days ago to be exact,” Raphael
stated with his normal tone of accuracy.
“Wow!” Haniel said in amazement. “Has it been that long?”
Raphael nodded.
“See there. A thousand years without that old snake to deal
with, and not one real problem. Well, excluding … ” Uriel trailed
off as Mikael looked at him warningly. Uriel looked beyond
Mikael’s shoulder at Pyre, who was listening very intently.
“You know, I mean, seeing as we have those limes now, we
don’t have that problem any more,” Uriel said with a slight grin
of airiness.
“That’s true, Mikael,” Haniel said with a wink. “At least
Lucifer is one thing we will never have to worry about again.”
Just then, a deep, masculine voice fluttered through the room,
ceasing the present conversation.
“Here are the items you requested, Mikael, Raphael, Haniel,
Uriel,” the voice stated as he addressed each one of them
individually.
Mikael turned his head to see a large angel from the powers
sect with muscles throbbing in both biceps from the large bowl
of food he was carrying.
“Come in, Avial. Come in,” Mikael exclaimed, motioning
with his wing.
Avial carried the massive bowl full of more food than what
three angels together would be able to carry easily and set it gen-
tly on the jeweled floor.
“Avial, this is Pyre of the gonfalons,” Mikael stated as Avial
arose beside Pyre.
Pyre blinked his ocean blue eyes at Avial, who was gazing at

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the gonfalon, awestruck by his beauty and size. It was the first
time Avial had ever stood so close to one of the seven glorious
gonfalons of the Pearl, and he was amazed that Pyre was twice
his size.
“Good. Good. Thank you both so much,” Mikael said as
Uriel and Haniel grabbed the crystal turquoise handles of the
royal bowl. Pyre gave a brief bow and began to rise as Mikael
lifted the flowered basket from the floor.
“These limes are perfect,” Mikael said as he gave one of them
a gentle squeeze.
Pyre’s red feathers began to glow more intensely as he felt the
pride of a job well done.
“I will take my leave now, unless there is another task you
wish for me to do, Mikael,” Pyre said as they walked out of the
doorway facing the direction of the Golden Jubilee.
“That will be all, Pyre. You have done wonderfully. Tell the
others that I really appreciate your quick assistance and that I
will stop by Zebul in a short time to speak to all of you and take
a look at the room of divine prophecies.” Mikael bowed a short
bow to Pyre, and he bowed back to him in honor.
“There is one more thing, Mikael,” Pyre said as the dawn of
remembrance shone across his face. “Abraxas and Sophia offer
their greetings to you from Pleroma and bid you come and visit
when you have a spare moment.”
“Ah, yes. I will have to go sometime soon. It has been way too
long. Thank you for remembering that, Pyre,” Mikael said as he
patted the gonfalon on the wing.
“Well, farewell, my brothers,” Pyre said as he burst into a
white flame and was gone in the blink of an eye.
“Will there be anything else desired of me, Raphael?” Avial
said as he took a bow to them all.
“No. This should do nicely, Avial. You may return to your
post,” replied Raphael.
“Yes, sir,” said Avial as he rushed back through the door
toward the front jubilee of Machonon.

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“That’s a big power,” Haniel said as he swallowed a bite of

the white, fluffy manna lying on top of the bowl.
Mikael turned around to face the three of them and said,
“Yes, he is. And the three of you can return now to stay with
Gabrielle for as long as she needs you. I will be checking on the
subordinates of the four heavens that have been placed in all your
absences and Gabrielle’s,” Mikael said as he grabbed a red pear
from the pile of fruits that lay within the glassy royal bowl.
“You should probably check in on Sariel. He has the most
important responsibility of the three angels standing in our stead.
After all, he has been watching over Shamain for Gabrielle for
seven years now,” Haniel suggested as he finished another piece
of manna.
“Quit eating all the manna, Haniel. This is for Gabrielle,”
Uriel said angrily as he tossed a date into his mouth.
“How has Sariel been handling Shamain, Mikael?” Raphael
asked curiously.
“He has done an excellent job from what I have gathered. I
will visit him along with the others and work my way back around
to the Guph so I can spend some more time with Gabrielle,” he
said and then took a bite of the juicy red pear, motioning for his
Chariot to come hither.
“Until then Mikael,” Raphael said as they courteously tilted
their heads in a bow to one another.
“Until then,” Mikael replied as he took a few steps toward his
chariot and then turned around quickly. “And, fellows,” Mikael
said.
The three of them turned their heads back from the direction
of the Golden Jubilee to which they were headed.
“This discussion we have had stays in my chamber.”
They all nodded in concurrence and began walking again in
their separate directions.

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 Talia

Mikael walked toward his chariot with a little satisfaction in his

step. They had discussed many of the issues he had been deal-
ing with in his mind; but they had not discussed them all, for he
was still troubled by the way things were so drastically changing
in Zion. Some angels were acting differently; the questions and
concerns of his people were changing; and, for some reason, he
had a sudden fear of something dark nearing the future.
As he neared the trusty chariot he had ridden for so many
years, he put this thought out of his mind, blaming it completely
on the recent conversation and the brief moment where they
had discussed Lucifer, his archenemy. He stood now beside his
four winged horses, whose bodies were like bronze fresh from a
fire and whose only distinctions were the various colors of wings
protruding from their backs. Acthon, the first horse, had wings
of the purest silver; Eous, the horse beside him, had wings of
smooth ivory; Phlegon, the horse behind Eous, had wings of gar-
net and silver; and Pyrios, the horse beside Phlegon, had wings
of a burning orange flame with tips of red at the ends.
“How are my favorite soldiers feeling today?” Mikael asked
as he walked by each one of them and ran his hand down their
manes.
“Ready to do your bidding, Captain!” Acthon replied as the
others gave an excited grunt.

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“Sounds like the four of you have been getting a little rest-
less,” Mikael said thoughtfully as he checked Phlegon’s hooves.
“I believe we are all eager to get a little air beneath our wings,”
Yofiel said anxiously.
Mikael looked down and gave his chief throne a wink and a
smile. “Don’t worry, boys. We have plenty of places to go today,
and you will be feeling an excessive amount of wind under all
those wings.”
All four thrones shivered with excitement. Thrones were a
very special type of angel who took the form of a circular object,
much like a wheel; but they had many small, white wings and
thousands of eyes that were always watching from Mikael’s
chariot.
As he stepped lightly onto the chariots base, which was
engraved with golden suns, he grabbed his platinum reins that
lay upon it. With a gentle nudge, he gave the signal for flight;
and the wings of the four brothers and the four thrones simulta-
neously lifted the chariot off the ground but remained stationary
in the air, awaiting the second command to go.
Mikael took one last look at Raphael, Uriel, and Haniel, who
were preparing to make their way back to the Guph, to Gabrielle,
and to a little boy named Adoniel. Then he called each of his
horses by name. “Acthon, Eous, Phlegon, Pyrios,” and the four
brothers reared up with excitement, anxious to fly amongst the
seven heavens they knew and loved so well. Then he called out
to his four thrones. “Yofiel, Orifiel, Amriel, Zaphkiel,” and a tri-
umphant sound was heard from the thrones like a blast from a
horn.
“Let’s make a quick trip through Machonon, boys. And then
we will head to Shamain,” Mikael said as each of the horses and
the thrones spread out their wings in a massive array of power
and grace. Mikael pulled back on his reins and, with a powerful
thrust in a harmonious rhythm, the horses and thrones headed
toward the circlet of Machonon and into the second level.
Raphael, Uriel, and Haniel turned their heads to watch

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Mikael fly out of view as they passed underneath the Golden

Jubilee, back into the outskirts of the garden. Haniel and Uriel
were carrying the royal bowl by two large handles of crystal tur-
quoise, one on each side, that was full to the rim with fruits, nuts,
manna, and a small pile of linden limes (which they had relieved
from the flowery basket). Soon, they were flying high over the
garden in great concentration to not lose a single nut or fruit on
their trip; but this was not too hard since they were both excep-
tionally strong angels. Higher and higher they flew until they
were aligned with the halo of halls that connected the fifth levels
of all the heavens. Raphael glanced below them at the garden,
which was as peaceful as ever, and then above at the luminaries
that were making their way to a brand-new day.
They quickly neared the exterior of the clouded wall of the
seventh hall that shone like the sun of old with golden rays emit-
ting from every direction. As they neared the hall, the clouds
majestically folded apart, revealing to them the inside walkway
and a group of five cherubim, who quickly maneuvered them-
selves out of the way to allow the great archangels’ passage into
their hall. As they entered the passage, the inside clouds changed
to shades of silver and gold; but once they were through, they
returned to their normal pinks and emeralds again. The three
great archangels stepped through the clouds into the seventh hall
with astonished faces all around them. The cherubim were not
taken aback from the three entering the hall through the side
of the clouded walls, for this was very normal, and many angels
entered and exited through the halls in this manner, but by the
large royal bowl that was only used for celebrated occasions.
A sweep of heads throughout the hall landed upon the great
archangels. The cherubim had been curious and doing quite a
bit of gossiping amongst themselves since the appearance of the
four great archangels walking through their halls earlier that day.
Rumors had shot up and down the hall that perhaps Jehovah
was nearing His return and that the great archangels were pre-
paring something special to welcome Him back. Now, as Uriel

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and Haniel carried one of the rarest royal bowls toward Araboth,
filled with all kinds of delicacies, the cherubim were nearly cer-
tain that their hunch about Jehovah was correct.
The five cherubim that had stepped off of their tiny jew-
eled hills to allow the three archangels onto the path now took
their places back in order and began singing softly again with big
smiles on their faces. All throughout the hall, the songs of the
cherubim were muffled with whispers, thoughts, and confirma-
tions of rumors. Raphael was worried that they were being way
too suspicious in all of their actions; but as he caught some of the
whispers of the hallway, he finally understood their thoughts and
smiled but felt pity and guilt as well.
“I think He is back,” a voice said behind him. “The Lord has
returned,” another replied. “Quiet. We must be proper and beau-
tiful if He should come into our midst. Let us keep singing in
hopes to see His glory,” Ardousius said as she rustled her feathers
and fixed her hair. Then all the cherubim, following Ardousius’s
lead, began to stand up straight, with their feathers stretched out
in a glorious array, and began to sing loudly and more beautifully
than Raphael had heard in a thousand years. He walked through
the hall, smiling and nodding as he passed; and in his mind, he
justified the fact that it was much easier to allow the cherubim to
continue to assume the guesses they had made.
Obviously, he could not tell them that Gabrielle had just had
a child and was very hungry, sitting with Aariel in the Guph,
rocking her newborn babe. So leaving the cherubim to their
assumptions was much easier than making excuses and apologies
for what they were actually doing—though it was sad to leave
them with this hope in their minds.
The excitement could be seen on every face and heard in
every voice as smiles swept across the hall like a wave of the
ocean. Suddenly, Uriel felt a shift of weight on the bowl; and a
small, red plum fell from his side and rolled onto a pile of jewels.
Each Cherub had its own specified hill of jewels to stand on,
and this particular plum rolled next to Shemariah, a beautiful

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cherub with wings of pinks and blues and a face made from the
purest light. Uriel looked beside him at Haniel, who shrugged
his shoulders with a look of innocence. They laid the bowl down,
and Shemariah smiled as she moved her foot slightly toward the
plum and rolled it over to Uriel, who was turning three shades
of red. Uriel quickly picked up the plum, smiled, and took the
handle on his side of the bowl.
Haniel leaned over to Uriel; and in a whisper, he said, “You’re
actually blushing,” as he shook the bowl again as if to knock out
another piece of fruit.
“Boonashay!” Uriel said quickly to Haniel, which was a
demand for immediate silence in the old angelic tongue.
Uriel moved a little faster toward the Saturn archway in
hopes that not too many of the cherubim would see his redden-
ing face. Shemariah gave a flirtatious laugh as some of the cheru-
bim around her whispered to one another, implying something in
the direction of Uriel. Uriel turned and smiled at Shemariah for
only a moment as he entered the cusp of the archway while she
began to sing, waving good-bye to him gracefully. A smile swept
across Uriel’s face longer than the Holy River as he slid into the
safety of the tunnel, far from the eyes of the cherubim. Haniel
chanced a glance at Uriel and quickly looked away. Uriel seemed
to be caught in a dream. As they passed out of Saturn’s archway
and into JA’EL, Haniel turned toward Uriel again with sarcasm
on his lips, when a red plum nailed him right in the face.
“What? Do you think that was funny?” Uriel said hotly, his
demeanor completely different from moments before.
“Actually, I thought it was hilarious,” Raphael interjected as
Haniel picked up a fruit from the bowl in preparation to return
the favor.
“Now, listen, you two. You’re not about to waste any more
good fruit on each other’s faces. We do not have the time for your
foolish squabbles. Gabrielle, I am sure, is tired and hungry. And
we have lingered long enough in the heavens without accom-
plishing what we set out to do to begin with.”

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Haniel dropped the large, yellow watermelon, which he

was aiming right at Uriel’s head, back into the bowl with much
dismay.
“Thank you, Haniel,” Raphael said with a smile. “Now we
must fly quickly to the Guph and bring her this meal that she has
patiently waited for. No more detours, and no discussion of our
prior journeys. Understood?”
They both agreed, and Raphael nodded in concurrence as he
thrust his wings powerfully in the direction of the circlet, send-
ing him soaring across the fifth level, followed by the others.
It was not long until they had made it to the circlet and were
on the doorstep of the Guph. Raphael lifted his hand for the
large pearl door to open and watched as the millions of platinum
stars raced across its massive face as it rolled to the side. Before
entering the door, all three of them stopped as a sound like a
rushing waterfall flooded their ears.
The host of cherubim had begun to sing with every ounce of
energy within them, and it was louder and more passionate than
any song they had ever heard.
“I think Jehovah must have done something so that He can
hear their voices amplified way up here away from the hall,” Uriel
said, and Raphael gave him a little smile as he walked through
the door.
As the door closed behind them, Raphael said, “It is a sad
thing the Lord has been gone for so long. The cherubim, more
than any others, seem barely able to survive without His presence
in these halls.”
The others nodded as they looked over at Gabrielle, who had
not moved from her silver seat and its arrangement of jewels. She
did not even look up to see who was entering into the chamber.
She was just swaying with the child, softly humming the praises
of the Lord with her fellow cherubim, though they could barely
be heard through the pearl door. The three of them stood in awe
of her peace and happiness that seemed to vibrate throughout
the room into the very fire within their spirits.

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“There is plenty here to choose from, Gabrielle. All the fresh-

est fruits from the garden and freshly made manna,” Haniel said
as they laid the bowl of food on a crystal table in front of her.
“Thank you all so much,” she said happily. “A glass of talia
would be wonderful.” As she spoke, she continued looking at the
child, who had evidently fallen asleep in her arms.
They set their weapons and armor down on the ruby table
as Raphael sat down in a clouded chair. He once more began
searching through Sefer Raziel, the ancient book of knowledge
and healing, looking for clues or answers to their present com-
plications. Haniel poured a glass of milk and mixed it with a dab
of honey, which the angels call talia. He quietly found one of the
linden limes they had placed within the bowl and squeezed about
three drops into the glass, stirring it rapidly. Uriel placed some of
Gabrielle’s favorite fruits and nuts into one of the clouded bowls
with a slice of manna and sat it on a sapphire table to the left of
her. Haniel brought her the talia, and she smiled as she reached
up and took the glass from his hand. She took a small sip; placed
it on the sapphire table beside her; and returned looking at the
child, who was resting peacefully in her arms.

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Words from Wisdom:

The White Staircase
Dear Reader,
The angels throughout history have always been a proud race
with an unblemished devotion and a strength of will like no other
creatures created. Jehovah, who is in control of all things and by
Him all things have order, has watched His angels with as much
love and compassion as He has humans. Though they rarely rec-
ognize the Lord’s grace in this nature, He has had many discus-
sions with me on the peculiarity of this circumstantial situation.
Now, granted, Jehovah did make me in His image and filled me
with His knowledge and favor; but He is more than capable of
handling this situation without my input or advice. Nevertheless,
the Lord loves discussion and loves communication; and I am
always blessed by His friendship and understanding.
Many times, He has asked me where this prideful essence
comes from in His angels; and the best answers I could give Him
were these three reasons. First, angels were the first of all cre-
ation, before stars and suns, before time and souls; and because of
this, I believe they feel a bit of seniority over the other creations.
Secondly, an angel’s entire existence has been made up of guard-
ians, watchers, recorders, and many other tasks that set them over
a certain piece of Jehovah’s creations. So, strictly by position, they
systematically feel power over others and responsibility for them.
Thirdly, no other race, being, or creation has been given the Law
to abide by as strictly as angels. In this essence, their purifica-
tion compared to those of other races seems to be of a purer
nature unobtainable by many. I have told you these things so that
you may have compassion upon those who have had compassion
upon you.
Now I will tell you the story of the white staircase, which I
believe is essential for you to understand the struggle that has
occurred in the realm of Zion over the past thousand years. The
white staircase is a magnificent creation by the Father that He

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decided to give to His beloved angels to set them apart from the
world but also a part of it. During the period of Earth, and now
in Eterni, waterfalls can and have been seen in every corner of
the land. Since the creation of the waterfall, every creature—
whether it be beast, man, angel, or Grigori—has enjoyed the
overwhelming peace and tranquility of a waterfall. So, Jehovah,
in His infinite wisdom, decided to make the white staircase as a
gift to the angels.
Now, do not misunderstand. The white staircase is not a
waterfall but rather a waterrise, where the white ocean flows up
to the island of Zion that exists high in the sky over the ivory
expanse. This may be hard to imagine since it defies all sense of
gravity and normality, but that is what makes it so special.
The water that flows steadily upward from the ocean below
rises continuously into the atmosphere until it reaches the shores
of Zion. From there, the water flows through the nine separate
rivers of the island: Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Gentle, Good,
Faith, Meek, and Prudence. The nine rivers make their way to
the Garden of Eden until they become the three rivers of milk
and honey, oil and wine, and the river of holy fire. The three trees
of God are set upon Golgotha; and beneath them, the three riv-
ers meet and flow down antiquo, the tunnel carved in the middle
of the island that releases the water back into the ocean. In this
way, there is a constant flow of water always running through
Zion.
Now, no other race has ever ventured up the staircase—and
not because of fear, wonder, or choice, but because of the Father’s
master plan. Many on the island of Zion have taken this as either
respect or as an insult. Some considered it respectful because
they believed the races did not feel they were worthy enough to
take the staircase to its harbor. Other angels felt insulted that the
races of Eterni did not desire to explore their world as they had
explored the entire land of Eterni.
However, the truth is that whenever explorers of any race
arrived at the white staircase, either by vessel or wings, they

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would turn around and return to their home instead of taking

the water upward to the shores of Zion. The angels in all their
wisdom and knowledge were not aware that the races of Eterni
were unable to see the white staircase at all. Jehovah had masked
their vision of the island due to His own agenda. In the seven
heavens of Zion, the controversy over this issue can be heard
constantly throughout the heavenly halls and at every meeting in
every corner of the angelic realm. In the future, some angels will
believe that this was the beginning of the mutiny of the angels.
Wisdom

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 An Unfriendly
Environment

Apollyon burst out of a tide of white waves with Gamaliel at his

side, gasping for air, as both angels dragged themselves up to the
sandy beach. Their breathing was immensely heavy as power-
ful currents attempted to pull them back into their midst. Both
angels were shaking from head to foot with what was close to
hyperthermia. Gamaliel’s head rested upon the clammy sand as
his thoughts of the last five minutes faded in and out of his mind
between the chatters of his teeth. The swim to the surface, from
the bellows of the abyss, had not been through the fiery inferno
they had left in the chamber long ago but through what seemed
to be a blanket of ice. Gamaliel rolled over onto his back with a
tremendous desire to feel the rays of the sun upon his face; but
as he lay there, staring at the white sky, he remembered that the
yellow ball was no more.
Apollyon could not smell the freshness of the breeze as he
gulped it through his lungs and nostrils. The stench of sulfu-
ric poison clung like ash in his nose as his lungs itched with a
harsh cough that made his chest heave in and out. The angels lay
exhausted on the creamy sands of Sardis, glancing at one another
with a single thought surfacing in their minds. The ancient ser-
pent, darkest of all beings, had been released by their hands from
his prison in the pit; and a strange feeling that the world and

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 The Morning Star

everything within it was now against them began to formulate

in their minds. Apollyon looked back at the white waves as if
they were a sworn enemy. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the
ocean itself had just attempted to drown them as they swam the
great distance from the abyss to the surface. He did not speak
these feelings out loud for fear that the other elements within
the world would become aware of their treachery as well. Slowly,
they lifted themselves up from the beach, brushing the sand from
within their robes and their feathers.
“I can’t believe Lucifer, I mean Satan, actually told us the
truth. Well, sort of,” Gamaliel stated with a surprised look on his
face as a cold wind rushed over his body.
Apollyon felt the ice-cold breeze as well and looked around
suspiciously, as if the wind had heard the names Lucifer and
Satan and was reprimanding them for it. “Don’t use either of
those names here!” Apollyon scorned as he disregarded the
breeze. “What other choice did we have but to trust him at that
point? Besides, he has a task for us to complete, and it may very
well be the difference between us winning or losing this upcom-
ing war.” He then took two bottles of ointment from inside his
golden robe and said, “At least it worked!”
“Yeah, it worked. If you call turning a burning sea into a block
of ice that we could barely get through ‘working,’” Gamaliel said
sarcastically as Apollyon held up the two tiny bottles of oint-
ment, allowing the light of the atmosphere to penetrate through
its glass. The grayish liquid inside began to bubble and swish as
the light filtered through it; and suddenly, it changed from its
dull, bleakish form to a dazzling, metallic silver. Gamaliel’s eyes
stared at this transfiguration as Apollyon shook the bottles rap-
idly to conclude the metamorphic process.
“What did you say these were for again?” Gamaliel asked as
he looked at the bottle Apollyon had handed him.
“These ointments,” Apollyon said in a prideful voice, while
juggling his own bottle up and down in his hand, “are going to

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erase that rancid smell of sulfur and smoke from both of us so we

can return to Zion without any problems.”
“Oh right,” Gamaliel whispered under his breath. “And what
are they called?”
Apollyon reached down to the sand to pick up one of the
jeweled marbles that lay upon the beach. “Cerils,” he replied as
he took the smooth, flat marble swirling with an abundance of
colors. He applied some of the ointment to the marble and began
scrubbing his robe forcefully.
“What about the phial Omael gave you?” Gamaliel inquired.
Apollyon felt the front of his robe quickly and said, “What
about it?”
Gamaliel felt helpless as usual as he said, “Well, I didn’t really
understand all the things you were discussing with Sata … I
mean, the drag … no, the serp … oh, well, you know who I mean,
in the … well, I don’t even really know where we were. Was that
a laboratory or something?”
Apollyon breathed a tight breath as he lowered his hand from
his robe. “This is called inestra, and it is liquid innocence, which
will help camouflage us among the others.”
“Really?” Gamaliel said in amazement.
Apollyon shook his head in frustration. “Gamaliel, use your
brain. We just disobeyed Him. We are the same as a fallen angel
at this point. We look different, we sound different, we smell dif-
ferent, and I am sure we have lost our inner glory.”
Gamaliel looked at Apollyon for a few moments as the last
words trickled across his mind. Then he swayed, falling to the
ground with a wobble and a moan, letting the bottle of ceril slip
from his grip. “This is all so awful, so awful,” he whispered to his
palms as Apollyon came behind him and stood him up by his
wings.
He turned him around and looked him straight in the eyes
with the phial held close to Gamaliel’s face. “There’s no reason
to get all queasy, Gamaliel. This liquid will camouflage us to look
like the others. And any time we start to fade, we will only have

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 The Morning Star

to take a small sip for rejuvenation. No one will know what we

have done. Well, at least for a few days anyways,” Apollyon said
with what he thought was a comforting voice.
Gamaliel nodded his head in understanding as Apollyon
patted him on the shoulder and walked away.
Then Gamaliel looked down to find his bottle of ceril, but
as his eyes reached the beach, he noticed a small patch of sand
below him sinking into the ground and taking the ceril with it.
Gamaliel took his hand from his knee and bent down to pick
it up, but the sand jumped from the ground at his fingers and
sliced one of his knuckles wide open. A small stream of blue
blood dripped from his finger and sank into the sand immedi-
ately. Gamaliel put the knuckle to his mouth and sucked on the
wound, trying to relieve the pain as he looked down in confusion
at the sand. The hole was wider now, and the ceril was disap-
pearing quickly into it. He did not understand what was going
on, but he knew that the sand was trying to take the bottle for
some unknown reason; and if he did not have that ointment,
there would be no way he could return to Zion smelling like the
horridness of the abyss. He hesitated for a moment as he glanced
at the gash in his knuckle; but then, with a rush of courage, he
plucked the ceril from the mutinous hole.
Gamaliel smiled at the little bottle and mocked the sand for
trying to take it, kicking some of the jeweled marbles into the
hole that had been forming. Suddenly, Apollyon and Gamaliel
both felt a prickling feeling attacking their heels, and they shot
ten feet into the air. A thousand tiny needles coming out of the
creamy colored sand seemed to have pierced into both of their
feet simultaneously; and with rapid thrusts of their wings, they
were both hovering far above the beach.
“What was that?” Apollyon asked as he looked back at the
beach angrily and then down at his foot, which was cut in vari-
ous places.
Blue drops of blood continued to fall from Gamaliel’s injured
knuckle as new cuts appeared at the bottom of his feet. He

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 The Fall of Zion

shrugged his shoulders at Apollyon as he began to check the bot-

tom of his toes.
“Get that ointment on you now, Gamaliel. And stop play-
ing around. This smell doesn’t come out easily,” Apollyon said
callously.
Gamaliel turned his back on Apollyon and screwed up his
face in annoyance, mimicking the words Apollyon had said. He
took the ointment and applied some of it to his hand and then
to his robe. As he did, the smell seemed to intensify ten times
worse. “This is repulsing,” he said with a sour look on his face
as he scrubbed with all his might to release the odor from his
garnet robe.
“Just rub it in!” Apollyon said with intensified frustration and
very little patience.
Gamaliel rubbed in the ointment with all his might, mak-
ing various disgusted and repulsed looks on his face as he did.
Then, under his breath, directed away from Apollyon, he said,
“Everyone will know where we have been, especially Mikael.
There’s only one stench like this, and you can smell it from miles
away no matter what kind of ointment this is.”
Apollyon heard Gamaliel’s smart remarks and looked at him,
enraged; but instead of rebuking him for his lack of courage, he
noticed that Gamaliel’s face was a few shades paler than normal
and his hands were shaking slightly as he tried to apply the oint-
ment. In a slight moment of sympathy, Apollyon said, “Here!”
as he took the phial from underneath his robe and handed it
to Gamaliel. “Only a sip though. We do not have very much!”
he demanded, and Gamaliel took the phial thankfully from
Apollyon’s hand.
Gamaliel removed the black rock that had been wedged into
the top of the black phial, and a beam of light shot out like a
shooting star.
“Don’t let that light get away! It will dilute the liquid!”
Apollyon shouted.
Gamaliel pressed the bottle hurriedly to his lips; and a sweet

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 The Morning Star

taste like warm honey wrapped around his tongue, and a warmth
like an internal fire trickled within his blood. Then the liquid
rolled into his stomach, and he felt as if he had drunk an entire
pitcher of sour milk. His wings gave way a little, and he fell a
few feet in the air. With a brisk flutter of his wings, he was back
beside Apollyon and handed him back the black phial. Gamaliel
could tell that the immediate effect of the medicine had worn
off, but he did not feel happy or angelic. He just felt blah.
“I don’t think it worked,” Gamaliel said, looking at his
hands.
“Oh, it worked all right,” Apollyon answered with an evil
grin.
“What?” Gamaliel said in confusion.
“Oh, nothing. You’re just as bright as a luminary. That’s all,”
Apollyon said as he began to laugh loudly.
Something about Apollyon’s laugh almost made Gamaliel
cringe in disgust. Then, in one brilliant but disappointing thought,
Gamaliel understood fully what inestra did and didn’t do. The
phial did make him look like his former self—bright, happy, and
beautiful—but it did not change him inside. Never again would
he feel the peace he once knew; and though he couldn’t quite
remember what that was like, he already missed it immensely.
Apollyon’s moment of semi-compassion on his old friend
was gone, and he looked at Gamaliel with coldness in his eyes
as he felt the weight of the phial. “Next time, do not drink that
much of the elixir and you won’t be glowing like a star!”
Apollyon glided down to the ocean water and strategically
positioned himself a foot or two above the white waves. The
waves seemed to be reaching toward him, yearning to pull him
into their midst; but he was too wise and quick and used the
waves to splash some water on his golden black hair.
Gamaliel rubbed the finishing touches onto his robe and
knew that he smelled like a thousand dead fish or even some-
thing worse, like decaying death. Maybe that is what this oint-
ment does, he thought to himself. It makes you smell a million times

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worse than the abyss so no one will have a clue where you have been.
Gamaliel nodded his head in agreement with his own thought as
a small, silver glow spread out from the ointment and across his
body. As quickly as the glow came, it disappeared; and Gamaliel
smelled an instant cleanliness like the fragrance of fresh air or
new rain.
He looked down at Apollyon with excitement, anxious to tell
him that the ointment had worked, when he noticed the silver
glow flowing over Apollyon’s body as well. His smile suddenly
turned to a face of confusion though. The breaks of the waves
beneath Apollyon had begun to lose their rainbowish sparkle
and were turning a grayish black. This beach is getting weirder and
weirder by the second, Gamaliel thought; and he reached into his
robe, pulling out a special little box that held something of great
importance to him.
While the world of Eterni seemed to be changing all around
them, bringing immense danger close at hand, only one thing
was on Gamaliel’s mind. It wasn’t the knife-piercing sand, the
suffocating ocean, or Apollyon’s attitude. Not even the light
of the pearl white sky that seemed to be growing brighter and
brighter by the second, making his vision extremely blurred, was
of any concern to him now. Nope. All that mattered to Gamaliel
at this very moment was food, and in this small box held the
answer to his starvation. The box he held in his hands had many
carvings on the outside, glowing like tiny stars; and he smiled as
he opened the box and took a piece of fluffy white manna out to
eat. He knew that he would get hungry on this long, strenuous
errand; but he had never felt hunger like this before. He raised
his hand to cover his eyes from the light in an attempt to see
where Apollyon was.
He looked this way and that and finally thought he saw a
figure that resembled Apollyon just beyond him and screamed,
“Hey, would you like a piece of manna?” as he held out a separate
piece he had brought for Apollyon in the box.
Apollyon had, in fact, been floating right beside Gamaliel

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when he had screamed; and he did not appreciate the high-

pitched tone now ringing in his ears. So, in retaliation, he leaned
over beside Gamaliel and screamed, “No!” right in his ear drum.
Gamaliel nearly dropped his little box of manna as he went
to cuff his ears. Apollyon finished the rest of his sentence angrily,
“We do not have time to eat, Gamaliel. Put that away, and get
ready to leave.”
Gamaliel took a quick bite of the manna anyway in defiance
to Apollyon’s demands and placed the piece that was remaining
back in his tiny box and into his robe. As Gamaliel swallowed his
piece of manna with an unsatisfied look on his face, he noticed
that the flavor was not what he remembered; and he glided a
little ways in the opposite direction of Apollyon, not wanting
to feel any more of his wrath. Apollyon ignored Gamaliel as he
became more concerned with the disturbing occurrences hap-
pening all around them.
As much as Apollyon resented this new world of Eterni, he
grew a small ounce of respect for it since it seemed to be angry
with them for their betrayal and was trying to torture them for
their treachery. At that moment, Apollyon decided that it was
time to go before they experienced any other turmoil from any
other elements along this coast.
Just then, Gamaliel screamed in pain as he looked down at
his side, where his purple sheath was holding his sword. Apollyon
turned around in just enough time to see where the black liq-
uid from the fountain of the abyss had finally eaten through
Gamaliel’s sword, the sheath, and was now trying to eat through
Gamaliel’s robe to his thigh. Gamaliel released his belt immedi-
ately, and his sword and the belt fell to the ocean below. Gamaliel
looked up at Apollyon with pain and shock on his face.
“Come on, Gamaliel. It’s time to head back,” Apollyon said
as he spread his wings as far as they would stretch and gave them
one powerful flap, sending him soaring through the air. Gamaliel
looked at Apollyon, vaguely able to see him; and with a disturbed
expression on his face, he spread out his wings and ascended in

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Apollyon’s direction. As Gamaliel looked back at the ocean where

his sword had fallen, he thought about the centuries and battles
he and his sword had fought together as the waves took it now to
its grave. It was gone, like all of his feelings, his emotions, and his
heart. He felt as if his very being was drowning in a pool of black
sin, and a tear fell gently from his cheek. Then he looked forward
toward Apollyon, to the angel that was controlling his future
with every decision that he made, and he sighed in his self-pity
and despair. Gamaliel’s wings took him through the air after his
companion in a depressing state of flight, leaving on the shores
of Sardis the smell of the abyss; their attacking surroundings; and
Demetrial, Gamaliel’s old friend and sword.

