“What the fuck?” Sonneillon shouted. “Squad, move to…”
This time she caught a glimpse of black wings and armor streaking down from the sky before another of her Descended burst into silver dust.
Holy fuck, it’s Nyx! She opened her mind up to send to the other squads of Descended. Nyx is…
From below her, Persephone broke through the clouds and slashed Sonneillon open from belly to throat. The shock jarred the thought from Sonneillon’s head. Persephone buried her hand inside Sonneillon’s chest and then yanked.
Persephone opened her mouth, now filled with razor-sharp fangs, and Sonneillon had just enough time before she exploded into silver dust to see her own heart being bitten in half.
Michael rose from the bench on the mountain, opened his mind and sent, “It’s time.”
Around Heaven, from the gardens to the sunlit, flower-covered plains, to the mountains and forests, from the caves below and the skies above, the Angels came. Half a million Angels, white wings spread wide, flew in a long, slow circle surrounding God’s mountain. It would take hours before they all were in place.
Assuming there’s no interference. Michael would not even allow himself to think the name of the one who might interfere. Assuming we are let through. Assuming everyone doesn’t forget about it.
“That’s a lot of assumptions,” sent someone.
The voice in Michael’s head was one he had never heard before, and Michael knew every voice in Heaven. It was not one of the Angels or one of the souls. It wasn’t one of the Descended either, for he knew all of them as well. And it certainly wasn’t God. Or Tribunal.
“Who are you?” Michael sent back.
“Epiphenia. Nyx’s daughter.”
Michael was so surprised at that he forgot to flap his wings, fell thirty feet, and had to recover. Good thing Rafael wasn’t here for that. He’d laugh so hard he’d fall out of the sky. Michael turned his attention to the strange voice. “Angels can’t have children.”
“Nyx did,” sent Epiphenia. “Tribunal asked her to, and she did. Then Tribunal took me down to Hell to murder me.”
“Souls can’t be murdered,” sent Michael.
“I’m not a soul. I’m an Angel.”
“Only God can create an Angel.”
“Or Tribunal,” sent Epiphenia, “who is an aspect of God. He gave the power to Nyx to create an Angel.”
Michael pondered that. “Why?”
“Because in order for Tribunal to destroy God, he must make the impossible happen. He must kill an Angel in a place where Angels cannot be killed. He must make God’s holiest city turn its back on God, and he must make God himself turn his eyes away from Earth, Heaven, and Hell.”
Michael frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he is nearly done,” sent Epiphenia. “He has commanded the Hosts of Hell to stand ready to invade the Earth and destroy all the humans.”
Michael flew in silence for a long time. At last he asked, “Why should I believe you?”
“You don’t have to,” sent Epiphenia. “Arcana is here on Earth. If we could bring her to Heaven, she could tell you all the truth of the matter. But Tribunal has blocked the way. No Angel may enter Heaven.”
“Arcana?” Michael frowned. “What about Orion and Caelum?”
“They’re dead.”
“What?”
“Nyx killed them a thousand years ago.”
“Impossible!” Michael thought furiously. “We would have known. Whenever an Angel perishes, all other Angels can feel it!”
“Have you felt anything from Earth in the last thousand years?” asked Epiphenia.
“No,” admitted Michael. “We’ve felt nothing at all.”
“We need to get Arcana through the Gate,” said Epiphenia. “When she arrives, she can tell you all what has happened and alert God to Tribunal’s actions.”
“If she can reach God,” sent Michael. “We’re trying to do that here.”
There was silence for a time. Then Epiphenia sent, “Let me know when Tribunal comes to stop you. It may be what we need to get through.”
“I will do so,” said Michael. He smiled in spite of himself. “Tell Arcana I said hello.”
“I will,” said Epiphenia. “Right now, in fact.”
