by Greg Ness
Moros asked, “What are you writing?”
The man took his attention away from his wax tablet and looked at Moros. The man had a thick beard. His rather large underbite was all too noticeable. Nonetheless, the man smiled, revealing his jagged teeth. “I can’t tell you.”
Moros let out a sigh of frustration. How did Jesus manage to silence all 12 of his apostles? Moros asked, “You are the one they call Judas Iscariot?”
“Yes, that is I.”
Moros asked, “May I come in?”
Judas nodded as he turned his attention back to his wax parchment. Moros stepped in. Judas asked, “From where do you hail? Surely you are not from around here.”
“Why do you say that?”
Judas peered at Moros from the corner of his eye. “Your sandals. They are in perfect condition. Your tunic spares itself of dirt and even wear. I would guess you are a noble from another town, but I don’t think that’s quite it.”
“Then what is it?”
“You are an archangel. But for some reason, you know nothing. You are here to ask me about Jesus’ mission...” Judas turned his body toward Moros. “…And I won’t tell you anything.”
Moros was stunned. Judas was smart. Smarter than any of the others he had met. Moros said, “Surely the other apostles have told you about me.”
“Not only the others, but an angel.”
Moros clenched his teeth. Elpis.
“What did she say to you?”
“Aah. She. You know of whom I speak. She is a beautiful angel.” Judas ignored his question and resumed writing.
Moros grew frustrated. He asked, “Why does Jesus insist on keeping his identity a secret from everyone? There will be a great reward if you help me. You are God’s chosen one…”
“Is that so?” Judas interrupted. “I wonder why you are the only angel who knows nothing and requires information from us to understand. Perhaps, you are not an angel at all… But a fallen angel.”
Moros angrily stormed to Judas, gripped his tunic, and slammed him against the stone wall. “Do not presume to understand what I am willing to do to find out.”
“Alright angel,” Judas said. “You want to know what the other angel said?”
Moros glared into Judas’s eyes. Judas had a cunning mind; he was an odd choice for an apostle. Moros saw an unusually bright light in Judas’s eyes. There was something different about this apostle. He possessed an unwavering confidence, a complete understanding of everything. The truth was that Judas knew more than anyone could comprehend. As Jesus’s favorite apostle, he knew everything. And Judas was effectively outwitting Moros.
Judas said, “The angel came to me and told me the time was near. Then she kissed me on the cheek.”
Moros glared into his eyes. He didn’t understand. Why would she kiss him? What was the significance?
Judas taunted him. “You still don’t understand, do you?”
Moros’s confidence escaped him. It was clear to Judas that he was baffled. Judas said, “You say you can bring me a great reward. As Jesus’s apostle, I do what is in his best interest. But I’m always looking to make some money on the side. A man needs to make a living.”
Moros pulled a tiny bag of coins from inside his tunic and tossed it on the table. “There’s enough money to last you a while.”
Judas smirked in his satisfaction. Moros could not understand him. The light in Judas was bright, yet he was willing to break an apparently important secret for money. Judas said, “Jesus is going to die. It was in this town he last predicted it. But he isn’t just going to die, he’s going to rise from the dead. And when the people see that, they will know of the importance of the soul. That there is life after death. Most importantly, they will understand the reason we are all here. The way to brighten the light inside of us. The way to connect with The Most High:
“Love.
“Through Jesus’s death and resurrection, the world will be saved.”
Tears fought their way to Moros’s eyes. He didn’t let them out. Instead, anger erupted to the surface. He slammed Judas against the stone wall again. “His whole plan has always been to die? How does he plan on resurrecting?!”
Judas replied matter-of-factly, “I told you, the beautiful angel kissed me.”
Moros blankly stared at him, his face uncomfortably close to Judas’s.
Judas asked, “Does that mean nothing to you?” He chuckled at how little Moros knew. Whoever this angel was, he was shunned for some reason. Judas continued, “A kiss from her allows me to grant others the ability to see the dead. The people I touch will see Jesus when he appears on the third day.”