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 Zion

The sky had a strangely dense feeling on their wings, as if the

air did not welcome their company and was refusing them pas-
sage along its shores. It was not until they were high in the outer
circles of the atmosphere that they felt relief upon their wings
and strength within their hearts. Apollyon looked beneath him
but could barely see anything in the landscape of Eterni. The
large landmarks that were normally visible from these heights
were obscured by the radiant light all around them. This light
was making it almost impossible to navigate through the sky
so that even the Mochanos couldn’t be seen clearly. Gamaliel
was becoming more paranoid and fearful by the second, but you
would never be able to tell this from the glow of his aurora. On
the other hand, you could definitely tell by his pathetic attempt
at flying, which was comical to say the least. Instead of his nor-
mal, smooth strokes through the air, he was very shaky and a
little twitchy in his movements, which caused him to fly in scat-
tered maneuvers.
Apollyon did not have the same concerns or troubles wres-
tling within his mind as Gamaliel did, and he flew faster and
faster with urgency to find his way back to Zion. His mind was
full of the task Satan had assigned him to do, and the overflow-
ing realization that all his hopes and dreams for the past hundred
years were about to come true empowered his spirit. Only three
days, and he would be returning to the abyss, leading hell’s armies

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to the footsteps of Zion, where an inevitable victory awaited his

cause. Faster and faster, he flew through the sky with the excite-
ment of his success filling his wings and imploring his mind.
He had successfully accomplished what he had intended to do.
Yes, there were some rough points along the way, and Satan had
nearly killed them; but alas, they were alive and in allegiance with
the dragon, whom they would follow into the fields of triumph.
With that final thought resting comfortably within his mind,
Apollyon drifted back from his selfish thoughts to find that
Gamaliel was nowhere near him. He turned his head and found
a lonely object some miles away, flying sluggishly in his direction.
Apollyon shook his head in annoyance at the sight of Gamaliel’s
weariness and looked down to the sea for the path he had been
following. His eyes widened as, once again, the path he had
been meaning to take had disappeared. Where he was now was
unfamiliar to his eyes, and where to go from here was anybody’s
guess. He could have sworn he had seen the Oethul Forest below
them on the outskirts of the shoreline just miles ago. That would
mean they had flown almost in the same direction in which they
had come. He thought that his vision had been clearing up as he
moved farther and farther from the abyss; but as he grew closer
and closer to Zion, his sense of direction seemed to be wavering,
and a small inkling of remorse filtered into his mind.
On the road to Zion, there was no path in the sky or trail in the
ocean to follow that would lead to the island above. Fortunately,
when angels were separated from the kingdom, they could feel
the presence of the heavens beckoning them home from any
direction in which they lingered. Apollyon realized, much sooner
than Gamaliel, that he could no longer feel this presence and was
disturbed deep within his heart; but, as always, he grasped hold
of his emotion and shook off the feeling of regret and repentance
and began searching relentlessly for the white staircase.
Gamaliel, by this time, had nearly caught up with Apollyon.
Just as Apollyon was close at hand, he took off in a sudden,
mad flight. Gamaliel shook his head exhaustedly at the constant

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urgency of Apollyon’s guidance back to the heavens, and a lack

of will to follow him flooded through his veins. No matter what
Gamaliel did and no matter how much he reasoned in his mind,
he could not shake the feeling that returning home to a job well
done was a farce. The reality, for Gamaliel, was that they had
made the biggest mistake of their existence in letting loose the
ancient serpent, and he dreaded every inch that brought him
closer to Zion.
The pearl waves of the ocean below sparkled in Apollyon’s
eyes as millions of multi-colored diamonds seemed to dance
upon the breaks. He searched through his memory, felt the curves
of the wind, and studied the waves below him intensely, trying
to remember his way back. This would have been an amazingly
difficult task for anyone in the middle of an ivory ocean with
no sun, no moon, and no landmarks to navigate by. Apollyon
searched and searched through the sky, wandering this way and
that way in zig zags as Gamaliel followed in a lethargic glide. As
he watched Apollyon’s movements, a tiny bit of curiosity min-
gled with a heavy amount of fear began to appear upon his face.
“Aren’t we heading back to the island?” Gamaliel called out,
but Apollyon ignored him.
“Well, what are we looking for then if we are not going back
to Zion?” Gamaliel questioned again; and this time, he received
an answer.
“If you know where Zion is, then by all means, lead us there.
If not, then boonashay!”
Gamaliel looked at Apollyon, perplexed by his reaction and
confused at his retort. Know where Zion is? he thought. Of course
I know where Zion is. It’s right … in that … over in that … . He
paused, and then began to look around franticly, seeing a pearl
sky and an ivory ocean in every direction. Then realization hit
him hard in the chest like a mountain of stone. The call of the
kingdom was no longer upon his spirit, and he suddenly felt
an overwhelming amount of rejection and loneliness upon his
being and staggered recklessly through the air. He caught him-

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self briefly, never before feeling the emotions or struggles he had

faced in the last few hours; and a terror he had never known
before began to fill his weakened heart.
The reality that the presence of Jehovah was no longer with
him and by all rights rejected his very being made his wings
collapse weakly in midair again, and his body yearned to fall
thousands of feet to the breaking waves. Then a sound broke in
upon Gamaliel’s hopeless thoughts that pulled him instinctively
upright and focused. Apollyon had whistled. He turned in the
direction that the whistle had come from; and as if a veil had
been removed from his eyes, a circular, white waterrise in the
middle of the ocean appeared in the distance. Strength and hap-
piness poured over him in an abundance of joy like he had not
remembered in days past. His wings regained their normal power
and strength as he sprinted through the air in a raging desire to
reach the beautiful shores of Zion.
“It’s the white staircase, Apollyon! We found it! Can you
believe it?” Gamaliel screamed as he flew by Apollyon.
Apollyon had become silent and still; but inside his mind,
a hefty amount of relief merged with an even larger amount of
concern.
They approached the staircase in no time at all, and the
beautiful white water flowing peacefully up to the floating island
was more magnificent than Gamaliel had ever remembered. He
soared along the cusp of the staircase, letting his hand run up and
down the cool water as he flew beside it. In some mysterious way,
the very sight of their home had changed the emotional battles
they had both been feeling inside instantly. Gamaliel now felt a
great urgency to reach his homeland while Apollyon searched for
courage to accomplish the next task at hand.
Higher and higher they flew up into the pearl sky, passing
patches of fluffy white clouds that followed the rising ocean up
to the cusp of the floating island. The clouds were moisturiz-
ing to their skin, cleansing them again from their recent descent
into the pit. Gamaliel knew that they were only feet away from

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crossing the edge of the staircase now, and the kingdom of Zion
would be within their view. He wished, at that moment, that, by
some miracle, his eyes would awaken from this nightmare he was
in; but as his wings flapped their last beat up and over the cusp
of the waterfall, a blinding light shot into his eyes, and blindness
filled him entirely.
Gamaliel nearly sideswiped Apollyon from the sudden blind-
ness that had knocked him off course. Apollyon, however, had
taken a last look back in the direction of where he thought the
abyss was located. Nevertheless, as he too had crossed over the
edge, the light was so powerful that his eyes were straining to
even stay open. They both tried painfully to look through the
light, searching for a sign of the beach; but nothing was visible
except the water below.
Apollyon grabbed Gamaliel by the arm and directed him
toward the current beneath them that was moving swiftly toward
the island. They glided close to the waters, allowing it to guide
them to the shores since there was now no other alternative as
their eyes throbbed in pain. Gamaliel felt a blur of vision begin
to return to his eyes; and as he looked to the waters below, he
began to see shapes of things following him in the water. The
white waves had become full of an array of mammals and tropical
fish speckled and dazzling in all kinds of colors. Miniature killer
whales and belugas jumped out of the water as large mandarins
and black seals tried to keep up with their pace. Gamaliel felt
something that resembled happiness flutter in his spirit, and a
smile etched its way across his face with much difficulty.
Then, as the fish and the other creatures slowly disappeared,
the white waters began to cease from beneath them, and they
fell upon the silver shore of Zion. Gamaliel rolled around in the
silver sand, speckled with flakes of gold, which he joyfully threw
in the air. Zion had been their home since the beginning of cre-
ation, before Eterni and Earth had seen its first formation; and
he had never been so happy to lie on its banks before. Gamaliel

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laid on his back with his wings spread out, rubbing his eyes and
listening to a chorus of birds somewhere nearby.
They had landed on the southern shore of Zion, which is
called the silver beaches, where the linden lime trees flourished
and many lorikeets and macaws resided. Gamaliel looked past
the tree line toward the kingdom that rested in the heart of the
island, knowing that neither he nor Apollyon had ever seen a
light this bright illuminating from its mountains.
The eerie brightness sent fear running through Gamaliel as
his hands continued rubbing his silver eyes to relieve the burning
sensation running through his retinas. Now that he had time to
think, the first thought that came to him nearly put him in shock.
He realized at that moment that the only possibility that could
explain this phenomenon was that Jehovah had finally returned
to Zion. After all this time, He has returned to His throne, waiting
for our arrival, for He knows the treasonous sins we have committed.
Gamaliel fell to his knees in horror of what would happen to him
by the wrath of Jehovah and began to weep, saying, “I’m sorry,
Lord. I’m so sorry.”
Apollyon picked him up roughly. “Quit apologizing and gain
your composure, Gamaliel. Composure!”
But Gamaliel could hardly stand. He lay almost faint within
Apollyon’s arms.
“That is not His light!” Apollyon said angrily as Gamaliel
stared at him mournfully.
“You … you really don’t think so?” Gamaliel asked in a trem-
bling whisper.
“Of course not,” Apollyon said as he let go of Gamaliel’s
robe, allowing him to fall to the ground. “His light is much more
powerful than this, or don’t you remember?”
Gamaliel hit the sand on his knees, and his hands grasped the
ground firmly. Some strength returned to his bones as Apollyon’s
words rested upon him, but he knew for sure that he did not
remember the light of Jehovah. He wondered at that moment
if he would ever remember Jehovah’s light; or worse, would he

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ever be forced to see it. He shook off the thoughts of Jehovah

as he stood on his feet. Although this may not be Jehovah’s light,
something is different, and Apollyon may be missing something. He
brushed the silver sand and the flakes of gold from his robe and
wings as he pondered their situation; and then, looking up, he
said in a harsh voice, “Well, then, what is it, Apollyon? Since you
know everything.”
Apollyon turned around with a look of pity and frustration
on his face. “Do you still not understand, Gamaliel? We have
betrayed Him, and we are no longer beings of light.”
Gamaliel swallowed deep, and a tear ran over his cheek.
These words echoed in his mind as if they had always been there,
and he knew they were the truth. That was the reason things
were so different, but denial was so much sweeter than accep-
tance. Acceptance was a struggle he had not won thus far, and
the battle in his mind and spirit only looked uphill from here. He
knew that the environment on the shores of Sardis had been so
violent because they had betrayed it. He knew that everything of
the new world was made of light and not darkness, and they had
succeeded in allowing evil to enter this new world. Here it was,
a brand-new planet made of peace and love; and, for their own
self-gratification, they had unleashed the monster that had been
hidden within its belly. As the light of the kingdom burned upon
his eyes, he realized that the light of Zion was the same as it had
always been; it was just his eyes that were changing. Still, hearing
Apollyon say these things out loud hurt a lot deeper than hearing
them in his mind.
Gamaliel turned to Apollyon again. “Well, if we are beings of
darkness now, then why has our physical appearance not changed
like the fallen angels?”
Apollyon did not answer this right away as he searched
through his memory. “From what I remember, the fallen did
not change form until they had spent many, many years upon
the Earth. It was a gradual change upon their appearance due

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to the affliction they had brought upon themselves. It was not

instantaneous.”
Gamaliel nodded his head with some understanding but was
obviously on the verge of another question when Apollyon cut
him off. “And you know what else I know?”
Gamaliel shook his head in confusion.
“I know you need to quit asking me so many questions
and let me have a little peace from your constant whining!” He
turned away from Gamaliel and gazed toward the kingdom of
the heavens.
Gamaliel, who was finding some hidden courage within him-
self, due to the concerns he needed addressed, ignored Apollyon’s
request and said, “Well, what if everything here starts attacking
us just like on the beach of Sardis, Apollyon? Don’t you think
angels will notice if the whole kingdom starts crumbling around
us, trying to throw stones upon our heads? Won’t that be obvi-
ous that something’s wrong?” As those words crossed his lips, he
suddenly remembered the sand of the beach and looked quickly
under his own feet.
Apollyon looked around at the sand as well in curiosity.
He watched as Gamaliel continued to dance, lifting his feet up
and down. “Do you feel any cuts, oh wise one?” Apollyon asked
sarcastically.
Gamaliel did not answer but stopped moving.
“I didn’t think so. If you had been listening when we were
talking to Omael, maybe some of these questions could have
been answered and we could be moving on with our assignment.
Inestra is a camouflage against the land of Zion. That is how
you-know-who was able to penetrate so far into the heavens dur-
ing the time before Armageddon. Omael had just designed this
potion in the middle of the bowl judgments, and if Gabrielle had
not of had her trumpet, I believe he would have taken over Zion
at that time. So Omael gave us inestra to use while we are here,
and I hope you can figure out the rest for yourself.”
Gamaliel did start to understand some of the pieces of this

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puzzle that had been scattered across his mind from the words
of Apollyon. This inestra liquid would keep them hidden from
the heavens and from the eyes of their brethren. They were fully
equipped to go into Zion as spies and not residents anymore.
Though he now understood their plan more fully, his spirit
seemed to sag inside at the comprehension of such a well-devised
scheme.
“Okay. I understand about the inestra, but what about this
light? It is still affecting us, and … ”
Gamaliel’s voice trickled off as Apollyon’s face turned into a
monstrous scowl.
“Didn’t I say that was enough questions, Gamaliel? Didn’t
I?”
These fits of rage were becoming second nature for Apollyon,
and Gamaliel was becoming quite accustomed to them and not
as frightened.
“Well, maybe you don’t have answers to all these questions
and that’s why you don’t want to answer them. What if we walk
into one of the heavens and the roof just crumbles right on our
heads? I don’t want to die because you don’t want to answer my
questions,” Gamaliel said with more courage than he expected.
Then, with a sudden burst of rage, Apollyon tackled Gamaliel
to the ground and held him by his robe. “Listen to me. The sand
is not attacking us. Our eyes are adjusting to the light, and our
physical forms haven’t changed at all. The light affects us only
because that is an internal variable which the potion does not
work against, but we are working ourselves against it. Now, we
are going into Shamain so we can talk to Sariel, whether you
want to or not. And if anything happens like it did before, then
we will deal with it then. No more questions, and no more snivel-
ing. You just made it out of the abyss, even when coming face-to-
face with the Dragon. Have some pride and respect, and act like
you have some wings on your back.”
Apollyon released Gamaliel’s robe violently and they both
stood up. Gamaliel, now for the first time, was beginning to feel

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real, pure anger flood through his veins. But he remained calm
for the most part, except for a strange twitching in his neck. He
turned his back to Apollyon and looked toward the high tops of
the seven mountainous heavens; but the light was still much too
bright, and he turned his gaze away. If he had to guess, he would
say the kingdom was shining seven times brighter than normal;
and he had to rub his eyes constantly to massage the pain away.
Gamaliel’s anger cooled down quickly; and he turned back
around toward Apollyon, who was beet red with anger. “That
light is just so bright, Apollyon. It made me think … well, of the
worse. I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” Gamaliel said, squinting a
little, trying to see Apollyon’s facial expression.
“Quit apologizing, Gamaliel. You sound like a human. You’re
an angel. Now act like it,” Apollyon said furiously.
Suddenly, Apollyon ducked. Gamaliel felt it too and ducked
down as well. They stared at one another for a few moments,
looking all around them. Apollyon finally stood up and pointed
in the distance toward the east. There in the distance were seven
streaks of light flying away as if they had just passed by the beach;
and Apollyon blinked a couple times, trying to make out what
it could have been. Unable to understand what had just hap-
pened, Apollyon turned his attention back to Gamaliel and qui-
etly said, “We are in for two long, hard days. I want you to stay
away from anyone whose name is not on that scroll, and do not
speak of anything you have seen unless I am present with you. If
our forms begin to change, if the environment starts to act funny,
if anything strange starts occurring, you tell me right away. Okay,
Gamaliel? Gamaliel?”
Gamaliel was staring at the seven streaks of light, but he also
seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness because of all
the massive changes they were going through. The responsibility
he was being entrusted with was so overwhelming that Apollyon
had to grab him by the shoulders and shake him violently to get
him to come back into focus.

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“Gamaliel, are you listening to me?” Apollyon asked in a low

but angry voice.
“Yes. Yes. Don’t speak to anyone or you’ll kill me. I got it,”
Gamaliel said as he removed himself from Apollyon’s harsh grip,
rubbing his shoulder.
“Good. Then follow me. When we get to Shamain, we must
see Sariel and tell him what must be planned in order for Sata—
.” Apollyon hesitated to say his name, looking around at the trees
and the water and the sand. “In order for him to be victorious in
this upcoming battle,” Apollyon said with a wink of his eye.
Gamaliel nodded his head in understanding, and Apollyon
unfolded his wings and lifted into the air toward the kingdom
with Gamaliel in his shadow.
They flew together quickly over the southern region of the
island, toward the seven heavens of Zion. They followed the river
Love that twinkled like broken glass beneath them through the
beauty of the flowered plains that hardened Apollyon’s heart
even more. Gamaliel felt slightly inspired and slightly repulsed
at the beauty and purity of the plains. Although he knew it was
only in his mind, he could not shake the feeling that every flower
seemed to be judging him with pity and disgust in their petals.
He turned his eyes away from them and saw the three mountains
of Trinity sparkling in silver, gold, and ivory. The light reflecting
off of these mountains was painfully bright, and he returned to
look at the flowered plains instead. Worry continued to grow in
his mind as all of these odd things occurred around him; and he
wanted to tell Apollyon, but he knew he should wait until some-
thing really drastic happened.
As colors that no spectrum of the rainbow could mimic
circulated in a majestic pattern along the flowered hills, they
faded into a splendor of marble steps. It is so beautiful, Gamaliel
thought. But what will Lucifer do to it? he wondered. Lucifer, the
most evil being of all creation, who loves to defile all that is perfectly
created by Jehovah; and what an opportunity it will be for him to
destroy the land of Zion.

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Gamaliel closed his eyes, hoping his thoughts would not con-
tinue to badger him; but it was no use. This isn’t what I wanted,
he told himself. I just wanted to rule in Eterni as a king over a few.
Now I have gone where I can never go back, and his heart sank mis-
erably again. He opened his eyes as another silver tear trickled
down his face. The tear fell to the stones below as a beautiful icy
rainforest caught his eyes from the distance.
The diamond trees of the Icestern in the eastern part of the
island scattered the countryside beside the kingdom. A white
trim highlighted the forest giving it the appearance of a living
star. This scenery of beauty always reminded Gamaliel of a sun-
set on Earth, where the sun would shine just behind the clouds as
it fell to the night. How sad it is, he thought, that no creature will
ever again see the sun after its destruction at Armageddon
Then Gamaliel attempted what he had been purposely avoid-
ing his entire flight over the island. He turned his eyes toward the
center of Zion, where the kingdom was still shining more bril-
liantly than anything he could ever remember. The seven heavens
appeared as a crown of glory with a halo of clouds circulating
in a spiral of golden colors. He felt exhilarated and inspired as
the light that was blinding him earlier seemed to replenish his
body where the holiness inside of him once dwelt. Then another
feeling swept over him as quickly as the first; and he felt that
the kingdom appeared as jagged teeth, clean and sharp, ready
to devour him as he entered their domain. He shook all over at
this thought, and it quickly passed away as he looked up into the
beauty of a single luminary burning above the kingdom in a mix-
ture of seven colors: yellow, red, orange, purple, green, white, and
blue. Then, in a magnificent blast, the sound of trumpets mixed
with a melody of harps sounded through the air. The music
seemed to tingle within Gamaliel’s wings, and he smiled at the
announcement of the dawning of a brand-new day in Zion.
As the music faded, Gamaliel found himself smiling and
trembling at the same time. His doubts continuously circled
around him like a flock of hawks waiting to feast upon a dying

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prey. What were they going to do, how would this ever work,
and what could be expected when they walked through the sil-
ver jubilee for the first time? He watched Apollyon in front of
him, who dove purposefully down toward the lower regions of
the mountains just above Purity, the forest of golden cyphers.
He followed his path into the radiance of the golden trees that
appeared as a forest of sunshine all around the heavens. Before
them were the heavens of Machonon and Sagun, where Mikael
and Haniel ruled.
Apollyon kept a safe distance from these two heavens, not
wanting to see either of these great archangels. He turned east
to fly around the borders of Sagun and Raquin on their way to
Shamain with the golden forest of cyphers right below them.
The forest appeared to be aiming their sharply pointed leaves
straight up toward the two angels as they flew by. The leaves bent
and twisted upon the branches as if to cut them as they passed.
Gamaliel was beginning to feel as if he could not distinguish
between reality and his imagination. Soon they were passing the
Heaven of Raquin, and Gamaliel looked down at the golden
cyphers again, and they still looked to be reaching with all their
might toward him for one chance to slice him open.
He looked away from the cyphers quickly as they flew around
the bend of Raquin and saw the first heaven of Shamain sparkling
as normal in its ruby red color and its silver jubilee. Gamaliel felt
something like cold chills running all through his body as they
landed before the ruby heaven. The silver jubilee was filled with
emerald and sapphire clouds, beautiful yellow stars, and walls of
a silver seven times silver.
Apollyon’s feet landed upon a patch of blue grass that spread
from the roots of the mountains and continued into the forest
of the golden cyphers. Gamaliel hovered carefully over the blue
grass with his toes pointed to the ground, waving them back and
forth to see how the grass was going to react to them. Apollyon
grabbed Gamaliel’s garnet robe and yanked him quickly to
the ground, looking all around to see if anyone was watching.

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Gamaliel lifted his left foot up and checked underneath it and

then the right as well. Nothing was happening, and Gamaliel
blew a sigh of relief.
Birds could be heard inside Shamain, singing a sweet melody;
and Apollyon took one last smell of his robe to make sure there
was no lingering scent of the abyss upon him. Gamaliel looked
around at the jubilee, which was wide enough for five angels
with their wings spread from tip to tip to enter comfortably into
its domain. It was even tall enough for five angels hovering one
above the other to fly in easily if they so wished. The ruby heaven
of Shamain towered high into the sky, and the angels took a
short glance at each other as they breathed in a deep breath of air.
With as much courage as they could gather together, they took
their first steps inside the Silver Jubilee, the gateway to the first
level of Shamain.

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Words from Wisdom:

The Seventh Trumpet
Dear Reader,
This story I give to you now so you can understand the mean-
ing behind Gabrielle’s trumpet, one of the greatest weapons ever
devised in history. During the time that is known as Revelation
(to angels) or as the last days of Earth (to man), many things
occurred so that the prophecies of the early days could be ful-
filled within the world. Many judgments were dispersed upon
the Earth from Jehovah’s biddings, including judgments of earth-
quakes, famine, and desolation throughout the land. Certain
judgments were announced by the emptying of bowls upon the
world; others were announced by trumpets.
Seven trumpets of judgment were sounded from the wrath
of Jehovah’s purification; and during the time that the seventh
trumpet sounded, a loud commotion erupted throughout the
seven heavens of Zion. Those believers in Christ who had pre-
viously been dead and those who had been raptured from the
judgment upon the Earth began to yell with loud voices at the
inhabitants of the world, saying:

We give you thanks, O Lord God Almighty, the One who

is and who was and who is to come, because You have taken
Your great power and reigned. The nations were angry and
Your wrath has come, and the time of the dead, that they
should be judged, and that You should reward Your servants,
the prophets and the saints, and those who fear Your name,
small and great, and should destroy those who destroy the
earth.

Baradiel, the angel of hail; Remiel, the angel of thunder;

and Barkiel, the angel of lightning were summoned from their
chambers in Sagun, the third heaven, at the call of the last trum-
pet. These three angels were instructed to curse the Earth with

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plagues from their chambers and to distribute as much destruc-

tion and mutilation as they could create. The three angels obeyed
Jehovah and His decree, beginning with a destructive volley of
hail, thunder, and lightning to the Earth.
As these plagues plummeted upon the world, Jael and Zarall,
the cherubim twins, mighty in stature and terrible to behold,
brought forth the Ark of the Covenant and displayed it in the
center of the kingdom (which is now known as Golgotha but at
that time had been barren). The ancient serpent Lucifer looked
toward the heavens of Zion from his throne upon the Earth,
which was named Babylon the great, and saw the true Ark of
the Covenant revealed in all of its majesty. Lucifer was filled
with rage and anger at the sight of this monument and ran to
his chambers within his kingdom. He had believed for centu-
ries that the ark had been retrieved by his kings of hell long ago
after the ascension of Jesus Christ back to Zion, but those who
had obtained it had been deceived. This had been part of a great
design by Uriel, in those days, after the temple had fallen and
Jerusalem had been overrun by tyrants and thieves, to hide the
true Ark of the Covenant. Uriel may be the greatest angel of war
that was ever created, next to Lucifer; and he led many false trails
and disguises to keep the ark from the hands of the enemy.
Lucifer entered his guarded room where the fake Ark of the
Covenant had been placed and spat on it as it melted to the
ground. The revelation of the true ark in Zion had broken the
enchantment placed upon the fake, and it melted like butter in
a flame. Jealousy and hatred rose up within Lucifer like never
before, and he transformed himself into a great dragon crimson
as blood and full of fury. He summoned his entire army from hell;
and together, they stormed the gates of Zion in a malice never
seen before. The dragon bore seven heads and ten horns and with
him were his marquis, dukes, kings, and presidents of hell.
Mikael left his chambers within Machonon and met the
dragon at the gates of Zion with his greatsword held high. The
battle between these two foes was a spectacle of pure wonder.

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Nearly every being in Zion had paused at this time to watch in

amazement the ferocious encounter of Mikael and Lucifer. The
battle lasted for three days; and as Mikael fought the dragon,
others were plagued with minions from hell who began to infil-
trate the heavens. This had only become possible because Omael,
the alchemist, had finally created the potion inestra that allowed
the foes of hell entrance into its borders unscathed. As the angels
of Zion battled with the minions of hell, a secret convoy of fallen
angels attempted to steal the true Ark of the Covenant, but just
before they had reached its guard an angel stepped out of the
praise room of Shamain with a large silver trumpet grasped
tightly in her hands. The ark had nearly been captured as the
ophanin angels became overtaken by the kings of hell; but then
the sound of the trumpet hit the air, and all that was evil fled like
roaches before a light. The sound to the angels was like a blissful
rush of wind and water mixed in a joyous tone; but for the war-
riors of hell, it caused excruciating pain and agony.
The red dragon glared at the angel as she blew with all of her
might, and he lunged with all his fury in her direction. Mikael
caught the dragon in midair and stabbed him with his greatsword
in the thigh, and the dragon retreated back to the Earth. There
he brought forth the beast out of the sea and the beast of the
land; and together, they tortured the inhabitants who remained
on the Earth until its final days.
Wisdom

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 Shamain

Apollyon and Gamaliel’s first steps into the Silver Jubilee were
extremely slow as they passed into the shadows of its hall.
Emerald and sapphire clouds intertwined themselves around
the heights of the inner hall as if they were experiencing some
tormentous rage that seemed focused at the two angels creep-
ing within its presence. The yellow stars of the gateway soared
through the walls in a panic as white strikes of lightning jumped
upon the clouds. Then a clamorous pour of thunder filled the
rooftops, sending Gamaliel flying into Apollyon’s arms as the
sound rolled by.
“Do you hear that, Apollyon? Do you?” Gamaliel whispered
frantically.
Apollyon pushed Gamaliel away and straightened his robe.
“Stay calm,” he said fiercely as he resumed his steps down the
long, thunderous hall.
A tiny bolt of lightning pounced onto Apollyon’s shoulder,
singeing his golden robe; and he patted out the smoke quickly as
the walls on either side of him raced with electricity. Apollyon
took a deep breath as paranoia gripped his mind and the thoughts
of the obstacles they would have to overcome began to over-
whelm him.
“I have never seen a jubilee act like this before,” Apollyon
said as he walked cautiously. “But how could that be after we
have taken the elixir?”

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 The Morning Star

“Do you think that even the gateways know what we have
done?” Gamaliel asked as a loud roar of thunder rolled over the
top of his head again.
“Shhh!” Apollyon gestured quickly. “Do not speak of such
things here.”
Gamaliel was nearly tiptoeing through the jubilee, and
Apollyon didn’t know what to do. He was so unbelievably unpre-
pared for this that he was becoming as angry with himself as he
was with everything else around him. We just got to get to Sariel’s
chamber, he thought, and out of this jubilee. Gamaliel was already
terrified of nearly everything around him; and as they neared the
end of the archway, a patch of golden mist swayed in the walkway
mysteriously. Gamaliel stopped dead in his tracks as Apollyon
passed him by, looking back at him in puzzlement. Apollyon
turned his head around and walked right through the golden
mist and into the region of Shamain.
Gamaliel felt some relief come over him at the sight of
Apollyon not getting attacked by the mist. So he followed behind
him very carefully. As Gamaliel passed through the mist, it began
to stick all over him like sap to a tree. He stumbled through
the edge of the archway, passed the two angelic guards, twist-
ing and flapping his wings, trying to knock the specks of gold
off of his robe, feathers, and skin. The two guards stared at him
with bewilderment. One said, “I’ve never seen mist act like that
before.” The other guard nodded his head in agreement.
Apollyon, with all of his cunning and cleverness, noticed
the reactions of the guards immediately and gave a bit of quick-
witted insight into the situation. “Don’t mind him, fellas. He got
into some nectar in the garden earlier and has had things sticking
to him all day long.”
The guards began to laugh happily as they watched Gamaliel
swatting off the last of the golden mist, appeased by the under-
standing that had been suggested by Apollyon. Apollyon felt a
little prick inside him as he realized that this was the first time
he had ever lied in his existence, and it was much easier than he

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thought it would be. Gamaliel looked at the two guards laughing

at him and was not amused at all as he walked over to Apollyon.
“I can’t believe I got this mist all over me and you didn’t,”
Gamaliel said as he looked up at Apollyon, who was star-
ing across the first level of Shamain in complete amazement.
Gamaliel looked up to see what was so fascinating and froze as
his eyes took in his surroundings. Together, their eyes wandered
across the land that appeared before them in thirty-three differ-
ent shades of silver the likes of which they had never seen before;
and they were astounded by its beauty. Gamaliel would have
sworn that he had never flapped a wing in this heaven before if
it were not for the two familiar faces of the guards who had been
laughing at him moments earlier.
“It’s good to see the two of you,” one of the guards said.
“Yeah. Thanks for the laugh, Gamaliel,” the other replied.
Apollyon looked over his shoulder at the two guardian angels
standing behind him. They wore the same armor of platinum,
aligned with white gold, and the symbol of the seven heavens
upon their chest. In their hands, they held massive swords made
of nevaeh, the steel of angels.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Gamaliel said sarcastically as the
two guards chuckled again.
“Well you two have a good day,” Apollyon said as he grabbed
Gamaliel by the arm like a child and directed him onto the jew-
eled path that led through the first level.
Gamaliel shook off Apollyon’s hand as the sweet smell of
honey dew arose from the silvery grass that lay beside their toes.
The clouds of Shamain appeared in colors of pinks, blues, and
oranges as flocks of eagles went singing by above their heads.
These clouds were Gamaliel’s favorite because they always made
him think of the cotton candy of earthly times. That was the
one thing that Gamaliel had always praised the human race for:
their inventions of sweets like cotton candy, popsicles, and candy
canes.
Apollyon stared at the silver leaves and trees that swayed in

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the cool breeze and thought that he saw a slight sign of aggres-
sion in them.
Gamaliel was focused on a bright red glow hovering just down
the path where some malachim angels were tending to their stars,
an art which angels called astrofering. Malachims were some of
the craftiest angels Jehovah had ever created and the first to learn
the art of growing stars. In the luminary houses, stars were cre-
ated, nurtured, and farmed until they were strong enough to be
released into the universe. There were officially about two hun-
dred known astrofer’s amongst the malachim angels, and they
were a skillful group, yet humble in all they did.
“Well going, Leliel?” Apollyon asked smoothly as they
approached the angel with the red star. Leliel was wearing his
dark blue robe with little white stars woven within its threads
that were the customary uniforms of astrofers.
“I’ve got a hot yellow dwarf here that I think is about ready
to pop!” Leliel said as he held the star up like a prize hovering
above its pallasite container. “All well with you, Apollyon?” Leliel
asked courteously, clearly focused on his new star as he continued
walking.
“Things couldn’t be brighter!” Apollyon replied, smiling the
fakest smile he had ever worn on his face as they continued down
the path of jewels between the silver grasses.
“You got that right,” Gamaliel mumbled sarcastically as he
put a hand over his eyes, trying to see a little clearer down the
path. Apollyon swatted him in the chest.
“Do not draw attention to yourself.”
Apollyon wanted nothing more than to get out of the open
atmosphere within the first level and into the protection of
Gabrielle’s chamber, where Sariel was currently positioned as
overseer of Shamain. Sariel had been Gabrielle’s replacement
during her absence with her “illness,” and he had also been one
of the first angels to sign his name on the contract with Satan.
Sariel was an important element to the success of the rebellion

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taking place in Zion, and he was the first angel on a long agenda
of meetings that Apollyon wished to have —and quickly.
The jeweled path made a bend around some silver willow
trees that brought Gabrielle’s chambers into view; but Apollyon
stopped immediately and grabbed Gamaliel by the robe, throw-
ing him behind one of the largest willows. The round opal
door of Gabrielle’s chamber was open; and outside of the wall
was Mikael’s chariot, where the four brothers—Acthon, Eous,
Phlegon, and Pyrios—stood, making little movement or sound.
The thrones of Mikael’s chariot were always watching, and
they all seemed to be looking in the direction of Apollyon and
Gamaliel.
Apollyon turned to Gamaliel and said, “Mikael,” in a whis-
per; and the look on Gamaliel’s face said it all. Fear, embarrass-
ment, treachery, disloyalty, and grief were all wrapped up in
one expression. Apollyon looked as though he would strangle
Gamaliel right then and there if anyone saw such a look come
from him, but he knew that the eyes of the thrones were watch-
ing him carefully, so he stood there, patiently waiting and won-
dering. Then Apollyon turned rapidly back the way they came
and said, “Follow me.” He led Gamaliel back toward the astrofers
near a spring a fair distance away but in a good enough angle so
that Apollyon could still see the chariot.
As they waited, Gamaliel’s eyes wandered to the crystal clear
water of Yessedekeus flowing down from the clouds of the ceil-
ing. The ruby mountain rocks that guided the stream grew louder
and louder as both angels waited for Mikael to leave. Gamaliel
loved the springs of Silivine, and he loved the tiny white ducks
with silver spots that waded in the spring even more. He reached
into his robe and pulled out the last little piece of manna that
he had brought for Apollyon on their trip. The ducks swam up
beside him, and Gamaliel divided the manna between them.
“You are just overflowing with evil, aren’t you, Gamaliel,”
Apollyon said with a cynical expression.
“What?” Gamaliel said innocently. “I am partial to these

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ducks. They really know how to play to my heart.” One of

the ducks rubbed his head lovingly against the leg of his robe.
Gamaliel handed the little duck the last piece of manna he had.
Just then, a thunderous boom shot across the sky as a flash of
bright orange light flew in every direction. Not far away from the
spring, a rush of angels could be seen hurrying to the sight of the
explosion. Sure enough, in one of the astrofields where the stars
are grown and nurtured, Leliel came walking out covered in blue
smoke. He looked over at Apollyon and shrugged his shoulders.
“Supernova!” Apollyon yelled.
Leliel nodded his head yes and headed into one of the lumi-
nary houses.
Apollyon laughed a little as he said, “I keep telling him that
when it’s that yellow it’s too ripe and needs to be cooled down
slowly, but he just doesn’t listen.”
Gamaliel smiled over at Apollyon, who caught him out of
the corner of his eye.
“What?” Apollyon said threateningly.
“Nothing. It’s just that that’s the first genuine laugh I have
heard from you in … well, a while,” Gamaliel said out loud, but
he wished he hadn’t.
“Boonashay!” Apollyon shouted as he turned his head quickly
from Gamaliel’s gaze.
Gamaliel turned back around to his ducks, who he knew
appreciated him a lot more than Apollyon ever would. He bent
down to pet one of them when a sound like rushing water moved
over their heads. Mikael’s chariot had finally taken flight guided
by the four brothers and the mighty thrones. Apollyon grabbed
Gamaliel from petting the little duck and threw him into some
silver bushes beside them.
Apollyon watched closely as Mikael cleared the first level and
quickly exited through the entrance of the silver jubilee. Then,
as fast as they could, the two angels crossed over the silver fields
until they came to the opal doorway of Gabrielle’s chamber that
was closed shut. The door was an opal in the shape of a large

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moon that could be separated into two large doors when a pass-
word was spoken. As Gamaliel gazed upon the door, he read the
inscription placed above it, which said, “Gabrielle, God Is My
Strength, Ruler of the First Heaven of Shamain.”
Apollyon looked around and spoke very clearly at the door,
“Asonya Benase Erae,” which were the three angelic names for
the moon of Earth and the password into Gabrielle’s chambers.
The moon-shaped door split into two halves like an eclipse, and
Apollyon and Gamaliel quickly walked inside as the door shut
behind them.

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 Sariel

“Apollyon, Gamaliel, how very good to see the two of you, and in
such a proper moment,” Sariel said as he stood up joyfully from his
onyx chair. Sariel made his way around the large table and placed
his hands upon both of their shoulders, giving them an impres-
sive and questioning smile. After a long, awkward moment when
no words were spoken, Sariel released them and said, “Come on.
Sit down. Sit down. I am sure you are both exhausted, but you
look as if you have just returned from a vacation. I would have
thought … well, where the two of you were going … I did not
expect.” Sariel stopped as Apollyon looked at him with a furious
curiosity in his eyes. Sariel turned his gaze carefully away from
him and finished his thought. “I am just saying that the two of
you look wonderful, not a blemish to your skin or to your robes.
That’s amazing!”
Gamaliel sat down in one of the four other onyx chairs that
were placed before the triangular table and said, “Yes, well, the
dark one has many ways of camouflaging his servants, doesn’t
he?” Just then, an apple fell upon Gamaliel’s head from one of the
branches growing on the ceiling of Gabrielle’s chamber. “Well,
that was uncalled for,” Gamaliel said as he rubbed the back of his
head, picking up the apple angrily.
Apollyon looked at the tree curiously and then went straight
into conversation. “We saw Mikael’s chariot outside and waited
by the spring until he left. What did he have to say?”