Arcana flipped over in the air, her wings drawing in tight to help her corkscrew through the three Descended attacking her. Her blade flashed out, taking one’s arm and another’s wing. The third moved out of the way in time and lashed her whip toward Arcana’s face. Arcana caught it in one armored hand and pulled. The Descended jerked closer, and Arcana’s blade went through its eye. It screamed and fell away.
“Arcana!” Epiphenia’s voice echoed in her head. “The Gate is going to open soon! You must come!”
Arcana drove her blade through the heart of the Descended with no arm, and he burst into silver dust. The other two—the only two left of the squad over Gnyozdovo, flew away fast, heading west to where the other Descended were converging upon Nyx.
“I hear,” sent Arcana. “Nyx, Persephone! I must go!”
“Sure,” Persephone sent. “Leave now when it’s getting fun!”
“Go!” sent Nyx. “Tell God! And hurry!”
Arcana went, rising fast and high until she broke through the top of the clouds and rose above the sky to where Epiphenia waited, outside the Gates of Heaven.
Tribunal sat in a place that didn’t exist.
It was not in Heaven, though it was close by. It was not in Hell. It was not Sheol—the place of the unbelievers—or any place in the mortal world. It was a place that did not exist in any of God’s realms, but stood outside of them, attached to all of them. From it, Tribunal could go wherever he chose. More important, from there he could see every part of Heaven, Earth, and Hell.
And he could access the mind of God, which was like seeing the entirety of creation from the inside and outside simultaneously, while feeling the motion of every single molecule within it. He could see past and present, and all the alternate futures that still lay before the universe, save the one that Tribute was planning.
But then, God was not planning for it all to end.
Tribunal’s disgust at God reared up, filling his very being with bile. He was a being apart. Not a mortal, not an Angel. God and not God; God’s Son and God’s Self; God’s creation and God’s being. There was nothing in the universe like him. And God had sent him down to Earth to preach to the disgusting, self-serving humans. He’d made Tribunal live among them and cure them of their illnesses and insanity and wounds. Tribunal had taught them peace and love and had been tortured and crucified for it.
Why did you do it to me, my father? Why did you make them worship me? Why did you make me preach to them when I should have been destroying them all?
Tribunal was the Son of God. He was God. And the humans were unworthy of him. And since God would not allow Tribunal to destroy the humans, Tribunal would destroy God.
It had taken a thousand years. But then, Tribunal had known that it would.
From the first moment he arrived in Heaven, Tribunal had let his essence mesh with his father’s. In doing so, he learned the WORD and how the universe was made. And he learned how he could unmake it.
The universe was a creation of God, and in it God had poured his essence. God was not only the Creator of the universe but part of the universe. When the universe ceased to exist, it would be possible to unmake God.
But the universe could not cease to exist until God ceased to think of it.
The problem was that God’s mind was all encompassing. He saw all, heard all, and thought about all. The universe was always in his mind, and his mind was always in the universe.
That said, there was a strong difference between knowing something is happening and paying attention to it, and it had been that difference that Tribunal had used to his advantage.
He had started small, making an illusion of himself and projecting it. Then he spread his power o
ut, slowly enclosing God’s mind with an illusion of Heaven, then the Universe, then Hell. It had taken a thousand years, as he had known it would. And to test it, he’d had Nyx invade and destroy Jerusalem. And it had worked. Jerusalem was God’s city, and he had not even noticed when it fell. God’s mind was being turned in on itself, surrounded by Tribunal. God’s mind was on its way to non-being.
Next, Tribunal had broken God’s laws. These were not the simple laws that humans preached to one another. These were the Laws of Creation: immutable, unchanging, and irrevocable. And if Tribunal was capable of breaking them, then it meant that God’s mind was truly no longer in the Universe. So he had given Nyx the power to create an Angel. And when she had done so, he had taken that Angel to Hell and killed it, ending its existence and bringing Tribunal one step closer to destroying God’s Creation.
And when God is gone, and the Creation has been destroyed, then I will recreate it in MY image instead of his.
