Lilith: Eden's Planetary Princess (The Michael Archives Book 1)

by Robinson, C. E.

  Kati quickly dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. She saw the bandage in his hand and understood what he was planning. She carefully reached forward and delicately slid the arrow sideways making sure the razor sharp barbs touched nothing else. He held the bandage against the hole while she removed the arrow completely.

  “Are you finished?” Dhanvantari asked sarcastically.

  Kati, lost in the sinister arrow, dropped it into a pail that appeared on the floor between them. She held one bandage in place while someone placed another clean bandage in his awaiting hand. He carefully examined the wound while Kati cleaned up the excess blood.

  As he initially suspected, the atrium had been hit by the arrow’s tip along with some shredding from the barbs. Luckily, it only grazed past the atrium’s side and not through the center. Even more amazing, none of the valves were damaged. He also saw no indicators of tissue necrosis so there probably were no poisons on the arrow.

  Just as he was placing an adhesive patch over the damaged area, he saw his sister start to wobble.

  “Gwen. Wake up,” he shouted.

  Gwenith had let her attention switch from Douglas’ head to his open body cavity and fainted. Prince Caligastia saw her start to fall and caught her. At that instant, an arrow streaked just above her head.

  A crimson robe had just made a second attempt to murder his little girl.

  Prince Caligastia delicately laid Gwenith on the floor, all the time staring at the smirking Cardinal who was loading another arrow. The Cardinal obviously thought he had plenty of time for a second shot.

  He was wrong.

  Cardinal Diocletian pointed the arrow up, and as the arrogant do, he watched the tip move down toward his target as he casually pulled the bowstring back. He had received his instructions from General Borgia to rid Eden of the slut Gwenith. He knew he had been selected for this sacred task because he was an archer of extraordinary skill, and because he was one of Borgia’s top military commanders. He was certain Borgia was acting on explicit instructions from his master, the illustrious Cardinal Ziminiz.

  Diocletian knew Cardinal Ziminiz was his only pathway to Satan, the most ancient and highest God of all. He also knew his success in carrying out these plans would ensure his place in heaven, to forever remain at the side of the great Satan. Diocletian’s first attempt to dispose of Gwenith had been thwarted when a stupid Nazz beast inadvertently wandered into the path of his arrow. Then Diocletian had been distracted for some time with other Nazz trying to stop him.

  His second attempt, as unlikely as it seemed, failed because the weak and stupid Gwenith fainted just before his arrow struck. His third attempt would be the charm. Gwenith was lying on the floor and Diocletian had a clear, open view under the table. There was no one to block the shot, and since Gwenith was already lying on the floor unconscious, she had nowhere to go. This would be easy.

  “Yes, this has been arranged by my God,” he muttered to himself. “From here, I can strike her lower back such that my arrow will penetrate through her womb and vagina, made putrid by her many fornications. This is fitting. She denies herself to the highest child of the highest God. My arrow will be her reward.

  “Oh great Satan. My only wish is to serve you,” he said loudly, glancing upward toward heaven.

  He released his arrow, and then glanced down to witness Gwenith writhe in agony. He would allow her to suffer long enough for her womb to understand what sins she had committed. Then he would mercifully finish her off with another arrow to her putrid heart.

  But Gwenith was not writhing. “Where’s my arrow? Surely I could not have missed such an easy shot,” Diocletian muttered.

  No matter, he thought as he reached back to obtain another arrow from his quiver. Suddenly, his hand that held the bow felt hot. From out of nowhere, a blazing red hand snatched his bow and dropped it to the floor. Bewildered, he located his arrow. It was lying there on the floor too, on fire. His bow burst into flames.

  The hand made of bright-red angry fire grabbed his neck.

  The Cardinal screamed as his neck was engulfed in agony.

  “What is your name, evil one?” an angry voice asked.