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“Mikael came to check on the astrofers and to make sure I

had Shamain well under control,” Sariel said with obvious pride
in his voice. He had indeed done an exceptional job during his
brief period of authority over Shamain.
“Wonderful,” Apollyon said with a roll of his eyes. “Did he
ask you about us leaving the island?” he questioned as he grabbed
a glass from the table.
“Surprisingly, no,” Sariel answered with a perplexed look on
his face as he gathered his knives from the table. “I was sure when
he came in here though that that would be his very intention,
especially since he has ophanin watching every inch of the island.
The secret passage in the east must have really worked well for
the two of you,” Sariel said, reaching for his glass.
Gamaliel took a large crunch into the apple, and both angels
turned and looked at him. Gamaliel did not say anything but
continued to chew rebelliously.
Sariel turned his head back to Apollyon. “How did every-
thing else go?”
“Obviously, it went great. We are alive, aren’t we?” Apollyon
said abruptly.
“Well, we did get a little lost on the way back,” Gamaliel said
through a mouth full of apple chunks.
Some confusion was written on Sariel’s face; but in a way, he
could understand because he himself had started feeling uneasi-
ness like he had never felt before.
Apollyon was not interested in telling their tale just yet and
stopped Gamaliel before he could explain the disappearance of
the call of the kingdom upon their spirits. “What else has been
going on while we have been gone?” Apollyon said in a blatant
rush for time.
“Nothing else really I can think of, except … ” Sariel hesi-
tated and looked at both of them.
“What, Sariel? Out with it!” Apollyon demanded.
“It’s nothing really. Mikael just looked a little feverish him-

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self, as if he was coming down with whatever it is that is wrong

with Gabrielle,” Sariel responded with an evil grin.
“Are you sure?” Apollyon asked with urgency and a small
amount of excitement in his voice. A quick thought passed by
his mind that Satan’s power of sickness may now be extended to
even angels, and this would be a great step forward in their plight
to take over the seven heavens of Zion. Although this was very
unlikely, especially for Mikael to be one of the first to fall ill, if
that was even possible.
Then Sariel popped into Apollyon’s ear, breaking up his
thoughts as he said, “He could be ill or Gabrielle’s condition has
become much, much worse and has begun to overwhelm him.”
“You think Gabrielle is worse?” Apollyon asked eagerly.
Sariel sat straight up and leaned his chair toward the other
angels. Apollyon and Gamaliel both leaned in as well, anxious to
hear the status of Gabrielle, who played such a massive role in
their plans of treachery.
Sariel cleared his throat and motioned for them to get closer.
“I think Gabrielle is dying,” he said in a low whisper, hoping the
trees around them would not hear.
Some more apples fell within the room in different direc-
tions throughout the chamber, and the three angels jumped from
their chairs, startled by the sudden racquet.
“I can’t stand these trees,” Sariel said angrily, looking at them
maliciously.
“Don’t worry about that right now!” Apollyon said as they all
sat back down.
“So what makes you think Gabrielle could be, you know?”
Gamaliel said in a sound of dismay.
“Why do you sound so distraught, Gamaliel? This would
be a great victory toward our cause.” Apollyon asked harshly as
Sariel nodded his head in concurrence.
“So what about Gabrielle?” Apollyon pressed, turning away
from Gamaliel.
“Well,” Sariel began, enjoying every ounce of attention he

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 The Fall of Zion

was soaking up from the two angels, “Mikael has just informed
me that I will be taking this post for a lot longer than I expected
and possibly even permanently.”
The others gasped as Sariel sat back in his chair and grinned
boastfully.
“Impossible!” Apollyon said.
“Are you serious?” Gamaliel snickered, thinking Sariel couldn’t
possibly get any fuller of himself or any more like Apollyon for
that matter.
“Have I ever lied before?” Sariel said with an eyebrow raised.
He poured some blulayain wine out of a silver flask into a long,
green glass of peridot. The blue wine sparkled with diamond dust
shimmering inside as Sariel motioned to pour them each a glass
as well, and they gratefully slid their glasses toward him.
“Well that’s the news from this end, so what happened with
the two of you?” Sariel asked as he drank half his glass with one
swallow.
“He’s free, and we nearly paid for it with our lives,” Gamaliel
said as Sariel’s mouth dropped.
He looked at the two angels, soaking in the finality of what
they had done, and said, “I was quite sure that he was going to
kill the two of you without even letting you speak a word. I really
didn’t know if you would actually go through with it or not,”
Sariel said as he took another drink and refilled his glass.
“Thanks a lot,” Gamaliel replied.
Apollyon motioned for Gamaliel to stop talking as he said,
“I know, but the task has been completed now, and even as we
speak, he is forming his armies and minions for the attack to take
over of … ” Apollyon’s voice trailed off as he noticed some of the
willow trees swaying in an awkward motion toward them.
“How soon?” Sariel replied.
In a near silent whisper, Apollyon said, “In three days. Well,
probably more like two now. We did get a little lost on the way
back. I am going to go back in about a day and meet him at his
gates and lead him with all of his armies to the island and snatch

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this kingdom of Zion from Mikael’s hands. Then we will lead a

revolution against the authority that oversees Eterni and claim
that land for our own!” “Two days!” Sariel said, nearly choking.
“How is that possible?”
It’s not, Gamaliel thought to himself; and from the looks
Sariel and Apollyon were giving him, you would have thought
he had said this out loud.
“As he is setting up things below, so we must be setting things
in order here so that this will be a flawless takeover,” Apollyon
said.
“What do you mean?” Sariel asked anxiously. “What does he
want us to do?”
“First, everyone must be given their strategic positions in the
halls and gates of the seven heavens, as we have discussed before.
And they will need to be informed of when and how we plan to
move.”
Apollyon’s face grew more intense by the second as he laid
out his clever plan, but Gamaliel did not speak a word.
“After tomorrow, everyone will need to wear the robes which
we have designed for this battle. When the war begins, those
who are on our side had better turn their robes inside out to
reflect the black linen we laid inside or else the armies of hell
will never know who is on whose side. If this is not coordinated
accurately, we could lose many of our own in the first stages of
the battle.”
Sariel nodded his head in understanding, so immersed in
the conversation that it looked as if he was drinking in the very
words Apollyon spoke.
“I will handle this variable myself, as it is of the utmost
importance.” Apollyon took his glass and drank a hefty draft.
He thought for a moment, allowing the elixir to run its course
through his veins and then, as if he had never stopped, he resumed
his speech. “Once we have open access to the seven heavens, he
will be able to allow his minions in to flood the kingdom. Then
we just have to worry about Mikael, Raphael, Uriel, and Haniel,

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who will be more than a handful themselves. But with Him gone
and the dragon free to do what damage he wills, this should be
an easy triumph.”
The words flowed so naturally from Apollyon’s mouth that
even he felt as if they had come from someone else, and Gamaliel
felt a sudden burst of sickness within his stomach.
“So that is our plan,” Sariel said with finality in his voice,
swirling the wine in his glass. “At last, we will have what is right-
fully ours: slaves; captives; and a fresh, new land to possess.”
Sariel tipped up his glass, and Apollyon met it with his own.
Their wrathful tones sounded so much like Satan’s that Gamaliel
felt as if his presence was right there in the room with them, and
he shuddered at the thought.
“Well, that’s half the plan,” Apollyon said with his eyes a
little widened.
“What else can we do?” Sariel said as Apollyon swallowed a
deep, painful sigh.
“Gabrielle’s trumpet.”
“What about it?” Sariel replied with confusion.
“He said we must have Gabrielle’s trumpet secured in our
hands if we are to win this war.”
The room instantly fell silent.
Then Sariel erupted with objections. “Well, that’s impossi-
ble!” he said, shaking his head in disbelief of this request. “Who
knows where her trumpet is? Probably in Mikael’s keeping. And
if it is there, there will be no way for us to retrieve it.” Sariel
slammed his drink on the jet black table. “Besides, can’t only
Gabrielle blow that trumpet? And she is on the verge of death or
something. She is barely a threat.” Sariel took a deep breath and
looked inside an empty wine flask.
Apollyon responded quickly to Sariel’s accusations. “We do
not know her condition for sure, and he says that the only rea-
son he lost the battle here a thousand years ago was because her
trumpet disassembled his army.”

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“And the fact that Mikael stabbed him in the thigh,” Gamaliel
said under his breath.
Sariel contemplated Apollyon’s words as he walked furiously
to the crystal cabinet that held an assortment of different wines
and spirits. “I suppose that is true. Once Gabrielle released the
power of that trumpet, it was almost a done deal,” Sariel said as
he pulled out a platinum bottle of wine.
“Exactly!” Apollyon said, but his words were faded out as
Gamaliel gasped so loudly that Sariel sent his cup flying.
“Really, Gamaliel! Was that necessary?” Apollyon yelled as
he wiped the wine from the front of his robe that was slung out
of Sariel’s cup.
“I—I—I just thought of something,” Gamaliel said.
Sariel laughed. “Was that the first time you’ve used your
brain, or is this the second?”
Gamaliel glowered at him but turned to Apollyon with
excitement. “Now hear me out. But I think I have an idea.”
“That would be a first for sure,” Apollyon commented as
Sariel returned with his glass and began to fill it with more
wine.
Gamaliel ignored this. His new idea was too amazing and
wonderful to let it fade away because of ignorant jests. “What if,
when hell’s army is attacking Zion, we leave the island and go
take over Eterni for ourselves and leave Mikael and”—he looked
around slowly and then whispered, “Satan to battle it out for
Zion?”
Apollyon stared at him with the smallest bit of pity he could
muster in his blackened heart. “All these years of planning and
discussing, and you just now want to pipe in with a suggestion
like that,” Apollyon said with a sinister laugh.
Gamaliel shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
“Since you don’t listen, I will advise you that this option
has already been discussed between the council in which we so
regrettably allowed you to be a part of.”
Gamaliel swallowed as Apollyon rose from his seat.

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“This was an option we thought long and hard about, but the
reality that we ourselves could not conquer the land of Eterni in
its entirety means that we would be in a constant battle with the
races of any area we tried to overtake. The fact that one of the
two sides would eventually win Zion means that, in return, they
would then know who had betrayed them as our underground
society would then be unmasked to all the angels of Zion not
yet on our side and to you-know-who as well. So it is not in our
best interest to run away, as you have so thoughtfully suggested,
because we could not win a battle in our small numbers against
Eterni. And we definitely would be slaughtered in a fight alone
against either armies. That is why we have chosen our side, and
hopefully we have chosen it wisely. For in the end, the only way
to conquer Eterni will be with the numbers we have gained by
aligning ourselves with the powers of evil in which we have just
accomplished. I would tell you now, Gamaliel, to make a decision
of whose side you are on. But you have already made that deci-
sion, and it’s time you accepted it.”
Gamaliel was frozen in fear in his seat. Apollyon’s face was
no less than an inch from his nose. He tried to swallow, but
his throat wouldn’t move; and he wanted to blink, but his eyes
wouldn’t budge. He was stone still, and sweat glistened upon his
forehead. Apollyon folded his wings to his back, which had spread
completely out during his rant against Gamaliel. Then, with a
face of smug anger, he sat down in his chair at the table. Both
Gamaliel and Sariel watched him in total amazement. His fury
had seemed to freeze everything in the room, including the trees
that were not swaying and the wind that was not circulating.
Then, in a last sentence of crucial importance, Apollyon
looked at the two of them and said, “If we want victory in this
upcoming war, we must have Gabrielle’s trumpet at any cost.”

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 The Morning Star

Words from Wisdom:

The Watchers
Dear Reader,
This is the story of the Watchers, who were also known as the
Grigori, and specifically of their leader, Azazyel, who was found
guilty of treason against Jehovah. In the early days of the Adamic
race, which is man, a group of angels had been instructed to
watch over the race but not to interact with them under any cir-
cumstance. Their duty was to only record and follow the progress
of the human race from every intricate detail they could see.
So, for a hundred years, this group known as the Watchers
studied the communities and small tribes of humans that were
forming in the Earth. The leader of the Watchers was named
Azazyel, and he had fallen in love with the beauty and curiosity
of women. He convinced his fellow brethren that they should get
a closer description and understanding of the human race, par-
ticularly the females, who held such fascination in his eyes.
The Watchers were made up of two hundred angels who all
agreed to follow their leader, Azazyel, and discover the human
race for themselves. So, together, they came down from their
perches in the heavens and revealed themselves to the women of
Earth. The women were captivated by the Watchers, who were
beautiful, strong, elegant, and knowledgeable in all things. It was
not long before Azazyel had taken for himself three wives; and
his fellow brethren were following his lead, unable to resist the
temptation of women and taking wives for their own.
The angels loved the women they had chosen from the dif-
ferent tribes and areas of the land. They brought the women
to a place near Egypt by the Red Sea; and, there, they taught
them the secrets and crafts known only to the angelic race. And
the women continued to be mesmerized by the angels’ intellect
and charm. The women learned sorcery, astrology, arts, crafts,
and many other skills known only at that time to the angelic
race. After a period of around seven years, the women began to

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produce offspring for the angels, and their children became the
downfall of the Watchers.
The children were beautiful, glowing human angels; and the
Watchers called them Nephilim, for they were small but magnifi-
cent. Everything about the children spoke the word beautiful into
every heart that saw them. Though they were small at birth, they
grew miraculously fast and learned many more secrets from their
fathers in the realms of weaponry and warfare as more and more
children were born. Some of the Watchers had produced young
not only with the women of the Earth but with female beasts of
the field, the sea, and the air. Half breeds of angels and beasts
appeared everywhere in the world; bulls, horses, goats, rams, and
lions were just some of the animals the Watchers mated with,
but they were not like the Nephilim, and they did not cohabitate.
Soon, disturbing things began to happen in the areas where the
Watchers had settled. The most disturbing factors in the tales of
this time were the whispers of deaths surrounding the camps in
which the Watchers were inhabiting. Humans were disappear-
ing, and remains were being found; and the sound of murder was
not far from the Watchers’ homes.
Cries from the blood of those who had been murdered reached
into the heavens to the very throne room of the Almighty, and
the great archangels were summoned to His throne. Jehovah
asked them to go and report on what was happening in the Earth
and why there were so many unexplained deaths occurring. The
great archangels left the throne room and peered into the realm
of Earth, searching for answers to the cries of the dead. Then
they saw the Watchers and all they had done.
Mikael left Zion immediately and came to the Earth in search
of Azazyel to question him about what he and his Watchers were
doing. Mikael searched and searched, but Azazyel could not be
found for he had been forewarned by another that Mikael was
coming for him. On this pronouncement, Azazyel hid himself and
his family. He feared that Mikael would take away his wives and
destroy his children for their murderous nature. So, for months,

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they hid in a valley in the lower crest of the Mediterranean Sea

just beyond the Nile River. Enraged by the disappearance of the
lead Watcher, Mikael left the Earth and went back to report to
Jehovah on what he had seen.
Jehovah stepped down from His throne and saw the sin of
humanity rising like a pillar of smoke to His halls. He watched
as the Nephilim, like a pack of wild animals, hunted and slaugh-
tered the innocent; and He felt wrath burn within His mind of
the things that had become of His creations. Then He called
forth the Watchers from their hiding places in the Earth, and He
sentenced them to a place called Abel’s Jail in the fifth heaven
of Mathey. Mikael, Raphael, Haniel, and Uriel bound each one
of them and left them to be tormented in that awful place until
the judgment when Jehovah would re-evaluate their case. Then
Jehovah counseled with His beloved great archangels and told
them of His plan to destroy the inhabitants of the Earth with
a mighty flood. The great archangels agreed that humanity had
fallen further than evil should go and that the Nephilim should
be the first destroyed of all the creatures of that world.
Jehovah agreed, but he found compassion upon the other
half-breeds of angels that the Watchers had created, who did
not desire to harm man or beasts. They had become herbivores,
goodhearted and stable in the Earth, not willing to kill the inno-
cent. These creatures consisted of minotaurs, centaurs, sphinxes,
satyrs, and many others. So Jehovah gathered together all of
these creatures to make them a part of the spirit realm in the
background of the physical. They were not permitted to inter-
mingle with those of the physical world, and they walked in the
shadows during the days of the Earth.
Jehovah stood before them with love in His eyes and asked
them what they would like to be referred to as throughout the
remainder of history. They gathered together in council to make
this decision, but they did not take very long. They asked Jehovah
if they may be permitted to be called the Grigori in remembrance
of their fathers. Jehovah considered this proposal thoroughly in

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His mind; although He desired to blot out the memory of the

Watchers and the evil they had caused, He could not forget one
of His most important commandments, “Honor thy Father and
Mother.” Jehovah smiled and blessed the creatures before Him
and made it known throughout the heavens that, “From this day
forward all the creatures here before me, great and small, shall be
known as the Grigori and no others.” Then Jehovah peered down
upon the Earth and searched for one man that He deemed wor-
thy to remain alive and continue the race of humans. The man
He found was named Noah, but in Zion he is called Deucalion.
Wisdom

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 Abel’s Jail

Mikael felt a chill come over him as he passed the Silivine Spring
of Shamain and headed toward the silver jubilee. He peered
around and saw the ruby mountains shining beautifully in the
background, the silver trees swaying to an unheard rhythm,
and the Silivine Spring twinkling with the appearance of some
apparently well-fed ducks waddling happily around its bank. The
thought of the chill quickly left his mind as he became more
and more accustomed to the inexplicable feelings occurring more
often than not throughout Zion.
Thunderous cries echoed all around him as he entered the
silver jubilee from patches of stormy clouds swirling around the
rooftop. White streaks of lightning zipped and zapped through
the walls beside him, and curiosity pricked his mind for a moment
at the uncommonness of this event.
Then the chariot whipped through the entrance as smooth
as a sharpened blade, and the cool wind of Zion melted over
Mikael’s face; and he swiftly forgot about the bizarre lightning
and the strange feelings in Shamain. He looked out across the
land as the chariot bore him into the sky and turned south. The
four brothers’ wings pushed through the air with a graceful
strength not known to many creatures as they made their way
to the next destination, Raquin. The thrones of Mikael’s chariot
flapped their little wings rapidly, trying to assist the four broth-
ers as much as physically possible and doing quite a good job, as

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always. Thrones were a very proud creation of angels and had a

vigorous will to succeed.
Mikael’s thoughts rolled over and over the situation with
Gabrielle and her new son. The impossibilities, the probabilities,
and the uncertainties were eating at his very being until he felt
weak and confused. It was wrong, all wrong; and worse of all, he
was the one looked upon for answers and comfort in these situ-
ations. But he had none for himself and none for others. Where
would the answers come from? Where was Jehovah right now
when Mikael needed Him the most? Never before had a problem
surfaced with such a magnitude as this that Mikael could not
have taken to Jehovah and had resolved.
So what am I going to do? Mikael thought to himself as his
chariot neared the northern side of Raquin. Soon, he would be
meeting with Vretil, who had been appointed to oversee Raquin
in Raphael’s absence; but Mikael had this nagging feeling that
he needed to do something else something more important.
Of course, there were many things that needed to be done. He
needed to find a way to read that prophecy or at least take it out
of the room of divine prophecies and store it in his chambers
until he and the others could figure out its meaning or purpose.
He also desired more than anything to return to Gabrielle, for
his heart longed to see her again and the newborn child that was
such a fascinating miracle. Then he realized that all he had eaten
in the last three days was a red pear that he had just taken from
the royal bowl. Maybe that is why I am feeling so weak, he thought
as his stomach intensified with hunger.
The four brothers began to turn from their path along the
golden cyphers and headed for the eastern gate of Raquin when
something dawned upon Mikael—something so wonderful that
he could not believe he had not thought of this before. In fact,
this idea was so ingenious that he thought for sure that Jehovah
must have spoken it into his mind right then. The Watchers were
locked safely away in Abel’s jail, and they were the very angels that
betrayed Jehovah by creating the Nephilim and Grigori. There

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 The Morning Star

could possibly be some information within one of their minds

that might help the situation Mikael was facing right now.
Instead of turning into the eastern gateway of the sky jubilee,
Mikael directed his chariot south toward the River of Triad. He
smiled with brief satisfaction at the hope of finally receiving some
much-needed answers. He only needed to decide who to inter-
rogate, who would hold the most information. The answer was
simple he wanted to speak to Azazyel, the leader of the Watchers.
If anyone was going to be able to remember every last detail of
those days, it would be him. In Abel’s jail, that wicked, evil crea-
ture was imprisoned, and somewhere within his mind could be
the very answers surrounding this situation with Gabrielle and
her new child, Adoniel.
Adoniel, Mikael thought as the named passed by his mind
and the wind rushed through his wings. What a name, a name
like no other before in the angelic tongue; and its meaning, according
to Gabrielle, is so peculiar. “God’s Prince is with us.” Why would she
make such a claim as this, or how could she? Does she not understand
the implications of his birth and the oath she has broken? Does she not
understand the unbelievably difficult predicament she has now put me
and the others in? And, even worse, the reality that there is absolutely
no comprehension on how the boy came into being or for what pur-
pose he was created? All these bizarre things, Mikael thought as his
hand tapped the side of his chariot that sharply took the path of
the Triad in between the two heavens of Raquin and Sagun.
Mikael turned his attention back before him as his chariot
guided him over the Triad, which had now changed into the deep
purple River of Wine into the luxurious beauty of the garden.
Mikael tapped the side of his chariot again, and his request was
answered instantly by a swift right turn into the outskirts of the
garden.
He looked to the north, and his eyes fell upon three trees
that sat on top of the small hill called Golgotha, which had been
saved in remembrance of Immanuel. These three trees caused so
many problems, Mikael thought to himself, “so many problems that

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have finally been healed from the world of men in the new world of
Eterni.” He felt a sudden warmth infuse his soul from this very
comforting thought, knowing the war between good and evil had
ceased. Never again would he have to battle with the adversary,
that ancient serpent named Lucifer.
He looked on toward the seventh heaven of Araboth swirling
in its beautiful alabaster colors of peach and white. He breathed
in a breath of relaxation at the sight of the sapphire throne room
at the top of the mountainous heaven. Even though Jehovah was
not present there, the beauty of the sapphire tip gloriously shin-
ing like a sharpened blue spear was reassuring enough that all
was well in the cosmos. Mikael looked on from the heaven to
the luminaries making their way back toward the heavens, which
meant it was still early in a brand-new day.
“A little faster,” he commanded, and the wings of his horses
and thrones pushed through the air with a sudden rapid pace.
“Let’s go through the fifth hall, fellas,” Mikael suggested, and the
chariot tilted a bit toward the right. The golden clouds of the hall
separated generously to allow the chariot passage into its walls
and closed once more as they entered. Mikael halted his chariot
momentarily as his four horses took their drinks out of the flow-
ing river of Yessedekeus passing by in the hall. This hall was
seldom visited by angels because the entire fifth level of Mathey
was used as Abel’s jail, and they had no need of that place at all.
Mathey was Uriel’s heaven; and within its walls laid the Erelim,
the angels of white fire, and the armories of the kingdom, which
had not been used in a thousand years.
The four brothers guided Mikael’s chariot along the hall to
the southern fire gate and the many eyes of the thrones wandered
across the ceiling of emerald clouds, staring deep into the blue
galaxies held within them. Mikael looked down the passage to
the fire gate as it blazed in blue and orange flames. It had been
close to seven thousand years since he had spoken to Azazyel or
any of the Watchers, and he sighed at the thought of having to
lay eyes upon their torment.

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 The Morning Star

This thought brought a bit of pain and agony to Mikael’s

mind as he realized how long the Watchers had been impris-
oned in Abel’s jail, alone and forgotten in a desolate place of
despair. The four brothers stopped right before the gate, and the
heat of the flames were hot upon their faces. Mikael held up his
hand flat but stern, and the fire separated like a curtain to each
side. They passed underneath the archway of fire, and warmth
and love spread within them as the pureness of the fire heated
their spirits. To walk through the fire gate was, in essence, the
same as passing through the fires of the old yellow sun because
they had been made of the same elements. The warmth of these
fires was the breath of life to the old creation, and the energy of
the flames easily seeped into their skin. The four brothers took
Mikael quickly into Abel’s jail, where Mikael found himself in a
memory of old that had been vacant for many, many years.
The four brothers trotted quickly down the center of Abel’s
jail as ancient memories flooded Mikael’s mind. He gazed upon
the walls that were as solid as the mountainous rock outside but
had the appearance of the old blue oceans of Earth trapped within
them like a raging sea of glass. The waves constantly crashed
against the walls of the heaven like a ferocious storm brewing
within them, ready to break through at any moment and drown
the Watchers they imprisoned. The violent ocean was a constant
reminder to the Watchers of why they had been imprisoned here
and of what their actions had caused.
The floor of the Fifth Level was made of golden sands cir-
cling in a constant sandstorm, blowing heavily across the land.
Mikael’s chariot followed the jeweled road of MeusVia, running
from the southern fire gate to the northern fire gate at a slow
pace as he soaked in the memory of everything here. A multi-
tude of jewels and beautiful stones of cut glass shaped MeusVia,
and it was as straight and narrow as Uriel’s arrows. No sand ever
touched or crossed MeusVia at any time, and visibility through-
out the jail was very difficult. The thrones of Mikael’s chariot

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fluttered on the edges of the road in utter determination not to

touch the sands at their sides.
The four brothers neared the lower circlet that leads to the
fourth level of Mathey and stopped just before it as MeusVia
continued around the edges. Mikael looked around at the hor-
rible environment they were in as the sands whistled in every
direction mercilessly. A thought ran through his mind, which
he passed onto the thrones; and the four brothers immediately
lifted the chariot off the ground and high into the air. As the
chariot rose over the blinding sand, Mikael could see all the
Watchers scattered across Abel’s jail. Not a single one stood next
to another; and they were all separated by great distances, con-
stantly being pierced and harassed by the sandy wind. Iron chains
locked each one of them to the desert floor as the terrible sounds
of the ocean, trapped within the walls, kept the Watchers in a
constant mind frame of fear and regret. One hundred Watchers
were imprisoned on the eastern side of MeusVia, and another
one hundred were imprisoned on the western side.
Mikael looked at each one, searching for the leader that
Raphael had imprisoned so long ago. None of the Watchers
seemed to notice that he had even entered their realm as they
stood or sat with their heads lowered to the ground to keep the
sand from their battered faces. Their robes were torn and rotted,
along with their feathers. They seemed like raw skeletons, barely
angelic at all, trapped within the sand. Then Mikael saw in the
corner of the westernmost part of the jail a small cage. He tapped
the edge of the chariot and the four brothers and the thrones
lowered the chariot down to MeusVia. Mikael stepped out onto
the jewels beneath his chariot, and Acthon spoke quickly.
“We will take you to him, Mikael, if you wish it of us.”
Mikael had such a heart for others that he didn’t wish for his
horses or his thrones to have to stand in the midst of the windy
sand, so he said, “Thank you, my friends, but I will not be gone
long, and you can wait here for my return.”
The horses lowered their heads in a humble bow, and the

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thrones winked their eyes multiple times in understanding.

Mikael folded his wings before his face, took a deep breath, and
stepped out into the sandy winds toward the cage in the west.
The sand shot into his feathers and all around his body
like millions of tiny needles stabbing him at once. He walked
as quickly as possible through the sandstorm; but the faster he
walked, the more the sand seemed to hurt. He finally passed the
first of the Watchers and could not recognize the face from the
torment and terror that was held within it. The sound of the
ocean in the walls mixed with the sound of the whistling sand
made an eerie chill race over Mikael’s skin. He started to pass
more and more Watchers as he made his way toward Azazyel;
and not a single one opened their eyes to gaze upon him, nor did
they have the breath to speak to him. This was because at the
time of their imprisonment, the gift of the angelic tongue had
been taken away, and they had been made mute until their time
of judgment.
Mikael had never felt sorrow or pity for these rebellious
angels who had committed atrocious acts of sin against Jehovah;
but now that a minutely similar situation had happened with
Gabrielle, a slight sense of regret and sorrow filled his heart.
Then he felt a type of substance he had not felt in a thousand
years touching his being. He brushed his arms with his hands
vigorously, trying to erase the all too familiar filth of sin off him
that rested upon the Watchers as he walked by. His face cringed
as a gust of wind brought him the fresh smell of decay from one
of the angels.
Finally, he saw the cage made of golden fire that was not
far away. Inside of the cage was the leader of the Watchers, who
had persuaded all the others to join in his lustful and disloyal
actions against Jehovah. Mikael approached the cage swiftly; and
Azazyel stood with both arms outstretched, chained to the ceil-
ing of the cell, feeling a constant torture piercing through the
chains into his body. His mangled black cloak smelled of burn-
ing flesh, and the magnificent silver hair he once had was now

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a thin dull gray. The angel’s eyes looked up in astonishment at

the beautiful great archangel standing before him. His eyes could
barely open to see Mikael fully from the light flowing freely out
of his being, but he knew without a doubt that it was him. Hope
began to flicker in the imprisoned angel’s eyes, but soon that
hope began to entangle with fear.
In Azazyel’s mind, there were two options about to happen
to him. One would be that his torture for his actions would be
reevaluated at the judgment and he could be sentenced to spend
an eternity in constant torment; or two, that Jehovah would show
him mercy and release him from his long suffering by either death
or freedom. The judgment of Jehovah would determine one of
these two options; and he hoped dearly at a chance of pardon
from an eternity of torture or at least for a split second of mercy
out of his torturous chains before the Almighty’s throne.
Mikael looked at the shaking angel who could not stand on
his own legs but hung helplessly by his arms from the cage. He
waved his hand in front of the cell, and the flamed bars that
formed the cage evaporated into sand and joined the wind.
Azazyel fell helplessly to the floor as if he had fallen to his death.
Mikael walked into the cage as a table of purple stone made from
amethyst appeared between the two of them, along with two
emerald chairs for sitting. He lent no helping hand to Azazyel as
he slid his own chair away from the table and sat down. He held
up his hand, and four walls formed all around them, blocking the
treacherous sandstorm outside.
With a commanding voice, Mikael said, “Sit, Azazyel,” and
Azazyel felt a sudden rush of power run through his bones, and
they immediately obeyed the command of Mikael, disregarding
the lack of strength that was within them. Awkwardly, he picked
himself up from the floor and onto the emerald chair, facing
Mikael ahead.
His eyes cringed at the glory and light that protruded from
Mikael’s being, but the feeling was a joyous emotion like living
water flushing onto his bones. He sat before Mikael weak and

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puzzled but relieved that he was no longer hanging in his chains

for the moment. He massaged his wrists gently where the decay-
ing flesh rested upon his bones from the heavy braces he had
endured for so long. Mikael stared at the angel for quite some-
time, thinking, waiting, and preparing in his mind the questions
for the conversation they were about to have. Azazyel slouched
in his chair, frail and fragile, with one pale, bony hand resting on
the table and the other withered in his lap.
“I have not come here to take you to the judgment, Azazyel,
for I know that is what you are thinking,” Mikael said as he began
the conversation.
Azazyel’s head hung a little lower; and if he had had the
energy to cry, he would have.
“I have come to you because I have some questions I would
like you to answer for me.”
Azazyel didn’t move; he just sat in his chair, buried in confu-
sion. What answers could he have for Mikael, why would he not
just ask Jehovah, and how would he tell him when he had been
refused the gift of speech?
“Since I have little time, I will get straight to the point,”
Mikael said as he leaned forward, face-to-face with Azazyel. “I
need to know if you can recall in the time when you and the oth-
ers created the Nephilim and Grigori. Did all of those creatures
always have a pair of wings or no wings at all?” Mikael asked as
he gazed into Azazyel’s mind, trying to sift out the knowledge
for himself without having to hear Azazyel’s voice. Azazyel was
so weak and full of confusion that no answers surfaced to his
mind. He had worked hard at forgetting the evil he had encour-
aged and did not wish to think back to such troublesome times.
Then, as if Mikael had beckoned those secret memories out of
him, Azazyel began to fill with remembrance.
He recalled the beauty of the women and the love he had for
them. He remembered the teachings he bestowed upon them of
art, cosmetics, jewelry, and dyes. He thought of the ways he had
made them more beautiful than their natural creation and given

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them talents and skills forbidden to humans. Then he thought

of his children, the Nephilim, and the wonder of those children
and the smiles that they bore, the happiness they brought, and
the love he had for them; but then he felt sickness in his soul as
he remembered the giants and monsters that the children had
become. They were cannibalistic creatures that fed upon the flesh
of man and devoured every living thing. The screams of his wives
as they were ripped apart by his own monstrous children rang in
his ears and a flood of water slipped over his mind in remem-
brance of the death sentence given to all of his descendants.
Mikael searched through Azazyel’s thoughts and memories,
reading them all; but they were vague and clouded with love and
hate. So, in a rush for time, he said, “Speak, Azazyel, if you must,
and give me the knowledge that I have requested of you.”
In that moment, Azazyel felt life in his vocal chords again
and could feel the breath of speech coming to his lips. He opened
his mouth, and words came out as pure and simple as he had
ever remembered them. “I—I—I do not understand your ques-
tion very well, Mikael, or its purpose,” Azazyel said as he became
momentarily fascinated with his own voice.
“It is not necessary for you to understand the question in
order to answer it, Azazyel!” Mikael said with fierce recoil. “Nor
should you need to know its purpose!”
Azazyel appeared broken before Mikael as if his words had
shattered his very bones, and he fell silent in his chair. Mikael
looked at the poor, helpless creature, and sympathy and pity filled
his heart.
“Azazyel, listen,” Mikael said calmly. “I need to know if any
of the children of any of your Watchers—not just your own, but
any of them—Nephilim or Grigori, were ever born with a single
feather on their back. Do you think you can remember that?”
Azazyel’s face poured out uncertainty, but at least to this
question he felt that he knew the answer. He searched deep into
his memory, recalling the children from all the different species
that the Watchers had bore. There were minotaurs, centaurs,

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satyrs, fawns, sphinxes, mermen, and so many others. Then he

thought of a single feather. That was unheard of. Nothing in his
memory of those days had just one feather. Why would they?
Then his mind began to think upon the judgment again and
what his sentence might be. To be released from those chains was
such a blessing that he wished to never be locked to them again.
Then he looked up at Mikael with what would have been
tears of desperation in his eyes. “Will you, Mikael, speak to Him
on the day of judgment on my behalf if I answer this question for
you and tell Him that I helped you?”
Mikael looked at the pitiful angel, and compassion fell upon
him again.
“I will speak to Jehovah and tell Him of your assistance to me
in this matter of importance, but what Jehovah judges to be your
destiny is always judged rightly, and my council does little to per-
suade Him.” Then he touched Azazyel’s pale, fleshless hand.
Azazyel felt the light from within Mikael pour into his flesh
and flow through his body. Mikael felt the light leave from within
his hand, and he pulled it back slowly. “Now, the answer, Azazyel.
What do you remember?”
Azazyel looked at him with dark gray eyes and said, “No,
Mikael. There was never a child born with a single feather from
my knowledge of any race of Grigori or Nephilim, but why is
this of such great importance that you would come to me for
answers?”
That was the last word that came from Azazyel’s mouth as he
felt the life within his voice leave him again.
“I do not have the time to answer your question, old friend,”
Mikael said with a smile on his face. “Thank you for your coop-
eration. I shall leave you in a little less agony than what you have
bore for so many years.”
Mikael stood up from his chair, the walls of the cage col-
lapsed, and he stepped a few feet back off of the floor of the cage
into the sandstorm. He watched as the cage reformed around
Azazyel; but this time, he was not in chains. Mikael quickly dis-

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appeared in the sands of the wind as Azazyel watched his light

fade quickly through the storm. He sat at the amethyst table
in an emerald chair, so relieved not to be left hanging from his
chains but looking sorrowfully at the bars that confined him to
his cell. Moments later, he looked high in the sky and saw a sight
he had not seen for ages. Mikael stood upon his chariot as the
four brothers and the thrones quickly tore through the sky; but
before they were out of sight, Azazyel thought he saw Mikael
take one last look at him in his cage; and it brought half a smile
to his face.

