by Donovan Neal
"Please come with me."
Michael followed him to a room off the rear of Argoth's study and on a slab of stone was the stiff body of Osiras. A linen sheet covered his form and the wings of the Issi hung limp, draped to the floor.
Argoth stood next to the body and spoke. "I have examined the remains, and this is not dissolution. This, my prince, is death. His Kilnstone has stopped glowing. The spark of life no longer burns within, yet the body does not fade as is the manner of our kind upon dissolution. It is corrupted, my prince. It decays."
Michael looked at the body and examined it without touching. "How is such a thing possible, for it has not been even a day and his face is as leather and brittle?" Michael could smell the odor that slowly began to emanate from the corpse, and he continued. "Decay hath only been observed within man, and only since his abdication. How can an immortal be subject to the thing?"
Argoth looked at the body and shook his head. "The workings of the Withering is a first for our kind to observe in Heaven. But my people have learned that when a plague has run its course strips us of immortality. It corrodes the spark of life within our stones, leaving us mortal, and because the atmosphere of Heaven is toxic to anything that doth not possess El's touch of holiness..."
Michael's face displayed shock, and he finished the sentence. "...Heaven itself hath become toxic to our kind."
"Aye," Argoth said. "If we are not shielded by God's' holiness, the very presence of God will bring about our demise. Silently we will be consumed to age, and even as the humans, we too will be subject to death."
Michael staggered and reached out to brace himself against a wall. He hung his head low then sighed. He looked at the body of his deceased brother and choked back tears. "Jerahmeel was right...I have, through my actions, brought ruin to my people." His eyes zeroed in on his brother, "You said 'when it has run its course.' How much of the population do you project will succumb to the plague?"
Argoth floated to his brother and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Perhaps thou hast reached the limits to where thine own wisdom can take thee. Thy extremity must now seek He who can do beyond all that ye ask or think, for what remedy is available to thee other than by El's own hand?"
Michael drew his shoulder away from Argoth's touch, "You have failed to answer me, Chief of Eyes. I knew Raphael and I know that as Sephiroth you have knowledge beyond the sight of most, so I ask thee again. How much of the population do you project will succumb to the plague?"
Argoth frowned. "In three days, the plague will take its course, and if not abated, at least a third to a half of our kind will fall to death. In one week's time, I have beheld through Grigoric trance the extinction of our race."
Michael stumbled backward and reached to grab the wall as he lowered himself to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his waist and bent over and moaned.
"I have accomplished through stubbornness what Lucifer could not attain through war."
He groaned in the spirit with mutterings that could not be uttered and wept sore.
Argoth looked upon his leader and backed away from his prince leaving Michael alone as he sobbed, blanketing the corpse of Osiras.
* * *
Enoch and his group walked through mists obscured within mists, each member barely able to see the next step before them. Enoch paused and lifted a closed fisted hand. The troop came to a halt. God's man strained his eyes to peer through the gloomy veil.
"Something moves within the dimness," he said.
"Are sure?" Gabriel said in a low voice. "I see nothing."
"It is not about sight, High Prince. It is about instinct. Something is out there."
Gabriel then turned to Hadriel. "Go to and scout before us and see that the way is clear, for what harm can come to a Grigori while misted?"
Hadriel nodded and allowed his body to change to a gaseous, transparent form that floated quickly past the trio and disappeared into the shrouded gloom.
Seconds passed as they waited for word from their friend if they could proceed further.
"Hadriel?" shouted Enoch.
But there was no reply.
The eyes of all strained to peer past the cloudy veil, and Metatron was the first to notice movement and he drew his sword. "We are being watched," he said.
"Yes...yes you are." Came a voice from the darkness.
Enoch slid his sword out from its sheath and assumed a defensive battle stance. The heaven forged blade glittered between the twilight mists, and sounds of swords drawn emerged from the murk.
"With what gall dost the living seek to dwell amongst the dead?" said a voice.
"Show thyself, coward!" shouted Gabriel.