Moros tried to contain his emotions. Not only was his son planning on a premature death, Elpis had helped him. She knew of his plan and said nothing. Further, she never mentioned her ability to grant people a way to see the dead. Elpis had kept all this from him.
Moros loosened his grip on Judas and snatched the wax tablet Judas had been writing on. Moros paced away and as he stood at the opening of the house, asked, “How does he plan to die?”
“That is something no money can make me say,” Judas said.
Moros left. He needed to find Jesus before it was too late. But finding him would prove impossible.
Moros told Ronnie the reality of the Universe repeating. But the truth stopped there. “You will see what I tell you is truth. The information will shortly be known to the world. But they will lie. For the past can be changed. But the only way for that to happen… is to give everyone a chance to start over.” Moros dramatically looked at Ronnie. “That means the entire world has to end. Everyone has to die.”
Ronnie was skeptical. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know how badly you want to go back. I know the reason you twirl that stick around. Unfortunately, you’re never going to forget. Sara Ixley is gone. She’s never coming back… Unless…” Moros let Ronnie’s mind finish the thought.
“But why me? The whole world ends for me?”
“Of course not. The truth, Ronnie, is this is God’s will. You are God’s chosen one. The one who will bring a new start to humanity.”
Ronnie’s eyes quivered. “God wants me to do this?”
Ronnie turned and stared at the wall of water spouting in front of him. After Sara’s death, he had plunged into darkness, into a place of regret. Ronnie always had the best of intentions. He loved Sara Ixley, but she never quite loved him back. After her apparent suicide, Ronnie couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. He prayed every night for another chance. It was a prayer he never thought could be answered.
Until now.
Ronnie asked, “If I do this, everyone will get a fresh start?”
Moros confidently responded, “Yes. And you will be doing God’s work.”
Moros’s deal was absurd. Ronnie so badly wanted to believe it, that he did. Ronnie figured if God wanted him to reset the world, who was he to say no? That’s what he would be: a reluctant hero. The savior of humanity. “What do I have to do?”
Moros smiled. “There is a group. The Xlympians of Christ. You will become their new leader. Over these years, I will teach you what needs to be done. And when this all becomes revealed to the public, you will know the truth.”
Ronnie, with his long black hair flowing, bowed his head. He was now a humble servant of God.
Little did he know, he was Moros’s final piece to a giant puzzle to destroy the world. For Moros, everything was now in place.
41
April 3rd. 33 AD.
The sun was out and the clouds were gone. It was an unusually nice day. But the mood in the air suggested otherwise. Moros stood alone on a rocky hill at Golgotha, the place of the skull. Moros’s eyes were filled with tears he struggled to contain. Every tear was veiled with fury. His body stiffened as he tried to compose his rage. The light inside of him was rapidly dying. In its place, darkness spread.
A voice from behind him said, “I’m sorry, Moros.”
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Moros turned to see Elpis, whose face was anguished with tears and looked broken. “This hasn’t been easy for any of us.”
“I’ve nothing to say to you,” Moros declared as he stormed away.
Elpis ran after him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Moros, please!” Moros turned and violently shoved her. Elpis helplessly fell onto the rocky ground. Moros looked down at her face was filled with pain. Elpis and Moros loved each other more than they could ever understand. But at this moment, Moros hated her. Elpis cracked and struggled to conceal her heartbreak. Truthfully, the sight pained Moros. The memories of their love, the time they spent together, the feelings she allowed him to feel, were slipping away. Moros wanted nothing more than to offer his hand, apologize, and hold her. To wrap his hands around her. To tell her how much he loved her.
But he couldn’t.
As Moros stoically stared at her, Elpis began to sob. She all but embraced the ground she was sprawled upon. “I love you, Moros. I’m sorry.” Elpis reached into her outer tunic and pulled something out. When she placed it on the ground at Moros’s feet, he could clearly see what it was: the ELPIS box. The box he made for her long ago stared back at him, reminding him of what used to be.