Tribunal sank back into his own mind. He was nearly finished. The illusionary worlds of Earth and Hell had already been created and he was nearly finished projecting. All that remained was to finish the last bits of Heaven. Once that was done, God would be isolated in a cocoon of Tribunal’s making, unable to see Creation, and unable to stop Tribunal from destroying it all.
Tribunal was just copying God’s mountain when he realized half a million Angels were charging toward it.
Tribunal swore and took himself out of the space between the worlds to the place in Heaven that his illusion occupied. It was by God’s right hand, beside his throne, and moving there was extremely tricky. Even more tricky was moving away from there and leaving his illusion behind so that God did not notice him go. Tribunal managed it, as he knew he would. God was nearly totally distracted.
But having a half-million Angels charge him just might wake him up.
He moved faster than any Angel could to the top of the stairs in front of God’s throne. The skies of Heaven were crowded with Angels. They dove down or flew up toward God’s mountain from every direction at once. At their forefront, Tribunal saw Michael, his sword sheathed, but his face showing no doubt that this, too, was battle and one that God’s Warrior was not intending to lose.
I cannot kill them. Not yet. God may be distracted, but the Angels were parts of his immortal self, and the deaths of half a million of them would certainly bring God’s attention. And if that happened…
No. It will have to be distraction, Tribunal decided.
He closed his eyes and brought together the power he would need.
At the Gates of Heaven, Epiphenia and Arcana floated, waiting. Epiphenia’s mind was attuned to Heaven and the power that kept the Gate closed. Arcana was silent and still, as only a warrior of God awaiting orders could be.
There! Epiphenia sent. It weakens!
Arcana pushed against the block on the Gate and felt it give slightly. Not enough, she sent.
Not enough for you, sent Epiphenia back.
In Iceland, a volcanic eruption that would have destroyed the island lost all strength and the pushing, bubbling magma sank into the Earth’s mantle.
And high above the world, all the power of that volcano blasted out of Epiphenia and into the Gates of Heaven.
Michael saw Tribunal take his place on the stairs around God’s throne. He saw the sphere of power that grew around Tribunal’s form, expanding ever faster in a black ring of malevolence, like the leading edge of an explosion.
He cannot expect to destroy us, thought Michael. God will notice a half-million Angels gone.
But what if he doesn’t care?
It was a terrible thought for an Angel to have.
“What do we do?” demanded Raphael.
God must care, Michael corrected himself. God would not let us all die in vain. God, in his goodness, has been betrayed and as before, it is up to us to protect his Creation. He sent out to all the Angels at once, “Stay the course. We will reach God. And if Tribunal destroys us, then God will know, and order shall be restored.”
The expanding sphere of darkness engulfed them all.
“Now!” sent Epiphenia.
Arcana focused every ounce of her being on breaking through the Gates and flew forward. There was a moment of pure agony as she forced herself into the wall of power that blocked the way. Epiphenia put all her power into pushing Arcana through. The pain became excruciating and then vanished. Arcana was out of mortal realms and winging upward to Heaven.
In Heaven, a half-million Angels disbursed from God’s mountain, content that their message had been delivered and that all was right with God and with the world.
Standing on the stairs before God’s throne, Tribunal watched the Angels wing away. Pride filled him. He—alone—had turned half a million Angels away. God had not even noticed. I am the only one fit to rule here, he thought. Mine is the power and the glory.
The time has come.
God was no longer paying attention to Heaven or Hell or Earth. There was still a chance he could be reached though. If enough people of the Earth cried out for him—for God, not for any of his mythological stand-ins—he might notice it. And that was why Tribunal’s next step was to, country by country, eliminate all the humans from the Earth. Then there would be no one to cry out for God’s help when Tribunal unmade Creation.