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 The Morning Star

Words from Wisdom:

The Fallen Angels
and the Nephilim
Dear Reader,
Here is the story of the Nephilim, the sons of the Watchers and
of all the fallen angels. The Nephilim were an evil creation born
from the sin of angels into the sin of women. No light proceeded
from these creatures, no love dwelt within their hearts, and they
were born without souls into darkness. The nature of the Nephilim
was evil at birth, for they were born from the sin of an angel.
During their short period of time upon the Earth, they destroyed
all that was innocent and pure. They fed upon the children of
men, upon the women who bore them, and against all that lived
and breathed. Through their corruption, they destroyed multiple
cities and burned many monuments created by Jehovah for the
earth. Nothing good can be said of the race of the Nephilim; and
after their physical death, their true nature was revealed, which
is known as the demonic presence, the remaining spirit of the
Nephilim. Once a Nephilim died, his spirit lived on due to his
angelic heritage and these spirits were referred to as demons.
Many people of earthly times believed that the fallen angels
of Zion had become demons as they fell with Lucifer on the day
of the casting out, but this is far from true. Though demons and
fallen angels have many similarities, they do have their differ-
ences. The fallen angels lost their light and fell from holiness
because of the choices they made. The Nephilim, or demons, as
they are now known, were born into evil never having a choice
to be anything different and never possessing light within their
being. The fallen angels became angels of darkness who com-
mitted atrocious acts against Jehovah in the realm of the physi-
cal and of the spiritual when they were cast to the Earth, but
demons developed a very different and far more effective form of

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 The Fall of Zion

evil and possessed men rather than lashing out against Jehovah
as the fallen angels did.
Fallen angels, though crafty themselves, did not possess the
power for true spiritual takeover of the human spirit. A demon,
on the other hand, due to its human and angelic descent, was
endowed with the ability to take over a spirit, possess them,
and give them powers beyond true human ability. Humans who
allowed these demons into their spirits and minds believed that
they had control and were in control of their own destiny. Sadly,
many fell to the powers of these demons as they fed upon their
souls from inside their spirits.
When the Watchers were called forth to answer for their
crimes against Jehovah, one of their punishments was the
destruction of their lineage. At this time, in the years of Noah, or
Deucalion in the angelic translation, not only were the Nephilim
full of evil, but the whole world had become evil as well, flee-
ing from their created purpose to worship Jehovah in all that
they did. None except Deucalion worshiped the one true God,
Jehovah; and the world of men had fallen into Lucifer’s grasp. So
Jehovah decided to destroy the world with a flood of the oceans
and the destruction of the firmament, flooding the world and
killing all beasts, men, and the physical lives of the Nephilim.
The only survivors of this flood were two of every kind of beast,
Deucalion and his family, and the Grigori
Most of the Grigori, the other offspring of the Watchers,
did have a choice at birth between good and evil, for most beasts
did not have a sinful nature as men did; and during that time
period, they chose the path of righteousness. But for many, their
fall was not far behind. Now the Nephilim, unlike beast or men,
had angelic traits within their spirit and were not locked within
Abraham’s bosom, for they possessed powers too great for that
plain on the spiritual realm. Their spirits roamed about the Earth,
and they took the transformations of what is known as the first
demons.
Once the flood had destroyed all the Nephilim, Jehovah,

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 The Morning Star

in His infinite wisdom, had decided to—knowing that women

were weak to angelic seduction and knowing that the fallen
angels would once again attempt to mate with the daughters of
man—place within every woman the inability to birth anything
not of human descent. The Nephilim, which had become fero-
cious demons, prowled across the lands of the earth, seeking to
destroy men all the way up to the days of Armageddon, pos-
sessing, torturing, and deceiving their race. They immediately
formed a great allegiance with Lucifer, who, being the supreme
being of darkness, wielded the demons to do his ultimate will of
destroying the lives of men. Lucifer used his demons whenever
the opportunity presented itself; but their numbers were far less
than those of the fallen angels, who would take the tasks that the
demons could not.
A demon’s job in those days was simple: attach yourself to a
human, and do not let go until you have destroyed their spirit.
This went on until the time of Armageddon, when the armies
of Lucifer met against Immanuel and the White Army. On that
day, the Nephilim were cast into hell to be tormented with all the
fallen angels for a thousand years, as it was prophesied.
Wisdom

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 The Black Coliseum

His black eyes shifted amongst the fire and shadows as the gath-
ering of all of his minions took place. In the center of the black
coliseum, he stood, more magnificent than they had ever remem-
bered him, in his stunning, malevolent glory. One by one, they
took their seats upon the tarred walls of the massive structure laid
deep within the heart of hell that was known as Satan’s court.
The kings of hell lined the lower circles of the coliseum with
their flaming torches lit beside them. Eight kings sat with hid-
eous crowns adorned above their heads in a display of putrid
colors the like of blood and mud. Above the lowest circle, behind
the kings, were the mighty princes of hell, who sat royally dis-
gusted by their kings before them. The princes were smaller in
stature than their mighty kings, but they were all the more sinis-
ter in their disposition and mystique. Many times, they had plot-
ted against their kings with a desire to kill them and take over
their crowns; but they were always unsuccessful in their attempts
at assassinations. The eight kings were too wise and too ancient
to be spoiled by the bloodthirsty princes, and they sat uncon-
cernedly with their heads held high.
The next circles behind the princes were full of the presidents,
earls, marquis, and dukes of hell, who sat in the darkest shadows
of the coliseum. They were a ragged assortment of fallen angels
with scars from ages past and new tortuous markings across their
bodies from the last thousand years. In their hearts, they desired

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 The Morning Star

murder at all times; and they never rested, save the night of a full
moon. The remaining massive bowl of evil was occupied by the
seventy-two demons who had once been enslaved by Solomon,
the high demons (former Nephilim), the archons, the demons of
Mastemoth, the daimones, the black angels, fallen angels, and
many familiars. In the shadows of the center of the coliseum sat
two figures amongst three thrones—one on the left and one on
the right—and they sat in silence, watching and waiting.
Silently, more and more figures and beings gathered from
separate entrances across the darkness of the halls leading out
into hell. None were speaking as the disfigurements and injuries
of a thousand years of torture ached upon their bodies. Many
of these demons were scarred beyond recognition or repair; and
the hopes of vengeance and massacre were discouraged in their
minds, as most of their limbs no longer were visible or even
worked properly. But some of the demons and fallen angels
brewed with hatred in their hearts toward the ancient serpent
and lusted for his execution. Others that sat within the dome
feared the next torture they believed was inevitable to come, and
they were repulsed by the very presence of Satan’s being before
them. The emotional battle that was forming within the heart of
the coliseum was like a heavy fog seeping in the pores of every
evil creature present.
Satan stood silent, watching the eyes of every fallen angel,
demon, and creature within his realm. He read the thoughts
of each one, knowing the secret threats of their hearts, know-
ing the disbelief that he had been released from his cell, and
knowing more than anything their disappointment at his loss of
Armageddon. The fact that the centuries of lies and preparations
to destroy the Almighty and His kingdom had failed and cost
them a thousand years of torture had obviously caused an intense
amount of animosity amongst his followers, and they were ripe
with vengeance; but Satan did not waiver. He continued to stare
at them all in deep concentration as more and more gathered in
their old places of preference as if an ancient meeting of earthly

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times had been arranged. The last to be seated was Baal, the first
fallen angel after Satan to be cast out of Zion; and he sat directly
before the old serpent as silence swirled within the air.
One by one, more torched lights of black flame shot through
the coliseum, filling the darkness with an eerie, scarlet light
as cries of pain shot through the crowd of demons. The hor-
rible scars, the bleeding gashes, the missing body parts, and the
scalded faces were illuminated for all to see. Balberith, a grand
pontiff of hell, stood to his feet and spoke with a hoarse and
threatening voice.
“Here we sit before you, our great and powerful Satan,
burned and tortured from your misguidance and pride. And now
our affliction has come to a pause. For what? You stand before
us, unscathed and flawless, as if nothing has befallen you in this
eternal persecution that we have endured for so long, and what
will you ask of us now? We sit here before you, an amusement
to your eyes but a waste of spirit and flesh. So why have you
called us here at this time? To judge us yourself or hand us over
to Him?”
An eruption of voices and screams plummeted through the
room like a pack of wild creatures that had been unleashed upon
their prey, and the clamor was so loud that even the damned
shuddered in their shackles within hell’s gates.
Satan stared at Balberith with the jet black eyes of malice and
hate that only a person marked for death would ever see. This
sent the grand pontiff falling back into his seat with a smash as
silence swept through the crowd.
“In all of your reasoning and bitterness, Balberith, I can see
where such lies may have entered your mind, and all of you as
well,” Satan began to say as he pointed one finger at the stadium,
sending fear over everyone, “all of you who were too weak to
speak your mind, all of you who share the same theories and
questions as poor Balberith here.” Satan pointed his long, black
fingernail at Balberith and he burst into flames.
The screams were terrifying, and the other dukes sitting

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beside him jumped as the flames licked their bodies. Satan

dropped his finger into a fist, and the flames stopped. Balberith
lay dead or unconscious upon the black stone as everyone looked
to Satan, waiting for more of his wrath to come.
“But your incompetence and lack of poise shall be forgiven
this one time, Balberith.” He said, ignoring the motionless body
as he instructed the others. “For all of you see me as I am now
because of the oracle spoken so long ago that each of you has so
easily forgotten. Did your lack of faith in your lord bring you to
reasoning that you could approach me in such a manner as this,
you putrid swine? All of you sit here before me with contem-
plations of my death and a hunger for my blood to justify your
measly torturing. None of you have suffered as I have suffered in
the pit!”
Black flames shot all across Satan’s body, and the kings before
him quivered in fear.
“I endured a lake of melting oil mixed with the blood of all
those I have killed. They constantly tormented me like a sea of
piranhas upon a fattened cow, never satisfied. They ate away my
flesh and gnawed at my bones until they began to tear and shred
the very lining of my being from within me. In an enormous
pain, the likes of which none of you will ever feel or know, I
endured my crucifixion, and for what? My faithful followers who
would stand before me now and question the acts of sacrifice I
submitted for them?”
All the beings in the lower circles were bent low to their
seats, trying to dodge the black flames that now raced, out of
Lucifer’s body. A frightening awe shot over the coliseum for no
one had ever seen a power like this emanating from the ancient
serpent.
“I stand before you now not to point fingers at the lack of abil-
ity of my kings and presidents, my dukes and earls, my demons
and archons, but to tell you that my time has now arisen from the
spoils of the pit for the victory of the serpent has come nigh.”
Silence continued in the coliseum as no creature breathed or

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moved under the eyes of the supreme being of darkness illuminat-

ing his power before them in all its malice. His veins rippled with
power radiating from his being like a dark sun with black rays as
a milky hand stroked a long, black beard. “A thousand years we
have spent in this persecuting tomb, and you have endured more
pain and suffering than any race that has ever been created. But
no longer will this continue under my power.”
Some of the familiars in the highest levels of the coliseum
cheered but quickly fell silent as their yells echoed across the
arena. No eye left Satan. Every elegant movement he made held
them in awe, and every word he spoke made them cringe. The
new implausible power he exhorted was beginning to excite them
as they awaited his plans to unfold.
“The oracle spoken by the prophet long ago in the time of
the one we despise clearly predicted the times we have endured.
There before that cursed cross on the plains of the desert, before
the hill of Golgotha, our days of suffering were foretold. But our
days of victory are soon to come. Many of you here that sit before
me were present that very hour, and you have lost the sight and
faith in your savior, your god.”
Many began to swivel and twitch in their seats in fear of their
lapse of memory and all the more punishment it would bring.
“Did he not say,” Satan pointed in the shadows at one of the
beings sitting on one of the three thrones, “that when the hand
draweth nigh and looketh upon the deeps, and the binds of He
who is the most detestable and revolting lays His hands upon
your lord, shall I not then sacrifice myself for you for a time in
ultimate suffering like no other, until that day when I shall con-
quer the cage and be released to take over the nations once more,
and all who dare defy me shall see death as a flame and a snake
ready to strike at the necks of those who deny me their mas-
ter.” Satan’s eyes blazed with fury as his words struck the beings
before him with terror and wonder.
“Now I am greater than any who have lived, and the author-
ity to do all things rests within my palms. Who here will con-

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tinue to defy what was written in the dark, and who here wishes
to test my powers? Come forth now, all of you consumed with
retribution toward me, and release the hate within your hearts.
For I will strike each of you to the ground and show you the fire
that dwells within my veins, and then you will know the wrath of
your god.” Satan burst into a mighty flame at that moment blaz-
ing red with fury and malice.
“I will take each of your rotting corpses as they lay smitten
by my hand, and I shall form a new army from the ash of your
bones, and they will rise to take your place in my new regime,
and together we will destroy the heavens with my valor and my
hands. Let now the words stream forth against me, and I will
answer them with a flaming fist and a heart of wrath that no
creature in hell or Zion has ever known. Now you will remember
that I am the great Morning Star of the ancient days, who all
have feared and suffered by, and I will burn the fields of glory
and destroy the nations of righteousness, for I have spoken to the
future, and my prophecies will be fulfilled.”
Repulsive screams filled the arena in a united assembly of
believers coerced by the persuasive speech from the prince of
darkness. Satan raised his flaming body from the ground with his
enormous wings of black and crimson feathers hovering in the
center of the black coliseum, overlooking his servants with rage.
Orange and black flames shot through his spirit into the crowd
like an ocean of fire vibrating with intense pressure.
The screams were horrific as those who had been gathered
together burned with a new dark magic never cast before upon
their bodies. The face of Satan was like a dragon in full flight,
burning every inch of the coliseum with wrath and hatred. The
creatures of darkness could not move from their stance as the
blanket of fire scorched over their bodies, melting away their
afflictions, injuries, and ailments of the centuries.
Then Satan, in a mighty stretch of his wings, ceased the fire
from within his bones; and the sea of flames ended their current
across the bowl. The coliseum shimmered as the tarred, stained

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stone appeared as newly blown glass, purified by the dark fire.

The walls were as refined as jet and onyx as the seats became
freshly polished uraninite. The inflictions upon the skins of the
unholy creatures of the coliseum were healed by the fire of Satan’s
power, and each one of them felt wholly renewed. The creatures
looked around at one another in awe; and one by one, they began
to kneel before their lord of darkness across the coliseum, say-
ing small prayers and praises to his name. Satan hung in midair,
flushed from his rush of power, and raised his arms, receiving the
praises of his creatures. Then he began to speak with a hiss, ral-
lying their minds together for what was to come.
“There is much to accomplish in the upcoming hours. You
will all see the promises I have made to you fulfilled, with tenfold
put upon your plate for the torment we endured. The time has
come for you all to claim what has been rightfully yours since
the beginning of time, and we shall kill all those who oppose us
in this new war. Take up your new bodies, and exalt in your new
powers, for from my hands they were given, and they were given
to you to destroy. So together, let us eradicate those who enslaved
us. Let us mutilate those who have tortured us. Let us rip the
hearts from the angels on high and annihilate the world of men
of this time as we drink of the blood of our iniquities and rejoice
in our glorious tragedies, taking out our revenge upon all those
who live by conquering the land of Zion!”
The sound of the roars from Satan’s court shook the very
foundations of the oceans of Eterni, and the land began to shift
and crack at its basin. The rocks in the sea were lifted from the
land as the ocean floor began to break away; and slowly, a black
fortress began to emerge from the depths of the sea, stretching
its evil talons toward an unsuspecting world.

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 One More Question

Apollyon felt as though the luminaries of Zion were spinning out

of control, causing time to literally vanish into thin air. Anxiety
was building in his chest from the stress of the upcoming war,
but it was the fear that he may not successfully accomplish the
task given to him by the evil serpent keeping his spirit on edge.
Strategizing a plan to steal Gabrielle’s trumpet was the most dif-
ficult assignment he had ever been given; and he knew that if he
was to fail, the punishment from the serpent would be severe and
the high position he had hoped to achieve in the new govern-
ment over Eterni would be given to one of Satan’s presidents or
kings.
As panic and haste coursed through Apollyon’s veins, he sat
down with Gamaliel, attempting to put the finishing touches on
his schemes. Gamaliel sat in an onyx chair across the table from
Apollyon, battling with a very different set of emotions as he
vaguely listened to the plans for their war.
To Gamaliel, time was moving so slow that he felt like his
insides would explode from the secrets burning inside him, alive
and ready to come out. He knew what was to come. He knew
the suffering that would take place at the hand of Satan. And
in his mind and heart, he was battling with justice and coward-
ice. He had been standing in the shadows, watching Apollyon
work harder than ever before to maneuver his pawns all around
the kingdom, organizing his troops for their defiant battle. Each

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heaven held foes lurking amongst friends, ready to enslave or

even kill their fellow brethren at the beginning of this mutinous
war.
How could time be moving this slow? Gamaliel thought as he
wrapped his fingers on the table. It’s as if Zion wants Apollyon to
be successful in his intentions. Apollyon looked up from his map on
the table and gave Gamaliel a gaze that said clearly, “Stop tap-
ping or die.”
Gamaliel looked away from him and stared at his reflection
on the onyx table. At one point, he had been completely con-
vinced that freeing the ancient serpent was the only way to win
a revolution in Zion against Mikael and his great archangels,
who Gamaliel loathed more than any; but that was before he had
stood in the presence of Satan with no veil of the Creator’s light
between them. In the presence of Satan, the memories of what
men had become and done through the guidance of his wicked
hands rushed back to his mind like a lost feather he had once
known so well. Humans had been manipulated, tortured, and
crucified all in the name of sin; and that sin was to hit Zion in an
inevitable poisonous tide. Every second that passed tormented
his mind a little more as the last ounces of loyalty and integrity
within his being pulled desperately at his spirit.
There he sat at a table made of the blackest onyx in the realm
preparing for a war to take over all living creatures, with Apollyon
before him. What could possibly be done now to escape such a
calamity? Should he warn Mikael, let him know of their plot? No,
he thought. It is too late for that. The Creator is gone with a third of
the angels to a place that only Mikael most likely knows ; Gabrielle is
sick somewhere in the heavens, unable to help in this upcoming war;
and quietly, under the nose of all those who are still committed to His
Holiness, a mutiny of angels have united against the heavens. Not
even if there was time to warn Mikael could he conceivably pre-
pare to secure Zion from this perfectly plotted attack.
Though Mikael had many weapons and powers that were
matched by few and dangerous to unleash, he could have no idea

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that so many had turned their back on their allegiance to the

throne. This fact, combined with the minions of hell preparing
even now to attack the heavens, ensured a nearly flawless victory
for Apollyon and Satan. In Gamaliel’s mind, there was noth-
ing now that could stop either of them from winning this revolt
against Zion.
And why should I do anything? a voice inside him sounded
suddenly as he sat up straight in his chair, ignoring the voice of
Apollyon in the background. He had already made his decision
long before he had left the silver shores in search for the abyss,
even before the last ten centuries under Mikael’s rule, which he
detested. No. He had made his choice that day on the edge of
a new creation, when angels were given nothing for their com-
mitted servitude during Earth’s time. He and his brethren had
spent an entire planet’s age watching over the race of humans.
For what? They get an entire new planet while the angels are stuck
with the same old thing. Not to mention how pitiful and pathetic
the humans were compared to angels, but so wonderful in the
eyes of the Creator. Gamaliel felt a sick feeling come over him at
these thoughts of the Creator and his favoritism.
There, in the final triumph over Satan and the cleansing of
the old world, He had His opportunity to place life as it right-
fully should be, with angels assorted as kings and queens over
the lower races of creation; but He did not. All of life was placed
together in one world, as equals; and this thought disgusted
Gamaliel as he realized how all races were viewed in the sight
of the Almighty. He ignores the perfection and consistency that is
demanded by the angelic races, which they have achieved for millen-
nia. And He groups them together with the weakness of men. This is
the most ludicrous and unjust act the Creator has ever done. Men had
betrayed Him, yet He decided to treat us all as equals.
The thoughts entered Gamaliel’s mind and burned like fire
in his heart. His fists clenched together on the onyx table as he
said to himself, Our slave lives of perfection for Him meant nothing.
All of these races were full of sin, shame, and resentment, and yet the

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only race that stayed true and pure was given nothing more than an
old, dirty kingdom to wander around in themselves, oblivious to the
living world. Anger boiled in his skin, and his heart hurt with an
unfamiliar pain. All other races fell short of His great intentions, yet
He demanded constant perfection out of our race and refused grace to
our kind even if we made a mistake—all because His grace had been
emptied upon those lesser races, those humans, leaving nothing for us
but a punishment of death. Then, as if a candle had been blown out
by the wind, what goodness was left in Gamaliel’s heart faded,
and darkness replaced it there.
I have no intentions of continuing to be a slave to His will like
I have always been, living in fear of a mistake and sharing a world
with those of lesser abilities. And then, deep down within his heart,
he made his final decision of where his loyalty lay. I will no lon-
ger stand by and allow these other races equality with angels. I will
take matters into my own hands and become much more than I have
ever believed possible. The craving for power, status, and dominion
fell over him like a fleece; and a smile so evil grew over his face
that his cheeks hurt from the awkward position they were in. He
laughed inside with reassurance of his position in this upcom-
ing war, and he knew now that he would do whatever it took to
ensure that his deepest desires were fulfilled. Soon, I will enjoy the
fruits of my labor with a crown on my head in the new regime des-
tined to take over the land of Zion and then the lands of Eterni.
“I will need you to position yourself here, Gamaliel,” Apollyon
said for the second time as Gamaliel drifted back to the conver-
sation at hand.
He looked over at Apollyon, who had a map of the seven
heavens laid out before him. “I know. We have been through this
a thousand times. I will be there!”
“Good,” Apollyon said, shocked but pleased with Gamaliel’s
enthusiastic reaction. His full-proof plan was coming together
easier than he had thought as he leaned back in his onyx chair
and glanced at the ceiling. It was only then that he noticed the
branches of the apple and willow trees that had been tied to the

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roof along the walls. “What is this all about?” Apollyon asked in
curiosity.
“What? Oh, that,” Gamaliel said with a little blush rising on
his cheeks. “Well, the trees were kind of attacking us as we were
trying to search Gabrielle’s chamber, so we had to do something,
didn’t we?”
Apollyon laughed a hearty laugh, and Gamaliel sunk in his
chair.
“You wouldn’t think it was funny if you had of been here. I
think as the inestra wears off, the environment becomes more
aware of us.” Gamaliel put a finger to his chin at this thought and
then finished. “Anyways, I swore if one more apple hit me in the
head I would rip that tree out of this room and burn it.”
Just then, the trees in every direction moved violently within
the chamber; but because of the ties around their branches, they
did very little damage. Apollyon looked around and smiled with
pride that his incompetent Gamaliel had finally done something
smart.
“Well, now that you have taken care of the tree problem all
that is left is to actually find Gabrielle’s trumpet and seize it for
ourselves, guaranteeing our victory.”
Gamaliel nodded his head eagerly at Apollyon’s words; but
still, doubts plagued his mind. Apollyon grinned at the sudden
change that had come over Gamaliel so unexpectedly. It must be
from my well-organized plan of success no doubt, Apollyon said to
himself.
“We shall sit in the throne room tomorrow, my brother, and
begin our plans of war upon Eterni, where we shall rule as kings
over all,” Apollyon said with delight.
Gamaliel smiled a wide smile, but then it quickly faded. “Yes,
but we still have no idea where it is, Apollyon. Me and Sariel have
searched all the areas of the heavens that Mikael could have pos-
sibly placed it in, and it is nowhere to be found, so where—?”
Gamaliel was interrupted as Gabrielle’s opal doors opened
unexpectedly. He lost his balance quickly on the chair and col-

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lapsed to the floor with a crash. Sariel stood there, pale as ivory
and trembling.
“What is it, Sariel?” Apollyon asked as Gamaliel lifted him-
self up off the floor.
Sariel didn’t say anything but continued to stare at Apollyon
as if he were in shock. Gamaliel glanced over at Apollyon, who
looked just as puzzled as he did.
“Sariel, sit down, and drink some of this,” Apollyon said as
he passed him a full glass of plenair wine.
Sariel sat down and drank the entire glass.
“Better?” Gamaliel asked, now getting worried. “It must be
about Gabrielle’s trumpet, isn’t it?”
Sariel shook his head no, and Gamaliel’s smile faltered.
“Well, what is it, Sariel? Quit holding us in suspense!”
Apollyon demanded.
What seemed like words tried to come out of Sariel’s mouth,
but they could not understand him. “Speak clearer!” Apollyon
demanded, losing his patience quickly.
“M—M—Mikael.” The word stuttered from the angel’s lips
in a pathetic whimper.
“What about Mikael?” Apollyon said as he refilled the glass
for Sariel.
“He wants to see you, Apollyon. Immediately,” Sariel said as
he downed the next glass of wine easily.
Gamaliel looked quickly at Apollyon, who was pour-
ing another glass of wine already. “Do you know why?” asked
Gamaliel.
“No, I don’t”—he shivered as if he had a feverish cold—“but
he seemed angry, so you had better head there quickly and watch
everything you say and think and your body language and—”
“I will be fine.” Apollyon said as he took a big drink of the
plenair right from the bottle and sat it on the table. “The two of
you stay here until I return, and tell no one about what is going
on or you will cause a panic,” Apollyon demanded as the others
nodded their heads in agreement.

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He walked out of the door, and Gamaliel and Sariel both

looked at each other in horror.
“You don’t think he knows anything, do you, Sariel?” Gamaliel
asked, fumbling for his glass.
“I have no idea, but he didn’t sound like it was going to be a
pleasant meeting. I could just be reading into things, but I doubt
it.”

Apollyon began to gather his thoughts as he made his way

through the first level of Shamain. Mikael’s chambers were some
distance away, but he wanted to get this done and over with as
soon as possible. He took flight immediately, gliding through the
air and over the luminary houses, out of the silver jubilee, and
into the Garden of Eden. Shamain was a diagonal stretch across
the garden and over the hill of Golgotha, which would take a
fair amount of time, so he flew as fast as his wings would take
him in a southwestern direction. Normally, the garden was very
active, with hundreds of species of birds and other animalia; but
the garden appeared to be lifeless today. Not one bird flew up
to him to say hello; and the trees were as still as stone, with no
sway in the breeze to greet him. He crossed over Golgotha; and
the ophanim angels stood as still as the trees they were guard-
ing, barely acknowledging Apollyon passing but watching him
fervently. Apollyon overlooked all of these strange occurrences
during his flight and was glad to be landing upon the blue grass
before the golden jubilee of Machonon.
He looked around the jubilee at a sight he had never seen
before. The golden roses appeared dead along the wall, the but-
terflies were all grouped together as far away from him as pos-
sible, and there were no golden clouds in the atmosphere. This
was not the strangest thing that had happened to him in the last
two days, but it was in the top five. Everything in the heavens
seemed to be able to see right through the inestra; but they did

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not attack, which was a semi-comforting thought. He was sure

that the potion must be wearing off of him, and he was glad that
he had brought the little phial with him. Even though the envi-
ronment of Zion had not attacked them, he and Gamaliel had
still had to spend as much time as possible behind closed doors,
in Gabrielle’s chambers, summoning people to them to discuss
their plans of the upcoming war to save what little inestra they
had.
He made his way in, cautiously looking for anything out of
place or order. Ahead of him were two golden doors in the shape
of the planet Mercury floating upon the air. He paused for a
moment and reached into a garnet pocket within his robe. There,
his hand wrapped around a small black phial; and he pulled it
out quickly. The last of the inestra shone like a little star within
his palm, and he drank the liquid quickly in hopes of being able
to make it through this meeting without suspicion. The liquid
instantly sweetened his mouth and rushed through his skin like
boiling lava. He could see plainly with his own eyes the chemical
changing his complexion from a dull, milky white to a radiant,
glowing light. Then, as the chemical always did, Apollyon felt
the sickness burn within his stomach; and he paused to catch his
breath. Slowly, he placed the phial back within his robes as he
walked toward Mikael’s chamber. The doors were already open,
awaiting Apollyon’s presence; and he crossed the threshold with
a fearless look upon his face.
“Apollyon, it is good to see you, my old friend. Please. Please
come in and sit down,” Mikael said as he poured some helin wine
sparkling from a flask into two goblets set before him.
Apollyon walked into the room, wanting to survey every
inch of the chamber; but his eyes were fixed on an odd flask in
Mikael’s hand. He had never seen such a flask in Zion before.
Even though there was no odor coming from it, Apollyon knew
immediately that it was made of a sulfuric substance. Only sulfur
had that sunshine yellow glow after it had been melted down and
polished. Could this be a trick? Does Mikael actually know some-

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thing? Apollyon thought to himself as he felt paranoia begin to

settle within his stomach.
He took a seat across the table from Mikael and gazed upon
him as if he had never seen him before. Mikael’s crown of auster
sparkled with a stunning golden light, and his amazing wings of
ivory and gold shone magnificently below his perfectly placed
golden hair. The sounds of violins that always put a relaxing
ease to the atmosphere in his chambers seemed eerie. Even the
almond and olive trees were bent in strange positions, facing
Apollyon as if they were ready to toss a nut or pop him with a
branch at any given time; but the worst feeling so far was the
fact that the round table they sat at was not nearly far enough
away from Mikael’s gaze for Apollyon’s liking. Mikael’s eyes were
obviously searching through Apollyon’s conscious as he sipped
the wine from his glass, and Apollyon gave up no inclination of
betrayal.
“That is an interesting flask, Mikael,” Apollyon said with
mountains of courage running its course through his veins.
“Yes, it is,” Mikael replied as he looked over the flask, hold-
ing its yellow wings in his hands.
“Where did you come across such a thing?” he asked with his
palms sweating intensely.
“After Armageddon, when I bound Lucifer to the pit, I took
some sulfur from the abyss to remind me of all that had been
accomplished in that time and to give me inspiration for the
future.” Mikael appeared to be recalling his past victory over the
old serpent, turning his sight inward as he relived the past.
Apollyon was strangely appalled by these words but took the
opportunity to take a quick glance around the room. When he
did, he noticed something very peculiar. A large ambonis from
the room of divine prophecies was sitting in the back of the room,
glowing with some type of blue light.
“Do you know who made this for me?” Mikael asked, looking
up from the flask.

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Apollyon’s eyes quickly shifted back to Mikael. “No, sir. I

don’t believe I do.”
“I had Sandalphon shape this for me after the Lord left with the
others,” Mikael said as a small tear seemed too flourish in his eye.
“What an admirable way to remember your triumph over
Satan,” Apollyon suggested.
Mikael nodded his head in agreement. “Our triumph,
Apollyon. Don’t ever forget that. This was not just my victory
but the victory of all over darkness. You have just as much right
to drink from this flask and celebrate that triumph as anyone
else, as if you had tied up that dragon yourself,” Mikael said as he
passed the flask to Apollyon.
Apollyon took the flask from Mikael, gazing at its workman-
ship. The base was like a winged eagle, and inside sat a sapphire
bottle with the sweet smell of helin. “Sandalphon did this, you
say?” Apollyon questioned as he examined the flask, skipping
over Mikael’s previous comments. “That’s interesting. I did not
know he was so talented in the art of craftsmanship. How is
his brother doing, by the way? Or has there still been no word
on their agenda or whereabouts?” Apollyon pried with hopeful
intentions.
“Metatron? No. Nothing new.” Mikael sighed.
“Or old,” Apollyon added in a low whisper as Mikael placed
his glass on the table.
“But enough talk about these things. How have you been
doing, Apollyon? I feel as if we have not spoken since I gave you
those keys of Gabrielle’s,” Mikael said with a sincere smile on
his face.
Apollyon averted his eyes at the mention of the keys and
sighed with a little frustration as he tried to get another peek
around the room. “All is well. I have been spending much of my
time with our astrofers in Shamain and learning the techniques
of star making. It is quite a fascinating art to me,” Apollyon said
as he tried to see past the ambonis to the rest of the room.
“Yes. It is an art I would love to take some time to learn myself,

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should things calm down a little around here. And Gabrielle,

well … ” Mikael stopped, not wanting to go any further than that
and honestly not meaning to mention her name at all.
“Gabrielle. That’s right. She has been ill for some time now,
and still there is no answer to this mysterious illness, is there?”
Apollyon asked, hoping to get an accurate update of her health.
Mikael’s eyes shifted a little as he looked at the door.
“Has something happened? Is she okay?” Apollyon asked
with a sickening amount of interest.
“There are no true answers yet, Apollyon. Just theories and
suggestions, but the good news is she is regaining some strength
and it should only be a matter of time before she is fully recov-
ered from this, well, illness, to say the least,” Mikael said as he
reached out his hand and allowed a couple of large almonds to
drop into it from a nearby branch that had been creeping myste-
riously close to the table.
“I see,” Apollyon said in a flustered voice, giving the almond
branch a distasteful look. “And how long do you suppose it will
be before she is ready to take back her post at Shamain?”
“I do not know that exactly, but I have not called you here
today to discuss Gabrielle,” Mikael said in a sudden domineering
voice.
“Then what did you call me here for?” Apollyon asked,
smooth and confident.
Mikael raised his strong, golden eyes to Apollyon’s weaken-
ing yellow ones. “Tell me, Apollyon. Why were you missing from
the island two days ago?”
Apollyon’s eyes wandered the room as he appeared to be in
search for an answer to Mikael’s question.
“I went down to the Oethul Forest to bring back some of the
nebulae that grow there. The astrofers, they needed some for a
new batch of star they are trying to breed,” Apollyon said as he
focused his eyes on Mikael, not giving up any sense of treason or
disloyalty.

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“For the astrofers. Hmm,” Mikael said as he eased back in

his chair a bit.
“Was I supposed to let you know if I was going to be leaving
the island, Mikael? I assure you, if I had known, I would have
contacted you first before leaving. Did you need something, or
can I get something for you now?” Apollyon suggested slyly.
“No, no, no. That is all fine, Apollyon. I was just curious.
That’s all. Things around the heavens have been, well, for the
lack of a better word, changing. And I just feel as if I am losing
a grip on things. Does that make any sense? Have you felt any
difference in the realm?” Mikael asked.
Apollyon searched for the correct answer to give in this
extremely complicated question. Of course, Apollyon had all
the answers Mikael needed to know; but he wasn’t about to give
them to him. So he cunningly chose his next few words with the
sweetest touch he could muster. “You know, Mikael, you seem
extremely stressed. You have been carrying the huge weight of
the heavens on your shoulders for a thousand years now, and it is
obvious that it is taking a toll on you. You really should just take
a day off and get some much-needed rest. It would do you well,
and then things would not seem so tough if you had a little extra
energy within you.” A half-cunning smile slid across Apollyon’s
face.
“No, there is no way I could take a break. Especially not now,
after … ” Mikael looked up at Apollyon, who was nearly halfway
across the table, leaning in and hanging on every word coming
from Mikael’s mouth. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I can handle this,
Apollyon, but I do appreciate your sympathy. Now, what kind
of stars are the astrofers trying to make?” Mikael asked with
an obvious air of trying to turn this conversation in a different
direction.
“The what? I mean  …  … yeah … they … um … they are
going to call it a neostar,” Apollyon said irritably, not wanting
this conversation to change so quickly and clearly unprepared for
a question of that nature.

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Mikael reached across the table and took back his flask, pour-
ing each of them some more wine. “Fascinating things they can
do with stars now,” Mikael said as he gave Apollyon a smile.
Apollyon cringed a little inside, wishing he could do a better
job of persuading him; but at that moment, Mikael began talking
about the times that Jehovah had taken him to the outer reaches
of the universe and taught him how to throw stars. Seeing his
window of opportunity opening before his eyes, he took his best
chance at examining the chamber from his seat at the table and
began looking in every direction for Gabrielle’s trumpet. Apollyon
could clearly see on a table made of jade in the back, a set of scales
called justice that Mikael had held for the Creator since the begin-
ning of mankind. On the wall to the left were banners with lists
of titles upon them, waving in a constant breeze. The largest was
gold with silver trim that said “Chief of the Order of Virtues.”
Underneath was a silver banner with white gold trim that said
“Chief of Archangels.” Then a multicolored banner followed
underneath that, stating “Prince of the Presence.” The last four
banners said “Angel of Repentance,” “Righteousness,” “Mercy,”
and “Sanctification.” Seven banners of the seven titles of Mikael
waved their insignias proudly before him unceasingly.
As Apollyon continued to look, the room seemed to grow
deeper and deeper, full of memorabilia from tasks and orders
completed throughout history; and it was very difficult to find
what he was looking for through all the items. If only the all-see-
ing eye worked in Zion, he might have easily been able to find the
trumpet; but since it was made by Baal, the oldest fallen angel of
Satan, it did not stretch its power into heavenly halls. Apollyon’s
eyes continued the best search they could perform given the cir-
cumstances; and they fell upon a crescent purple moon levitat-
ing in the distance, which apparently had the eighty-fifth psalm
written across it. Beside that, an old, jagged dagger hung bolted
to a pearl plaque, which said “The Sacrificial Knife of Isaac.”
Apollyon’s eyes searched harder and harder for the key he needed

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to win his battle; but as Mikael’s story came to an end, he was

forced to conclude that the trumpet was not there.
“The last time I got to throw a star was when I threw
Wormwood, the poisonous star, into the Atlantic during the call of
the third trumpet,” Mikael said as he concluded his story, holding
his glass to his lips and reminiscing of those days of tribulation.
“That was a fascinating event, Mikael. I remember it well.”
“Yes, it was,” Mikael replied with a sigh. “Better to be in the
battlefield than managing the kingdom, I suppose, for those who
were made to be warriors at heart.”
Apollyon nodded his head with absolutely no comment to
say back to this remark.
“So I trust you still have Gabrielle’s keys safe in your possession?”
Mikael asked as he began to stand up to show Apollyon to the door.
Apollyon was worried that this question may come up, and
his mind wandered briefly to the place where the keys were at
this very moment; and where they were was in the hands of Satan
himself in the abyss. Apollyon shook off this thought immedi-
ately; and standing up from his chair, he patted his belt where the
keys once were and gave Mikael a nod of his head.
“Well then, that’s that. It was wonderful to see you again, old
friend,” Mikael said as he put his hand on Apollyon’s shoulder
and felt an eerie, cold chill come over him.
Apollyon noticed Mikael’s sudden change in composure and
acted quickly upon it. “You will let Gabrielle know we all wish
her the best, wont you? And why don’t you think about getting
yourself some rest? It would really do you some good,” Apollyon
said uncomfortably as he slipped out the door.
Mikael looked oddly confused. “Yes. I will think about it,
Apollyon. Thank you so much for your concern, and Gabrielle
will be so glad to hear that others are thinking of her and wishing
her the best,” Mikael said as Apollyon waved good-bye, trying
not to think about what he really wished for Gabrielle.
Then, with a flash of his wings, he rushed out of the first level
of Machonon and flew off into the garden toward Shamain.