Elpis asked, “Do you remember?” Moros hid his inner turmoil and remained complacent. She continued, “Please don’t give up, Moros. I don’t want to lose you.”
Moros plucked the ELPIS box off the ground. He ran his fingers over the letters. It had taken him a long time to make. Back then, he was youthful, exuberant… and foolish. Moros unclipped the box and opened it. Inside, there was nothing. “I see you’ve yet to find a purpose for it.” Moros casually tossed the box in front of Elpis, letting it crash to the ground.
Moros demanded, “Don’t follow me.” And walked away.
Moros slammed open the giant red doors to the Grand Room. Inside, the room was unbounded by four walls. An image of an infinite palette of stars, planets, and galaxies filled the room. The life-like model of the Universe floated around them like a hologram. Looking out, the image seemed to extend forever. When Moros was first permitted to enter the room, he dizzied at the oftentimes-swirling images surrounding him. But as he became semi-used to it, the room proved to be a fascinating place that took the committee on a tour of the cosmos.
His father, Michael, and the 11 other members of the committee were sitting in tall chairs in the middle of the room, seemingly ignoring the images around them and further ignoring Moros’s loud entrance.
Michael proclaimed, “Since Jesus’s death, the light on Earth has been spreading at a rate we never imagined.”
Gabriel proudly declared, “He did it.”
Raphael said, “We finally pulled it off.” He turned to Michael. “Is it time to start spreading life?”
The mood in the room was celebratory and full of energy. Moros walked near them, sharing none of their feelings.
Michael happily nodded and smiled. “I believe it is time. It is time to make the Universe as our ancestors lived it. Hundreds of planets. All with light. All part of…”
“Father!” Moros yelled.
Michael and the 11 other archangels all turned their heads to Moros’s intrusion. Moros scoured, “Did you know?”
“Did I know what?”
Moros stood calmly but breathed heavily. His anger was apparent. “When you used me to make Jesus. Did you know from the start he was going to die?”
Another archangel, a particularly muscular man, stood from his chair. “How dare you interrupt our meeting!”
Moros fired, “Shut up, Ramiel!”
Michael held out his hand. “It is alright, Ramiel. Let me have a few words with my son.” Michael turned to Gabriel, “Will you change the room?”
The imagery in the room of space morphed to a blue sky filled with clouds. The blue and white colors allowed the room to be more illuminated and easily discernable. Michael, now more visible, approached his son and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the forum for this, Moros.”
Moros stared ahead, avoiding eye contact with his father. “You used me. You forced me to have a son and then stole him away.”
“Now you know why you were never supposed to meet him,” Michael said softly, trying to keep the conversation private from the whispering archangels. “Look at me, Moros.”
“No, Father.”
Michael stepped back, staring at Moros. “So what Elpis says is true. You have let the darkness swallow you.”
Moros stared straight ahead, absorbing the abstract clouds. Michael sternly and somewhat threateningly said, “I know you are not taking this well, but if you have any unwise thoughts of destroying the people of Earth, I’ve already arranged it with The Most High to make sure you never do anything to harm that planet. You were always a good boy, Moros. We will help you. Elpis will help you. She loves you. That’s all you need.”
Michael forced a smile but worried for his son. Moros gazed ahead, looking like a statue. Whatever emotions he was feeling were buried within. “Talk to me, son.”
Moros simply said, “I’ll find a way.”
Michael grew impatient. He pulled his son by the arm and whispered, “No you won’t. Stop this nonsense. Jesus did what he had to do. Now the Universe will be better off for it. There are thousands of planets who will follow Earth’s lead. The light will shine across the Universe. Just like it used to. All because of your son. For that, you should be proud.
“If you so much as attempt to destroy Earth, The Most High will strike you down.
“Now come join us.”
Moros turned his head and looked into his father’s eyes. “It’s too late for me, Father.” Michael looked at his son in shock. There was no light in his eyes. Instead, they were storming with darkness. His eyes were pale. Black. Michael stepped away, frightened by the son he no longer recognized.