And when Creation is unmade, God himself will be unmade, thought Tribunal. What a pleasure it will be to get rid of him. A faint anxiety crossed his mind, which he stifled. And then I will bring into being my own Creation, and it will be stupendous. There will be no humans, no Angels, no devils. I will build my own race of immortals, and together we will watch the universe grow and die, and when that happens, we will make it grow all over again, He smiled. Maybe I’ll keep the Archangels around until the end, just so I can feel their despair as they watch their God become unmade.
Chapter 11
Nyx was spattered with silver ichor from a dozen different Angels. It covered her skin, her armor, and flicked off her wings as she flew through the Alps. She could feel it sliding down her body before it flew off to spatter the nearby mountaintops. She wondered that God didn’t notice the deaths of so many.
Nyx was moving so fast the air rippled around her. Every time she passed near the tops of the mountains she blew up a long, graceful plume of snow that swirled and danced in the slipstream of her wings.
She would have been more impressed with it if she weren’t being chased by twenty-three Descended Angels, all howling for her death. As it was, all she could do was lead them somewhere where she could destroy them all.
And it would be a lot easier if I had some help, Nyx thought darkly. Persephone had vanished hours before, leading away a third of the surviving Descended. It had been helpful at the time, but now with Arcana gone to Heaven… Persephone! Where are you?
St. Moritz, sent Persephone. Near a nice little tavern with some divine-smelling lamb cooking.
And what the fuck are you doing there?
Hunting. Hold on a moment… Persephone left the mind-link open, and Nyx heard the Descended Angel’s howl of pain as Persephone’s blade hacked through his body. There was a brief clash of blades and then another howl, suddenly cut off. What are you doing?
Running. I have twenty-three of them chasing me.
Sounds like fun, sent Persephone. Why don’t we meet in Nice and kill them all together?
Too many people for them to kill, not enough places to hide.
Rome, then?
Always Rome, Nyx groused. No wonder it’s the Eternal City.
Eternally fun, sent Persephone. Think we can lure them into the Catacombs?
Nyx looked over her shoulder at the howling pack of Descended. Their armor was also spattered with blood, mostly silver and their own. A few were flecked with Nyx’s blood, the result of some lucky cuts when she was fighting the others. A couple even had gold blood on them from their encounter with Arcana. All of them were angry from the deaths of their friends. Shouldn’t b
e a problem.
Think Arcana made it?
Fuck, I hope so.
Epiphenia hung in the sky in front of the Gates of Heaven. There was no air here to stir her long hair, no sound to reach her ears. There was only silence and the Gate through which she would never enter.
Arcana had gone through, and now there was little Epiphenia could do. She was reaching out with her mind, listening and watching and feeling what was happening on the other side of the Gate as best she could. She could feel that Arcana was still on her way up to the inner Gates, still unnoticed by Tribunal.
Heaven had changed, and not for the better.
The power that had been blocking the Gates was once more at full strength. No one would come in or out again until Tribunal was ready. The deep timpani vibration of God’s presence was less than it had been, and the layer of Tribunal’s presence around God’s had grown thicker. The Angels in Heaven didn’t seem to have noticed the change, but Epiphenia could feel it. God was still there, but distant, as if he no longer had interest in what was happening in his Creation.
My father. Are you my father too? Why don’t you notice us? Your children are dying on Earth, as they will in Heaven.
She reached out to find Michael, hoping that God’s Soldier would be able to help protect Arcana. To her surprise, Michael was nowhere near God’s mountain, even though he’d been leading the assault on it only a few hours before. She searched through Heaven until she found him, far from the mountain, leading a full flight of armed Angels on patrol.
Epiphenia reached out to his mind. “Michael. Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you,” replied Michael. “Who are you?”
For a moment, Epiphenia understood Nyx’s propensity for swearing. “Epiphenia. We spoke before. When you led the Angels to the mountain.”
“When I did what?”
The clear lack of comprehension in Michael’s mind sent a wave of despair washing over Epiphenia. He could not remember. The strongest of God’s Archangels could not remember what he had done only moments before.
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