by RAVENC JAMES
When all lives were consumed by the monstrosity of death, one would think how all the beauty in the universe was wasted. It was not. What came out of it was something more than wondrous and even more than life itself.
The stars. Brilliant and beautiful they were, grandiose in appearance, surrounded by adornments such as planets, moons, comets, asteroids, and laces of nebulae. But they were not immortal. They all fell into the abyss. Churned. Broken. And for what purpose? This was to refine all the essence they possessed, extract the purest of the pure and the most essential of the essentials—a necessary process to prepare for the birthing of the gods.
The Age of the Stars ushered in the Age of the Gods.
When all were destroyed, nothingness seemed to rule, but only for a short while as Consciousness rose and embodied the universe. It was called The One. But The One did not share the same thought, the same wish, the same will, and the same desire. After a period of harmony, The One experienced discord within itself.
Desiring for harmony to return, The One created a division to house all of these incongruities. It had been like this until the division became an entity itself. And then these entities became strong-willed and independent and clamored for freedom. As a result, two huge parts of The One broke away from it.
These two new entities born out of The One were like newborn babies, a blank slate. They were free to recreate their own beginning, as they were not like The One who was the keeper of all things that were once alive.
Harmony again ruled in The One’s consciousness, but not for long. Thoughts crossed. Ideas clashed. Imaginations so deep it created their worlds. The One was once again besieged, and chaos once again ruled. When The One could no longer bear the revolt within itself, The One exploded once again, broken into fragments, and from it sprang forth the five gods.
The first god was called Primoris, as it was the first to be awakened. It was The One’s main part. Thus it remembered all. Primoris exhibited no form, as it was pure essence. Aware of what it could do, Primoris created its own image. The first creature then that Primoris created was himself. Standing with nothing underneath him and nothing around him, Primoris cut his hand, threw it to nothingness, and willed it to form the world, which he called Heaven.
But there was nothing in Heaven other than the crystalline ground and walls of white light. He was not satisfied. He looked at his missing hand. He willed it to grow again. It did not happen. He then molded a ball out of the crystalline soil and breathed into it his energy. The ball started to sparkle and then grew into a ball of white flame. Primoris picked up the ball and then threw it onto the ground, and it burst open. Primoris willed it to form into a tree. It grew and bore the fruits of energy. Primoris took one of the fruits and ate it. He stared at his arm, and a new hand started to grow from the stump.
“It is time,” he said. “It is time to look for the others.”
He then explored the world he created and stumbled upon them one by one. First, he met the second god, Alter, who simulated the image he saw in Primoris but added one thing that made him different from him. The third god, Thredda, came out of the shadow. Dark energy swirled around her. Thredda created a goddess in herself. The fourth god was Quartus, then followed by the fifth god Quintus.
Primoris taught them what they could do, as he was the only one who could remember. Then, he demonstrated to them how they too could create another from themselves. And this was what he did:
He started speaking to himself and answered himself back like there was another entity inside of him. He did it many times until he commanded himself to think on his own. A part of his consciousness then started to do so. “Show yourself to me,” Primoris commanded the entity in himself. And then one side of Primoris’s body stretched as if someone was trying to emerge out of it. “Will yourself to detach from me.” And so that part then did what it was commanded to do. Primoris called him Michael. But the birth of Michael almost cost Primoris’s life. The other gods had all witnessed it.
“Fear not, for I have created an unlimited source of energy,” Primoris told them. “Michael, take me there.”
While Primoris was recuperating with Michael at his side, Alter took control of his and the others’ education. “I am not going to hurt myself to create another,” said Alter to himself. He stared at the ground. He told them to rise, and the ground rose. This gave him an idea of what to do. Using the soil from Heaven, he created an image similar yet different from himself. He then lay on top of this being and embraced him as if sharing his energy with him. When the being started to breathe, he let him go. His first creation. He called him Sariel.
He showed the other gods how it was done; and the gods, through this process, made their own creatures. Quartus carved an image on the ground. He embraced it while whispering the words, “Breathe, live, you’re your own self.” His being then did as commanded. Quartus called him Uriel. He created another one and called Raphael.
Quintus could not contain his excitement. He did what others did and formed an image similar to himself, yet added an element that made him unique. He embraced him and whispered the words, “Breathe, live, you are your own self.” From it, Raguel was created. And then he created more: Jophiel, Aniel, Haniel, and Ariel.
And it was Thredda’s turn. She took her time in creating an image. After she deemed it to be perfect, she embraced it. But nothing happened. The creature she created was lying on the ground immobile, eyes closed, its heart refused to breathe. Thredda, for the first time, felt a sharp pain inside her. She wept like a mother who lost a child. To console her, Quintus created two more creatures with the goddess’s likeness. Sapphire and Emerald were born from it.
It did not satisfy Thredda. She wanted to create her own, and so she tried it again. With all the love she could give, she formed a creature with Heaven’s soil. But when she embraced it, it exploded into dust. The pain almost ripped her apart, so painful that Primoris heard her.