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“It’s not there!” Apollyon said as he burst through the doors

of Gabrielle’s chamber, where Sariel and Gamaliel had been
patiently waiting.
“What are you talking about? What’s not there? What hap-
pened?” Sariel said nervously, fumbling his glass around.
“The trumpet, Gabrielle’s trumpet, it’s not in Mikael’s cham-
ber!” Apollyon said, infuriated by this new revelation.
“So what … what happened with Mikael, Apollyon? Does he
know anything? Are we all about to die? Oh, tell me we’re not
gonna die. Please not that. Not death,” Sariel pleaded, uncon-
cerned with the trumpet’s location and more concerned with his
own safety.
“If Mikael knew anything, do you think I would be here or
that two hundred ophanim would be here, escorting the two of
you to his chambers?” Apollyon asked furiously.
“Yes. That does make sense,” Sariel said, standing tall and
sounding a little more secure but still very weary. “But why would
he call you so urgently then? He nearly made my wings fall off
when I ran into him in the garden, asking where you were and
demanding to see you.”
“You could have lied, you know,” Apollyon said harshly.
“I panicked. He caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to
do,” Sariel pleaded.
“Enough, Sariel. Enough. It fell into my plans anyways, so

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stop your whining.” “What plan?” Gamaliel questioned under

Sariel’s muffled words of rebuke.
“I told Raziel to tell Mikael that he saw me leaving the island
two days ago when I went to give him back the piece of the eye,”
Apollyon said as he paced the floor in frustration, nearly knock-
ing Sariel out of his chair.
“Why in the name of all that is blessed among the holy would
you do such a thing?” Gamaliel said in a frantic voice.
“Do either one of you use your mind?” Apollyon stared at
both of them furiously. “I needed to know if Gabrielle’s trumpet
was in his chamber so we could retrieve it during the chaos of
the battle. How else would I have gotten in there without him
asking me in?” Apollyon roared, completely disgusted with the
two of them.
“That was genius,” Gamaliel said with a smile of
comprehension.
Apollyon rolled his eyes as he began pacing back and forth
again.
“Wow. It’s not in Mikael’s chamber,” Sariel said in shock. “I
would have bet my position over Shamain that it would’ve been
in there.”
Gamaliel nodded as Sariel looked more confused than ever,
slowly reaching for his glass. Apollyon snatched the glass before
Sariel could touch it.
“Are you crazy? We don’t have time to drink. We have to fig-
ure out where that trumpet is now!” Apollyon bellowed.
Sariel looked at Gamaliel with fear and irritation written
across his face.
“Well, it’s not in here. It’s not in Mikael’s chambers, and we
have searched every logical place in Zion where we thought it
could be. So where do you suggest it is, Apollyon?” Sariel asked
in an aggravated tone.
“I don’t know. If I did, I would go get it, wouldn’t I?”
Apollyon said angrily and a lot louder than Sariel. “Now think

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of all the areas Mikael would keep that trumpet in or every-

thing we have worked for will be lost!”
“What place would have been safer or more secure than
Mikael’s own chamber?” Gamaliel questioned, thinking as hard
as he could about this situation.
“You don’t think Gabrielle took it with her?” Sariel asked.
“If she did, there is no hope of finding it. No one knows where
she is.”
“The two of you have checked this chamber thoroughly?”
Apollyon asked doubtfully as he began to walk down the silver
walls, looking in every direction for some clue of where it might
be.
“Only a million times, Apollyon. It’s not in here,” Sariel said,
and Gamaliel nodded his head in agreement.
They had both spent the last day in search of the trumpet,
from Shamain to Araboth, but they could not find one trace of
where the trumpet could have been hidden. Apollyon was not
satisfied and began searching everywhere in the chamber any-
ways. Gabrielle had plenty more memorabilia than Mikael did,
which made it even more difficult to search. She was, after all,
a much more sentimental angel than Mikael would ever be; and
she had kept thousands of years of memories organized specifi-
cally throughout her chamber. As he moved a lantern aside that
held a blue flame with the names Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-
Nego circling around it, he found a white, folded cloth. He threw
it out of the way, quickly realizing it was the old swaddling cloth
of Jesus that Mary had allowed Gabrielle to have when the boy
had turned seven. He overlooked Joseph’s multi-colored robe as
he picked up Jacob’s ladder and moved it out of his way.
Meanwhile, Gamaliel and Sariel continued to think of places
that Gabrielle might have been placed.
“Would Mikael have placed her somewhere off of the island?”
Gamaliel asked, but he knew better.
“Definitely not,” Sariel said.
“But what about Pleroma?” Gamaliel suggested.

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“In Caelis, with Abraxas and Sophia?” Sariel asked, intrigued

by the suggestion.
“Maybe. Why not? Aeons are clever beings. They might have
known what’s wrong with her.”
“I doubt it. And even if they did, she would have been there
for seven years already and still no cure, so why wouldn’t they
bring her back here?” Sariel said as they tried franticly to figure
this all out.
“Okay. So let’s say they brought her back. Where else could
she be in Zion?” Gamaliel asked.
Sariel threw his head on the table in utter dismay. “This is
absolutely impossible. How are we supposed to find one specific
trumpet in the whole entire kingdom?”
“Yeah. It’s like trying to find a quill on a chalkydri,” Gamaliel
said with just as much exhaustion as Sariel.
“Okay. Let’s go through the list again,” Sariel said with a
little enthusiasm.
“Not again. What could we have possibly missed?” Gamaliel
asked sluggishly.
“We’ll never know unless we go over the list again. So first
off, Shamain,” Sariel said decisively.
“It’s definitely not in here. We checked the treasury of the
stars; the chambers of the moons, clouds, and waters; the flower
gardens of virtues, and nothing,” Gamaliel said routinely.
“Okay. What about Raquin?” Sariel asked.
“Nope. Checked the Room of Records, the Houses of
Judgment, the celestial choirs, and even the heavenly court,”
Gamaliel said as he snuck a sip from his nearby glass.
“Okay. Sagun?” Sariel continued.
While Gamaliel and Sariel persisted in their conversation
Apollyon was busy wandering through the chamber trying to
find some hidden location that might hold Gabrielle’s trumpet.
As he searched through the mountains of historical artifacts, he
pushed aside some teeth from Daniel’s Lion’s Den, skipped over

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the burial ointments and oils used for Adam, Abel, and Abraham,
and knocked over the magical stone of the Zohar.
“That’s it!” Gamaliel said as Sariel looked at him with
curiosity.
“What’s it?” Apollyon shouted angrily, sounding incredibly
similar to Satan.
“Araboth, the seventh heaven, the throne room. She must
be there,” Gamaliel shouted as Sariel looked at him doubtfully.
“Where else could she be? No one has seen her. No one knows
where she is. For seven years! How could they have hid her for
seven years, Sariel?” he said confidently as Apollyon gave the
area one final glance and began walking slowly back toward the
front.
“No one is allowed in the throne room while the Creator is
gone, Gamaliel. Not even Mikael.” Apollyon looked as if he was
going to be sick. “Do not speak that name again. I cannot bear to
hear it.” “Okay. Maybe not the throne room, but somewhere else,
somewhere like—.”
Gamaliel was interrupted as Sariel began defusing Gamaliel’s
ideas immediately.
“It’s impossible. There is nowhere else in Araboth. There’s
the throne room, JA’EL, the ark of the covenant the—the—”
Sariel stuttered off as an idea formed in his mind.
“The Guph!” Gamaliel said excitedly. “That’s the only other
thing that makes any sense, and we have all forgotten about it.”
“You think this entire time she has just been in the Guph?”
Apollyon asked with unbelief.
“It can’t be there. But if it is, it would have been just as easy
to get it from Mikael’s chambers as opposed to the Guph,” Sariel
said, now even more discouraged about their entire mission.
A pause went on for many moments at this juncture, and
they all stared with vague expressions written across their faces.
“I thought the Mahanel were the only ones with keys to the
Guph, and no one else was allowed in there at any time,” Sariel
said with discouragement.

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Apollyon shook his head in bewilderment. Then he spoke,

and the words that jumped out of his mouth stunned both
Gamaliel and Sariel. “You’re both right. The Guph would be the
perfect hiding place. It has no use and would be the only place
safe from others but still away from the throne room. And if
that’s where she is, she might as well be in Mikael’s chambers.”
Apollyon sighed as he sat down between them.
“So what are we going to do?” Sariel asked as he grabbed a
fresh bottle of plenair.
“Think,” Apollyon said. “We are going to sit here and think
until we figure out a way to get that trumpet.”
“What if we can’t get it? You must look at the facts. We don’t
really even know where it is. And if it is in the Guph, how are we
supposed to get it from there to here without mountains of sus-
picion?” Sariel asked as the sound of wine filling empty glasses
echoed through the room.
“If she really is in there, security would be enormous,”
Gamaliel said, grabbing his glass.
“We would have to get by the Merkabah who patrol Araboth
and by the rainbow people in JA’EL and somehow get a key to
get in,” Sariel added, sitting down with his glass.
“Even if we did get it, how are we going to tote Gabrielle’s
trumpet all the way down Araboth and get it back to here? It’s
not exactly small, you know,” Gamaliel said, confused by this
predicament.
“This is what will happen,” Apollyon began with a growl in
his voice. “The two of you will continue searching Zion for the
trumpet.”
Their faces turned sour at the sound of these orders.
“If we do not get that trumpet, we will have this war either
way,” Apollyon said with determination in his voice.
The other two angels looked at each other in bewilderment,
and Apollyon read those thoughts clearly off their faces.
“This war will happen with or without Gabrielle’s trumpet,

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no matter what Satan says. But we will make sure that trumpet
does not sound if Gabrielle does decide to show her face.”
“What do you mean?” Gamaliel asked, feeling a very uneasy
presence sweeping over him with every word coming from
Apollyon’s mouth.
Apollyon unfolded the map of the kingdom onto the table.
“Sariel, you will have to be here,” he said as he pointed at Shamain.
“Make sure the infantry is getting through rapidly into Raquin,
as planned.” He pointed at the second heaven on the map. “If
Raphael breaks through to Shamain, there will be plenty he has
to deal with as hell’s armies begin to penetrate the halls.”
Sariel nodded his head in compliance with his task.
Apollyon pointed at Gamaliel, who looked up at him with
a very worried expression on his face. “Gamaliel, the plans
changed,” Apollyon said as Gamaliel swallowed hard.
“I was afraid of that,” he said in a weary voice.
“If the trumpet is still not secured by us tomorrow, the best
location that Gabrielle could possibly be in is the Guph, and you
will need to make your way up there before the battle begins so
that when it does, you can wait to see if she comes out with it,”
Apollyon said as Gamaliel’s face turned pale. “Listen to me. You
are a strong, witty, and clever angel. You can do this,” Apollyon
encouraged angrily as Gamaliel nodded his head in affirmation.
“What do I do if she comes out with the trumpet?” Gamaliel
questioned uncertainly.
Apollyon stood up and unfastened his belt. Gamaliel and
Sariel’s eyes widened as Apollyon placed his own sword upon the
table. The sheath was of gold, and the handle was garnet; but at
the end of the handle was a black jewel that glistened with fire
in its heart.
“You lost yours, so you will use mine. And you must take the
trumpet from Gabrielle by any means necessary. Is that clear?”
Apollyon asked with more malice than Gamaliel had ever seen.
“Yes. I will not fail,” Gamaliel answered as he pulled the

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sword toward him on the table. “But if I have this, what will you
use when it comes time for battle?”
Apollyon looked at Gamaliel and smiled. “I’m sure that Satan
will reward me well with one of the best weapons he has when I
tell him that we have retrieved Gabrielle’s trumpet.” With those
words Apollyon stared at both of the angels before him. Gamaliel
looked uneasy while Sariel looked determined.
“I have faith in both of you,” Apollyon said as he placed a hand
on Gamaliel’s shoulder and another on Sariel’s. His eyes seemed
to burn with a black flame as he said, “Together, my brothers, we
shall soon snatch this kingdom of Zion from Mikael’s hands, and
then we shall make war upon the races of Eterni.”

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 The Dark Kingdom
of the Abyss

Apollyon flapped his fiery red wings high into the pearl sky as the
white ocean below sprinkled crests of rainbow sparkles all across
a mighty ivory sea. He watched the waves with their entranc-
ing motion swaying up and down and side to side, giving him
the unfamiliar feeling of nausea as if he was about to faint. His
wings shook violently from anxiety, giving him the appearance of
a drunken bird staggering through the sky. This uncontrollable
shaking came from a considerable amount of fear fueled by panic
as he thought about every inch of sky bringing him closer and
closer to the shores of Sardis.
At one point in time, not so long ago, those shores had meant
that all of his dreams would come true; but now they meant
something totally different as his consciousness awoke from its
comatose state. Those shores meant that he would once again be
face-to-face with the first being of all evil, who was the serpent,
the dragon, the little horn: Satan.
Three days ago, I felt so confident, he thought to himself. Even
two days ago, I was confident in my goals, in my reasons, in my justi-
fications. But now …  questions, doubts, and fears were rolling in
his mind like the ocean waves below him. As he flew all alone,
toward a destiny of darkness, a very difficult realization kept
coming to his mind, which he feared more than anything. I must

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lie to the father of lies and tell him I have captured Gabrielle’s trumpet
when I have not. He will know the truth, as he can see through every
lie, I’m sure. I will be tortured and probably killed for my stupidity,
arrogance, incompetence, and insubordination. What am I going to
do?
His heart sunk a little at this thought, and he fell a few dozen
feet in the air until his wings regained their strength and glided
him upward again. How could I be so brash? How could I be such a
fool? A few tears formulated upon Apollyon’s face, and he did not
hold them back, seeing as no one was around. All of his hopes
and dreams of ruling as a king over the races of the world seemed
unreachable now as his death seemed just hours away.
He had known all along, when he had first fathomed a rebel-
lion against Mikael, that Satan would be the only answer to con-
quering the heavens. He also knew that this solution would cre-
ate chaos the likes of which had not been seen in a millennium.
That chaos had somehow become insignificant compared to the
pointless lives they were living under Mikael’s rule in the absence
of Jehovah. Many of the angels had lost purpose in their lives and
felt idle to the point of insanity. That insanity had driven them
to the agreement to take destiny into their own hands and release
the ancient serpent back into the world.
For some reason, he felt as if it had always been in his future
to join the fallen, as he had agreed with so many of their rally-
ing opinions and beliefs before. The matter of his race being the
first and chosen race; the fact that angels should rightfully have
power and control over the lesser races, was another; and the
undeniable fact that he and the others had served in the high
courts of Jehovah for millennia’s with a perfect record required
of no other race was at the least justifiable enough to give them
authority over some if not all races. But, alas, it was not. The
Almighty had decided to create another world for His precious
other races, leaving the angels with the same mundane Zion they
had always had.
These were his reasons for the current choices he had made

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in their rebellion against Mikael and his great archangels; but

somehow—and that which Apollyon did not now understand as
his mind flooded with doubt—they had justified the release of
the prince of darkness back into creation, which seemed to him,
at this very moment, to be the most insane thing they could have
ever done.
Apollyon dipped a little in the air as this thought consumed
his mind. He was quite sure—though he would never admit it to
the others for fear that his plans would be vanquished from their
goal—that the only reason this idea had ever become a factor was
that through the absence of Satan, they had truly forgotten the
definition of evil and the reality of who Satan was. For three days,
the implications of what Apollyon had done and was planning
on doing had grown ever heavier on his heart; and his mind was
plagued with vague feelings of remorse that he fought desper-
ately to deny. In the presence of Satan, Apollyon had remem-
bered what the earthly times were like—how the torture of races,
the tyranny of evil, and the wars between angels had ripped apart
so many lives. Now, as he flew along the coast, overlooking a
world made to a perfection that Earth could have never dreamt,
he began to understand what he had really done. Not only was
he about to allow evil to take over Zion, but he was sentencing
this world of Eterni to a gruesome death by the hand of the most
lawless, wicked, and immoral creature ever made.
How could I have assisted Satan in every way, shape, and form
possible? How could I hand over Zion on a silver platter and take the
lives of the innocent, who didn’t deserve what is coming?
“There’s still time, Apollyon,” a small voice whispered to him
suddenly out of nowhere.
Apollyon shook at the sound of the voice, which was distant
yet close in his mind. He looked around him and found himself
answering the voice subconsciously. There is no time. It is over. He
has been released, and nothing will hold him back, not now, not ever.
I have given him the tools and the information he needs to defeat
Mikael. I have brought forth an army against him, and he is more

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prepared now than ever to take over the world. He looked ahead of
him and then whispered to himself, “Besides. I’m almost there.
It’s almost done.”
“There’s still time, Apollyon,” the voice said softly again.
But Apollyon ignored it purposefully this time, and he felt
the voice fade away as if it had left his spirit.
Think of something else, Apollyon. Think of something else, he
told himself as he attempted to gain control of his shaky left
wing.
Suddenly, the breeze picked up abruptly; and a huge gust
pushed hard against his back, knocking him clumsily off balance.
He barreled his head low as he stiffened his wings, diving down
a few hundred feet, freeing himself of the fierce winds. He pulled
up just feet before an intense set of crashing waves and noticed
something abnormal circulating within the waters. The ocean
waves had formulated into an icy claw that was attempting to
pull him into their depths. He flew upward quickly in an instant
reaction as the winds of the air did not seem nearly as bad as the
drowning waves below.
As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he thought of how
difficult the flight south had become. He had never experienced
winds with this type of force in Eterni before. They were as
strong as a hurricane of Earthly times; and the waters, with their
eerie formations, reminded him instantly of his experience on the
southern shores. Recollections of the violent sands and drowning
waters of Sardis’s beach played in his mind as he wondered how
much more of the environment could have possibly changed in
just these few days.
He continued on his path south, occupying his mind with
what he was best at: war. He went over the list of hidden soldiers
located in their appropriate places, awaiting the upcoming battle.
He had succeeded in assembling more troops than he could have
ever imagined possible along the separate levels and halls of the
heavens, and he was not quite sure how. Time and time again,
he had warned those amongst the scroll not to continue their

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recruitment of other angels amongst the heavenly hosts for fear

that someone would turn this knowledge into Mikael or one of
the other great archangels. Surprisingly enough, over the last two
days, they had recruited a number of angels that, in Apollyon’s
mind, would have never turned against Mikael’s regime; but as
he led each one of them into the circle, allowing them to sign
their names upon the binding contract, it was obvious that more
and more angels felt the same way they did. They were bored,
restless, and ready for some excitement in their lives.
Well, they will be getting all they can ask for, Apollyon thought
as he began to take a path closer to the shoreline of Eterni. It
was so easy, he thought to himself with a curvy smile. Most of
them don’t even know we released Satan from the abyss. I can’t believe
they think we would actually be able to take on Mikael ourselves.
That’s insane. We would be no match for him and the others. But with
Satan’s army, we have a chance. Apollyon laughed at his ingenious
plot, now feeling much more reassured about his mission and a
little hopeful at its purpose.
He knew as his heart grew cold once more and his mind
focused upon what he must do that although he was no astrolo-
ger, it must be written in the stars somewhere that he and the
others should rule the other races of creation. That was the only
explanation for every action and step he had taken, going flaw-
lessly with no interruption or mistake made. As long as the min-
ions of hell are able to go undetected through the secret passage of the
Icestern Rainforest, this war should be brief and painless, he thought
with strength pounding in his wings and fluent, crisp strokes cut-
ting through the air. Or at least for me anyways.
It was not long, and Apollyon had covered a great distance
with excitement filling back inside him at the thoughts of taking
over Zion and Eterni. It wasn’t until he made a brief bend around
the northern cliffs of Sardis that his eyes fell upon something
strange. At the tip of the horizon was a dark object that could be
seen vaguely with his angelic eyes, shifting and moving upon the
ocean’s tips. He had never seen anything so black within Eterni’s

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realm before, and the clash between the ivory waters and the
pearl sky made the object drastically obvious. He stared at the
black mass, assuming that it was not moving in his direction or
at least not quick enough to be a problem. What could that be? he
asked himself in confusion.
He knew that the southern beach of Sardis was not far away
now, and his eyes strained to see farther than they had ever tried
before. Was the image some sort of creature, he asked himself. It’s
possible. Many races of dragons plagued the shores of Smyrna
and Laodicea, but no dragon could be as dark as this inky black
figure was. Neither could one be as large as this mass seemed
to be. Suddenly, the winds picked up once more; and his wings
struggled intensely to keep him out of the waters below as the
wind pushed fiercely upon his back.
He fought hard to keep his eyes on the mass while fighting
the winds as his mind continued to consider the possibilities of
the black object. Is it some sort of meteor or asteroid fallen from the
universe? Can it be that something escaped from the abyss, or could it
be …  No, no, no. He wasn’t going to think that way. He couldn’t.
He wouldn’t. It was impossible, improbable. It must be some-
thing else, something one of the races made along the shores like
a boat or an ark even. He tried again with all his might to see the
black mass clearly, but it was still too hazy for reasons he could
not comprehend. Then he entered a particularly rough patch of
wind, feeling as if his wings could easily be compared to a fly
fighting a spider’s web. This patch of air was so resistant that he
had to close his eyes, duck his head, and pull with his arms as his
wings struggled with every beat to move through this thick air.
Finally, with a last burst of energy, he shot through the wind
and out into the free air. His entire body ached as if he had just
been in a battle for days. It was then that he realized he had come
much closer to the object than he had thought and surely he
would be able to see what this mass was now. The object looked
to be the size of a mountain or a volcano, and it seemed to be
moving in some sort of bizarre formation.

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The savagery of the ocean below caught his attention again,

and he watched as the white waves formed a centralized storm
beneath him. Then he looked up, and all of his breath left him.
The air would not fill his lungs as he attempted several deep
breaths for oxygen. His wings became frozen in midair, and he
felt shock and terror sweep over his being. He finally understood
what his eyes had been attempting to see as the enormous black
mass came miraculously into view. A black kingdom was floating
upon the white waters of Eterni, and an entire world of questions
began to fill Apollyon’s mind as he realized what was awaiting
him on the coast.
Fear crept maliciously inside his heart at the thoughts of the
empire of evil merging with the lands of Eterni. Never before,
in the history of time, had the kingdom of the abyss seen the
light of day or the skies of a world. It had always been placed in
the spirit realm, away from mankind, confined to its own dark
eternity. How can it now sit upon the shores of Sardis, awaiting an
unsuspecting prey like a viper waiting for a mouse? How could this
happen? How could He let it happen? The poor races of this world
will fall and be enslaved and, and—. Then Apollyon stopped. He
stopped thinking, he stopped breathing, and he stopped moving.
He slapped himself hard against the cheek and yelped in pain
as his hand crossed his face. “Get a hold of yourself, Apollyon!”
he yelled as his mind realigned his thoughts with the purpose of
why he himself was flying to the southern shores of Sardis.
I cannot face Satan, the Prince of Darkness, with this double-
minded mentality. He will kill me. I know it. I must be strong and
diligent in my cause. And with those thoughts, he took two large
thrusts through the air, causing crevices in the water below. This
is what I wanted. This is better than anything I could have dreamed.
Now the kingdom of the abyss will surely defeat the world of Eterni,
and I will rule with the Morning Star as an emperor over all. He
shook his head worriedly as his palm met his forehead. I must
be having some type of holy relapse or something, he thought as he

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shook all over, trying to get the feelings and thoughts of anything
true and pure out of his mind.
Then a long, crooked smile filled his face as excitement over-
whelmed his spirit at the thought of all his wishes coming true.
The reality that their soon coming battles and wars could be suc-
cessful was now a massive reality, and he nearly shouted for joy
as he burst through the air. I am going to rule my own land and
have slaves to do my bidding and be a king over hundreds maybe even
thousands. They will all call me King Apollyon, and I will have them
build statues of me all over the land, and they will all bow before me
and worship the great Apollyon. He breathed in a breath of air that
felt like his intentions springing to life within his wings; and
with a completely renewed confidence in his mission, he soared
through the air toward the dark kingdom of the abyss.
It was not long before he was able to make out many defined
shapes of the kingdom that stretched far across the ivory sea and
miles down the coast of Eterni. The enormous peaks of darkness
shone like black stars upon rigid staffs as countless towers and
walls surrounded them. Then, without warning, the top layers
of the massive architecture began to crumble into many pieces.
Apollyon gasped at the sight of the kingdom crumbling, and his
heart sank in fear and disappointment. Then the massive black
balls that were falling from the towers melted into the surround-
ing dark walls, creating a blob of blackness like swirling magma.
The kingdom began to move again, and new towers formed out
of the black mass with different peaks larger and sharper than
before. Triangular pyramids of soot and tar began to form; and
within seconds, the entire dark kingdom had rebuilt itself to
display a maliciously evil architecture again. But it didn’t stop.
Minutes after the building seemed complete, it crumbled again
and again, always forming and reforming itself like a chameleon
uncomfortable with its present surroundings.
Apollyon’s jaw hung in the air as he watched this spectacle
unfold. The kingdom shifted and conformed into all types of
shapes and sizes. The large, black towers would crumble into

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wide, massive caverns that rose high into mountainous peaks

with walls hundreds of feet high. Apollyon shook his head in
disbelief. Worry rose up inside of him instantly, with the fear
that others might have seen this black kingdom as well. If this
was true, all of their hopes for a secret war upon Eterni would
be lost as news of this new dark entity in the world would easily
spread across the land. He flew high into the air, looking along
the southern regions of Eterni for any living creatures that might
have approached or would be approaching the coast near the
kingdom. His eyes peered far into the inlet, across multicolored
ginkgo trees with blooms of purples and yellows, past the hills and
valleys of Sardis and into the vague outline of the Steamhenge
boulders rising high into the air like four strong mountains in
the west. As far as he could see, there were no living creatures in
any direction coming near the kingdom. He knew that this was
incredibly rare for Eterni since the realm of this world was full
of life stretching from every corner of its domain. The silence
amongst the hills, forests, and landscapes gave Apollyon an even
eerier feeling that his wishes for a surprise attack upon these
shores were most likely erased with this new physical presence of
evil floating upon the coast.
He returned his focus back to the kingdom. The stench of
sulfur and soot was beginning to cross his nostrils. Suddenly, two
black angels caught Apollyon’s eye coming into view from the
coastline below. In reflex, he reached for his sword; but he missed
as his hand hit the empty space where it normally was.
Then he remembered that he had left his sword with Gamaliel
back in Gabrielle’s chambers in Zion to be used, if necessary,
upon the great archangel herself. His heart sank at this realiza-
tion. How could I have not of brought some sort of weapon with
me at least for the journey here? he thought to himself. He knew,
realistically, that he had had no choice but to give away his sword
to Gamaliel and not take another. The rules and regulations of
Zion were precise and explicit. There would have been much rea-
soning needed for Apollyon to have the capability of borrowing

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a weapon from the armory; but as the black angels rushed upon
him, he wished he had figured out a way. Now he was just a
few flaps from the kingdom of the abyss, defenseless against the
powers of hell, with two scouts on their way who did not look
particularly happy and were most likely going to kill him.
“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, Apollyon?” a famil-
iar voice sounded in the sky.
Apollyon stretched out his wings mightily in the air. “I have
a meeting with your, I mean, our lord today in reference to the
urgent plans that must be attended to,” Apollyon said with an
enormous amount of courage rushing through his bones. He
didn’t blink as he stared at the dark faces of the two black angels
he knew oh too well.
“Yes. A meeting that you are late for,” the other angel hissed.
“And what type of business are you speaking of?”
“I believe that is a discussion that I shall speak of with Satan
alone,” Apollyon answered proudly as two swords found their
way to his neck simultaneously.
“You will refer to him as Morning Star in a manner deserving
of his grand prestige,” Monker replied with spite in his eyes.
Both of the angels pressed their golden swords tightly along
Apollyon’s throat, and Apollyon stared at their blue eyes as if
they were a pair of flaming sapphires.
“Yes, I agree, and I apologize for my lack of respect toward
our great lord,” he said, barely breathing. “Will you now take me
to the Morning Star so we can discuss what plans may be needed
for the future of our cause?”
He looked at the two angels before him, and their faces of
rage were the same. He had hoped that all he had done in his
betrayal would earn him some respect amongst the fallen, but
this first impression he was receiving made it very unlikely.
Monker lowered his sword, prompting Nakir to do the same.
“We will take you to him as we have been instructed,” Monker
said as Apollyon let out a sigh of brief relief.
Then Nakir, noticing Apollyons sudden relaxation, voiced

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his rage against their new ally. “But do not expect our pardon
for the millennia’s of servitude you have done in His court only
now to turn your back on Him and join our cause. We have been
tortured and mutilated for a thousand years, suffering afflictions
you could never dream of. We will not be replaced by a traitorous
angel such as yourself so easily,” Nakir bellowed as he lowered his
sword viciously.
Apollyon nodded his head thankfully. “Duly noted, Nakir.
Now, can we be on the way? I am sure our presence has not gone
unnoticed. And if it has, we are only too lucky. Many races claim
these coasts as their home, and our benefit of surprise may be
taken away by our rash conversation here in the sky for all to
see!” Apollyon didn’t know where the confidence and cockiness
in his voice was coming from; but he enjoyed every second of it,
knowing now that the twins had been sent to take him to Satan
and would not harm him for fear that they would be dealt with
most mercilessly, he assumed. The black angels could sense every
bit of Apollyon’s arrogance, and they loathed and hated him for
his purpose in this new war.
With no more argument coming from either party, they
resumed their flight and soared toward the kingdom. As they
got closer, Apollyon began to understand the grayness in the air,
which was created by patches of fog and smoke intertwined in
cloudy formations coming from different areas of the changing
towers. They passed quickly under the gray skies as the fortress
and its incomprehensible metamorphosis became even more
fascinating. He watched in bewilderment as the columns of the
kingdom conformed to walls and towers, causing an uncanny
state of confusion in his mind. Maybe that’s its purpose, Apollyon
thought to himself as he took his first steps onto the dark soil.
Instantly, he was reminded of the tar in the long hall that he and
Gamaliel had traveled on just days previously. The tar now clung
to the soles of his feet, tearing and ripping at his flesh; and he
pulled his feet from their clutches, hovering above the ground,
away from the malicious soot. He looked up from the hostile

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residue to the mysterious kingdom of the abyss, and a chill crept

over his body from the mass of wickedness emitting from the
atmosphere.
Though he was right before the very transfigurations of the
kingdom, he still could not understand how it worked. He peered
around the edges of the fortress and noticed that the marquis of
hell and many of their legions had been placed along every cor-
ner and facet of the mighty stronghold. Apollyon examined the
towering walls and the soldiers placed upon it, understanding
that these bottom layers of the kingdom did not transform as
the others did. He followed the perimeter of the pillars until he
came to the edge of the coast, where the baby blues populated
the scenery. His eyes keenly searched the forest and recognized
several demons patrolling the area with their sleek physiques
shimmering like shadows in the sun.
Soon, they were walking up to the gates of Aker, the door-
way into the abyss; and it was easy to notice the massive change
that had taken place there. The round iron door that had stood
between him and Gamaliel before was no longer there. Replacing
the door was a massive replica of iron and tormented faces in giant
arches instead of circles. Six doors in all spread across the front of
the kingdom; and the two doors in the middle held Aker, the two
lion heads—one on one door, and one on another. The entrapped
faces screamed in an inaudible, horrific pain as Garm, the dog of
hell, continued to walk amongst his imprisoned slaves.
Aker looked down upon Apollyon with both of his heads and
hissed at the sight of him. “Once more, we shall allow you into
these gates, Apollyon, against our will and better judgment,” the
voices sounded as the two black angels smiled at one another.
The two front doors holding the heads of Aker crept open,
making a boisterous noise like the releasing of a tornado; and
Apollyon flew through the threshold, into the kingdom of the
abyss, with mixed emotions once again brewing within his
mind.

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Apollyon gazed up at the massive black walls that were leading

him into the foyer of the abyss. The sickening tree bleeding its
oily substance seemed to have grown three times its size, allow-
ing its poisonous chemicals to discharge into a boiling fountain
below as it encroached from the center of the room. Apollyon
saw every crack and crevice as if for the first time, even though
he had been in this exact chamber only days before. His nose
wrinkled and his stomach retched as new sulfuric smells blended
with a strange acidic smoke emitting from the two opened door-
ways of Hell and the Lake of Fire.
I guess that means the Beast and the Prophet have been loosed,
Apollyon thought as he stared at the brilliant orange col-
ors swirling in the black lava of the door to the Lake of Fire.
Monker shoved him in the back, pushing him around the bor-
der of the fountain as the smoldering oil popped, hissed, and
splashed all around his waist, attempting to jump out onto his
attire. Apollyon took a flap away from the fountain, remember-
ing what it had done to Gamaliel’s sword as his eyes fell upon a
bizarre sight before him.
The door of the pit had been shut tightly with chains swirling
roughly around it like a million rusted snakes. The chains were
moving so fast that it was hard to distinguish one from another,
and the sounds screeching across the metal was like the fury of a
thousand blades attacking each other. Obviously, Satan felt that

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there was no reason to revisit his tortured cell or for anyone else
to venture there as well.
“Welcome to hell!” Nakir said as he shoved Apollyon in the
back. Apollyon turned to his left, where a ferocious door with a
massive set of jagged teeth awaited his fearful entrance. As he
approached the passageway, every spike protruding from each
door began stretching and bending in his direction, longing for
the opportunity to splinter his body and relish in his blue blood.
Apollyon lifted up his wings and flew swiftly through the gates
as he attempted to maneuver his way around the gigantic teeth.
His attempt failed miserably as one of the spikes struck him hard
across the forearm. Blue blood began to stream immediately from
his wrist as he wrapped the sleeve of his robe hurriedly around it.
The door seemed to be drinking the blood off of the spike, and
the spikes rested with ease at the taste of the angelic blood.
As he held onto his arm firmly, he reminisced of the time
Immanuel had taken the keys of the abyss from Satan upon com-
pletion of his horrific crucifixion on Earth, and Apollyon was
suddenly recalling the words of those days as he realized how
right Immanuel was when He said, “Even the very walls of the
abyss seem to release the influence of evil upon its visitors like
a fiery dragon breathing in and out, waiting for you to enter its
belly.” Apollyon knew now what he had meant by that statement
as he watched the walls inhale and exhale like the vein of some
monstrous creature’s lung.
He took his focus off of the walls and turned his attention
back to the twin guides, who were making a quick turn into a
bypassing tunnel where the walls were not moving as these walls
were. The walls in this hall were made of a black glass like finely
polished onyx; and in this glass, Apollyon saw a gruesomely evil
reflection of himself. The reflection was trying with all of its
might to break through the wall and come after Apollyon, and
he was absolutely repulsed by his dreadful appearance. Then, in
a sudden flood of terror, the reflection was not alone as it began
to tremble with panic. Apollyon watched his fearful reflection as

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hundreds of demons filled the mirror from unknown entrances

with terrible cries and cheers cackling from the hideous beings.
The demons ripped apart the reflection’s flesh and tore apart
his decrepit wings. Apollyon’s heart raced as he looked down at
his own flesh, positive that he was feeling the knife-sharp nails
of the demons upon himself; but as his eyes looked along his
arms, he breathed a sigh of relief from his unscathed skin. Only
the deep cut that had now begun to heal showed up navy upon
his forearm as the first scar that Apollyon had ever bore began
to form. Apollyon looked at the scar for a moment, taking in its
meaning. As an angel of Zion, the presence of the Almighty heals
wounds fairly quickly whenever one is inflicted. As it appeared,
angels of the abyss did not have the same luxury, as he felt the cut
that had scabbed over instead of healing completely.
“That’s what you have to look forward to here in these cav-
erns,” Monker sneered as Nakir laughed in a vile tone. Apollyon
looked back at the black mirror, and nothing was there, not even
his own normal reflection; and Apollyon felt anxiety and sickness
rush over his spirit at the fear of what awaited him within the
upcoming halls of hell.
As the hallway grew steadily larger, the black mirrored glass
began to fade away, and a new, crusty, snakelike appearance took
over. Tentacle-like roots reached out in every direction like a
blackened octopus searching for victims, and after what seemed
like hours, they finally reached an opening full of red shadows
dancing up and down a mammoth cavern. A long bridge made
of human bones was engulfed in red fire stretching across the
enormous pit to another side of hell full of more tunnels. As
Apollyon reached the bridge, the two angels before him began
to fly. Apollyon looked down and saw the heads of hundreds of
creatures stretching their mouths up from the floor of the bridge
in a desperate hope for a satisfying meal.
The heads of the beasts growled maliciously, moving from
side to side, longing to sink their teeth into someone’s flesh;
but without a body, they were easily avoided (as long as you had

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wings). Apollyon kept a good distance from them. Nakir, on

the other hand, obviously enjoyed tormenting these imprisoned
creatures; and he dipped his feet just above their mouths as they
tried desperately to tear them off.
Apollyon looked over the bone railing of the bridge and
down into a massive hole that seemed to have no end. Down this
massive cavern were more bridges like the one he was crossing,
connecting more levels that broke off into what appeared to be
different circles of hell. He had thought that the tree in the foyer
of the abyss was rank, but it was nothing compared to the vile
stench coming out of the chasm below. The black angels snick-
ered at Apollyon’s multiple displays of weakness, and they flew
quickly toward a small chamber that broke away from the bridge
and down through a gorge.
Apollyon followed them with haste, not wishing to get lost
in this massive realm of wickedness. The twin black angels were
exceptionally swift, and the deep calignosity of the tunnels dis-
guised them so well that it was hard for Apollyon to follow. Then,
just inches from a flaming red door, the black angels stopped;
and Apollyon’s wings scraped the edges of the walls attempting
to save him from ramming straight into them. The angels did
not look back at the sounds of rock and tar hitting the ground,
but walked through the door with ease. Apollyon watched them,
catching his breath as the fire parted around their bodies like a
drawn curtain before a window.
He stepped up to the door, placing his hand before the red
flames. The fire slowly crept away, and Apollyon stuck his hand
through to the other side. He felt a hand grab a hold of his
bruised forearm and brutally yank him through the door. The
heat was unimaginable as he passed through the threshold, and
his wings felt as if they had just been seared off. He felt both of
them straight away to make sure that they were still there. As he
touched the coarse edges of his feathers, he realized that they
were a little more brittle than normal, but overall they had been
unharmed by the heat.

