The Cosmic Spark

by Leo Ndelle

  “I want answers!” Luceefa ordered as she teleported to her domain.

  “Maybe Beelzebub has an idea,” Metatron offered. “I’d suggest we wait to hear from him!”

  “You expect me to wait? Are you serious?!” Luceefa snapped at Metatron.

  “Your transferred aggression, while understandable, will not bring our fallen brothers and sisters back,” Metatron replied calmly.

  “I am sorry, brother,” Luceefa apologized. “I did not mean to be so rude.”

  “I understand, sister,” Metatron replied and summoned a seat for her.

  She sank into it and Metatron settled into one he summoned for himself.

  “Beelzebub should be proceeding with the second phase now,” Metatron continued. “He must have seen what happened to our brothers and sisters. If you think about it, this temporary setback may not be such a bad thing. He must be as livid as we are after what just happened. Earth Realm will not stand a chance. Perhaps every creature of Earth will be afflicted by his mark, and not just those who are more aligned with the dark.”

  Luceefa pondered on Metatron’s words.

  “Be that as it may, brother, he should have contacted us by now,” Luceefa rebutted and stood up.

  Metatron let her pace back and forth for a moment before he spoke to her.

  “Yes, he should have,” Metatron agreed. “But he may just be too busy with the plan. We’re talking billions of creatures. It may take a while to hit them all.”

  Luceefa said nothing. She summoned two demons and ordered them to head to Earth. She needed a status report at once. The demons glanced at each other and then back at Luceefa. They did not move. They felt trapped between a devil and a demon-incinerating barrier. Neither held a promise of a hopeful outcome. But when Luceefa’s eyes flared up, the demons chose to dive towards the demon-killing barrier. They met a similar fate as their fellow compatriots. Luceefa was going to summon more demons but Metatron grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him in the eye.

  “Enough, Luciel!” Metatron yelled at Luceefa.

  Luceefa glared and slapped his hands away from her shoulders.

  “Put your hands on me again and I swear-” Luceefa dared Metatron.

  Luceefa was cut short as Metatron did the unexpected. She felt her back crash on the wall of her domain as Metatron charged her. Then she felt him plant a deep kiss on her lips. His sudden behavior immobilized her for a split moment before she returned to her senses and started wrestling against his body pressed against hers. But something was different about Metatron. She recalled him being strong, but never this strong. She felt almost physically powerless against him. It was a strange feeling… to be dominated by another creature other than Michael as such. It had been so long… So long since…

  Metatron felt Luceefa’s body go limp against his. He read it as a sign that she was now calm and that meant he had to stop, which he did, reluctantly. It took considerable inner strength to tear himself away from hers after fantasizing for so many cycles about bonding with her. He could dominate her, he could tell. But that was not what he wanted. Metatron wanted his bonding with Luciel to be a willful gesture on her part.

  Luceefa reached up and took Metatron’s face, stopping him from pulling away from her. She held his gaze for a moment before she closed her eyes, inclined her head and started kissing him on the lips. She felt Metatron’s strong arms take her by the waist and pull her towards him. She pressed her body against his and kissed him deeply and passionately for several moments. But then, she felt his hands slowly move along her torso and rest on her shoulders. Luceefa gently peeled her lips away from his as Metatron gently pushed her away from him and take a few steps back.

  “I am very sorry, Lucie,” Metatron said.

  Metatron did not want to call her ‘Luceefa’ because it was representative of her new life and role in Hell. He did not want to address her as ‘sister’, because it was representative of their relationship as partners at arms and also because it felt a little inappropriate. But calling her ‘Lucie’ was a psychological maneuver to take her back to a moment when she was not ruled by her emotions. It was intended to take her out of her current state of mind and bring her into one in which she was not at war.

  “I only meant to calm you down so that you can think straight,” Metatron continued. “I did not mean for this to be inappropriate in anyway.”

  “I understand,” Luceefa said with a smile and there was gratitude in her eyes even before she spoke. “It worked.”