Alter was at a corner observing everything. He created three more. But unlike the others, he whispered different words: “You are mine. You obey what I say.” Three more creatures were added: Azazel, Ramiel, and Metatron.
Primoris came back and rejoiced at this discovery. Using Alter’s method, he then created Gabriel. His heart ached from the knowledge that Thredda was unable to create a life. He went to console her.
“Thredda, I promise you that I will find a way to help you create a being.” There was momentary happiness on Thredda’s face. It was Primoris’s promise, and she looked up to him. Alter saw this exchange and had witnessed Thredda’s complete adoration of Primoris.
In the meantime, Quintus almost exhausted himself but was still craving to create more. Quartus, wise as he was, knew that in creating something, he would lose a part of him. “Uriel and Raphael were enough,” he said. Primoris would have created more had he had enough energy. He was yet to recover to his full self when he lost a considerable part of himself to Michael, who unbeknown to them was different than the beings they created. Primoris did not just create an archangel. The term they called them, he created a god. This knowledge he did not share with the others.
Each god had his own domain, and when Thredda went to hers to retire, Alter followed her. He wanted to be the one to help Thredda. He then told the goddess to form a creature of her likings, and he, Alter, would combine his energy with that of the goddess. And she did as Alter had said. A creature was created out of the merging of Alter and Thredda. They called him Azrael. “From death, he rose,” Thredda eulogized. Thredda loved Azrael, but Alter had another plan.
He wanted to learn what would happen if Azrael would join with another. He had his suspicion about the nature of his sister. Then he told Azrael to fuse with Raguel, Quintus’s firstborn. Azrael did as he was told and, in so doing, killed each other.
Quintus was enraged, and Thredda was furious. To replace his first, Quintus created another and another and another until he exhausted himself and needed the source for replenis
hment. And after he fed on the fruit of life, a strong tremor racked his form. His body stretched and stretched until every part of him broke, and he burst into a ball of light before it simmered down into nothingness. But it was not nothingness. Unbeknownst to all of them, every single part of their beings made up the life force that created everything alive.
Quartus saw it. Primoris saw it. Thredda saw it. The source turned into poison. But the source was nothing without memories. And there in front of them, it showed what Alter had done.
When Azrael and Raguel were destroyed, their essence split into three: that of Quintus’s, Alter’s, and Thredda’s. Alter consumed his and Quintus’s essence, but he trapped Thredda’s essence in a box he created. He then attached this energy to the root of the Source. Upon seeing all this vision sent by the tree, Thredda was furious.
“Brother, because of what you’ve done, I will give you a gift of myself—death!” She flew toward Alter in an attempt to give him the embrace of death.
But Alter was shrewd and cunning. He must be the smartest of all the gods. He built a wall of resistance around him. Alter’s strong desire to survive matched Thredda’s desire for vengeance. The two gods’ wills collided, not touching but were locked in a circular dance. They spun so fast, faster than the speed of light so that they pierced the fiber of time and came out in the early stage of the universe where the essence that created them was still spread out, raw and unripe.
Destiny intervened when a massive asteroid collided with the ball of energy created from their eternal clash of wills: one will of survival and another of destruction. Out from it, Earth was born into the universe that had long been gone.
Primoris followed them through the hole and into the world his siblings had created. He searched for his siblings for a long time. Instead of finding them, he witnessed the birth of all lives on Earth. Out from the broken pieces of the gods, lives emerged. But it was not complete. Earth was positioned in the universe where chaos reigned. Soon devastation would find its way and destroy all lives that were born here. To fulfill his promise to his goddess, he willed to protect the lives his sister had finally created.
Primoris lost himself in the process.
All the gods died except for one. Quartus was left alone. In desperation, he left Heaven and took his journey of understanding everything that had happened. Michael and the archangels were left in charge of Heaven, all by themselves. Orphans.
Since then, Heaven had no god.
And for whatever reasoning Michael had, he decreed to call Heaven Ether.
And it was called Ether ever since.
I saw all of this in my head like I was there when it happened. I was in the chamber that had the floor and walls made of crystals. I got up from the floor. Amid my bewilderment and disorientation, there was a lingering sense of loss inside me.
The energy at my right rippled, and a glowing door appeared. A figure stepped out of it, one whose wings were enormous and the brightest I had ever seen. He had long golden hair and beautiful blue eyes. Although he was a stranger to me, I sensed a tinge of familiarity.
“Orieumber,” he said, his eyes wide. He was staring at me as though I was the answer to his question. Whatever that was.
“It made sense,” he continued. “The garbled messages written in the language of the god coincided with your appearance in the academy.”
While he was talking, something dawned on me too. I realized why he seemed familiar. His was the face I saw in the garden, that massive sculpture that everyone admired, that I marveled. I immediately went down on my knees.
The archangel, however, knelt too. In front of me.
“Archangel Michael,” I said, bowing my head. “What are you doing?”
“Why are you on your knees?” he asked instead.
“Because you are Michael, the chief of the archangels,” I answered and then asked. “Now, why are you kneeling to me?”
“Because you are a god?”