A figure stirred among the mists and all stepped back, ready for an attack. They breathed a collective sigh of relief as Hadriel appeared, came into view. His cowled face and shimmering eyes a familiar and welcome sight. He flew above the trio and landed behind them. "Quickly form up for we are under assault!"
The four placed their backs to each other, swords raised, and watched for any sign of attack from the gloom. Hadriel's pen then transformed into a dagger.
Hadriel floated closer to Enoch while all eyed the shadows that now moved menacingly around them. Hadriel settled next to Enoch, and when Enoch turned his eyes away, Hadriel raised his dagger to strike him down.
Enoch caught the motion from the corner of his eye and quickly leaned away, yet unable to escape the downward stroke that would plunge Hadriel's dagger deep into his neck.
Suddenly, another dagger whizzed across Enoch's face, knocking Hadriel's dagger from his hand; both weapons ricocheted off one another twirling into the darkness.
Gabriel shoved Enoch behind him as another floating apparition materialized. It was Hadriel.
"Get away from God's man," Hadriel commanded.
Confusion overtook the group, as the Hadriel who had protected Enoch plunged headlong into the other Grigori who had just tried to attack him. The twin angels grappled with one another as their books floated above their heads.
Enoch, moved away flustered, "Who is who?" He barked.
"I am. The other is an impostor...a doppelganger!"
"No! He's the impostor!" said the other.
The two Grigori misted and upon command, their pens flew back into their hands and immediately turned into daggers. Each slashed at one another, deflecting blows, and quickly attempted to stab one another with deft jabs. Yet neither could get an advantage over the other.
The party looked on as the two record keepers grappled each other's wrists, each one's movement a perfect mirroring of the other.
"How do we tell them apart?" Metatron said.
Suddenly from Metatron's rear, a voice echoed like his own, "You would do well to be concerned for yourself." Mists then swirled into a rising column at Metatron's feet and formed into a gaseous copy of Metatron, which now stood before him. The twin smiled and attacked his counterpart.
Gabriel grabbed Enoch. "You cannot be lost for all our hopes rest on your success. Stay behind me and I will be thy shield."
A sound then emanated from the ground beneath his feet and gaseous hands grabbed the angel by the ankles. Gabriel fell onto his back. Enoch watched as the head of house Malakim was dragged away clawing into the darkness, kicking against a foe unseen.
Yet when Gabriel kicked at the mists that held him, he looked to see that he but kicked at his own hands. A twin visage stared back at him, then jumped atop him and began to pummel him.
Enoch watched the skirmishes play themselves out, before him, and he took his sword and turned to his rear, then back again, swinging it wildly at the fog that collected his feet. For it was now clear that the mist itself was the enemy and it encompassed the party round about. He gripped the hilt of his blade with both hands and pointed it forward, watching for any sign of an attacker's approach.
He did not have long to wait.
A human figure arose from the vaporous floor and Enoch found himself staring into his own li
keness. The creature grinned and spoke.
"You have fought death, mortal, and hath been translated by the Great One, Himself, yet you still possess fear. Death does not exist here, human; only the lingering remains of choices not made. The in-between of the tick and the tock: for here in the realm of choices and doubt, you have entered the infinite loop of mirrors and now...we will have thee."
Enoch faced his double and swung his sword at the attacker and the duplicate parried his blow. Their swords clanged in the twilight, and the twin circled to counter Enoch's strike. Enoch's sword flew from his hands into the eerie black, leaving him defenseless. The twin Enoch, then raised his sword above his head, ready to strike his quarry with a forward slicing blow, but the man of God brought his palms together against the blade and halted the sword with his bare hands. Blood trickled from his palms as he struggled against his own strength to prevent being sliced in half. Enoch turned to gained leverage and kicked the chest of his ghostly counterpart, but his foot just passed through vapor.
"You fight in vain, human. You cannot defeat me, for I am you."
The ghostly figure then solidified and Enoch could not withdraw his foot from his opponent's chest. His evil twin smiled, then spun his human quarry, released him and sent Enoch flying into Metatron.