  Metatron greatly appreciated the way she handled the situation but as he looked at Luceefa, he noticed there was something else about her.

  “Thank you… Mali,” Luceefa said and slowly peeled away from the wall.

  Mali… She had not called him that name in so many cycles. Luceefa took a slow and calculated step towards him and Metatron was immediately paralyzed where he stood. Luciel took another step and Malichiel could feel the energy flowing from her body and filling up the entire domain. He was trapped! He had nowhere to run to or hide, even if he could move… even if he wanted to move… and he did not want to go anywhere. Lucie took another step. He summoned his wings without realizing it and they spread out slowly as if they had a mind of their own. He finally understood why almost every angel and archangel wanted to be with her so badly, why Michael was so lucky. He now had an even bigger respect for Michael. Only an archangel like Michael could make an archangel like Luciel to fall so hard for him.

  “But you must finish what you started,” Lucie said and took another step.

  Metatron felt his knees buckle but before he could regain his posture, Luceefa zipped and speared him to the bed she just summoned. His dream archangel had once been Uriel. She still was, though that was never going to happen. But right there and then, Luciel was all the archangel he could ever have dreamed for. Malichiel felt Luciel’s legs straddle his pelvis as soon as they dismissed their garments. Their session was one of non-attachment and filled with a passion that was fiery, pure and pleasurable.

  Golden light exploded from both their neither regions at the same time. In that moment of synchronized climax, they both felt their bodies become supercharged with energy that they had never felt before. The two archangels floated in the air, hips joined, wings spread and summoned their archangel battle flames. Metatron’s was bright red and Luceefa’s started as golden yellow before switching to pale, violet-yellow. Their hip gyrations and thrusts continued and became more frenzied in a prelude to another synchronized climax, as they felt the buildup of energy within their essences. This time, the synchronized climax resulted in a resonance between their essences as the supercharging of their essences reached a crescendo. Innately, they knew a transmutation had occurred as they slowly descended onto the bed as their archangel battle flames became slowly extinguished. No one said a word as they cuddled against each other.

  “Hello Luciel,” The Scribe said telepathically. “I am The Scribe. You may remember the form I took as Fakud, when you fell to Earth Realm.”

  Luceefa bolted from the bed and searched around her domain for The Scribe while Metatron regarded her with confusion.

  “You MET with The Scribe?” Metatron asked, unable to contain his shock.

  “I did, brother,” Luceefa replied and summoned clothes over her body.

  “I remember you… Fakud,” Luceefa replied telepathically.

  She wanted to refer to The Scribe as master but changed her mind. It was best no one else knew that there was any creature she referred to by that title. One cannot be a true leader and refer to another as master? She hoped The Scribe understood the reason behind the way she addressed him.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Just outside your realm,” The Scribe replied. “I did not mean to intrude-”

  “Nonsense!” Luceefa said. “Please, come in.”

  The Scribe teleported into Luceefa’s domain. He first appeared in Fakud’s form before he morphed into his default ‘
Scribe’ form. He noticed the hesitation in Luceefa’s demeanor. He knew she wanted to fall at his feet, but because of Metatron, she did not want to look ‘weak’. So, instead, he walked towards her and opened his arms. He could tell she was grateful when she ran into them.

  “I have missed you so much, master,” Luceefa whispered into his ear.

  “The time has come, Luciel,” The Scribe whispered into her ear and held her by her shoulders. “Are you ready?” he asked so that only she could hear.

  Luceefa nodded.

  “Hello, Scribe,” Metatron greeted, not wanting to be left out. “I am-”

  “Metatron,” The Scribe said and nodded dismissively in Metatron’s direction.

  “What can I do for you, Fakud?” Luceefa asked.

  “I will go straight to the point,” replied The Scribe.

  “Best that way!” Metatron tried to sound tough.

  “I have your Zarark,” The Scribe said.

  Luceefa and Metatron gasped in shock.