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Before him now was a morbid, opaque room where three

mighty chairs were placed before a table of black stars and blue
flame. Sitting upon one of the chairs was a creature called the
Beast, whom Apollyon had always wished never to come face-
to-face with. The Beast stared at Apollyon with a lack of amuse-
ment in his eyes as he said, “Well, it’s about time you decided to
join us in our fight, Apollyon! I am just disgusted that it took
so long for you to do so. No matter. No matter. Better late then
never, I presume. And what an opportune time as well. I believe
you were saving your betrayal for such a special time as this, were
you not?”
Apollyon didn’t understand the question or even know if it
was a question, so he just nodded and stood there, hoping for the
moment to pass. The Beast sat, with the appearance of a leopard
that had the horns of a ram upon his head and a crown around
each horn. His hands and feet were those of a bear, but his mouth
was as large and sharp as a lion.
“Where is his majesty?” Monker said with a hiss. “He has
ordered us to bring Apollyon directly to him.”
The Beast roared with a violent, terrible growl that made
everyone’s wings shudder. “I will take him from here. What his
excellence has spoken I am more than capable of handling. Now
leave, or you shall suffer my wrath as London and Francisco
felt.”
The two black angels shuttered at the thoughts of those ter-
rible crimes; and fury filled their bones toward the Beast, who
had belittled them before the traitor. Apollyon was sure that if
it wasn’t for the fact that the Beast would easily tear them both
to pieces within seconds, they would have attacked him at these
words; but they obviously knew better as they turned and headed
for the door, muttering curses under their mouths.
Apollyon twitched as the Beast made his way around the table
with his eyes examining him like a piece of meat. His heart was
racing, and his limbs were frozen as the essence of evil perspir-
ing from the Beast became overwhelmingly real in this secluded

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atmosphere. Apollyon’s mind clashed momentarily with the

thoughts, Am I about to be eaten? Where do I go? How can I escape
this creature? But as soon as the thoughts came, they went as he
stood in a trembling state before a terrifying collage of brutal
strength mixed with malice. He melted drearily into the Beast’s
shadow, feeling insignificance and weakness pour over him.
The Beast reached out an arm of thick, yellow fur with a
hand the size of a tree trunk bearing his five razor-sharp claws.
Apollyon cringed as he thought the Beast was about to strike,
but then he felt an enormous weight upon his shoulders. The
bearish arm lay across the back of his red wings, and his heart
skipped a couple of beats as the Beast guided him toward the
door of red flames.
“When the Prophet reminded me of the oracle spoken so long
ago, I wondered who the traitor would be. And I have to admit
I definitely did not think it would be you who would bring Zion
to the ground nearly three thousand years later. But here you are,
surprisingly enough?” the Beast commented with a growl.
Apollyon attempted to nod his head in agreement with the
Beast, but his head was jolted backward as the Beast took a
sharp turn down a dark tunnel full of torches and jagged stone.
Apollyon still had not said a word. He was finding it very hard
to muster up any type of speech at this point as he dealt with the
animosity of the fallen angels, the overbearing evil of the Beast,
and the intense awe and disgust of hell and its many disturbing
wonders.
“So, where are we going?” Apollyon finally asked in a quiet
voice.
“If I told you, you wouldn’t know where it is anyways, so
what does it matter?” the Beast said in an unexpectedly savage
tone. He took his arm from around his neck, and Apollyon felt
himself return to his normal height as the massive weight was
lifted. But inside, he felt himself shrink a little, realizing just how
odd he felt amongst so much evil.
The rest of the walk was spent going completely downhill,

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through many tunnels, winding their way around what Apollyon

knew must be the multiple circles of hell. The Beast was so mas-
sive that he took up most of the tunnel himself, and Apollyon
followed him from a few steps behind. The smell behind the
great creature was so horrible that Apollyon felt as if he was on
the verge of vomiting at any moment.
As they continued far down into the pit, the Beast did not
speak a word; and Apollyon guessed that he had offended the
Beast in some way, but he did not care. The silence was much
easier to cope with than the terrifying voice of the Beast. They
soon entered a bright tunnel blazing with yellow flames and shim-
mering with obsidian stones, and he felt a sudden fear sweeping
over him. They had been walking for what seemed like several
hours, and he knew that soon enough, behind some crooked turn
or around some demented bend, he would finally come face-to-
face with Satan again.
The Beast continued to walk as Apollyon’s nerves rattled
senselessly. They followed the sulfuric etchings along the walls
until they came upon a chamber that rose several thousand feet
in the air, flaming like an orange well. Around the walls were
staircases made of red rock, glowing like hot coals fresh from
a fire. Walking amongst these rocks, all throughout the cavern,
were thousands of black skeletons, which Apollyon knew of as
legions, carrying different assortments of weapons. The legions
were also known as the damned who had once been human but
fell short of the grace of Jehovah and were condemned for all
eternity to the pits of hell. Flames had burned their calcium-
enriched bones, giving them a charcoal-stained appearance with
red flames for eyes resting within their blackened sockets. The
skeleton warriors had placed upon their mangled bones only a
few raw materials such as tethered pouches or worn sheaths,
holding their weapons in place. These specific legions happened
to be carrying massive amounts of different styles of weapons up
and down the cavern and into many different caves and knots

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within the walls; and instantly, Apollyon understood what this

place was.
“The armory of hell,” Apollyon whispered to himself—but
not soft enough, for the Beast turned his head quickly.
“Very good, because it’s obviously not a bakery, is it?” The
Beast said with such harshness that Apollyon felt as if his skin
had been cut into tiny pieces across his face.
“Now, where is he?” the Beast mumbled under his breath,
turning back around and searching for something or someone
within this massive cavern.
“If you are both done wasting my time, I have many things
that need to be set in order to finalize these preparations for our
glorious war,” a serpentine voice sounded, sending a chill up both
of their spines.
The Beast turned around swiftly, giving a disgraceful bow as
words hobbled out of his mouth. “I am sorry, my lord. But the
traitor has been coming along slowly, marveling at your great
kingdom as we pass each and every domain.”
Satan looked at Apollyon with fury in his eyes. Apollyon
couldn’t say anything in return. He was so dumfounded by
the words of the Beast that he stared at everyone before him
speechlessly.
“Was he now?” Satan responded as he moved by the two of
them in irritation.
Following him were three of his top advisors: the Prophet;
Baal; and Abaddon, the king appointed over the abyss. The
Prophet was not like any being Apollyon had ever seen in cre-
ation, and he was not sure where he came from. Surely Jehovah
would not have made such a being as this with its distorted
humanistic characteristics mutated within some type of hybrid
angelic Grigori figure. He looked somewhat like an eagle, but
with bearish tendencies. Of course, none of these features could
be seen because of the heavy black cloak the Prophet always wore.
Apollyon only knew these features from memories of seeing the
Prophet in the past.

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Apollyon had remembered few angels from the time period

before Satan’s fall, but one of the one’s he did remember was
Baal. Baal had been a magnificent angel in his days of Zion, and
he was the emblem of what an angel was and should be. He was a
glorious albino with skin the color of light. From his solid white
wings to his solid white hair, he was the essence of purity. The
only part of him that was not white were his dark purple eyes
that were as radiant as a star of the universe. His identity had
obviously faded though throughout the millennia’s he had spent
in Satan’s service; for he now stood before Apollyon a misty gray,
like a strong fog of the morning over a dreary swamp. His eyes
were the only things that had not transformed since his depar-
ture from Zion, and they x-rayed Apollyon as he walked by.
The last of the three beings with Satan was Abaddon. He
was a beastly angel, towering a good seventeen feet high with
massive shoulders at least six feet across. Satan had wisely cho-
sen him to be king over the abyss, for he had the stature and
strength to command any of hell’s armies with brutality and
cruelty. Apollyon couldn’t help but compare the size between
the Beast and Abaddon as he noticed that there was little dif-
ference between them. The only distinction that varied was the
exceptionally thick fur coat upon the Beast, which gave him the
appearance of being slightly larger than Abaddon. Apollyon
bowed low as they all passed by, and they paid him no attention
or courtesy.
“Baal, give the Beast something to do while I begin my dis-
cussion with our new apprentice,” Satan said in his elegantly evil
tones.
Baal walked over to the Beast and unfolded a large, black
book containing all types of tattered papers that he sifted through
rapidly.
Satan motioned for Apollyon to come by his side, and as he
did Apollyon recognized Gabrielle’s keys still clinging to his wrist.
Apollyon bowed before him once again, attempting to speak; but
before he could utter a single word, he was interrupted.

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“You may rise, my young conspirator. We have many things

to discuss,” Satan said with a hiss as he waved his milky white
hand before Apollyon’s face.
Apollyon rose immediately as the eyes of Satan bore into his
mind like nails driving into a coffin.
“So, what is the news in Zion?” he asked as he began to walk
through the bottom layer of the armory.
“My Morning Star,” Apollyon said with nervousness in his
voice and his eyes pasted upon the floor, “Zion is prepared for
battle, my lord.”
“In what way is it prepared for battle, Apollyon? And speak as
if there is a spine in that crooked back of yours,” he demanded.
“Yes, my lord. Um, there are sentries at multiple positions
throughout the seven heavens to allow us entry through the jubi-
lees, the separate levels, and most of the halls. The angels that
will be fighting on our side will be marked with black robes such
as this.” Apollyon opened up his robe as an example, but Satan
was clearly not interested. Apollyon shut his cloak quickly and
continued. “The secret gate through the Icestern Rainforest has
been prepared for entry as well, and all the other soldiers are
awaiting our arrival to the island.” Apollyon took a breath as he
waited for Satan’s reply, hoping that this information would be
satisfactory.
“Hmm,” Satan said as he entered through a tunnel on the
other side of the armory.
“What of the aeons, Apollyon? Have you converted any of
them?” Baal questioned as he rejoined the group.
“No, he hasn’t,” a voice said as sly as a dragon’s tongue. “Many
things are still left undone, I can see. And yet one thing is still
hidden from me, which is the key to everything” the Prophet’s
dragonic voice spoke, cutting into Apollyon as it sounded and
giving him the feeling of a dagger twisting in his back. He felt as
if the creature had been whispering these words directly into his
ears; and, for fear, he did not even turn to look in his direction.
“Then what is that piece, Prophet? Or do not speak again

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until you have foreseen it, for I grow weary of your empty advice,”
Satan snapped with apparent frustration that had been building
up to this explosion.
Satan turned his gaze back to Apollyon, who was having a
difficult time looking him in the face. “Now I have organized
my generals to take their legions in certain directions across the
isle, as I presume not much has changed in the layout of Zion
from our discussions before,” Satan said without really glancing
at Apollyon, who was walking carefully behind him, nodding his
head in concurrence.
They passed out of another sulfuric hall and entered a mas-
sive cavern that was full of a black lake that could have just as
well been called an ocean. Running up its walls were perches and
nests scattered for thousands of feet above, and a wild angel with
brutish features popped out of the shadows from a nearby boat.
“My lord, I did not expect you so soon,” a deep voice
stuttered.
“Rahab, are all these beasts ready?” Satan questioned with
a doubtful expression on his face as the others looked up at the
resting beasts above.
“Leviathan and Behemoth are both prepared, my lord. But
the goshawks and the locusts are so many they are just now awak-
ing from their sleep,” Rahab said with a nervous grimace.
“Just now waking?” Satan replied with black fire in his eyes.
Then a terrible scream sounded from the mouth of Satan
like a hideous wake-up call by a dragon, and the nests of the
cavern were shook from their perches. The walls seemed to be
twisting and turning all around the cliffs; and as Satan closed his
mouth, the terrifying sound continued to ripple throughout the
cavern. The scream echoed louder and louder until every creature
was disturbed and many of them fell hundreds of feet from their
perch before waking and taking flight. What looked like a mil-
lion frantic beasts were flying into the air in a sudden panic from
the cry. Satan reached up his hand, and the chaotic staggering

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of the beasts ceased as they all fell into an ordered fashion along
the walls.
The black lake suddenly erupted at that moment as two mas-
sive beasts floating upon the water made their presence known.
Leviathan, the first beast, rose as tall as half the cavern and as
blue as the ocean of old, terrible and ferocious. His fins were
like a mighty whale and his horns like a bull, and scales of a
dragon covered his entire body. In Leviathan’s eyes were terror
and wickedness as his mouth formed a small cave that could eas-
ily swallow whole boats, crafts, or beasts. The second beast was
Behemoth, and he was the color of an elephant, gray and myste-
rious, with the body of a crocodile that was long and wretched.
His mouth was that of a hippo—as wide as it was long and as
powerful as a mountain.
Apollyon had only seen these beasts once before during the
destruction of a race of creatures the humans had called dino-
saurs. Behemoth and Leviathan had been created by Rahab dur-
ing that age; and in a fit of madness, they had destroyed nearly
everything on the land and in the sea, causing the entire world to
enter into what later became known as an ice age. Apollyon could
not believe that Satan had considered releasing these monsters
into this new world since he desired to reign over it so much. He
thought drastically of throwing out his judgments against this;
but he knew that he would be killed before he could speak, so
he bit his tongue with the words he would like to say. The beasts
were surprisingly calm and still in the water as they stared at
Satan before them with honor and prestige in their eyes.
Satan nodded his head at the beast and turned around slowly
to Rahab. “Where is Kunopegos?”
“My Lord,” Rahab said with a bow, “you know I cannot keep
all three of these beasts together, for they will kill Kunopegos if
they see her.”
“I understand that, Rahab. Where is she being kept?” Satan
said with rage flushing through his veins.
“Of course, my lord. I apologize. She is in the northern sec-

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tor, in the red pools, my lord. Please forgive me for my idiocracy,”

Rahab pleaded in a low voice.
“And has she been prepared for battle?” he asked with black
fire shooting from his fingertips.
“I—I—” Rahab looked down at the sword of death that lay
upon Satan’s side and spluttered, “I am not sure, my Lord. Seere
is in charge of her at this time,” he panted as he fell to his knees.
“Please forgive me for my lack of knowledge,” he begged. “Have
mercy upon me!”
“At the least, have all the boats been prepared, Rahab?” Satan
asked as he cracked his neck and reached for his black sword.
“Oh yes, sir. They have been built, gathered, and are being
brought in at this very moment by some of the legions,” Rahab
said as his eyes faced the charcoal ground beneath him.
The fire seceded in Satan’s eyes momentarily as he pointed a
black nail at Rahab and said, “Have those boats attached to the
two of them immediately. Prepare them for battle, and load all of
the legions from the—”
Satan looked over at Baal who quickly looked down at his
black book and said, “Umm, the marquis sectors, my Lord.”
“The marquis?” Satan questioned, staring at Baal.
“Yes, sir. The legions of dukes, earls, and presidents have
already been accounted for my liege.”
“Very well, Rahab. The marquis legions must be prepared in
no less than six hours for the voyage to Zion. Do not disappoint
me, or my retribution will be terrible upon you!”
Rahab shook violently in fear upon the ground as the five of
them left his presence at once.
They exited through a main hall on the northern side of
Rahab’s circle and quickly found themselves inside of another
large chamber that resembled an ancient laboratory full of
instruments and chemicals. Putrid green smoke was billowing
from stalagmites placed all over the cavern, which mixed with a
bluish chemical dripping from the stalactites just above them. As
the smoke and the chemical combined, they formed what looked

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like an orange cloud of paste hovering in between the stalagmites

and the stalactites. Apollyon ducked quickly as a stampede of
wasps flew by his head and attacked the orange cloud. Apollyon
watched these abnormally large wasps until he realized that they
were not attacking the paste at all but rather collecting it within
their bellies. The wasps took nearly half of the batch of the paste
and sped off again to a large cauldron the size of a small pond
in the back of the cavern. Finally, a familiar face shone upon
Apollyon as Omael lifted his head up from the cauldron, where
he had been gathering the liquid in a large glass decanter. The
five of them made their way to the edge of the cauldron and
were met instantly by Omael, holding a liquid that resembled
extremely thick air.
“What is it?” Apollyon asked simply but regretted it
immediately.
Four heads turned to look at him with shock as Satan turned
around casually with eyes of murder resting upon Apollyon.
“I’m so sorry. I just—”
“Silence!” Satan hissed, and Apollyon’s voice was gone. “Is
the belladonna completed?” Satan asked as he returned his atten-
tion back to Omael.
Omael lifted the decanter to his nostrils. His eyes were a
yellowish brown, and his skin was as pale as a ghost. He was a
scrawny angel with a nest of brown hair growing in every direc-
tion. “Yes, my lord. The potion is almost complete. Only minor
touches left now. The aconite and hemlock have mixed perfectly
together, though I have never made such a massive quantity at
one time. I am relatively sure that it will be effective though,”
Omael said with a hopeful smile upon his face as he looked at
the others.
Satan’s eyebrows rose as he snatched the decanter from
Omael. “Relatively sure?”
“Did I say relatively? I am so sorry, my Morning Star. I mean
positively, positively sure,” Omael sniveled as he bowed low
before Satan.

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Apollyon looked around the room, which was colossal, to

say the least. Tables were thrown about in every direction, with
scales and materials tossed hastily amongst them and entrances
and exits going into dozens of rooms. The stalagmites and sta-
lactites were everywhere in this cavern, along with greenery and
dead carcasses. Apollyon noticed a large jug of liquid shining as
bright as a silver star on a table nearby and recognized it at once
as inestra.
“I expect this ointment to be given to Eligor within the
next hour, Omael,” Satan said, thrusting the decanter back into
Omael’s arms. “We need enough for the legions of the seventy-
two demons, so make sure it is done!”
“Yes, your majesty,” he sputtered as the decanter spilt some
tiny drops upon his arm.
Lucifer was already walking out the doors of the laboratory
when Baal made a questioning cough. Satan turned around and
raised his eyebrows dubiously, awaiting Baal’s comment.
“Sir, we need to know that the inestra has been taken care
of as well,” he said as he held open his large book with quill in
hand.
Satan looked as though he was going to scold Baal for this;
but instead, he said, “Yes, that is correct. Omael!” Satan called.
Omael came running back into view from behind a large pile
of bones that looked like dead raccoons or some other various
types of mammals.
“Did you finish that batch of inestra, Omael?” Satan
questioned.
Omael stuck his fingers in his mouth as he thought. When
he did, his mouth began to smoke from some type of residue
stuck to his black rubber gloves.
“Inestra, my lord?” he mumbled, looking distraught from the
burns.
“Inestra, Omael! Inestra! Is the batch ready?” Satan bellowed.
Omael seemed to snap out of a trance and rushed across the
room to the other side of the laboratory, motioning for them to

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follow. Fire sparked from Satan’s fingernails as his patience grew

ever thin. Omael ushered them through a large gate set on the
southern side of the lab and into a particularly massive room
with thousands of different-sized basins, bowls, and pitchers—
all glimmering like little stars in every direction. Satan looked
around the room in what seemed to be satisfaction as Omael
stood a little hunched over and smiling wildly.
“Will this be enough for everyone?” Satan asked.
Omael glanced around as if he was summing up the amounts
of all his stews and subtracting the armies of hell from its
numbers.
“Well, it should be close enough. I mean, what if some of the
damned don’t get any? They don’t really matter, do they?” Omael
muttered to himself as everyone stared at him.
His eyes quickly widened as a little saliva drooled from his
mouth and he said, “You know. I think I will make one more
batch just to be safe.”
“Baal,” Satan motioned, “get some of the daimones to come
down here and gather up these potions and take the correct por-
tions to the gates, the red pools, and back over to Rahab,” he
commanded as Baal snatched out his boney quill made from the
dead feather of an old dragon and scribbled some marks across
his tattered book.
“Omael, if a single thing goes wrong, I will hold you per-
sonally responsible for those mistakes. And you had better kill
yourself before I get back here to deal with you!” Satan said as he
began to walk away.
Omael shuddered and scurried off like a frightened rat.
The others followed Satan’s lead as they left Omael’s labo-
ratory and continued through many more gateways, tunnels,
caverns, and rooms full of the minions of hell preparing for the
approaching war. Satan began asking Apollyon question after
question regarding the great archangels, the defenses, the heav-
ens, and the layout of the mutinous angels. Then the question

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came that Apollyon had been avoiding and had been hoping
would never come.
“And Gabrielle’s trumpet has been safely secured?” Satan
asked as Baal held a pen to his book, watching Apollyon’s eyes.
Apollyon looked at Satan with as much confidence and bold-
ness he could collect. “Yes. We have obtained her trumpet with
much difficulty, but it is safely hidden with Sariel in the chamber
of Shamain.”
Satan looked at Apollyon, searching for the guilt of a lying
tongue. Apollyon did not waver, he did not smile, and he looked
triumphantly at his master. Then, seemingly convinced, Satan
nodded at Baal, who appeared to check that item off of the enor-
mous list he was compiling of the things that needed to be done
in order for this war to be a success.
Apollyon breathed a sigh of relief, not believing that he
had passed that test so easily. However, the Prophet stared at
Apollyon from underneath his dark cloak with a meaningful
glare. Apollyon did not look back at the eyes, but he could feel
their pressure upon him. He thought for a brief moment that his
lie would be given away; but then the Prophet passed him by,
saying nothing at all.
He had a sudden notion that the Prophet knew the truth, but
he did not understand why he had not given him away. He shook
off this worry quickly though as he listened closely to Satan
applying his finishing touches for the battle and the great plans
they had thereafter. Apollyon breathed in a breath of satisfaction
at the achievement of a war that would soon be unleashed upon
the shores of Zion unlike anything they have ever seen before,
and he swelled with pride as he walked amongst the darkest
beings ever created with the thoughts of ruling his own kingdom
blossoming in his mind.

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 On the Edge of War

Satan stood upon his barbican, the black and red rock of his
gateway, outside of the gates of the abyss, taking in his first
observations of Eterni. This world, even under the shadow of the
clouded gray heather, was intensely brighter than the thousand
years he had spent in the pit; and his eyes squinted from the
radiant glow that floated ominously in the gloomy atmosphere.
He held up a milky hand to the sky, and the smoky fog that cir-
culated around the dark kingdom separated like a parted ocean.
The pearl white light of Eterni shot through the murky clouds
like a falling star hitting Satan straight in the face with the force
of a meteor crashing to the ground. His features contorted with
pain as the brightness of the sky seemed to burn his porcelain
flesh. He threw his dark wing above him, blocking the attacking
light; and with a flick of his wrist, the fog returned to its cover as
it shadowed the kingdom in its eerie mist.
Satan lowered his wing as the advancing light faded, and his
malevolent features returned to their customarily evil nature as
he took out a large bottle from within his jet-black armor. The
bottle was as black as night; but when Satan opened the top, a
star seemed to shine from its opening.
“You should be thankful, Apollyon,” Satan said as he took a
swallow from the bottle, “That I had Omael invent inestra. If I
had not, there would have been no way to get my armies to Zion

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in this new world.” A terrible hiss ended this sentence as Satan

returned the bottle within his armor.
“Or did you foresee that?” Abaddon taunted sarcastically,
taking out his own bottle of inestra and drinking a mighty gulp.
Apollyon reached for his own tiny flask he had been given
from inside his robes and said with a cold voice, “Actually, we
did count on using the inestra in our planning, though we did
not know what it was called. We remembered back to the war of
Armageddon and how your armies had stormed the kingdom.
We knew you must have found some way to disguise the evil
within your, I mean, our blood. And here it is: inestra.”
Abaddon turned a furious shade of maroon as Apollyon
looked away to see the Beast and the Prophet taking hearty
drinks from their own containers and phials.
Satan wiped his hands over his face as if to erase some type
of resin left behind by the light. He turned to Abaddon and the
Beast, who were mimicking the same motions, and said, “That is
not normal light behind those clouds!”
“Poison?” Abaddon asked, rubbing his crafty face in a serious
amount of pain.
“No. How could it be? How would others survive?” the Beast
said, sniffing the air.
“Well, this is a new planet, isn’t it? Maybe there is a new sun
with the ability to harm creatures like us,” Abaddon retorted as
the others pondered this for a moment.
Suddenly, the inestra took its effect over all of them; and
though a bright, shiny glow could not be seen, a type of silver lin-
ing rested upon each and then faded. Apollyon felt the familiar
feeling of sourness in his stomach and then a beautiful energy
flow within him and out.
“There is no sun here,” Satan said factually. “This is His
light, His presence. And it torments me to know it’s right there
behind that fog.”
The Beast and Abaddon looked around worriedly, as if
Jehovah was going to spring through the smog above them and

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destroy them where they stood. The Prophet merely stood there,
cloaked as always, obviously aware of the reasoning and place-
ment of the light, with no comment to add to the situation.
Satan raised his hands in some type of awkward rotation,
pointing them to the sky. Everyone peered upward as changes in
the formation and colors of the fog began to bloom. The skies
above turned from their ashy gray to a jet black thunderstorm
filled with strikes of red lightning in every direction. Rolls of
thunder rumbled all around as Satan gave a broad smile in obvi-
ous pleasure of his new flourishing power that emitted effort-
lessly through his fingers. Each of them looked at him in awe.
Never before had Satan had the ability to create or perform such
magic as he had done since his release from the pit, and he was
not shy about using it. Over and over, he had displayed unnatural
power that was uncommon even for him; and the overwhelming
evil emanating from his body gave everyone around him the dis-
tinct feeling of drowning within themselves.
“He was sadly mistaken by allowing me to be released into
this new world,” Satan said as he took his eyes from the skies that
were filled with a ferocious storm. The Beast, who was standing
beside Abaddon, moved slightly closer to Satan and said in the
slightest whisper, “My Morning Star, what about our secrecy?
The thunder from the storm might give us away. Then the races
of these lands will know...”
The growling voice faded from the Beast as Satan waved him
away, intrigued by something else. He took his eyes away from
the sky and brought them down below his barbican. Underneath
the rolls of thunder could be heard waves crashing powerfully
against the rocky cliffs of his kingdom, which sent his eyes peer-
ing over the side of the tarry black surface to a dingy white sea
below. He smiled at the obvious contamination his glorious
empire had discharged upon the surrounding ocean, which once
held untainted waves within it. He lifted his eyes far away from
the tides rebounding off the rocks to the ocean abroad gleaming
beautifully like a snowy pasture. He had never been necessarily

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fond of the blue ocean of old, but the intensity of the new ivory
sky and the putrid pearl ocean together was making him queasy
as his fingers drew together in a clinched fist.
Immediately, he turned his head from the harassment of the
sea and looked toward the shores that his kingdom sat upon. A
forest of baby blue trees with golden leaves bordered a jeweled,
sandy shore, which appeared more beautiful and more innocent
than Satan had ever expected. Delight filled his pointy features
as the thoughts of fire consuming this shoreline developed within
his mind, and a hunger to infect this world with his iniquity
stirred in his spirit.
As Abaddon approached Satan, he began to continue the
Beast’s prior thoughts as he said, “Sir, what about our conceal-
ment? How will we—?”
But Abaddon was cut off immediately. “Was I not the ruler
of the principalities and powers of the air? And so I am still! I
swear upon the fire that runs through my veins that I will smite
the next one of you who questions my motives.”
Abaddon bowed low and slithered behind the Beast’s shadow.
Then, with the wingspan of a dragon, Satan spread out his mas-
sive wings, revealing a display of jet and scarlet feathers, glowing
like a furious fire. He took one beat of his ferocious wings and
went soaring, over the crackling bridge with a shadow like a bril-
liant red serpent slithering beneath him. At the edge of the shore-
line, awaiting his commands, were the high demons of hell who
had once been the great creatures of the ancient Nephilim. They
were shadowed figures of malice and corruption, who stood upon
the red bridge with black fire highlighting the pathway between
the kingdom and the beach. Satan landed elegantly upon the red
stone, folding his enormous wings casually behind him in front
of his demonic audience.
“Nephilim,” he said, scanning the fiendish group before him.
“I do not wish for any to pass through these lands by my king-
dom during my absence, but do not kill a single being either, for

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we need to interrogate as many races as possible to understand

this new world and plan our strategies against it.”
The Nephilim looked at one another with a thirst for blood
splattered across their shadowed faces. Their bodies trembled
with the refusal to comply with the orders they had just been
given, but the intensity of Satan’s next words guaranteed their
obedience.
“It had better be understood, you worthless, half-spirit out-
lines of darkness, that I will not tolerate any mistakes this time!”
he bellowed with ferocity and fire consuming his eyes as flames
shot through his fingertips.
The Nephilim licked their lips and bowed before him in a
uniform fashion, furious that their thirst for blood would not
yet be satisfied but grateful that they had not yet been tortured,
which was customary of Satan when orders were being given
out.
“Now, I want you to patrol these lands and capture as many
as you can. Imprison those you find in the dungeons until you
have further orders, but do not venture too far into the forest, for
your presence cannot be revealed to the races along these shores
just yet. I am sure that my mighty kingdom can be seen from far
away, but there is no controlling that. Still, there is no reason to
make our presence abundantly known,” Satan added, twisting his
crooked, black beard.
Two of the Nephilim in the back of the formation looked
at each other and hissed quietly at this statement. Satan shot a
black chain of fire from within his palms around the two necks of
the Nephilim twins, choking every inch of their bodies.
“You two shall be an example of my fury and lack of patience
with your breed,” he said with severe malice in his eyes as he
pulled them up to him. “Should our presence be revealed any-
more to this world, I will hold each and every one of you respon-
sible for that exposure, and the punishment you will receive will
make the last thousand years look like a warm-up compared to
what I will do to you.”

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The black chains wrapped tightly across the twins, who

squirmed and squealed in the clutches of Satan’s power, scream-
ing at the horror of the burns cutting into their spirits.
“Now leave and do not fail me or I shall rip your pathetic
lives from this existence and leave you to be devoured by your
kin.” He released the twin Nephilim to the ground, and they
scurried quickly from his gaze, holding their throats as they
joined the others. None of the Nephilim spoke or moved for fear
that Satan’s thrill of torture might continue on any of them at
any moment. They glided over the red rock of the bridge, inching
themselves as far out of range of his grip as possible.
Then Satan, giving the Nephilim one last threatening stare,
turned his back upon them as they scattered instantaneously in
every direction, removing themselves far away from his presence.
As he turned, his eyes fell upon the door of the abyss, and with
a boisterous voice he said, “Aker, release my minions into this
world!”
Instantly, six massive doors swung open with the sound of an
earthquake blasting through the air at their master’s command.
Waiting patiently behind the gates were the seventy-two demons
who had once been the prisoners of Solomon, and behind them
were the legions of skeletal warriors they commanded. Apollyon
watched as a wicked march of evil began to make its way out of
the gates of hell. Each warrior was passed a small bottle, jug, or
flask as they marched through the gate from one of their com-
manding generals.
As each of the skeletal warriors drank the potions they
were given, long leathery wings grew from their backs like bats.
Lucifer glared at all of them as they made their way through
the threshold and out into the barbican. He did not feel pride
for his soldiers or the tiniest bit of respect. He was a heartless
master who hated the very being of these legions who had been
some of his most devout servants upon Earth during the days
of mankind when they once drew breath. Lucifer pointed at the
first flanks of skeletal warriors, directing them to the western

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sky, where a highly active stretch of storm clouds had gathered.

The warriors beat their bat like wings into the darkening clouds,
forming ranks beside each other and glancing occasionally at the
ever-changing scenery of the kingdom.
Apollyon watched as the warriors’ ashy, black bones began
to have a slight silver glow around the edges. That must be the
Inestra taking its effect, he thought as the shine faded and reap-
peared again and again on more soldiers taking flight. Weapons of
rusty red bows with solid black arrows hung around chests; large,
barbarian-sized axes clung to backs; onyx swords with rusted tips
and magical staffs rested in hands as spears and small knives were
gripped within others. Apollyon nodded his head approvingly
as he looked over at the Beast, who was momentarily staring in
his direction, plucking something meaty out of his razor-sharp
teeth. The Beast growled at him with a roar that shook half of
the infantry as Satan panned over to him, enraged.
Apollyon looked quickly back at the seventy-two demon
generals ushering more and more of the skeletal warriors out of
the gates. It was then that he noticed just how different they were
from the Nephilim. They were not shadowy demons but hor-
ribly gruesome demons that had been created by the Nephilim,
spreading fear into Apollyon’s heart every time he saw them. He
thought back to the days of Solomon and the savage war that had
taken place in the spirit realm during those horrendous years. He
knew that if it had not of been for the wisdom given to Solomon
by Jehovah, Mikael and Gabrielle would have lost that battle in
Judah and a different history of the Earth may have been writ-
ten. These generals had been some of the most vicious creatures
Apollyon had ever come across, and he breathed a small sigh
of relief at the fact that they would not be fighting against one
another but with each other in this war.
Apollyon followed the remainder of the legions exiting the
archways as the sky filled with the last of this mighty host of
soldiers safe beneath the charcoal clouds. Apollyon was amazed
at the size of Satan’s first flanks of infantry as the skeletal war-

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riors filled the proximity of the western sky like a plague of

vultures ready to swarm upon their prey. Some of the generals
were mounting large red and black dogs foaming viciously at the
mouth with the same wings that had grown upon the legions.
Some were strapping their weapons to black unicorns with red
manes; and others were on small, red dragons with yellow bel-
lies; and yet others rode large, black crows. Each of the beasts
the generals rode upon had been generously armored with onyx-
plated battle garments and equipped with multiple spears. If the
beasts had been generously armored, it was nothing compared to
the generals themselves, who bore onyx-plated armor from head
to toe with rapiers and swords in their grasps.
Apollyon’s heart sank as he looked at these weapons. It was
then that he realized he himself had nothing to fight with. He
glanced over at Satan, who surprisingly looked pleased to see his
first massive division of infantry hovering before him. Seventy-
two demon generals with thousands of soldiers stared with pits
of red eyes at their king, their Morning Star, awaiting their
commands in the thunderous skies as Baal joined the circle of
Apollyon, Abaddon, the Beast, and the Prophet all along Satan’s
side.
“The remaining brigades are ready, my Morning Star. You
may summon them at any time,” Baal said, panting a bit.
Apollyon thought this might be his opportunity to inquire
about a weapon before it was too late; but as the words of Baal
ended in his ears, Satan lifted both of his hands as if he was pick-
ing up an invisible wall. In the distance, a large, iron gate could
be heard opening on the eastern side of the kingdom. Behemoth
and Leviathan rose powerfully from behind the kingdom, emerg-
ing from the ocean with a raucous smash. Rahab sat in between
each beast on a large saddle connected by two harnesses. The
monsters had blinders placed upon their eyes so they would not
be able to see Kunopegos and create any type of chaos on the
voyage. The leather straps upon their backs flowed down to a
militia of boats carrying thousands of legions armed for attack.