Metatron caught his companion and shielded Enoch, absorbing a slicing blow in the process. He cried out in agony while Enoch scurried to find his sword. As he picked up the blade, vapors surrounded him and coalesced so that he once more stood confronted by his own image. Enoch struck at his twin. Mist trailed the stroke as his blade broke the outline of his attacker's bodily form and his double smiled at him.
"So many choices avail you human, and yet as always, your kind and that of the Elohim seek the way of battle as the first choice. Behold now the sum of thy decisions."
Enoch watched as his compatriots were locked in mortal combat with themselves, watched as Gabriel, Hadriel, and Metatron wrestled against ethereal beings that knew neither fear nor fatigue, each one locked in a lethal waltz to defeat the twin foe before them. A group of hacking, slashing and pummeling warriors, each in focused intent to but defeat the foe set before them. Then Enoch realized the nature of their battle and dropped his weapon onto the foggy ground. Gabriel glanced toward Enoch and yelled, "To arms! We do not surrender. We do not fail. Do not give in to despair. Fight! Fight!"
But Enoch stared at his gaseous nemesis as the nebulous form of himself advanced closer, its sword raised to cut him down. As the distance between them closed, Enoch shut his eyes, opened his arms wide, and surrendered to God. If the Lord willed his oblivion...then the will of the Lord be done.
His twin marched with sword held high and lowered its misty blade to slice Enoch in half. Gabriel looked from his periphery and screamed out in horror. "Nooooo!!"
But the aim of Enoch's ghost was sure and the blade found its mark, yet when the edge of the sword hit the crown of Enoch's head, it misted through him and became as ether.
Enoch felt the breeze and its coolness caress his face. He opened his eyes, smiled and spoke. "I am Enoch, and there is none other. I have seen Death's face, and Death doth not exist in this realm. Be gone, foul spirit of fear, for I choose not to die this day."
Enoch's twin smiled. "Fear is always present, Translated of God. Know that I will watch you as you pass through Limbus." Immediately the copy dispersed into the murk and was gone. Enoch turned to his peers and yelled for them all to hear. "Allow them to strike you. Do not resist evil, but let them strike thee down if need be."
Metatron wrestled with his doppelganger and wore several slashes. He spoke with gritted exertion. "Are you mad? We will fall into dissolution."
"Noo!" said Metatron's double, "Release your fear, for we will have you join us in Limbus--you must feed the mist!"
Enoch ran toward Metatron, who was now on his back with his twin atop him. Enoch grabbed the double by the neck and pulled the gaseous creature off of him throwing it to the ground.
Metatron lay dumbfounded, for he had seen Enoch repeatedly defeated in combat during training, and now he stood pummeling his vaporous twin into the ground. "I do NOT possess the spirit of fear, for my God is my shield and my strength." And the gaseous ghost screamed and every time Enoch's fist hit the creature the ground lit beneath his pummeling fists as the vaporous double of Metatron broke apart into non-threatening puffs of smoke.
Gabriel and Hadriel ceased in their struggles and when they did, the creatures screamed in frustration and reached for their quarries to lash out at them.
"Give us substance. Let your choices become manifest. Feed the mist. Feed..."
Enoch walked through Gabriel's apparition and waved the diffusing ghost away as one would wave smoke from stinging eyes.
"Get up my friend," Enoch said. "Alas, we have been delayed long enough."
Gabriel reached up for his friend's hand and spoke. "How did you know?"
Hadriel floated toward them, his own apparition now gone. "We are on a mission to restore the unity of the spirit between Elohim and Seraphim. There can be no thought of one's life in the cause of the Lord, for he that loveth his life shall lose it. We are not here to fight but to reconcile. To fight was only to hasten our defeat as these creatures are but manifestations of our own fear. They can do us no harm if we choose it, for we have been told this is the realm of choices. I choose to be about my Father's business. Enoch turned then spoke into the darkness before them, "Come, we have dwelt long enough in the fog of fear." And the group proceeded deeper into the depths of the unknown.
* * *
Jerahmeel and the rest of the team followed Iblis into the digestive tract of Hell, careful not to touch the surface floor. White glowing maggots covered the cavern and hissed within pulsating flows of lava. Like a river streamed with human remains, Hell digested the fallen angels before their eyes.