Ramiel stood out of his chair. “Come, Michael! We have business to take care of! There is no time for your screwed up son!”
Moros shot a deathly stare at Ramiel. He never cared much for Ramiel and his aggressive personality.
Michael yelled, “Ramiel, stop!” He knew of the danger of the emotional state his son found himself in.
It was too late. Moros held out his hand and spread his fingers. Ramiel’s body lifted into the air.
Michael demanded, “Put him down, son.” Moros turned his head and heinously smiled at his father.
“No.”
Ramiel’s head violently twisted backwards. The bones in his neck twisted like paper. Ramiel’s head plopped off his body, with a pool of blood spewing from his torso.
The archangels leapt in astonishment at what happened. The turn of events was so unbelievable, it took precious seconds for them to comprehend what was going on. Ramiel’s body was still floating. Moros whipped his hand aside and tossed Ramiel’s body away like a useless doll.
Screams of horror resonated in the Grand Room. Michael stumbled backwards, desperately wanting to believe that his eyes were lying to him. Three archangels charged at Moros, holding out their hands to attack him. But before they had the chance, Moros ran sideways, through the clouds, and swiped his hand through the air. In an instant, the three archangels were sliced horizontally in half.
Raphael and Gabriel knelt behind a cloud. They were invisible to Moros. “This is why I never had kids,” Raphael remarked.
Gabriel snapped, “Now? You crack jokes even at a time as this?”
“Come on, redhead. Make yourself useful. Throw some planets at him.”
Gabriel smiled at Raphael. “I like the way you think.”
The seven remaining archangels were holding out their hands, attempting to attack Moros. But inexplicably, it wasn’t working. They couldn’t hurt him; something was awry. Moros stood his ground and brutally slaughtered the archangels, one by one, tearing off their limbs and contorting them in cruel ways. As horrendous as his actions were, Moros felt good.
Suddenly, the peaceful clear s
ky of the room vanished. In its place launched a pitch-black array of stars and planets. The galaxies swarmed toward Moros at thunderous speeds. It was too dark for him to see. The planets and stars flew through him, making him dizzy, just as they always had. And the speed at which they flew made him sick.
Raphael and Gabriel snuck through the darkness toward the giant red door. Moros screamed in rage, unable to see anything. Raphael and Gabriel opened the door, allowing light from outside to flood into the Grand Room. As they escaped, they slammed the door behind them, concealing Moros inside. They ran through the hallway as the tall white pillars and magnificent plant life flew past. People mingled around, wondering why they were running so furiously. “Everyone get out!” Gabriel yelled.
“Fire!” Raphael yelled.
“Fire?” Gabriel whispered.
“Yes. Everyone runs from fire… FIRE!!!”
“Shouldn’t we help the others?”
“There’s no helping them now,” Raphael said. “Moros has lost his mind. We need to prepare for the future.”
“We need to get Moros off Raqiya!”
“How will we do that?”
Gabriel declared, “Elpis.”
Raphael and Gabriel sprinted away, with masses of panicked crowds behind them.
Back in the Grand Room, Moros was on his knees and covered his eyes with his hands. The stars flying past gave him a headache and blurred vision he couldn’t handle. Luckily for him, the images vanished, leaving him in a purely white room. The walls, the floor, everything was complete white. Moros rose from his knees and was finally able to see. What remained was a slaughterhouse. Seven archangels lay slain. Some without heads, some without limbs, some without torsos. The warm fresh blood flooded the floor, causing the white room to slightly shade to pink.
Jegudiel, an old, whiting archangel knelt in the middle of the room, holding the upper half of the slain body of another archangel. Tears were abound on his face, horrified by what he was looking at. “My son. My son is dead,” Jegudiel muttered. He looked at Moros with great sorrow in his eyes. “Why would you do this?”
Moros, encapsulated by the darkness, responded, “The fate of your son is nothing compared to the fate of my son. Now you know what it feels like.” Moros held up his hand, casually flicked his wrist, and Jegudiel’s head ripped from his body.