The Genesis of Seven

by Sara M Schaller

  “Fine.” Michael sighed.

  “I am sorry,” Metatron apologized, looking directly at Michael.

  He nodded his head.

  “Our meeting is adjourned,” Metatron concluded.

  Everyone began to leave. I stood up, ready to exit, when Michael met my eyes and shook his head. It was a sign to stay. The others who had shown their support saw it too and came to stand by my side. Raphael, Uriel, Jophiel, Chamuel, Zadkiel, and I knew no action meant ignorance, and ignorance led to vulnerability. None of us were about to let either of those happen.

  The seven of us acted together, without council consent, by making arrangements in the event of Samael’s return. We discussed strategy, and later, gathered supplies and weapons in the Sanctuary of Power.

  Then, we began to warn other angels about the potential threat.

  9

  Gabriel

  Heaven, In the Beginning

  In a brief moment of solitude, I realized I never returned my violin to the Sanctuary of Music after the celebration. Retrieving the instrument from the council room, I landed in front of the sanctuary and walked through the portico into the main hall. I headed for my cabinet and had just secured my violin in its proper place when I overheard two voices having a tense argument.

  “You idiot! I told you to steal the scepter during the celebration. Why did you not listen to me?”

  “Because that seemed like the worst possible time to do it! Everyone was in High Heaven, where the scepter is kept.”

  “Yes, but they were not anywhere near the castle. You could have taken it without being detected.”

  “Easy for you to say. You are not the one doing all this sneaking around.”

  I moved closer to see who the culprits were, and as I was about to turn the corner on the last row of instrument cabinets, one of the voices said, “Did you hear that? Someone is here.”

  With my presence now detected, I hesitated no longer and rounded the corner without a second thought. To my surprise, Araziel stood before me, but with no companion.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Putting away my violin,” I said. “The better question is, what are you doing? I heard you! If you planned to take some scepter, did you steal the book and the Castle Key too? Why? And who were you talking to?”

  My barrage of questions was left unanswered as a deafening roar came from outside. Naturally, I turned toward the sound. I knew I had to investigate but not unless Araziel came with me to explain himself.

  When I brought my attention back, however, he was gone.

  I stood there in confusion until another deafening roar sounded out. Running for the exit, what I saw upon leaving the Sanctuary of Music was pandemonium. Angels of all kinds were running and flying in every direction, terrified and confused. No one knew who the attacker was because the threat was from within our ranks. Defenseless and with nowhere to take cover, everyone was overwhelmed as the traitorous forces invaded. Hundreds had already been injured as the rebels set fire to the sanctuaries.

  Through the blaze, I saw Metatron, Raziel, and Zadkiel desperately trying to extinguish the flames that threatened the Sanctuary of Teaching, home to all of Heaven’s divine wisdoms. Most of the other angels were abandoning their sanctuaries to seek safety.

  All I could see was chaos. Familiar comrades had turned into enemies, their wicked, malicious expressions revealing a hidden nature. All that was good and light had been erased, leaving corruption and darkness in its place. I had never seen this before, but I knew evil had been introduced into our Paradise.

  The anarchy continued. Explosions could be heard above us in the other two realms as rogue angels annihilated all that symbolized our heavenly Father’s will.

  Samael’s plan was becoming clear. He had separated his forces between the three realms in order to cause more chaos and destruction, but he had taken most of his rebels with him to High Heaven. Apparently, he thought to secure mass quantities of anointing oil as well because there was no other way to account for the raging fires and loud explosions. Michael and I had not discussed procuring oil because it would do more harm than good. The oil was located in every edifice throughout Heaven. However, larger amounts were stored in the Forge in High Heaven. Samael must have stolen some, along with flints, to produce the flames destroying our world.

  I was pushed to the ground by a stampede of angels trying to escape the rampage of insurgents. As I tried to get up, a helpful hand appeared through the chaos. I was not surprised to see Michael standing before me, resolute and unwavering in all the madness. He was prepared for battle, with his longsword attached to his hip.

  We shared a look, knowing we were the ones who had to stop this rebellion.

  Quickly, Michael took command. He dispatched soldiers to collect the resources we had gathered in the Sanctuary of Power—shields, helmets, swords, spears, axes, bows and arrows. There were even unique weapons, such as a scythe and a club, since he had collected whatever he could get his hands on.

  Our preparations proved useful; it did not take long for our army to assemble and strike back. Since there were not as many rebels down here as there were in the other two realms, the angels of power rallied behind Michael and began to dispatch the rebel forces. While they were engaged in combat, I rallied some of the remaining angels to put out the fires.

  By the time we had accomplished all this, a semblance of peace had returned to Low Heaven. Even though the pure and marvelous beauty of the region had been tarnished, flames no longer consumed it, and the dissidents had been struck down or had fled.

  There was no time to think about the condition of our realm though, as the injured lay in agony on the ground. Raphael and the angels of healing were already attending to the wounded. One of the cathedrals had been secured and was now acting as an infirmary. While everyone helped to regain some control, Michael gathered willing, able-bodied troops. He was preparing to embark to the other realms.