  The Cardinal screamed again, not able, not caring to answer the fire’s question. Following a deeply engrained reflex, the Cardinal grasped the arm, which was attached to the hand that had him by the neck. It was as if he had just grabbed a stick rich with sap, ablaze with fire. He jerked his hands away, but to his horror, his hands started to glow with a dull orange color. He shook them again and again, trying to put the fire out — the pain intensified as the color began to glow hotter.

  Panic overwhelmed him as he watched his hands burst into flames. Pain was building upon pain. He wiped his hands against his robes in hopes of extinguishing it, but the fire refused to be extinguished. His robe was now on fire. Wherever his hands touched, fire broke out. He wanted to scream, and in his mind, he did scream, but the flaming hand had him so tightly by the throat, he was unable to pass any air through his vocal cords.

  “Tell me your name.” The body made of bright-red angry fire blazed in brilliance as a mighty voice exploded into the Cardinal’s ears.

  “Cardinal Diocletian,” he squeezed past his vocal cords. Fire reached his left shoulder. The fire on his neck crept upward.

  The hand around his neck released its grip. Diocletian turned to run, but tripped and fell to the floor. He jerked his head down to his feet where a blazing rope was tied around his ankles. Reflexively he reached down to untie himself. Although the knot appeared simple, the burning rope would not release. The fire around his ankles spread to his feet and casually up his leg.

  Fire had now engulfed his head. His eyes saw fire everywhere he looked. His legs, both arms, his entire robe, his head, all of it burned.

  He could not stand so he crawled to where he hoped to find some water, screaming over and over as he crawled. Big chunks of burnt robe fell from him.

  Something’s wrong. Something’s missing. The thoughts beat themselves into Cardinal Diocletian’s mind. He saw a large pitcher of water sitting on a table and shimmied as fast as he could toward it.

  He reached the table but could not stand to get the pitcher of water.

  “Do you want this?” the body made of bright-red angry fire calmly asked.

  Cardinal Diocletian was unsure how he answered. He might have said yes, or maybe he just screamed. However, the one thing he was sure of was the flaming creature who had set him in flames would never do anything as kind as extinguish him. Strangely, the body of bright-red angry fire did in fact casually dump the water on him.

  Nothing happened. The fire continued to consume him. By now, all his robes were gone. Cardinal Diocletian looked down at his blazing skin. He finally realized what was wrong — what was missing. There was no smell of burning flesh. There were no blisters. His skin felt as hot as fire, but underneath the red flames, it still looked its same lily-white. How was the fire continuing to fuel itself if it was not consuming his body?

  The Cardinals, particularly Diocletian, were quite fond of using fire as an implement of correcting unethical behavior in heretics who refused to recognize Satan as the supreme God. Cardinal Diocletian had witnessed many sessions of trial by fire, whether it be red-hot pokers, Iron Maidens, sticking hands, feet, or faces into open flames, burnings at the stake, or simply dousing a heretic with a propellant, setting them ablaze, and laughing while watching them run around in terror.

  “You have displeased Prince Caligastia,” the body made of bright-red angry fire said. “When a loved one is taken away by senseless treachery, it burns the heart. You attempted to murder my beloved daughter for no reason beyond your own blood lust. This is your reward.”

  Cardinal Diocletian finally understood this flaming person was an Overlord, Prince Caligastia, standing before him.

  This was no typical cowardly Caligastian. This was an Overlord whose fury made him become fire. Cardinal Diocletian never imagined such a power existed. He had fai
led his master. Not only was the fire of Caligastia’s wrath consuming him, he had not eliminated the dirty little whore, Gwenith.

  Caligastia slowly unbuttoned his fly. He casually pulled out his phallus, which too, was made of bright-red fire. Cardinal Diocletian knew what was coming.

  He thought he knew what was coming.

  The flow started, but it was like no urine Cardinal Diocletian could have imagined. The red burning liquid touched his skin, instantly delivering a new level of pain. Filled with the horror of being burned to death, it only took a few seconds to comprehend what was happening. He realized the fire was now penetrating through his skin.