Silence. And then, “Am I allowed to rise now?” I asked.
“Are you giving me permission?” he asked.
“You two are ridiculous!”
We both turned to the voice.
“Both of you, rise to your feet. You kneel to no one!”
From the shadow where the voice came emerged a spotlight. Then it glowed bright, so bright that I had to shield my eyes from it.
“God Quintus,” Michael said beside me.
I gazed toward where the bulk of the brilliance was. There was a form that looked like a male angel without wings. His hair glowed white. His eyes shined like the stars in the darkest night. He had a well-trimmed beard and a classically handsome face. For someone who must have lived longer than the oldest star, he looked to be in his early forties. So, his name is Quintus. And he is a god?
I shook off my nervousness and bewilderment. The whole thing was too overwhelming, too surreal. I felt like I was in a dream-like state talking to a god. Who would believe me if I told them I had seen the face of a god? Was I still inside the tenth house, and this was part of the test?
Michael rose to his feet, and I imitated him.
“My god Quintus, this is a miracle,” Michael said, his voice thick with emotion.
I took a glance at Michael. His eyes glistened with tears. It was strange to see an archangel like this, looking vulnerable. It made me want to cry too.
“I rose from the essence of the dead angels released by Orieumber,” the god Quintus said.
Dead angels. Was Venir among them? But what was the value of a single life if the sum of their deaths was the emergence of a god? It did not matter in the grand scheme of things. It was nothing in the universe. But…
Venir’s life mattered to me.
“Your friend is alive,” the god said. His eyes glinted. “You made it so when you commanded him to live.”
What now?
“My god Quintus,” Michael said. “If you rose from the essence of the dead angels, then there is another god who is now in Ether. The ruby stones recorded his presence.”
The god grinned at us.
“You’re not wrong, Michael, in your first assumption.”
Michael stared at me; his eyes widened.
“I knew it!”
“What?” was the best answer I could muster.
“Let’s have a trade. A mystery for a mystery. I’ll reveal who I am to you, and you will reveal who you are.”
I did not know who I was, but I would not pass this chance.
“Deal,” I answered.
Michael gave me a wry smile before he transformed into someone I recognized so dearly.
“Traquus.”
“Traquus to you. And yes, I am Michael, chief of the archangels in Ether.”
My hands clamped over my parted lips. My body experienced a surge that short-circuited my angel brain. I might have been in this state for long, as I still saw the all-gloriously revered Michael in my mind, but the moment he smirked at me, the illusion was gone, and all I saw was Traquus and the realization that he had deceived me. Bastard.
“Why did you disguise yourself to me?” I asked.
“I’ve been Traquus before you even arrived, so it’s not just to you. I’ve been observing the angels, following their progress. And yours is the one I admired most. I thought you would be the first archangel to be born through the Womb.”
“I was born in the Womb.”
“But you’re not an archangel,” he answered. “Now it’s your turn. Reveal yourself.”
I gulped. With my eyes wide and my mouth open, I stared at him. Clueless.
I had nothing.
Then Quintus took it upon himself to reveal who I was. In his thunderous voice, he said: “Thredda, my goddess, reveal yourself!”
Heat burst inside me. My eyes, my hair, everything of me turned bright, bright like a dying star.
“My goddess!” Michael said.
“Michael, I am inside Orieumber, my child.” I heard myself talking in a different voice l
ike someone was now using my body.
“How is that possible?” Michael asked.
I smiled. But it was not my doing.
“We died, all of us except for Quartus, but our consciousness still exists. We are everywhere. We know everything.”
It all started from a desperate prayer of a dying mother. She was in a car crash with a child. She was bleeding profusely and knew that death was inevitable. But she wanted to save her child. She prayed and prayed.
“Save my child. Take my life but save hers. Please, God of Heaven. Save my child.”
I heard it. I listened to an echo from the past with those same words. I knew what she felt. I was a mother too and lost a child. I did what I could. But here was the problem. I was a goddess of death and not of life. I could not create one. What I had was consciousness, awareness. Could I give this to the unborn child? If I placed my consciousness inside the infant, would the child live?
I was running out of time. The mother died, and her life force left her flesh, and soon the child would follow. In that split moment before the child’s heart beat its last, I placed my consciousness inside her.
The child’s life force did not leave her flesh, but the flesh died anyway. Without flesh, the life force sought a body and returned to where I was born. Here in Heaven. The child’s life force that was made immortal by my own consciousness was conceived inside the Womb.
“Orieumber is my daughter who came out of the shadow of death. My awareness is in her, as it is everywhere. I am yet to rise. I can speak to you now because of Orieumber, but most of my consciousness is back on Earth.”
Did this explain why I had those images of people from Earth? They were familiar to me like they were my family.
They were your visions. Your visions became a reality because of me.
The goddess who was my mother spoke directly in my mind, for I did not feel my lips move, yet I heard her voice.
“My goddess, do you know if the others have risen as well?” Michael asked, his voice soft.
“If you are asking about your father god, I have yet to feel him. I do not know where he is.”