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Satan gave the signal and ordered Rahab to begin his journey
east, taking them far away from the coastline so they would not
be detected by any of the races upon Eterni on their journey to
Zion.
Apollyon attempted to count the boats as they went by, but
there were too many obstructed from his vision to get a true
number. He leaned over to Baal; and before he realized what he
was doing, he was asking him a question.
“How many ships do we have?” Apollyon asked, almost
as shocked as Baal at the words protruding from his mouth.
Apollyon had realized quickly that in hell, questions were not
permitted; but he almost couldn’t stop himself because he knew
so little. Baal looked annoyed, and Apollyon leaned away from
him swiftly; but surprisingly, he gave an answer.
“There are sixty-six ships attached to each beast and six
legions upon each ship.”
Apollyon gasped at these words but was quieted as Satan
raised his hands. A loud gate could be heard creeping open from
the southern wall now as a demonic sea dragon from the old
age of the dinosaurs with teeth like a dragon and a tail of many
serpents came bolting swiftly around the edge of the kingdom.
She bore horns decorated in colors of blue and gold, and fire shot
from her mouth as she galloped on top of the waves. Attached to
her were black chariots of onyx and sulfur, carrying the legions
of what Apollyon believed to be the remaining dukes and earls
of hell. Satan raised his hand for Seere to stop immediately, not
wanting his beast to get too close to Rahab and create a cataclys-
mic disaster between her and Leviathan and Behemoth.
“Kunopegos,” Satan said with a slight hint of adoration in
his voice.
The horse gave a flirtatious snort, which shot a large amount
of fire from her nostrils.
“You will wait for the rest of the brigades to leave, and then
keep your distance on the western side of me so as not to come
close to Rahab but far enough away from the coast so she shall

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not be seen,” Satan demanded as Seere nodded his massive head

in concurrence. Seere was a large fallen angel who had bulky
shoulders and a square face. He looked up at the stormy skies
above as red lightning streaked through the infantry, who were
becoming impatient with their surrounding environment; and
Seere looked back down at Satan with questions in his eyes.
“If we have no cover, the inestra will wear off too quickly,
and we won’t have enough to finish the task. Just do as you’re
told!” Satan demanded, and Seere guided Kunopegos toward the
western side obediently.
Then Satan called forth the winged dragon that has no
name; and she flew out of the center of the kingdom, followed by
the sound of a million wings. The massive dragon was as black
as soot, and its belly was as red as flames. Abaddon flapped his
mighty wings to her saddle and positioned himself upon her.
Following the winged dragon were Abaddon’s creatures of war
that Satan had named locusts. These locusts had the bodies of
horses, the mouths of lions, and large insect like wings. The
princes and kings of hell rode upon them, as well as hundreds of
other fallen angels. Following the locusts were a demonic breed
of bird called Goshawks with brown, leathery coats and wolfish
faces. The presidents of hell rode upon these creatures with their
legions extending behind them.
Then a mighty griffin soared out of the top of the kingdom,
screeching as it flew. Baal left Satan’s side and joined it in the air,
aligning himself upon her back, stroking her beautiful feathers.
He had owned this creature since the days of Zion, before his
descent to the Earth. “My dear Ryphon,” Baal said as he grabbed
the black harness placed upon her. Ryphon flapped her massive
wings that were silver spotted with gold and let out another bel-
lowing screech that must have echoed halfway to Zion.
The last of all the legions and fallen angels poured out of the
kingdom until even the storm clouds of the sky and the waters
below were not visible because of the colossal gathering of Satan’s
army. Satan summoned two other beings to his side. One was

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named Baphomet, the leader of the daimones, and he was an

amazing creature with the head of a ram, the body of a man,
two legs of a horse, and the wings of an eagle, with a torch upon
his head. He commanded a tremendous battalion of daimones,
who were some of the Grigori of old that had joined forces with
Satan during the times of Earth, and they served him as lord and
master.
Sabaoth was the second being, and he was the leader of the
archons, who were a sect of Aeons fallen from Caelis during the
time of Earth. Sabaoth was a massive being, golden like the sun
but as terrible as Satan’s eyes. Satan gave these creatures strict
orders for what they must do once they had made it to the island,
and they gathered together their races of creatures and prepared
to follow.
Apollyon looked around jealously as he stood beside Satan,
the Prophet, and the Beast. Everyone had been given some type
of creature to ride upon as they made their way to Zion; and on
top of it all, Apollyon did not even have a weapon.
Satan looked over his shoulder at Apollyon as if he knew
what Apollyon had been thinking and laughed a sick, sadistic
laugh as he turned back to the Prophet and the Beast and said,
“It is time.”
The Beast let out a roar that blew back the trees of the coast-
line, and his body began to grow ten times its normal size. The
head of a leopard he once had was now seven, and a single horn
protruded from each one. He wore ten crowns upon his head now
instead of two, and his bearlike arms and legs became as large as
stone pillars. The Prophet let out no sound as he stripped off
his cloak to show his gruesome appearance. Although they had
all seen the Prophet uncloaked before, many fallen angels and
even some legions gasped in disgust at the disturbing appear-
ance of the Prophet’s body. Ignoring the whispers of the crowd,
he became just as massive in form as the Beast, with black fur
covering his body; but he had two great horns that grew from his

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head, and he had the tail and mouth of a dragon with the wings
of an eagle.
Satan burst into a mighty red flame before them all and
became the epitome of evil. Through the flames of fire, Apollyon
watched the first being of darkness become the ancient dragon
of war. Satan’s head grew into seven long necks with massive
dragon heads upon them. His body became red like blood on
fire, and he had ten golden horns and seven silver crowns. He
shot scorching blue fire from his mouth, and he doubled the size
of the Beast and the Prophet. As the mighty red dragon flapped
its wings in the air, he looked down to Apollyon and said, “Now,
show me the way to Zion.”
Apollyon swallowed and lifted his wings into the air, taking
flight with no beast to ride and no weapon for protection. A swift
thought went through his mind that made him immediately sick
to his stomach, and he nearly vomited before the whole army.
He only now remembered the last time he had left this shore and
was on his way to Zion and how difficult of a time he had trac-
ing his way back. Now he was the navigator for the entire army
of hell, and he hoped with everything within him that he would
be able to find his way to Zion, or he would undoubtedly find
himself murdered in the middle of this ocean.

What felt like three day’s had passed and the wings of many crea-
tures began to grow weary, even under the cover of the mighty
black storm that Satan had conjured. The waters below were not
giving off their radiant shimmers as the minions of hell coasted
through them, and they appeared to be becoming contaminated
by the army’s presence of evil. Discouragement was beginning
to rest within the legions prepared for war as the trip to Zion
became more and more burdensome. Apollyon glanced over at
the soldiers upon the chariots being carried by Kunopegos, and
many of them were already taking extra shots of inestra to keep

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themselves protected and rejuvenated. Satan’s wings were beat-

ing with obvious contempt at the scenery before them, which
bore no sign of Zion or any land at all. The Prophet flew behind
Satan; and the Beast swam beneath him, making his way through
the dull, white waves as they both looked at Apollyon with venom
and spite in their eyes. Far to the east, Apollyon could see Rahab
riding between Behemoth and Leviathan, carrying the mighty
boats of legions upon them; and little silver lights were popping
up all throughout the ships.
“How do you know we are still flying in a northeastern direc-
tion without a sun or planet to judge by?” Satan hissed angrily as
he flew up next to Apollyon.
“Oh. Well, I can still feel the minutest presence of the king-
dom drawing me back,” Apollyon said, not looking at Satan at
all.
“That is a lie,” Satan growled as Apollyon kept his eyes from
the dragons gaze.
His heart began beating faster than ever before. How could
he have forgotten the disappearance of the call of the kingdom
within his spirit? He searched the sky and the waters franti-
cally but saw nothing that would point him in the right direc-
tion. Then Satan grabbed him out of midair with a clawed foot
wrapped tightly around him.
“Have you led us into a trap, Apollyon?” Satan hissed loudly
as he stopped dead in his tracks. The entire army of hell ceased
moving as the hiss of Satan’s yell lingered over the waters.
“No, I haven’t, Morning Star. I swear it is near here … I—I.”
Satan squeezed Apollyon until he thought that his eyes
would pop out of his head. Many of the kings and princes of hell
smiled, knowing that Apollyon’s death was near. All the legions
and fallen angels had stopped; the daimones and the archons had
stopped; Behemoth, Leviathan, and Kunopegos had stopped;
and the Beast was treading water below while the Prophet hov-
ered silently.
Apollyon knew that he only had moments left. He regretted

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everything in this one instance, knowing that it had truly back-

fired upon him. Satan’s claws stabbed him in his back, and he
could feel the blood soaking his robe. The silence was crumbling
all around him until he heard the faintest sound. The most won-
derful sound he had ever heard: the sound of water falling from
the center of Zion. He smiled as if death was returning his spirit
to his body, and he felt the release of the dragon’s hold around
him. He began to fall through the air like a rock, descending
to the water until he stretched out his wings, turned over, and
caught some air within them.
Apollyon knew what had saved him, and he breathed in a
sigh of relief as he stretched his back and felt the cuts upon his
spine tear even wider. Satan, with all seven of his dragon heads,
was listening intently in a northwestern direction. Apollyon
smiled as he listened to the unmistakable sound of the crashing
waves flowing back to the ocean from Zion above.
“This way,” Apollyon said as he began to fly toward the sound
of the falling water.
Satan flew close behind Apollyon with a devious look upon
his face of utter suspicion and anger. All the armies were back
on the move again; and soon, something could definitely be seen
in the distance. Satan called for Baal, and he and Ryphon flew
beside him quickly.
“Go ahead of us and make sure this is not a trap. Check the
perimeter for any guards or lookouts around this supposed white
staircase,” Satan said, and Ryphon sped off with Baal clinging to
his back. “All had better be as you said it was, or your blood shall
be the first spilled this day, Apollyon,” Satan hissed as Apollyon
wiped from his brow the sweat upon it.
Baal was not gone long because Ryphon was an extremely
fast flyer, being born from a half gonfalon and half phoenix. “The
water ahead, at this white staircase, is flowing up just as he said.
I’m not sure where the sound is coming from, but I gather it is
from inside the waterrise,” Baal stated.
Satan shook his heads in fury. “I don’t care where the accursed

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sound is coming from! Are there guards posted anywhere? Can

you see anyone waiting for our arrival?” he screamed.
“No. No. I believe it is completely clear, your majesty. There
were no patrols around the edges of the water,” Baal said as he
directed the griffon a few paces back behind Satan.
“Very well then, Apollyon. You have gotten us here so far.
Where is the secret passage so I can send the flanks I need into
the Icestern?”
Apollyon looked at Satan timidly. “Well, we need to try and
block the water somehow, and then most of us can fly up to the
secret entrance. For those who will not be able to fly, we have
made a ladder to climb up; but it will take some time for those to
climb such a far way. Many of us could carry warriors from the
ships up to the tunnel if need be. And, depending on where you
want, the legions in the chariots—”
Apollyon stopped in mid sentence. Satan looked at Apollyon
with hatred and murder in all of his eyes. He breathed out a
breath of fire as he signaled for Abaddon. Abaddon rode atop the
winged dragon; and with a few swift flaps, he was in earshot of
Satan’s seven heads. Satan explained to him what he would need
to do; and Abaddon flew quickly ahead, as they were not far now
from the white staircase that was plainly visible.
Satan motioned for Rahab to slow down and bring the two
beasts to a stop, and then he motioned for Baal again. “Go tell
Seere to make sure he keeps Kunopegos on the far west side of
this staircase and wait for my command.”
Baal nodded and flew off quickly to the west.
“Apollyon, take all those who can fly, and lead them up to the
secret passage. Then send the ladder down so that those on the
boats can begin to climb to the top, but do not leave the Icestern
to attack until the signal has been given. Understood?”
Apollyon nodded his head yes and began to fly to the
waterrise. The seventy-two demons and their legions followed
Apollyon to the white staircase, where the winged dragon had
spread out her enormous wings across the waters, stopping them

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from going up. A couple thousand fallen angels followed him

as well to take direction through the secret passage. Inside the
staircase, the white waters were flowing quickly down from the
middle of the island, where the water returns to the sea from
beneath Golgotha. Apollyon led his armies up the tunnel of the
waterrise to the bottom of Zion’s island, where the antiquo was
releasing the water. The bottom of the island was like a mas-
sive rock of solid gold, and Apollyon flew purposefully toward a
carved-out tunnel leading up to the Icestern Forest.
Satan signaled for Rahab’s boats to begin rowing toward the
white staircase. Then he moved to the west and sent the signal
for Seere to send out the troops upon the chariots toward the
waterrise. Satan turned to all of his presidents, princes, and kings
of hell riding upon their locusts and goshawks. He motioned
for the remaining fallen angels, who were flying, and the legions
upon their unicorns and crows. “You will all spread yourselves
out at the top of this staircase. When I give the signal, we will
break for the kingdom from every side of the island.”
They all nodded and flew their separate ways, toward the top
of the staircase to prepare for battle. Satan signaled for Baphomet
and Sabaoth to come near as he looked at the massive display of
water rising up before him. The base was much larger than he
had expected, and he thought for a moment that Zion might
have expanded since his last attempt at its shores.
As Baphomet and Sabaoth arrived before him, he instructed
them again about their duty in this war. “The aeons and the chal-
kydri will be located in the north, near the mountains. Find them,
enslave them, or kill them if you have to. No one must escape the
island, or our plans for war upon men will be futile.”
They both nodded their heads in understanding and went to
their units to divulge this information.
Satan gazed upon the magnificence of the white staircase
again. The waterrise was so big around that he could see no sign
of Kunopegos or the black chariots on the western side. He gazed
back in the eastern direction just in time to see some of the ships

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being directed by the skeleton warriors about to collide with the

staircase. Satan let out a loud growl as he said, “Stop them.”
The Beast and the Prophet tried to reach them, but could
not. Then something wonderful happened; and Satan smiled a
long, wide, evil grin. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? The
boats were not crushed by the staircase; rather, they were carried
up along its current. The legions in the boats looked all around,
amazed that they had not been crushed by the water.
At the realization of this new revelation, Satan redirected
all the boats and chariots to take sides around the staircase and
directed them up to the top of the island. Streams of black sails
made their way up the white waters as a flow of creatures and
fallen angels made their way to the top as well.
“This is a beautiful sight,” Satan said as the Prophet and the
Beast watched in agreement. The white staircase was polluted
with the armies of hell scattered in every direction, making their
way vertically to the top. They continued to wait, as more than
half of the ships had now passed into the clouds above and the
remaining ships were making their way onto the water. The last
of the first flanks of infantry had flown underneath the winged
dragon, and Abaddon was making his way over to Satan.
“That is the last of the fleet, Morning Star,” Abaddon said
with a yell.
“Stick with Baphomet and Sabaoth until Caelis is taken over.
Then join the battle at Zion,” Satan commanded, and Abaddon
flew off to the western side of the waterrise. Rahab waited for his
commands just off the path of the staircase, and Satan signaled
for him to stay below.
“Watch for anything or anyone trying to escape, and track
them down if you can,” he growled. “But stay away from the
western side. Do not let Kunopegos and the two of them get near
each other.”
Rahab nodded his head and directed Behemoth and Leviathan
a ways off from the staircase so he could keep a good lookout on

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the area. Satan glanced around one last time, making sure that no
one was left to place in positions.
He then looked over at the Prophet and said, “Grab the Beast
and follow me.”
The Prophet grabbed hold of the beast with his claws, and
Satan began to flap his massive red wings. They flew completely
parallel to the staircase, passing his last flanks of black ships as
he went by. Higher and higher in the air they climbed, until they
were through the clouds surrounding the waterrise and could no
longer see the ocean below. The first flank of ships he had sent
were just now crossing over the edge of the staircase, and the
Prophet placed the Beast just on the outskirts of the water.
The water was only waist-deep upon the Beast, and he waded
easily through them in the direction of the shore. Satan stooped
low to the water, not to give away their position and give the
angels of Zion any warning. Boat after boat and chariot after
chariot began issuing upon the shores of Zion in every direction
across the whole island. Apollyon had gathered every legion of
his troops and a mighty host of fallen angels among the Icestern
Rainforest, nearly filling the wood. Many animals that nested in
this forest were being killed as the skeletal warriors made room
for their entire infantry. Many birds tried to fly in the direction
of Zion to give off a warning; but the accuracy of the soldiers was
too good, and their black arrows found each of the birds’ hearts
easily.
Satan flew silently over the small portion of water that led
to the silver beaches as his minions near him followed his lead.
This caused every brigade all around the island to continue its
way toward the shoreline awaiting the final signal. He placed
his gigantic claw upon the first plot of sand he had touched in
a thousand years as he raised his heads up and prepared for an
attack. One gigantic, red, triangular head pointed in the direc-
tion of the east as another pointed in the direction of the west.
The other five heads focused upon the heavens of Zion north of

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him, and he was disgusted at their brilliance but exhilarated by

their ignorance.
The Beast was making his way toward the mountains of trin-
ity as the Prophet flanked Satan’s right side on his way to the pass
of Lake Gloria. They glanced over at Satan as they neared the
shoreline. Satan watched as they approached their positions. His
fourteen eyes gazed one more time in every direction as no angel
could be seen across the entire land. Then, with a burst of blue
fire, Satan sent up the signal for attack.

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The cherubim’s voices were carrying softly through the room of

the Guph and dancing lightly upon Adoniel’s ears. His emerald
eyes were drifting to sleep as their beautiful song melted over his
mind. Gabrielle rocked the child smoothly in her chair as she
held him close to her heart. His tiny heartbeat fell into rhythm
with hers as his eyes closed gently upon her chest. She had not
slept in many days, as she poured hours and hours of attention
over her newborn son; but finally, sleep was catching up to her,
and she found herself drifting away into the voices of the sweet
cherubim.
Raphael, Uriel, Haniel, and Aariel gazed upon the two most
peaceful creatures in the entire world. They all smiled as Raphael
guided them to the ruby table to give Gabrielle and her son some
much-needed rest. They gathered their weapons and their armor
off of the red surface and walked out of the pearl door and down
the river of Yessedekeus to the circlet in the center of the Guph.
As the door began to seal behind them, the lights in Gabrielle’s
eyes became brighter and brighter as her eyelids started to close.
She drifted swiftly into a deep, deep sleep where her feet met a
cool breeze on a jeweled path filled with ivory gardens.
The trees of her dream were very familiar as they swayed
with a distant tune echoing in the background. Large, white wil-
low trees speckled her scenery as she reached out a hand to grasp
a golden apple from a waiting branch nearby. Waterfalls were

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trickling down in every direction, falling behind silver moun-

tains, where springs of gold floated at their ends. The coolness
of the breeze ruffled the flowers that nestled in her chestnut hair
and her pearl white and silver feathers spread openly to feel the
wind upon them. The aromas of the white garden placed within
her every pure emotion of her heart, and she felt as light as one of
her feathers; and a sudden desire to sing arose within her.

Lovely down the river in the sweetest glades of grass,

Hold me like a fountain and the wind will whistle pass,
And I can only dream when it’s a happy afternoon,
While waiting by the river for some good and helpful news.
I was waiting by the river where the white stream follows through,
And I called out to the river saying much of this is true,
That if you go out a walking in the light that does not gleam,
You’ll be standing by an ocean at the end of this old stream.
So I followed that old ocean till it came to this new pass,
When I was back a walking underneath the starry mass,
That leads down to the river where I found out what I loved,
And when I found my maker I sang this all the day long.

She ended her song with a smile and a laugh as she knelt
beside the golden spring and washed her face and hands.
“Just as radiant as the day I made you,” a voice sounded in
her ears.
Her heart raced as she jumped up and looked around. From
the east came a light shining brighter than seven suns and a face
that no words could describe.
“Father,” she said with a shining smile. “I knew you would
come back soon.” She ran to him, jumping in his arms to give
Him a long-awaited hug.
“Yes, yes. But I am only here for you, Gabrielle, and for a
short time,” He said lightly.
She continued to smile, but confusion began to twinkle in
her eyes.

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 The Morning Star

“I have given you a son, Gabrielle, just as I gave Mary before.

And he will do great things for Me, as he was designed to do,”
Jehovah began to say as tears of joy started to flow from her pink
and golden eyes. “Yes. This is happy news, I know. But I also
have sorrowful news as well,” Jehovah stated as Gabrielle stared
at Him with a fading smile. “Today, paradise will fall.”
At these words, happiness drained instantly from within her.
Her knees felt suddenly weak as her mind staggered.
“And your son will be taken from you for a time,” He finished
with a long pause.
Gabrielle fell to the ground with a gasp for air, unable to
speak. Shock poured out of her features as the blood rushed away
from her skin. She had a sudden feeling that death had crept
inside her and was stripping her life away. She folded her hands
over her face as tears poured from underneath them. The words
of the Father continued to cycle within her ears, and she felt no
life within her anymore.
“Do not fear, my child, for these things shall come to pass, as
all things do. A new Morning Star is rising up amongst you, and
he will defeat the one who committed the first sin. Then he shall
reign over the realm of Zion because I have appointed him to do
so,” the Father said encouragingly as he gently lifted her to her
feet and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“I don’t understand,” Gabrielle said, sobbing. “Why will such
things have to happen?” She looked down to the ground where
her tears had fallen, and the tears had become jewels of amethysts
lying at her feet.
“These things must happen for the destiny of all my crea-
tures,” He said with a smile. “Be strong, Gabrielle, for I have
chosen you to bear this burden, and you will be blessed beyond
measure for the sacrifice you will make.”
She felt panic rise up inside of her at the sound of sacrifice,
and she immediately thought of Isaac and Jesus, and tears swam
within her; but warmth began to grow upon her too as Jehovah’s
radiance washed over her with stunning power. She looked into

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His eyes; and the more she stared at the sparkles of love and
wisdom within them, the lighter her heart felt until she was calm
and hopeful in His presence.
“I haven’t shed tears like this since the crucifixion,” she said
as she sniffled and dried her cheeks.
“I know. I have always loved the color of the tears I gave
you. You should cry more often,” the Father said; and Gabrielle
gave a little chuckle. “I made these tears unique to you alone.
And they are a gift, not a curse,” He said as He picked up one
of the jewels from the ground beneath her. He held it tightly in
His palm as He turned His gaze back to her. His hands lifted up
and rested upon her shoulders as His amazing light washed over
her face. “The time that is coming will be a time of weeping, but
you will soon cry tears of joy if you do not lose hope,” He said
reassuringly.
“I will never lose hope in you, Father,” she said quickly; and
He smiled.
“What is my task for these dark times ahead?” she asked as
she looked at Him with fear and humility.
He gazed upon her with intensity as the next words flowed
from His mouth. “An attack has come from all the borders of the
island. There is no stopping it. You will give Adoniel to Aariel
inside of a soul satchel, along with your trumpet. Send him to
the four emperors of the pearl. The battle will not last long, for
enemies have been scattered amongst my faithful angels in every
heaven. Mikael will make the right decision. Do not doubt him,
and you will wait in the Guph until he sends for you. Tell no other
angel of your son or his whereabouts except for your brothers.”
Gabrielle looked at Him, overwhelmed.
“Where are the soul satchels?” she asked, trying to gather her
thoughts and courage.
“I have left you a single pouch in the Guph, next to the foun-
tain of youth. It is special and will do what you need it to do,” the
Father replied as He placed the amethyst in His robe of light.
Gabrielle was feeling an enormous amount of disorienta-

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tion. She had never before been asked to stand down, not to
fight, to just wait for the battle to be over and deal with the
consequences.
“What will happen to the others? They should be warned,
given a chance.”
The Father interrupted her as He said, “These are your
orders, Gabrielle. It has already begun.”
She looked exasperated but nodded her head. “Yes, Father.
I will do your will,” she said and bowed her head in loyalty and
love.
“I know you will,” He said, and He kissed her upon her fore-
head as His light gradually disappeared.
Now she was alone in the garden with a new set of orders
to fulfill. She had only known her son for six days, six glorious
days that she would cherish forever; but now he was going to be
taken away. Would he survive? Would he be protected? Would she
know him again someday? She did not know the answer to these
questions, and her heart felt faint at these thoughts. She knew
that Jehovah had never let her down before, and she knew His
wisdom and might; but still, there was that hesitancy within her.
She attempted to balance and control the fight that was hap-
pening between her spirit and mind. These tasks would require
more strength and determination than any tasks she had ever
been assigned before, and she needed stability and peace.
I must give up my only son in order for him to survive, she
thought to herself, and her spirit quickly reminisced of the days
of Moses and how he was saved from pharaoh’s hand by a simi-
lar strategy. She remembered also how Jesus had been spared
from Herod’s hand in his youth by Mary and Joseph fleeing to
Egypt on the orders she had been instructed to deliver to them
by Jehovah. This is no different than that, she thought.
Jehovah had laid out the same strategy, the same tactics; and
all those plans had worked perfectly before. These thoughts reas-
sured her of her trust in Jehovah. She had plenty of examples
of trusting Him when it made no sense, and everything always

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turned out blessed. The only difference now was that it was her
son she had to give away, her son she had to sacrifice, and her son
who had to be hidden for some purpose the Lord had made for
him. She would have to trust Jehovah and trust in His orders.
She looked down one last time at the amethysts before her
feet, and then a reflection in the golden pool beside her startled
her. There in the pool was Aariel, the black lion, her scepatar. He
was yelling something to her, but she could not hear. She bent
down low beside the pool.
“Aariel,” she cried, but his response was muffled. He looked
panicked like she had never seen him before, with his mouth
moving franticly in an attempt to relay some message to her ears.
She bent lower beside the pool until her nose was touching the
water; and suddenly, she fell in the golden water with a splash.
She awoke that moment as startled as she had ever been, sitting
upon her chair in the Guph. Adoniel did not flinch inside her
arms as the dream faded away from her mind and Aariel burst
through the pearl doors.

Seven balls of blue fire swam in the air like a swan gracefully soar-
ing through the wind. The flames peaked at their highest height
and then dove, with sudden vengeance, toward the ground. Satan,
the seven-headed dragon, was on the move. He went up through
the river of love, burning the flowered plains as he went. Dozens
of creatures were frozen in fright at the mere sight of the dragon
entering their homes. The few who ran were instantly burned or
stepped on as blue flames shot from seven directions unceasingly.
Within moments, he was passing over the marble steps, where
his wings took flight and sent him speedily toward Zion. Malice
and rage filled his eyes as he burned everything in his path, mak-
ing a clear depiction of his destructive intentions.
The Beast, on Satan’s left, made his way from the south-
east toward the mountains of Trinity, which was the lookout post

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for Zion. Apollyon had wisely recruited most of these angels to

his cause, and thirty-five of the fifty angels on duty inside were
already dressed in their black robes and had captured the other
fifteen. Five of these angels attempted to communicate this fact
to the Beast, but he ran full speed into the mountains with no
recognition of their pleas. Gold, silver, and ivory flew everywhere
like shattered glass to a floor; and the Beast, in a fit of rage, con-
tinued destroying every inch of the monument.
The Prophet, on Satan’s right, ran into the land from the
southwest and dove into the lake called Gloria in an attempt to
kill every creature that swam amongst its waters. His bearlike
hands and claws scooped through the lake like a knife in but-
ter, destroying species of creatures never allowed upon the Earth.
The Prophet only ceased in his destructive rhythms as he spotted
a pack of albino leopards heading for Zion in a desperate attempt
at a warning. He bolted out of the lake and took three strides to
catch up with them. The leopards stopped abruptly as they were
cut off by two massive, bearish legs. With teeth bared and claws
extracted, they sent out aggressive growls of attack; but they were
no match for the Prophet, who towered high above them. All the
leopards were killed with two strikes of his hands as he looked up
to see Satan making his way toward Purity, the forest of golden
cyphers.
As if some invisible gate had been unleashed, the legions
started their brutal assaults upon the trees and began to rush by
Apollyon in herds of terrible anger. The battle was everywhere,
and no one could stop it. Apollyon, with his large, red wings, flew
much faster than the legions around him; but it took some effort
to get ahead of the fallen angels who had flown out before him.
With not much room for error and just moments before they
would be in the midst of the battle, Apollyon began directing
them all to specified locations across the closest heavens. Straight
ahead was the deep, garnet mountain of Raquin, and he sent a
fleet of legions to the sky jubilee. To the south was the pale blue
heaven of Sagun; and he sent another regime in that direction to

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the jubilee of diamonds, where Apollyon was most hopeful that

Haniel would not be present. Connecting these two heavens was
the third heavenly hall, and Apollyon sent a troop of fallen angels
in that direction as he sent the rest of the fallen angels to the
second heavenly hall connecting Raquin and Shamain. The rest
of his battalion, which he had saved quite a large number for, fol-
lowed him to the ruby mountain of Shamain, in the north, where
Apollyon hoped the silver jubilee would be captured by Sariel.
Below him, where the Icestern Rainforest had ended, the forest
of Purity had begun, the golden cyphers seemed to be growing
as they reached up their golden arms, swaying their branches in
hopes of killing the enemy invading their territory.
Apollyon watched these attacking trees carefully as he
recalled how strangely they had acted when he and Gamaliel had
first returned from the abyss. This forest, out of everything else in
Zion, seemed to be the only element that had never been fooled
by the inestra. Disappointedly, though the legions were great in
number and skilled at combat, they were less mindful; and many
were losing their lives as they attempted to slice off the golden
branches of the cyphers.
“Fly higher, you idiots. Higher,” Apollyon cried; but they did
not listen, and more and more of his legions began to fight the
defending trees, who were winning their battles easily.
Then, from behind Apollyon, in the back flanks of his bat-
talion, balls of fire shot through the air. He looked back and saw
that some of the skeletal warriors with the magical staffs had
finally thought of using fire against these trees. Golden branches
and trunks appeared to jump out of the way of the red balls of
flame, but the ground could not move and was soon scorched
and burning beneath them. The trees gave off cries of pain as
the staffs shot more and more dark fire into the forest. Apollyon
looked back south just before crossing into the shadow of Raquin
and saw Satan burning the acres of Purity that were before him as
he made his way to the twin heavens of Machonon and Sagun.
Apollyon was not far now from the silver jubilee; and as he

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flew over the blue grass between Raquin and Shamain, he saw
angels dressed in white racing across the garden to Mathey, the
fifth heaven, where Zion’s armory was located. If the plan was
going right, Apollyon thought, then the princes of hell should be
entering that heaven at any time, as they were instructed to do,
and stop the distribution of weapons to the remaining faithful
angels. If they were not, Apollyon had already instructed many
of his mutinous angels to do the same, which had been one of
his most important precautions in his preparations for this war.
There is no time to worry about that now though, Apollyon said
to himself as he neared the edges of Shamain. He needed to
get these legions in the first level as quick as possible and find
Gamaliel to see if he had completed his task. He also wanted
to get his sword back from him as the utter uselessness of not
having a weapon was overtaking his mind at the sight of all the
battles beginning to take place.
He looked around at all the skeletal warriors beside him and
thought for a moment about taking one of their weapons from
them, but he was not completely convinced of this legion’s loyalty
to him; and he did not doubt that taking one of their weapons
could easily cause a mutiny against him, most likely resulting in
his death. So, focusing back on retrieving his own weapon, he
motioned for his battalion to follow him sharply into the tunnel
where the silver jubilee glistened like a polished moon.
This jubilee was empty, to Apollyon’s great relief, as more
and more soldiers followed him through its hall. The emerald
and sapphire clouds were once again in an uproar as yellow stars
flew sporadically across the walls and lightning bounced around
violently. Other than this, there was no real change inside the
jubilee; but toward the opening, Apollyon could see nothing
but red smoke. Preparing for whatever was behind that smoke,
Apollyon burst through it with his legions behind him. Shamain
looked like a meteor shower of the universe that had gone hor-
ribly out of control.
The rebellious angels in black robes were battling with the

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astrofers in their navy blues, sending stars flying at them in every

direction. Coming from the back jubilee and down the circlet
were angels in white robes with silver and gold armor, greatly
outnumbering the angels in black. Already, hundreds of angels
lay wounded upon the silver grass of Shamain as the legions of
hell flew past Apollyon, eager to take part in the action. More
angels in white robes with golden swords filled the first level,
battling the incoming skeletal warriors, but were quite confused
about battling the angels in black. Their brief confusion was
snuffed out immediately as one of the black robed angels ran his
sword through an unsuspecting astrofer.
Apollyon glanced around and saw no sign of Sariel in the
first level. He considered for a moment changing his robe so that
he would not be attacked by any of the legions or other fallen
angels who were not all together sure what side he was on. Out
of all the confusion, he surely did not want to take a sword to
the stomach after all he had accomplished; but the thoughts of
where he needed to go confirmed his hunch to take the chance
and leave his robe as it was so he could blend in with the faithful
angels. The Guph was in the higher levels of Araboth and the
likelihood of meeting too much opposition between here and
there was slim. He took off for the circlet with confidence in
his glide and flew right through Yessedekeus, sliding up into the
ruby tunnel.
Angels were sweeping by, paying no attention to him, as their
determined faces focused on getting to the first level. He yelled
with all of his might, “Hurry! Hurry! They’re coming from the
garden and the forest!”
The angels nodded their heads with urgency and flew with
haste to the bottom level, dispersing in every direction. Apollyon
grinned as he passed through the ruby walls of the circlet, glanc-
ing inside the levels as he passed. The first two levels he passed
were busy with angels preparing for battle; but the next level
had been emptied and, with any luck, so would the next. As he
entered the fifth level of flowers and dew, which was normally

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ruled by Serafina, his hunch was confirmed. The entire level was
deserted; and strangely enough, everything within it was already
dry and wilting. Apollyon took off toward the first heavenly
hall, which would lead him straight into JA’EL, and from there,
the Guph, where he believed Gabrielle was located and where
Gamaliel should be right now.

“Gabrielle, we are under attack!” Aariel roared as he rushed over

and grabbed her trumpet from a nearby corner of the Guph.
“By who?” she asked as she looked down at her son, who was
still sound asleep in her arms. She didn’t move irrationally or in
a rush but took the last few seconds she had to gaze over her son
as if she was recording every feature in her mind.
“The dragon has been loosed from his prison. By whom I
do not know. But some of our angels have turned against us. His
minions are swarming the entire kingdom with what looks like
the entire army of hell, and we are sadly out numbered!” Aariel
said franticly.
Gabrielle stood up with the child and walked over to a foun-
tain of marble that swirled in emerald colors, rising beautifully
out of the glassy floor. Beside the fountain lay one satchel; this
was used in Earthly times to take the souls of the humans to their
birth places. The satchel was black as night and had a latch that
wrapped around a solid ball full of stars. Gabrielle unlocked the
satchel and placed her son, who was still sleeping in his sapphire
cloth, inside of the satchel.
“What are you doing?” Aariel asked as he held a silver trumpet
out to her. She took the trumpet from his paws and glanced over
it. Her reflection sparkled off of the trumpet’s brilliance as her
hand glided down the seven-foot horn. She opened the satchel
and placed it inside. Aariel’s eyes stared in amazement—not only
because the satchel was only about a foot long but because she

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had just successfully put her child and the trumpet inside of it
and the satchel appeared as though nothing was there.
“Gabrielle, what’s going on?” Aariel questioned anxiously.
She turned to look at Aariel with tears in her eyes. “The
Father requires you to take the child with my trumpet and deliver
him to the four emperors in Jerusalem,” Gabrielle said as pink
tears streamed across her cheek.
“The Father what? When did you see Him? I don’t under-
stand. The child? Why?” Aariel sputtered as Gabrielle lifted the
satchel and placed its black straps across his neck, hanging it on
the black fur of his back. She ran her hand through the black hair
of Aariel’s mane, and her eyes were full of tears as she looked into
his eyes that were blazing with white fire.
“Neither do I, my old friend, but these are our orders for this
battle,” she said as she kissed him on the nose.
Aariel’s fur began to stand up on end as the tips became gold
with fire. He spread his two black wings as far as they could
stretch, which was about a wingspan of thirty-three feet across.
“Do not let any harm come to him, please, Aariel,” she said
as she collapsed into her jeweled chair.
“I will protect him with my life, Gabrielle, as I would you,”
Aariel said, and he burst through the pearl doors with a streak of
gold behind him.
He had barely gotten his tail out of the Guph when he heard,
“Aariel!” from a voice across the Yessedekeus River that sounded
shocked and weak. Aariel stopped briefly and looked over to see
Gamaliel, standing there with a sword drawn.
“The battle is not here, Gamaliel. What are you—?”
But Aariel did not finish his sentence as Gamaliel rushed
across the river and into the Guph, through the opened pearl
door.
“Gabrielle!” Aariel screamed as he turned around with a jolt
of fury. The satchel upon his back slid around and slapped him in
the face, causing him to hesitate for one moment.
In that moment, he heard a still, small voice speak to his

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spirit, saying, “She is fine, Aariel. Your job is to deliver the boy.
Now go!”
There was no hesitation left within him as Aariel’s bones
filled with purpose and strength the like of which he had not felt
in a thousand years. He threw out his wings again with the power
of a hurricane and flew off through the circlet down to the fifth
level of JA’EL.