Steam sizzled through the vent as they entered, only to mask the moans of those under judgment. Cries of anguish and the stench of rotting flesh baked into the nostrils and ears of the group.
"Talus is in this?" asked Eskalion.
"No," replied Iblis. "He is without a doubt deep in the center of the creature. The bowel. For within, Lucifer hath built the Hellforge away from the prying eyes of Grigori and Heaven. For whom but the mad would ever attempt entry into the prison El hast designed?"
Turiel laughed, "It would seem that we too are foolish to undertake such a task."
Iblis moved with caution between falling clumps of cooling lava that fell from the ceiling. Eyes protruded from the ceiling, the pupils of which dilated and followed their movements.
"Think of it," Iblis said, "just think of it. Lucifer braved Hell to release Apollyon from this creature's grip. What audacity, to believe he could not just enter the Lord's prison, but escape! He saw this beast untamed and ready to consume." Iblis beamed as he continued. "Is it not impressive to know that our kind had the power to circumvent God, to move beyond His constraints? Can you not understand why many followed him?"
Eskalion huffed in disgust. "When your false god can create life and the air we breathe, then perhaps he might scratch the toe of El's power. Until then, I will stand with my God."
Through narrow channels the group flew, careful to avoid the floor, walls, and ceilings.
"There are eyes in the ceiling," said Jerahmeel. "Eyes that watch us."
Turiel looked up. "Indeed, yet something seems amiss. Is it just me, or do they seem to be multiplying?"
All glanced above them, and as water boils so too did eyes bubble to the surface of the lava both above and beneath them. Slowly the organs popped into being, then with each passing moment, more came into view, compounding and reproducing, each searching for something, each eye looking in various directions, swiveling in all angles, scanning the duct in which the quartet traveled
"Intriguing," Turiel said. "The creature does not realize that we are within it." And upon those words, the tome that floated aside of Turiel's bod
y began to be inscribed by his pen. And as the thoughts of Turiel were translated from mind to pen, and from pen to page, the tip of the instrument glanced the ceiling.
The eyes of the entire cavern then locked onto them glowing deep red, and widening to twice their size.
Iblis motioned for all to stop and fear covered his face. Turiel misted, and all took notice that all the eyes of the cavern now tracked their movement.
"If you value your life, do not move," Iblis whispered.
All floated, as anxiety crept through the group, each muscle taut to move as little as possible. Jerahmeel held his breath as he looked about, and it was then that when he thought they were safe, that Turiel reached to touch the creature.
"Nooo!" Jerahmeel cried, but it was too late. Turiel wailed out in agony as his hands burned and he fell screaming into the boiling lava. The eyes grew and tracked him and immediately began to fall from the ceiling. More eyes surfaced from the floor in a tidal wave of lava, angelic and human limbs. A swelling upsurge that now trailed them to consume them alive. Hell was hungry.
"FLEE!!" Iblis screamed.
Eskalion rushed to Turiel, hoisted him over his shoulders, and the four fled into corridors of darkness, flying in single file following Iblis in desperate hopes to escape.
Jerahmeel panted as angelic endorphins pumped through his body as he and the group scrambled to escape the touch of the quickly converging glowing one-eyed creatures. Michael had told Jerahmeel about the living immune system of Hell, but nothing could prepare him for the reality that now pursued them. For Carrion-eating, disease destroying antibodies viewed their presence as nothing more than a contagion to be destroyed.
The one-eyed, lava-like antibodies swarmed the cavern with flaming tentacles that unraveled from the ceiling like vines in a jungle. Their stinging touch, sending needle-like pain into those who failed to dodge the lowering limbs.
Iblis batted away steaming tendrils. "Hurry this way!"
Jerahmeel, sword drawn, sliced at the falling appendages that sought to entwine them. Faster they flew, and from every wall, from the floors and roof of corridors, glowing eyes opened and plopped to the floor in a slow march, as lava overran all things. Eskalion dared not look behind him, as Turiel groaned while he flopped over his peer's shoulders as he ran. His pen and stylus hovered just beyond him, writing ceaselessly in the air.