  The Scribe said ‘your Zarark’ instead of ‘Celestia’s Zarark’. He had his reasons.

  “How did you…?” Metatron asked, but The Scribe cut him off.

  “Would you like to have back your Zarark?” The Scribe pretended not to notice their reaction.

  “Yes! Yes! Please!” Luceefa was still to process their unexpected good fortune.

  “But there is something you must do for me,” The Scribe said.

  “Anything!” Luceefa replied with desperation in her eyes.

  “There is a paradin, a cherub, I need you to accommodate for me,” The Scribe said. “It will only be temporary.”

  “And why do we need to hide this cherub for you?” Metatron asked, stepping towards Luceefa and The Scribe in defiance.

  “No concern of yours,” The Scribe replied calmly, without even as much as sparing a glance in Metatron’s direction. “I’m talking to your leader.”

  “Lucie,” Metatron pleaded. “Imagine if the paradins learn we’re harboring a fugitive of theirs, which I guess is what this Scribe’s friend is. They’ll wipe us out with a snap of the finger. I implore you NOT to give in to his request.”

  “The paradin in my care is cloaked and cannot be traced by any means,” The Scribe rebutted and turned his attention towards Metatron. “You’ve probably read about me. You think you know about me. Rest assured, what you know is nothing compared to what I am.”

  The aura in Luceefa’s domain suddenly became charged with an alien form of power that made the two fallen archangels cower a little.

  “I make this request as a courtesy,” The Scribe continued. “I offer you the Zarark for a small favor and this is the treatment I get? Maybe Michael would be more reasonable-”

  “No, Fakud,” Luceefa pleaded. “My sincere apologies for my associate’s rudeness. He doesn’t know anything about you and what you’ve done for me.”

  Luceefa glared at Metatron before returning her attention to The Scribe.

  “I would’ve housed your companion, even if you didn’t offer us the Zarark,” Luceefa added. “I owe you that much and more.”

  “You were wise on Earth and you are even wiser here in Hell,” The Scribe said and summoned Keerim.

  “This is Keerim, the paradin from the Realm of Zodica,” The Scribe said.

  “Welcome, Keerim,” Luceefa said. “I am Luceefa, leader of Hell Realm and this is my associate, Metatron.”

  “I am honored to be with you,” Keerim said flatly.

  Luceefa and Metatron did not hear him. The Scribe reached behind Keerim’s neck and touched it. Keerim’s eyes flashed violet and returned to normal.

  “Try again,” The Scribe said.

  “Can you hear me now?” Keerim asked.

  “Yes, we can,” Luceefa replied with a smile.

  “Good,” Keerim said. ““I am honored by your generosity.”

  He bowed in Luceefa’s direction and Luceefa returned his bow.

  “The honor is ours,” Luceefa said with a polite smile.

  “Hand them the Zarark,” The Scribe said firmly.

  Keerim reached into his core and pulled out the Zarark. He placed it into the hands of Luceefa, who reverently stashed it in her core.

  How did she do that? Metatron wondered to himself.

  “My work here is done,” The Scribe declared. “We will meet again, Luciel.”

  “I look forward to it, Fakud,” Luceefa replied.

  Keerim had a look of confusion on his face at the mention of ‘Fakud’.

  “Metatron will show you to your quarters now,” Luceefa said to Keerim.

  “If you would follow me, please,” Metatron gestured politely.

  “Thank you,” Keerim said with a slight tone of condescension.

  He then bowed at Luceefa before teleporting away with Metatron.

  Luceefa summoned a chair and crashed into it. Everything still felt as unreal as the day she had realized who Fakud was.

  “I can’t believe our good fortune, brother!” she exclaimed telepathically.

  “Me neither, sister,” Metatron replied.

  He was sad at her reverting back to ‘brother and sister’.

  “This changes EVERYTHING!” Luceefa exclaimed. “Celestia has no idea what’s coming for them!”