  Suddenly, something changed in me.

  I had to fight back.

  No, I needed to fight back.

  Michael turned to look at me as I approached.

  “I am going with you,” I told him.

  “So are we,” Uriel said, closing in behind with Raphael, Jophiel, Chamuel, and Zadkiel.

  With no time to argue, Michael did not object. The six of us grabbed weapons and joined the ranks of angels. Having assembled his army of thousands, Michael signaled us into formation for take-off. I gripped the scythe, somehow the only weapon remaining, and waited for his command.

  “Wings up!” he shouted, and within seconds we were in the air.

  It did not take long to arrive in Middle Heaven. The sight was devastating. The Second Choir seemed to be the only ones who remained steadfast in their loyalty, and because of this, many of them had been struck down by Samael’s horde of angels. The rebels were no longer present—they had enacted their damage and had moved on to High Heaven, where the real battle was taking place. Nevertheless, fires raged, and the wounded lay helpless on the ground.

  At our arrival, one of the Virtues, Justice, made his way toward us. “How is Low Heaven? Is it secure?” he asked.

  “Yes. There is some damage, but we regained control and are tending to the injured,” Michael explained.

  “Good. As much as we need help here, you must continue on. Most members of the First Choir turned to Samael’s side. Those who remain are dwindling fast, and now, they are severely outnumbered. I am not sure what end he seeks, but Samael must not get into the castle or beyond the gate. You must go. Now,” Justice pleaded.

  “We will, but not before we get you some help,” Michael insisted.

  Hastily, we sent a message for aid down to Low Heaven, then all took flight again.

  The closer we got to High Heaven, the more impossible it became to see. Smoke blackened the sky, an unusual sight for a place typically filled with serene light. Before our surroundings came into view, a whizzing noise filled t
he air.

  “Arrows!” Michael shouted.

  All at once, our army broke off into groups that veered away from the oncoming assault. I stayed with Michael and my fellow council members, dodging the arrows and trying to locate a place to land. We rapidly dropped altitude, diving into the black smoke, as our surroundings came into sight.

  Justice was right. The First Choir had been divided as the rebellious Cherubim tried to obliterate the brave throng of remaining angels. I surmised they had turned on us because they were second in the Celestial Hierarchy, only one rank standing between them and all the power Father granted the Seraphim. Some of the Thrones aided the Cherubim, although most of them were rallying with the Seraphim to fight against the defectors. As for the other rebels, they continued to wreak havoc by burning anything in sight, their purpose merely to cause ruin.

  Despite the madness, we knew we had to find Samael. The castle had already been overtaken by the rebels, and with a deafening shock of sound, it seemed they were trying to smash their way through the Heavenly Gates. None of that mattered. When the loyal forces saw our numbers, their resolve was strengthened.

  Our army landed as one, and on impact, we were thrown into the throng of battle. We clashed, struck, stabbed, and pierced our way through enemy forces that did not stand a chance against us in size or determination as we fought to avenge and recapture our home.

  When we had gained the upper hand, Michael sent the loyalists among the First Choir with half of his army to attend to the rebels at the Heavenly Gates. The other half of the army, plus me and my comrades from the council, were to follow Michael and recover the castle.

  We neared the structure that once looked so beautiful and marvelous. Now, it was tainted and tarnished where smoke had blackened the white marble, and the glorious turrets had begun to crumble from destruction. At the sight of it and the leering insurgents who stood on the steps, an uncontrollable power overcame me. These traitors had to be vanquished. They had to be punished for what they had done.

  As the rebels surged forward to engage us in combat, an untapped force unleashed.

  I barreled into their ranks, swinging the scythe with uncanny speed and accuracy, landing my blows to wound, not kill. Although I was frustrated, although I wanted them punished and eradicated from our heavenly Paradise, my hand could not slay the rebels. I was not the one to determine their judgment, but I would be the one to stop them.

  Soon, we were up the steps and gaining ground into the entranceway. At some point, I found myself fighting next to Michael, his longsword and my scythe scattering the rebels. Both of us knew Samael was somewhere inside this castle, and we had to find him quickly, otherwise the war would continue. But the castle was enormous, and it would take too long to locate him unless we knew where we were going.

  Zadkiel and the others managed to fight their way to us, and before either Michael or I could speak, Zadkiel shouted, “The tower!”

  “What?” Michael questioned.

  “The tower! Samael must be in the tower! If he is going after the last object, that is where it resides. Metatron told me before we left,” he explained.

  We all knew flying up there would be nearly impossible with the constant deluge of arrows and the sheer number of enemies we would have to get through. We had to keep fighting our way up.

  “The grand stairs,” I said, taking in our surroundings. It seemed the staircase was the best choice, a path to the tower with fewer rebels defending it.

  The seven of us braced ourselves and entered the throng once more in order to get through. We swiftly made progress and were nearing the last group of opponents when Ariel dived in front of us to engage them first.

  “Go!” she shouted, indicating the stairs.