Gamaliel stood within the doorway of the Guph, ignoring the

roars and chaos below. Apollyon’s sword was raised high within
his hands, but the expression upon his face rapidly faded from
determination to sorrow. Gabrielle lay collapsed upon her jew-
eled chair, sobbing uncontrollably. He froze in an awkward posi-
tion, not expecting this at all. He was ready for a battle, ready to
kill if necessary; but he was not prepared to find her in a bro-
ken emotional state. Her sobs moaned into tears that speckled
amethysts across the floor like an avalanche of jewels. Her wings
drooped depressingly over the back of the chair; and her skin had
faded into a clammy, pale state.
Gamaliel lowered the sword to his side. He was still wear-
ing his normal robes as Apollyon had instructed him to do, so
that he could stay secretive for as long as possible. Gabrielle had
not even glanced up to see if anyone was in the room, as she
was overly consumed in some heartbreaking struggle. Gamaliel
looked around to see if he could find the trumpet waiting in
an oblivious ignorance of the war outside, but it was nowhere
to be seen. For as large as a weapon the trumpet is, they have hid-
den it well, Gamaliel thought to himself. And what do I do about
Gabrielle?
He was still in the doorway, motionless and a little shaky. He
knew that below him, in every level of every heaven, the war was
raging the likes of which Zion had never seen. The trumpet was
still missing, from what Gamaliel could gather; and Gabrielle did

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not appear to have the will to use it anyways. I could just ask her
where it is, he thought suddenly; and a smile grew inside his mind
and then trickled across his face. Yes. Ask her. She does not know
what side I am on. She might think I am trying to help. She is in a
much too pitiful state to use it. And if she won’t give it to me, I could
take it by force. Gamaliel nearly ran to her with excitement at this
knew theory as he gathered his words together in his mouth.
“Gabrielle,” Gamaliel began to say softly and not too anx-
iously. She did not answer but seemed to sob even more uncon-
trollably. “Gabrielle, it’s me, Gamaliel. Are you okay?” he asked
as he edged his way closer to her.
She did not seem to have the slightest inkling of comprehen-
sion that anyone was speaking to her but sobbed continuously
within her arms.
“Gabrielle, we are being invaded by Satan and his minions.
We need your trumpet immediately!” This sentence came out a
little more sternly and a little louder then he had wanted since
she had not even flinched during his previous comments.
Then, like some miracle or blessing, Gabrielle lifted her head
slowly, to the point that only her eyes were overlooking her fore-
arms. The pinks of her eyes were a radiant fire swimming with
gold; and Gamaliel waited for some type of answer, but she just
stared at him.
“Gabrielle, where is the trumpet?” Gamaliel asked again with
hope boiling in his blood.
The words that fumbled out of her lips were soft and muf-
fled, as if she was totally unaware of what she was saying. “He is
gone,” she said, and her sobs increased tenfold.
Gamaliel stepped back instantly from the sudden shock of
her explosion of tears.
“He’s gone? You mean it’s gone?” he asked out loud. “Gone?
Where? How could it have gone? It’s yours. Where is it?”
She didn’t answer, but the tears falling to the floor were mak-
ing small piles of jewels in every direction. He looked at her; and

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though he was filled with anger, he thought he would not get

another word out of her.
It’s gone, he thought mournfully. Gone where though? What
does she mean? “Is it here in Zion somewhere, Gabrielle? Can I
go get it? We could really use it for this battle,” he blurted out
hopelessly, knowing that no answer would come.
She continued to weep and did not answer. This is unbeliev-
able, Gamaliel thought, leaning the sword that still lay tight
within his grasp against the ground.
Suddenly, the sound of rushing wings flowed into Gamaliel’s
ears, and his heart flip flopped in his chest as he turned on the
spot with the sword drawn out before him. Apollyon stood in the
doorway with mixed emotions across his face. He looked from
Gamaliel holding his sword to Gabrielle spread out weakly upon
her chair.
“The trumpet?” Apollyon questioned eagerly.
“She says it’s gone,” Gamaliel replied.
“Gone? Gone where? Here in Zion somewhere?” Apollyon
asked hurriedly.
“She won’t say. She’s a little … ” Gamaliel looked over at her
and then looked back at Apollyon, “ill, upset. I don’t know.”
Apollyon sighed furiously at Gamaliel’s incompetence.
He walked through the pearl door hurriedly as he said,
“We need that trumpet. What are we going to tell—?” But he
stopped suddenly, not wanting to give away his position just yet
to Gabrielle.
“I don’t know, but what do you want to do with her? She
doesn’t seem like much of a threat right now, does she?” Gamaliel’s
question faded away immediately as Apollyon gave him a fierce
look that he knew meant to shut his mouth.
Apollyon snatched his sword from his hands, and Gamaliel
suddenly felt extremely weak and fearful without a weapon.
Whether it was the feel of his own weapon within his palms
or the weak state that Gabrielle was in, he did not know; but
he suddenly felt vicious and savage. He approached Gabrielle

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quickly with purpose and anger in his heart. Her continuous sob-
bing was not softening up his determination; he needed answers,
and he wanted them now. He walked right up to Gabrielle and
threw her head back by her chestnut hair. Some diamonds fell
from her curls as her body fell limply against the back of the seat.
Gamaliel gasped at the harsh treatment Apollyon was brandish-
ing upon Gabrielle in such a pitiful state.
“I need your trumpet, Gabrielle. And I need it now. If it is in
this room, show me. If not, then you will take me to where it is.
Or I swear by the Almighty Himself that I will run this sword
through your chest.”
Apollyon pressed the sword along Gabrielle’s neck, and she
did not wince. Her tears continued to flow through her blazing
pink eyes, but her muffled sobs had ceased. She seemed to be
putting together a puzzle in her mind as she stared at Apollyon
and his rage.
“You are the traitor,” she said as her tears continued to fall
into amethysts along the floor.
“Excuse me?” Apollyon answered with a hint of surprise.
“You have my keys, the keys to the abyss. Mikael gave them
to you after I gave them to him, and you let him out,” she said
factually.
Apollyon looked amusedly at her for showing a mighty sense
of wisdom in such a terrible state.
“Yes, it was me, Gabrielle. I opened the pit and released the
dragon. I devised a plan to take over Zion, and it is almost com-
plete. Soon, we will reform our armies together and take over the
world of Eterni. And you and every other angel will be impris-
oned by the Morning Star.” Apollyon grinned with some form of
finality in his voice, which suggested that he had just proven his
greatness to her and his worthiness to take her trumpet.
She did not get angry. She did not move or try to fight him.
She sat there and stared at him with eyes like burning fire creep-
ing into Apollyon’s heart.
“Speak, Gabrielle, and tell me where your trumpet is now!”

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he demanded as the sword cut into her fragile skin, releasing

drops of blue blood upon the sword.
“No,” she said softly with a defined refusal in her word.
“Yes, you will,” Apollyon spat, “or you will die.”
But Gabrielle did not flinch. “The only death is separation
from Jehovah, and that sword has neither the power nor the
capability to take that from me,” she stated as Apollyon’s face
contorted with rage.
“Separation, you talk about separation.” Apollyon laughed
wildly. “How about over a thousand years of separation? No
word from His majesty as He scurries along through the uni-
verse, doing who knows what. This supposed illness of yours has
obviously destroyed your memory and your sanity, Gabrielle.”
“I recall all the memory I have ever known, and I am plainly
saner than you are, Apollyon,” she responded.
Apollyon hit his breaking point at this retort and lost what
little self-control he had. He lifted the sword in the air with his
eyes fixed on hers. She did not blink or look away as three tears
flowed down her cheeks. Apollyon brought down his hand to
strike the mighty Gabrielle; but a sharp pain entered his right
shoulder, and the sword fell from his hand to the ground. The
pain in his shoulder was unbearable, like a poison released into
his bloodstream, looking for his heart; and he turned to look at
Gamaliel, who he knew had betrayed him and saved Gabrielle’s
life. But as he tilted his head, he could see that Gamaliel was
frozen in shock. Apollyon’s eyes flooded with fear as they reached
the pearl door and landed upon Haniel, vibrating with a rage
Apollyon had never seen before as he displayed his deathly set of
diamond-plated daggers in his hands, ready to strike again.
“What is the meaning of this treachery, Apollyon?” Haniel
screamed furiously as he ran into the room.
Apollyon did not speak as he reached behind him to pull
out the dagger that was spreading the poison quickly into his
muscle.
“And you, Gamaliel,” Haniel bellowed as Gamaliel looked at

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him with terror and apprehension. “Were you going to just stand
there and let him kill her?” he asked with wrath emerging across
his face.
Gamaliel stuttered inaudible mumbles of words as Apollyon
screamed in pain from the release of the dagger.
“I will kill you both as judgment for your plots against
Gabrielle,” Haniel cried as he raised three daggers in each hand.
“No, Haniel,” Gabrielle sounded as she stood feebly upon
her feet. “Do not shed blood in this holy place.” The comforts
of her chair were gone; and she walked over to him, resting her
hand upon his shoulder.
Haniel lowered the daggers and stared at Gabrielle.
“Let us tie them up and leave them be. I have heard enough
from Apollyon’s lips,” she said as she made her way to the oppo-
site side of the room.
Haniel looked around in puzzlement and knew that some-
thing was missing.
“Gabrielle, where is Aariel, and where is—?”
But he was quickly cut off by Gabrielle, who said, “He has
been sent to do a task. That is all.”
As her words filtered through his mind, Haniel understood
and knew that further revelation of the child was not permitted
before the present company.
She walked back beside Haniel, slowly holding silvery lines
of what seemed to be thinix.
“Is that spirit lining?” Haniel questioned.
Gabrielle nodded her head.
“I will watch over these two while you rejoin the battle. Help
Mikael and the others. But do not die for this cause, Haniel, for
there will be another time to win this war.”
Haniel looked at her with so much confusion that he could
barely contain himself. When and how could there ever be
another time? He had just barely made it through JA’EL to help
her as Raphael had instructed him to do. Rightfully, there was
not much of a chance at this point that they would have a miracle

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victory from what he had seen, since they seemed to be outnum-

bered six to one; and that was giving the angels who remained
true to Zion extremely good odds.
Gabrielle kicked away Apollyon’s sword in disgust by its
presence as she and Haniel wrapped the thinix around the two
of them tightly. “Hurry, Haniel, and protect the others, and tell
them not to die, and tell Mikael to make the choice,” she said as
she found her jeweled chair once more.
Haniel was positively baffled by Gabrielle’s words and actions;
but as she sat down and began to cry, he left the Guph to find the
others and save who he could.

Aariel had left the island of Zion and was flying faster than he
had ever flown before in the direction of Eterni’s shores. The
white sky looked disturbed above him, and the oceans below
were churning with a madness Aariel had never seen. Does the
world know that Lucifer has been released into its realm? he thought
as his wings flapped harder and harder. Murderous cries sounded
behind him, and he took a glance back to see his pursuers. Four
presidents on goshawks were flying with haste as three kings on
locusts tailed behind them.
Aariel knew goshawks and knew their speed. Jerusalem was
still leagues away, and they would surely catch up to him before
he could make it safely within their walls. He needed to make a
decision, and he needed to make it fast. Where could he go to hide
the child? Would he be able to fight off so many foes alone? Where was
the closest place from here? Question after question rolled through
Aariel’s mind as the coastline became visible in the distance, but
the goshawks were gaining ground swiftly in their chase.
I will have to take him to Oethul, Aariel thought, and he began
to descend toward the white waters. If I am correct, I was going to
pass over the forest as the shoreline comes up. The magic of the fornax

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trees should provide some shelter. And if I am blessed, I will defeat my

foes and begin my long journey to Jerusalem.
The shoreline was upon him, and the last of the white waves
was beneath him as he could see the purple and gold leaves of
the fornax trees coming into view. He passed quickly over the
last of the waves, landing full speed upon the minty green grass
of the Oethul Forest, rushing hastily into its cover. Aariel’s mani-
festation shone all around him as the glassy bark of the fornax
trees mirrored his reflection in every direction. His white eyes
searched deep within the woods for some safe place the child
might be kept and a place he could recognize again easily.
In the distance, he heard the sounds of the goshawks enter-
ing the trees behind him but with what sounded like a slight
resistance by the forest to let them pass. He knew that there
were only moments before he would be within a battle, and he
rushed to a nearby stream along the lining of the wood. He took
the satchel from around his neck and placed it down upon the
grass, amongst the trees. He looked at his reflection shining bril-
liantly off the bark before him and said, “All of you, I need you to
protect this satchel and what lies inside it from the enemy. I will
do what I can to destroy my pursuers, but this satchel is of the
utmost importance and cannot be compromised.”
Aariel did not receive an audible answer from anything
around, but the trees surrounding the satchel moved together
to form a barricade around it in a small circle. Five brawny trees
now huddled together as pillars around the satchel, camouflag-
ing it from any intruders. Aariel smiled as he breathed a sigh of
relief, but his moment of solitude cost him dearly as a goshawk
rammed its claws into the side of his ribs. Aariel let out a vicious
roar and kicked the beast off of him at once. He tumbled past
many trees that had maneuvered out of his way, but the goshawk
was rammed by a barrier of trees that had formed a wall against
it. Aariel swiftly rose to his feet; but the minty green grass where
he had laid was stained with crimson blood, and one of his wings
appeared to be badly broken.

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Aariel glanced over at the goshawk that had hit him with
such a fierce force and saw that it was unconscious next to a
thicket of trees. The goshawk’s rider, however, was not knocked
unconscious; and he approached Aariel with a snarl. “Nowhere
for you to run kitty, kitty,” one of the presidents of hell stated
with a husky laugh.
Aariel looked back to his left, and the other three goshawks
were finally creeping into view with their riders attached and
armed. Aariel was appraising each of the presidents before him
and thinking of the other three kings of hell on their way. He
only had precious moments to take on these enemies before their
reinforcements would arrive. He wasn’t sure, but he assumed they
had no idea that he had been carrying anything with him since
the satchel had blended so well with his coat.
“I can’t believe Lucifer sent the four of you after me,” Aariel
said with dead concentration as he crouched in an attacking
position. “Even if there was four more of you and your worthless
birds, this is not a fight,” Aariel stated; and in the blink of an eye,
three spears had been thrown in his direction. The first two he
dodged, and the third he bit in half as he roared with the voice
of ten lions.
The attack was on, and the presidents sent their goshawks
flying at him in quick movements that Aariel easily parried. As
the birds swept around the trees and turned vigorously back
around for a second attempt, the presidents lunged simultane-
ously at Aariel. Three rapiers and one sword swiped through the
air; and Aariel’s good wing knocked the sword from one of them
while he kicked the others with his paws.
“What? Is that too rough for you?” Aariel asked with sar-
casm in his voice. Then one of them jumped from behind Aariel,
attacking him with his rapier in hand, but Aariel dodged him and
broke his leg with one swipe of his claws. The angel screamed as
another charged from Aariel’s side. Aariel swung his tail around
quickly and caught him in the gut. The two others raised their
rapiers and lunged at Aariel’s broken wing. The pain was enor-

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mous as another crack and burst of blood spit from Aariel’s left
wing. Two of the goshawks hammered in at this moment and
dug their claws deep into Aariel’s chest.
Aariel roared with pain; and his black coat burst into a golden
fire, forcing the goshawks from their hold. Aariel ran at three
of the presidents, and they hobbled apart in fear of the lion’s
new wrath. One turned from behind a tree and threw his rapier
at Aariel, which bounced casually off his flaming fur. The third
goshawk came rushing in quickly and grasped hold of Aariel’s
back, but the fur was so hot upon its claws that it released him
immediately and flew off. The four presidents gathered together
for one last desperate attempt on the lion before the kings made
their way into the forest. With weapons drawn and malice on
their faces, they flew into the air with their wings spread wide.
Aariel met them with a fury and rage they had never met before;
and he tackled them all to the ground, slicing and ripping at their
throats. Two of the presidents lay dead upon the floor while the
other two breathed airlessly.
Aariel glanced over his victims but felt a pain like he had never
felt before surge into his back. What felt like a large, pointed
sword had split into his spine through the flames of his coat,
issuing his blood to the floor of the ground. The three locusts of
the three kings had finally arrived; and one of them had stuck its
enormous scorpion tail straight into Aariel’s back.
Aariel collapsed in overwhelming pain as three kings of hell
landed softly on the torn and thrashed ground. Aariel wanted
to move, but his spine had been torn in two. He glanced some
distance away where he had hid the satchel that carried Adoniel
and the trumpet. He hoped that it would remain safe until some
other guardian could find him, for he feared that these were his
final moments. The three kings of hell walked next to Aariel, and
one of them kicked him hard in the ribs where he had been tack-
led earlier. Blood poured from his side as he moaned with pain.
“And where did you think you were going?” a sly, evil voice
whispered in his ears.

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“Come on, Purson. Let’s kill him and get back to the fight.
There may still be some alive for us to torture if we hurry,” a
hideous angel suggested.
Purson lifted a shiny, ruby dagger from inside his cloak. The
other king walked over to the two presidents of hell who were
struggling to get up.
“Hmm. Ose and Valac, is it? You two do not look so well,” he
said, and then he plunged two long swords into their backs, and
they fell to the bloodstained ground.
“Now the lion, Purson, and let’s go,” the others implied,
motioning for the locusts to come forth.
Aariel lay upon his stomach with wounds inflicted all upon
his body. His wings drooped crookedly to the floor as his fur
diminished into its jet-black color again. Purson lifted his leg up
and stood on either side of the great lion with the dagger lifted
just above his head.
“Gabrielle will be so disappointed to hear that her beloved
pet has been slaughtered,” he said, and a tear fell from Aariel’s
eyes as they closed slowly.

Mikael burst out of his chamber with his greatsword drawn. The
scene in his heaven was more than chaotic as angels in black
fought angels in white; skeletal warriors rushed in from every
opening of his heaven with large bat wings he had never seen
before; and outside the mountain, a roar that could only be
Lucifers was issuing loudly from his mouths. Mikael knew that
he must entrust the safety of his heaven to Pachdial and the rest
of his regime, for the dragon was the number one priority.
He bolted toward the golden jubilee, flying past battle after
battle, wishing he could stop and help each one of them. He
entered his jubilee swiftly; but before he could exit, a strong
burst of blue flame passed by the opening, and Mikael knew that

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Lucifer was nearby. He gripped his sword tightly; and as the

flames subsided, he burst through the entrance and into the air.
The scene was horrific, as the red dragon had both feet
between Machonon and Sagun and both claws gripping the
middle of their mountains. The river of milk underneath the
dragon was nearly barren; and all seven heads were focused upon
the garden, sending blazes wildly in every direction. Angels
were flying everywhere, battling creatures and fallen angels in
the sky as the Beast and the Prophet were making their way
toward Araboth. Mikael flew as secretively as he could toward
the heart of the dragon, through the smoke and the flames; but
seven heads meant fourteen eyes, and it was not long before he
had been spotted. Seven jets of blue fire flew in his direction, and
he dodged these easily with his speed and skill as he slashed at
the wrist of the dragon’s right hand. The silver of Mikael’s sword
burst into a fury of white flame and caught the dragon’s crimson
scales, gashing a deep cut along his palm.
The dragon roared in fury as he shot more lines of flame at
Mikael. Mikael flew through these quickly and was behind the
dragon’s back before he could twist his necks around to get a
shot at him. Mikael gripped his pearl handle and plunged his
flaming sword into the back of the dragon, who roared with pain
once more. He released the sword and flew high into the sky
around the fourth heavenly hall as jets of fire flew in his direc-
tion. He hovered momentarily above the hall, hidden from the
dragon’s view as he looked toward Araboth, where the Beast and
the Prophet were now trying to rip off the sapphire jubilee with
minor success. Mikael thought instantly of Gabrielle and knew
that the best way to help her would be to kill Lucifer.
Then a gold stream flew by the sixth heavenly hall, and
Mikael thought for sure that had to be Aariel; but he did not
know where he could possibly be going at a time like this. Mikael
watched as the dragon shot many bolts of fire at him and then
screamed with a torturous yell as if it was an alarm or an order.
Mikael grasped hold of his greatsword for another plunge; but

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his brief camouflage was discovered, and blue flames soared up to

the heavenly hall to meet him. He flew around the flames as the
clouds quickly reformed around the hall and darted for the drag-
on’s body. More flames issued from Lucifer’s mouths; and Mikael
aimed for one of the dragon’s wings, ripping it down the right
side. The dragon’s hand was swift this time and punched Mikael
right in the chest, sending him flying up against the jacinth walls
of Machonon and knocking his greatsword to the ground.
Mikael was sliding down the surface of the heaven, momen-
tarily stunned from the force of the hit. The dragon pointed his
heads determinedly at him and sent flames blazing in his direc-
tion. Mikael shook off the shock as the blue fire neared him, and
he dove off the rock toward the ground to recover his weapon.
The sword had fallen just feet from the dragon’s foot, and Lucifer
realized this quickly as he tried to step on the sword; but Mikael
was too quick. He dove underneath the dragon’s claw and recap-
tured his sword and sliced open the ankle of the other leg as he
came back up.
The dragon screeched and aimed a kick at him, but Mikael
was already heading for its chest. He was just feet away from
plunging his greatsword into the dragon’s heart when he was
sideswiped by some mysterious force. As he fell through the
sky, he saw a brief vision of his attacker. The black scales of the
winged dragon were passing overhead, and Mikael knew that
Abaddon had blocked him from his goal. Then, with a thud,
he hit the floor of the burning garden and lay there for a few
moments, apparently camouflaged from Lucifer’s sight by all the
smoke and fire.
Up above him, he heard a voice that was echoing seven times,
saying, “Leave him be! He is mine!”
Mikael coughed as he felt around for his greatsword. The
ground of the garden was hot and rough as ash spread out
amongst all of the trees. He leaned his head to the left and saw
the glint of the silver metal of nevaeh from his weapon. He rose
up without taking too much concern of his surroundings and ran

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to the sword, picking it up and soaring back into the air. The
red dragon was searching franticly for Mikael in every direction
while Abaddon was headed toward Araboth and the sapphire
jubilee. Mikael glanced in Abaddon’s direction and saw that Uriel
and Raphael had joined the fight in the garden and were battling
hard with the Beast and the Prophet.
Uriel’s ruby bow was sending pearl arrows into the thick, black
hair of the Prophet as he flew around him with ease. Raphael had
apparently plunged his silver spear into the Beast several times,
for there were blood stains all across its yellow fur as Raphael
prepared to strike again. But as Raphael lunged at the Beast,
he was intercepted by Abaddon, whose winged dragon knocked
Raphael back against the mountain. This time, Abaddon was not
alone as Baal came into view, chasing Uriel through the air with
the quick speed of Ryphon. Mikael was positive that Raphael
and Uriel could have taken the Beast and the Prophet by them-
selves, but he was not so confident that they could take on all
four of them at once. They needed Haniel, and they needed him
quickly.
Mikael turned his attention back to the dragon and knew
that if he could take him down, they could have a chance at win-
ning this war. He flew with all the speed he could muster in his
wings and headed for the dragon’s chest again. A thick patch
of smoke suddenly surrounded the area as legions with magi-
cal staffs sent black clouds issuing all around the atmosphere
surrounding the mid section of the dragon. Mikael was caught
instantly in the darkness and flew with great speed through the
thicket to the other side. All seven heads of Lucifer were ready
for Mikael when he reappeared, and seven blades of flame shot
at him simultaneously. Mikael dodged and maneuvered as best
he could, but the trap had been well-set. A sinister blaze of fire
sliced through his left wing, searing off most of his feathers.
The dragon seized his opportunity and went for the kill as
Mikael began to fall through the air. Seven heads with mouths
of a hundred spears darted toward Mikael’s falling body with

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triumph and hunger in their jaws. The first of the seven heads
was right at Mikael’s feet when he was scooped out of the air by
an unknown rescuer. Mikael looked over as the loss of blood was
quickly taking its toll on his vision, but he could see the multi-
colored wings well enough to know that Haniel had saved him.
Words of gratitude could have never said more than the look
Mikael gave him.
“Mikael, you are badly wounded,” Haniel stated as Mikael
tried to move his wing.
He could not say anything as he lay within Haniel’s arms.
“This may seem crazy, but I do not think we can win this
war. And Gabrielle has told me strange things that I think you
should hear.”
Mikael looked at Haniel as blue flames shot by both of
them.
“I think we should surrender before any more die,” Haniel
exclaimed as Mikael looked at him in shock.
“And what? Give Lucifer Zion? You are crazy,” Mikael
responded exhaustedly.
Haniel burst through the opening of the first hall, which was
luckily deserted. He laid Mikael gently upon the floor next to
Yessedekeus.
“I know its madness, but Gabrielle said that there will be
another chance to win this war, and I believe her. I know this
seems crazy, but I think we should surrender and see what
Jehovah has in store for the future.”
Fire ripped through the hall as the dragon began to walk
through the garden in pursuit of Mikael.
“We don’t have much time,” Haniel said. “We either surren-
der or die, and Gabrielle asked me to tell you not to die and to
make a choice!” Haniel exclaimed desperately.
Mikael looked into Haniel’s eyes that were full of truth and
urgency. If he did surrender, he was sure that Lucifer would not
kill them. No. He would want to torture them for eternity. What
a decision to make in a split second of time. Hand over Zion

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with a white flag, or die. I would rather die, Mikael thought; but
as he looked at Haniel again, the words of Gabrielle seemed to
pass upon his ears in her own voice: “Please don’t die, make the
choice.”
Mikael cupped his hand and drank one handful of water from
Yessedekeus. “Tell the others to meet me in the throne room.
That is where he will want to go, and send up the signal of sur-
render,” Mikael said as he lifted himself off the ground. “I hope
Gabrielle knows what she’s doing. But, alas, I do not even know
if we could have won this battle either way.”
Haniel nodded his head and burst through the clouds of the
hall and back into the garden to retrieve Uriel and Raphael.
Mikael made his way into JA’EL, where a slaughter had
taken place and nothing seemed to be moving anymore. Legions
from hell and the people of the rainbow lay dead or injured all
along the land; and Mikael flew slowly, with his one wing toward
the circlet. He did not have to bear the burden of one wing very
long, as Raphael and Uriel were quickly on their way to the sev-
enth heaven with Haniel as their guide. They picked up Mikael
midway between JA’EL and the Guph as he was struggling
immensely to fly.
“We need to get Gabrielle and the boy taken somewhere
safely away from the island,” Mikael said as Raphael and Uriel
lifted him by each arm.
“The boy is already gone, and how and why I do not know.
But I will get Gabrielle on the way to the throne room. We do
not have much time. They are coming,” Haniel said this and took
the exit into the sixth level of the Guph to retrieve Gabrielle. The
others passed the sixth level and flew into the seventh, which was
the throne room of God.
This area was like another world, with sapphire walls filling
the room and Yessedekeus running across the floor like a sea of
glass. A breed of angels called galgalim stood along these walls
and they were strikingly glorious and silent. They did not look in
any direction but the throne at all times, and the presence of the

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great archangels did not stir them. In the center of the room was
the throne of Jehovah, and it was made of light with an emerald
rainbow arched above it. It was simple and magnificent all at the
same time, like a sunset and a sunrise mingled together. Haniel
had gathered up Gabrielle quickly; and though she was in a very
weak state, they rushed to the throne room together. They joined
the other three quickly, in hopes for a few words before Lucifer
and his minions arrived.
“Mikael!” Gabrielle gasped; and she ran to him, putting her
arms around him and looking over his wounds that were begin-
ning to heal.
“It could have been a lot worse,” Mikael said as Gabrielle
touched his wing that was mending slowly. He groaned in pain,
and more tears fell from her face.
“There’s not much time. I made my decision based upon your
words to Haniel, Gabrielle. Why did I make such a choice?” he
asked as he looked at her with the need for quick answers.
Tears streaked down her face as a vast amount of screeches
and yells came from two or three levels below.
“You made the right choice because you always do,” Gabrielle
answered with a roll of tears. Then she looked at all of them and
said, “Jehovah spoke to me and said that a new Morning Star has
arisen amongst us, and he will challenge and defeat Lucifer when
the time is complete.” More sobs poured from within her as she
put her face hard into her hands.
They all looked at one another as more questions hung in
their minds and upon their lips, but it was too late to speak of
them.
Lucifer had now transformed back into his wicked angelic
body and was walking with a pride that emitted from his skin
like a toxic radiance. Although Mikael had pierced him several
times, he looked as if he had just been newly made. Following
him were the Prophet; the Beast; Baal; Abaddon; Baphomet;
Sabaoth; and many kings, princes and presidents of hell, who
also looked unscathed from the battle. This magnificent group of

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evil beings made their way in from the circlet and stopped just
outside of the circle, apparently in awe or disgust of the beauty
and glory of the throne room.
“Just as I remembered it a long time ago,” Lucifer said with
no response from anyone else. He looked around as if soaking
up his marvelous victory with a satisfaction upon his face that
he had never worn before. Then his eyes found Mikael and the
other great archangels crowded together upon the floor, just feet
away from them. “I told you once before, Mikael, that this seat,
this land, and this world should rightfully be mine. I am the heir
to the throne. I am the Morning Star, and for me these things
were made.”
Mikael turned his eyes away from Lucifer’s gaze, for the iniq-
uities and injustice of his words were too much to bear.
Lucifer laughed a sick laugh and said, “Tie each of them up
separately.”
“Gladly,” came the reply from Baal as he caught a cluster of
chains that had been conjured from Lucifer’s hand. Baal tossed
the chains in the hands of four others as they followed him to
the great archangels, strapping them down with as much force as
possible as fists found each of their faces repeatedly. Blood trick-
led down the lips of each of the great archangels as they watched
Lucifer stroll through the throne room, defiling every piece he
could grasp with his touch.
“Oh, that is just the beginning,” Lucifer said with a laugh,
not looking back at Mikael. “The five of you are going to have so
much fun in my new reign of terror. In fact, you should be beg-
ging me right now to kill you all and save yourselves the torture.
Not that I would accept it when there are so many ways I want
to hurt you,” Lucifer exclaimed as he licked his lips and turned
around to gaze at Gabrielle.
Lucifer’s taunts ceased as he passed the first of the galgalim
angels staring at the throne. As he glided by, he spat and slashed
his nails across their faces. Not a single galgalim moved or
flinched but continued to stare at the seat of Jehovah with pride

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and exaltation. Lucifer took little interest more than this in the
galgalim angels, for his aim was set for what was known as the
mercy seat, the Throne of Jehovah.
Lucifer waved his fingers through the air; and upon his head,
a golden crown appeared, adorned with jewels and carvings in a
majestic and royal manner. Lucifer twisted his fingers through
the air again, and a golden staff bejeweled with the same stones
as his crown appeared within his hands as he stopped right
before the seat of Jehovah. Every eye was watching him either
with adoration and pride or disgust and disappointment. Lucifer
unfolded his malevolent wings and flapped them high over the
throne seat that was a hundred times his size. He turned around
and faced them as he glided down softly to the seat and sat there
triumphantly.

At that very moment the sound of a world being ripped apart

sounded across the world of Eterni. All across the island of Zion,
the minions of hell dropped to their knees in fear as the white
pearl sky above them was ripping away from itself. In the forest
of Oethul, Purson had just plunged his deadly blow into Aariel;
and he fell backward off of the lion as the sky above him tore
away from its roots. The pearl sky that had lain across the globe
moments before was gone; and above them now was a black sky
where the universe lay, naked for them to see.
They stared up at the black night, where stars, colored like
the rainbow, began to twinkle in every direction. Purson stood
to his feet, shaking slightly, and turned to the others, saying,
“Burn the bodies. We do not want to leave any evidence of our
presence.”
The other two kings of hell had to force themselves to take
their eyes off of the sky as unbelief of what had just happened
filled their minds. They walked toward the bodies of the four
presidents that lay murdered upon the ground and pulled out a

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fire red dust from within one of their satchels. As they stood over
the bodies, they sprinkled the dust upon them, which instantly
turned to flame. Purson began to walk back toward Aariel,
fumbling in one of his own satchels for the firedust. The lion
lay motionless upon the ground; and Purson stood over him,
delighted by his kill.
Suddenly, an explosion ignited the sky and shook the forest.
Purson stumbled to the ground as he pulled all the dust from his
bag burning himself in various places. He jumped hurriedly out
of the flames, patting his burns out swiftly. A large, yellow light
was fading from the sky above; and all three of the kings gazed
back up to the darkness. The universe was not at peace above
their heads as a normal universe might be. The stars that had
momentarily been resting in their designated places were moving
in every direction now, streaking across the skies with a madness
no one understood.
“What is happening?” one of the kings asked in astonish-
ment of the sights above him.
“I don’t know, but I think it’s time we headed back,” Purson
exclaimed.
They whistled for their locusts who speedily came hither.
Another flash blasted across the sky from two more stars col-
liding. This time, the light was a faint red; and it lit the forest
with an eerie tinge. The universe above seemed to be at war with
itself as star after star crashed into one another in a vicious rage.
Some explosions were distant; and some were just in the outer
atmosphere, displaying bursts of light in different formations
across the world.
Purson reached into his satchel, but there was no more
Firedust to be had and he spat on Aariel as he walked away. As
the stars continued their chaotic dance in the sky, three locusts
presented themselves before their three kings. They mounted
their creatures hurriedly; and in a brisk movement, they were
back in the skies, headed toward Zion. The four goshawks that
still remained alive from the presidents’ lot spread out their

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wings as well as they followed the kings back in a direction they

assumed was toward Zion.
As the last presence of evil left the forest of Oethul, the for-
nax trees began to put out the fire that was spreading across the
dead bodies and the minty grass. The trees that had performed
their duty as guards began to separate from around the black
satchel they had been protecting, and a baby’s arm gently reached
its hand out of the black bag and into the open air. The trees
looked down upon him; and he looked up at them, grinning with
a smile of love.
The baby climbed out of the satchel and pulled from within
it a large, silver trumpet that was seven times his size. He looked
over it, seeing the reflection of his own emerald eyes shining back
at him. Then he watched the reflection of more stars explod-
ing upon the trumpet, and he laid the trumpet down upon the
ground with a frown. He spread the satchel out upon the grass
as he rested his head on the cool, silver surface of the trumpet,
watching the sky. The stars of the universe continued to explode
above him in a war that was beautiful but petrifying to behold.
The fornax trees closed in around him once more, hiding
him from the forest as he closed his eyes and turned over upon
the satchel. As he lay upon his side, a strange image reflected
across the glassy bark of the trees. Silver, gold, and ivory were cir-
culating like a swirling river inside of a small feather that rested
upon the spine of the little baby boy.

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Words from Wisdom:

Adoniel
Dear Reader,
Our young Adoniel is unique to his kind, for he bears many
peculiarities in the angelic realm. He is, as you already know,
born from the great archangel Gabrielle, with no current father
to claim him as his son. He does not have a set of wings at his
command as all angels do, which is one of the most important
pieces of equipment angels take pride in. He does, however, have
a curious little feather that extends upon his back that ever circu-
lates with the colors of ivory, gold, and silver. The Father, wisest
of all, has great intentions for our young survivor. His story, tests,
and trials are a story of courage, faith, and love. The blessings of
the Lord shall be upon him, and he shall bless the Lord with the
actions he performs. Be not dismayed by the ending of this tale,
for it is only a brief revelation into the long development of how
the angels regain their Morning Star.

So now, here we are as we come to a close. My first tale for you

has been completed. I hope that this story has helped enlighten
you upon the great eccentricities of the spirit realm. I implore
you to reconnect with your Father above, as He longs so increas-
ingly to communicate with you. Let love rest in your heart and
peace rest upon your mind.
Wisdom

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 Endnotes

1 Proverbs 8:12-36

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