  ***

  Beelzebub’s body smoldered into black and yellow embers and Patrick’s eyes turned to black orbs and his body was covered in a black, smoky aura. The Beast and the Guardian of Earth Realm were about to dance a dance of death. However, when The Beast was about to charge, he was forced to stop mid-step.

  “Brother, return home immediately!” Luceefa called out to him telepathically.

  “Not now, sister,” Beelzebub replied. “I’m busy!”

  “We have the Zarark,” Luceefa said and Beelzebub froze.

  “What?” he asked, not believing what he had just heard. “Really?!”

  Patrick was surprised at Beelzebub’s change of behavior.

  “I am on my way,” Beelzebub replied after Luceefa repeated herself.

  Beelzebub then turned his attention towards Patrick. He looked towards the sky and then back at Patrick.

  “Unfortunately, I must return to Hell,” The Beast said. “So I’ll just have to kill you later. But I will make you a deal. You let me out of here and I will not unleash my mark on your kind anymore. Do we have accord?”

  As much as Patrick hated the situation, he was unwilling to chance anything that could set off another global chaos, including killing The Beast.

  “As long as I get to kill you later,” Patrick said.

  Beelzebub exploded in a most diabolical laughter Patrick had ever heard.

  “Deal!” The Beast agreed.

  Beelzebub waited until Patrick gave him the signal before he teleported away.

  “For now, you live, creature!” Patrick said to himself. “But the next time you set foot on my realm will be your last!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  GAME CHANGE

  “I DON’T TRUST The Scribe,” Metatron said.

  “But I do,” Luceefa countered leaning back in her seat. “I have my reasons.”

  “You referred to him by another name,” Metatron prompted.

  “Fakud,” Luceefa replied, staring blankly ahead. “That was his name when I met him on Earth Realm. I didn’t know it was him until my awakening. He helped open my eyes to so much and strengthened my resolve for my vision for us. He was a great push to me leading the rebellion.”

  Metatron had so many questions. He would seek the answers later. For now, they had more important things to deal with.

  “We have the Zarark and we know one of its functions,” Luceefa said.

  Metatron sprang from his seat.

  “You can’t be serious!” Metatron exclaimed. “I’ll support you in anything and you know that. But I must strongly object to what you are suggesting!”

  “And why’s that, brother?” Luceefa asked calmly.

  “No one can op
erate this Zarark but Michael,” he replied. “And I don’t mean it in a bad way, but you’re not him.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Luceefa retorted icily. “I’m not offended.”

  “Thank you,” Metatron said, though he knew better. “Only Michael can operate the Zarark. Who knows what could happen if anyone tried to use it.”

  “Enlighten me, brother!” Luceefa spat with sarcasm. “You seem to know so much about the Zarark, don’t you? What could happen?

  Metatron leaned back in his seat. He noticed Luceefa clench and unclench her jaws repeatedly. Wings! She was furious. He made her look stupid and this was her way of getting back at him. Subtle, spiteful but predictable, nonetheless. Her outburst was meant to retaliate against his ego, but there might be an interesting outcome from that retaliation. He would let her have her way while he worked his genius around something.

  “Let me ask you something,” Luceefa said with venomous calm. “Have you ever read anything anywhere about a designated operator of the Zarark?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Metatron replied. “Maybe because no one ever dared?”

  “Just what I thought,” Luceefa said. “An absence of evidence isn’t necessarily a validation of a presupposition.”

  Luceefa stood up from her chair and walked towards Metatron. She knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers.

  “Brother,” Luceefa implored. “I’m neither trying to be callous or careless. I’ve given this a lot of thought and deep down, I know that what I’m insinuating is possible. I can’t explain why I feel this way. I just do. Besides, I’m not the one who’s going to embark on this monumental feat.”

  She smiled a mischievous smile and Metatron shook his head vehemently.

  “Oh no, no, no, sister!” Metatron protested vehemently.

  “Oh yes, yes, yes, brother!” Luceefa countered. “Can’t do this without you.”