  Prince Caligastia directed his flaming urine back and forth across Diocletian’s body, as a gardener would water flowers. Each drop seemed to carry the fire ever deeper into his body. Back and forth it ran, flowing ever deeper, the fire touching his internal organs, the fire touching nerve endings now unprotected by skin. His heart caught on fire, his lungs, his liver, his brain, all of them burning, the fire now completely filling him.

  Finally, Prince Caligastia zipped his pants. He reached down and untied the flaming rope around Diocletian’s ankles. Diocletian jumped to his feet, at first running aimlessly, and then realizing he was searching for water. He found another pitcher and doused himself. It had no effect. He ran to another. Again, no relief.

  Several horrified Cardinals, unable to comprehend what was happening, quickly ran away whenever the body of burning agony approached them.

  You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to help me, Cardinal Diocletian screamed to a Nazz officer walking away from him. Did I say it or did I just think it?

  Cardinal Diocletian grabbed Pope Hukarknar from behind, but the Pope easily pried the burning arms from him, astonished to find he was not himself burning. In fact, he found the fire quite cool to the touch.

  Cardinal Diocletian grabbed one individual after another in a desperate search for help. Several individuals dumped pitchers of water on him, each time with no effect. By now, every organ, every cell, every fiber, every molecule of his body burned. There was no describing the agony. There was no describing the terror.

  He searched desperately for the body made of bright-red angry fire. Maybe if he could apologize, maybe they could reach an agreement. The body made of bright-red, angry fire was nowhere in sight. He saw Prince Caligastia, but he was no longer made of fire. Diocletian stumbled to him and fell at his feet.

  Please help me. Please help me, Cardinal Diocletian pleaded, unsure if he had spoken or had just thought the words.

  “There are so many warriors here today who would have been honorable targets of battle,” Prince Caligastia replied calmly. “Yet you decided, Diocletian, in your savage heart, to murder an innocent child. It seems you cannot comprehend why she and so many of her kin reject the despicable Ziminiz. It is because Gwenith is a creature of pleasure while Ziminiz is a creature of pain. It is because Gwenith feels love while Ziminiz feels only hatred. It is because Gwenith knows of giving while Ziminiz can only comprehend taking.

  “I know what the Cardinals say about Gwenith, just as I understand why you chose her. You say and do these things because Gwenith is a continuous reminder of what you are not, and it is this that makes your hate burn only deeper…”

  The Overlord of fire paused for a moment and casually studied his flaming enemy. “Your words and actions displease me, Cardinal Diocletian. So now, you will truly comprehend what it means to burn, as my flames engulf you for all eternity.”

  Part Four

  Chapter 70

  Cataclysms

  The Cataclysm was a remarkable event. We, the residents of Havona and already ancient before that eruption of space and time, were blessed to witness that remarkable event with our own senses. We still, to this day, stand in awe as our intellects grapple with it, trying to comprehend the nature and the continuing outcome of this Cataclysm.

  Urantia’s powerful telescopes now allow you to look upon the Local Universes and their billions of far flung galaxies of stars. Your intellects might freeze in awe at attempting to comprehend the enormity of this Creation.

  But know one thing. There is something far greater in Grace and Breadth, Depth and Majesty beyond these galaxies of stars, and that is the Grace and Breadth, Depth and Majesty of the Love our Heavenly Father continuously rains down upon us.

  —King Ayasia

  Edentia: Capital of the Constellation Norlatiadek

  Mansion World V Celestial Sphere

  Raphael’s speed exponentially fell as she slid down the harmonics of the Shukra, the Majja, and the Ashti. The Sea of Glass beamed ever brighter as she approached Edentia.

  Most inter-universe travelers entered into a Local Universe via the primary Cosmic Center, to the galactic Cosmic Center where they were then directed to the appropriate sphere of Salvington for customs and information. If a high-ranking traveler had no business on Salvington, they were directed to the entry portal for a particular Constellation destination. For Raphael’s travels today, she would alight upon Edentia, the capital of Norlatiadek Constellation, one of the ten Constellations in Shangri-La.