  We all ran, and once we were on the second floor, the din of battle faded and was replaced with an eerie quiet. We made our way down the hall, trying to reach the southern end in order to mount the spiraling steps to the tower. We crept along the passageway in silence, expecting to encounter enemy forces. When we reached the bottom of the stairway without any interference, we knew something was wrong.

  “This must be a trap,” Raphael whispered.

  “No, not a trap,” Michael responded quietly, “just an impossible siege. Samael most likely has the best of his troops residing on the upper landing of these stairs. The moment we set foot there, we will be outnumbered.”

  “How do you know for sure?” Chamuel wondered.

  “Trust me, I know.”

  “Then, what is the plan? Someone needs to get to the top of the tower,” Jophiel said.

  “We go up together, but while all of you are dealing with the rebels on the landing, I’ll find a way around you and go up further to confront Samael,” Michael said.

  Without any more discussion, we began our ascent, stopping briefly before the landing to prepare ourselves for the onslaught. Within moments, we reached the last step and barged into the room, wanting to be on the offense rather than defense. Sure enough, there were more rebels here, and as we commenced battle, I saw Michael slip by and continue up the stairs.

  We were clearly outnumbered, but that did not stop us. The six of us had made it to the center of the room and formed a circle with our backs to each other. Each of us relied on the other. If one went down, the circle would be broken, and the rebels could easily surmount the rest. None of us were skilled fighters, but we all somehow turned into soldiers in that moment, each pulling energy from the others, able to find the courage and strength to carry on.

  We fought for what felt like an eternity. All of us were growing exhausted, and the fact Michael had not returned yet was a worry. Our outcome looked bleak, especially as we all began to take on minor injuries.

  Then, a miracle happened.

  The ground began to shake at our feet. Light returned outside, and an almighty presence could be felt in the air.

  Father had arrived.

  As His wrath and power permeated around us, the rebels abruptly stopped fighting and fled. Only two remained in the room, turning the odds in our favor. Three against one, we managed to easily seize their weapons. I ran up the remaining steps in search of Michael while the others bound the rebels.

  A loud noise reverberated along the stairwell, the clinking of swords and an intense battle. I did not want to distract Michael, but I also knew he might need the help. Moving through the unlocked door, I saw him falter in a moment of fatigue and weakness. Samael struck the hilt of his sword to Michael’s chest, and he fell to the floor.

  I was about to rush forward when Michael yelled, “What are you going to do, kill me?”

  Samael froze in mid-swing with his sword over his head and looked down at Michael.

  They stared at each other for quite some time until Michael calmly said, “There is no way out of this. You realize that, right?”

  Samael lowered his sword and, consumed by an outburst of rage, spun toward a small empty pedestal at the far side of the room. “It was supposed to be here!” he growled. “It was supposed to be easy! I was supposed to take it!”

  “Well, you failed,” Michael said. “Did you really think Father would leave it here—whatever it was—after the other two objects went missing? He is no fool. He probably moved it in an attempt to avoid something like this.”

  “That is impossible! I was not the one who took the other objects. There is no way He could have suspected me,” Samael barked, turning back to face Michael.

  “That is not true,” Michael said, regaining his footing. “Gabriel and I made sure of that.”

  A look of realization crossed Samael’s face. His anger resurfaced as he lifted his sword and aggressively resumed battle. Michael was ready. With a ferocity I had never seen before, he executed blow after blow, and within two sword strikes and a swift wing sweep, he had Samael on the ground, disarmed.

  Michael kicked Samael’s sword away from his outstretched hand and placed his blade on his opponent’s throat. Samael looked up at him. I could n
ot say what passed between them. However, their eyes were thick with betrayal as Michael returned Samael’s glare.

  It was the look of enemies, not brothers.

  “You are coming with me,” Michael said. “It is time you pay for what you have done.”

  Sensing the battle was over, I eased my way over to the defeated angel and picked up Samael’s sword. Michael took his right arm and pulled him up, then bound Samael’s wings and hands behind his back, pushing him toward the stairs. I followed behind as they descended.

  When we approached the landing, the others were beginning to descend as well, their bound rebels in tow. Once we finally made it back to the entrance, all that remained was the wreckage. We walked out onto the front steps and headed over to the amassing group of angels.

  It seemed many of the rebels stopped fighting when Father Arrived. The loyal forces had easily defeated those who had not. With order somewhat restored, the Seraphim rounded up the insurgents and brought them to the edge of High Heaven. As we walked with the instigator in our possession, rows of angels stopped to stare.

  Somehow, the Seraphim had managed to corral all the rebels together by making a barrier to keep them from fleeing. As we approached, I noticed the barrier was made of divine light, meaning Father had something to do with it.

  Seraphiel stepped forward and took the two rebels Uriel and Raphael were holding. She escorted them to the barrier and urged them inside. Then, she turned back to us and looked pointedly at Samael.

  “Well, it seems your attempts at supremacy have failed. Now, if you would please tell us where you placed the missing objects, we can get on with your punishment.”

  Samael glanced at her disdainfully. “I did not take them.”

  “Lies will not be tolerated.”

  I interrupted before she did anything too serious. “He is telling the truth.”