  For nomads like Raphael, who could be absent from a galaxy for millions of years, it could be difficult to determine where a Material world was located at any particular time. Before leaving Uversa, Raphael sat with Noah, the central member of Orvonton’s Ancients of Days, and together they reviewed the calculations to determine where Eden would be at the time of Raphael’s arrival. It was the responsibility of the office of The Ancients of Days to keep precise records on the locations of all 100,000 Local Universes within their Super Universe as well as the locations of each Local Universe’s hundreds of thousands of galaxies, the location of every constellation within a galaxy, and every evolutionary world within a constellation.

  Like every Personality, Raphael had her preferences. Even though she was a Supernaphim, and therefore functional and effective within every strata of El Elyon’s Creation, Raphael preferred the solid ground of a Material world. Her feet touching Norlatiadek’s Sea of Glass brought with it a smile and a sense of relief. She was now another step closer to the realms she loved the best.

  Had she been in a hurry and not carrying creatures who would most certainly be awakened by The Sea of Glass’ dynamic nature, she could have easily slipped through the Sea and been on her way. Instead, she gently settled upon Edentia’s large toroid-shaped landing platform.

  The landing platform encircled tens of thousands of individual portals, with each portal accommodating a specific classification of traveler on a specific type of mission. As was usual for Edentia’s travel portals, there were hundreds of millions of individuals awaiting entry, just as there were hundreds of millions of individuals leaving. By far, most of them were traveling to and from Salvington or the headquarters of other Constellations within Shangri-La.

  Although there were millions awaiting entry, the arena was by no means chaotic. There were plenty of platform managers dressed in bright green suits, with the large words ‘Platform Manager’ embroidered in blue on their backs. They efficiently aligned travelers with their appropriate portal of entry.

  Because of Smigyl’s rebellion, Edentia had become the destination for trillions. Around 240,000 years ago, Edentia’s Constellation Fathers had constructed enough portals and assigned enough personnel to easily accommodate the crowds that flowed in as a part of King Joshua’s crusade to protect the 100,000 inhabited worlds of Norlatiadek.

  Raphael slowly walked along the perimeter of the platform, happy to give her wings a rest and her legs a stretch, casually looking for a familiar face among the millions.

  “Welcome to Edentia.” Raphael jumped when she heard a soft, female voice address her personally. She was doing her best to speak the formal tongue of high-ranked Angels, but her accent was thick enough to classify her as a Melchizedek.

  “Please, may I ask the purpose of your visit into Norlatiadek?”

  Raphael did not rep
ly, nor did she remove her goggles or pull back her hood. This was a mission that only a precious few knew about, with only those precious few knowing that it was Raphael who would be delivering the packages she carried into Eden.

  Raphael pulled down the glove on her left hand just far enough to reveal the multi-colored sapphire bracelet. There were 256 strands of beads, with each strand containing 1,024 individual tiny beads, resulting in 262,144 coded bits of information, a code that even Raphael herself could not read. The female Melchizedek immediately turned the bracelet on Raphael’s wrist until she found the start sequence and quickly read it.

  Raphael watched as she reached the last bead and froze in place. She gave her head a small shake as if trying to bring herself back to reality. Without looking up, she reread the code. She quickly pulled Raphael’s black glove over the bracelet so no one else could see. She did not let go of Raphael’s hand.

  Raphael had been told that only those who knew of her mission would be able to read the code. If she, an Archangel, did not even have the code for her own mission, she wondered how many did. Who is this Melchizedek? Is she the only one on this platform who can read my bracelet?

  Although most of the Seraphic travelers preferred brightly colored attire, there were plenty of individuals dressed in black wearing travel masks and goggles just like Raphael. The only real indication of Raphael’s identity was her large yellow wings, still brightly glowing from her long trip. Yet, there were plenty of Angels with wings just as large and just as yellow.

  As Raphael scanned her surroundings, she counted almost 1,500 Supernaphim who she thought had at least one star of rank. I’m not displaying any rank or insignia or wearing anything that would identify me. How did this Melchizedek find me out of the millions of others milling about? I flew here fast. How was it possible that a message to expect me had already arrived?