Azarias stiffened. “Wait—no. Gabriel, what are you doing? The Lord doesn’t want you to say that. The Septemviri must be covert.”
Gabriel walked to the front of the stage and looked over the entire arena. He scanned the seraphim from right to left.
“The Holy Order is in danger of being spiritually compromised by rebellious angels.”
A rumble rolled within the Council. Angels were repeating Gabriel’s words and asking each other if they had heard correctly.
Azarias placed his head in his hands and then lowered them to cup his mouth. Why would he say this?
Gabriel raised his hand. “These angels are using their gift of free will to reject the Lord’s Will. Their pride is infiltrating the Holy Order, and they seek to convert other angels to join them. The Lord has commanded a group of us, the Angels Septemviri, to expose these angels and drive them out of Heaven.”
Azarias gasped. He’d revealed who they were and their mission. It was impossible to believe the Lord told him to do this. The Guardian Cherub of the Creator told him he was the commander. This mission is out of control. He couldn’t command these angels. Why would the Lord place him in charge to just suffer humiliation? If the Lord would talk directly to the others, why did He need him?
Maybe that was the answer. God has lost confidence and has decided to lead this mission Himself.
Gabriel looked into the eyes of those in the front row. “I know what you are feeling—why are these angels challenging the Most High? The answer is because they believe their leader is as great as the Most High. Their leader has infected their spirits by using their pride as a poison that tempts them to believe that they, too, can be God.”
The silence weighed on Azarias. What were they thinking? Was it just disbelief?
Gabriel opened his hands. He seemed to not be affected by the audience reaction. “We, the Angels Septemviri, need your help. We have not been able to identify, locate, or number these angels. If you encounter any unusual spirits that you believe are contrary to the Lord’s Spirit, please summon the Septemviri through me. We are the Lord’s servants and your servants as well.”
The audience rumbled in apparent shock.
Gabriel bid them farewell and exited from the roiling council.
Azarias tapped his fingers on the Tome. Is this what the Lord was doing—exposing the deeds of the rebellious angels to the light? If more angels knew of the revolt, then would there be more eyes to identify them, more allies to combat them?
Gabriel took several steps and then suddenly turned. Azarias thought he heard a voice, but it was too soft to identify. He saw no angels near Gabriel because they were still seated, awaiting adjournment. Gabriel, saying nothing further, hurried out of the chamber.
Gabriel leaned against a wall. Something was wrong. He looked shaken.
Leviathan, in apparent deep reflection, joined him. “Very shocking, Gabriel.”
“Not as shocking as what happened to me as I was walking out,” Gabriel replied.
“What do you mean? I didn’t see anything?”
“Someone whispered in my ear. When I turned, nobody was there. A spirit I could not see. Maybe this mission is not for me. Maybe I am not the angel that the Lord thinks I am.”
Leviathan’s face morphed from stoic to laughter. “Invisible spirits?”
Gabriel glared at Leviathan. “No, Leviathan, you do not understand. I did hear something.”
“Of course you did, Gabriel.” He placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Haven’t you ever heard this kind of a sound in a chamber room before?”
Gabriel looked puzzled.
“The chamber room ceilings are parabolic, the domes allowing the reflection of energy. There are always two spots that transfer sound off the ceiling. When one angel is standing at one spot, another angel may be talking as low as a whisper in another spot across the room. However, because of the reflective dynamics, it sounds like the angel is standing next to you, whispering in your ear. Energy bounces off the ceiling in an angular fashion to the other being at the other side of the room.”
Gabriel shook his head in apparent exasperation, but his expression did not change. “So, if what you are saying is true, then that means at least two of your council members are part of the insurgency.”
Azarias drew a breath.
“I don’t understand.”
“It was the message that the whispering voice conveyed that disturbed me. The voice was telling another angel: This Septemviri is a threat to our plan. We must inform the Great One.”
Azarias gasped. “Oh, Lord. They are in Khasneh.”
No wonder the Lord flew Gabriel there.
The news appeared to catch Leviathan off guard. He paced away, deep in thought. Pausing, he turned. “Do you mean to tell me that two of my trusted council members, all of whom I have been engaged with in the closest spiritual sense, have been deceiving me and the Lord?”
“It is not your fault, Leviathan. This angel, or this Great One, is very powerful. I just hope it is just two and not more,” whispered Gabriel.
Leviathan locked eyes with Gabriel. “You don’t know what you are saying. You are condemning my underlings.” He paused. “They are my—no our—soul mates. Can you condemn any of them? Can you cast them out of your existence and presence without leaving a gaping hole in your spirit?”
“I know it is hard to understand, but…” He paused and looked away. “In Heaven, there is no gray, there is only light and dark. Heaven is light, and the darkness exists in the souls of those who flee from the light. They prefer darkness. There is no middle ground.”
Leviathan turned again and paced a few steps. After pausing, he rounded. His jaw tightened. “I will secretly launch an inquisition myself. I will help you find these individuals and bring them to you.” Then he turned and lowered his head, shaking it from side to side. “I still can’t believe this is happening.” He turned halfway back. “Especially in my district!”
Gabriel placed his arm around Leviathan’s shoulders. “We will act before these angels infect others with their deceit. I have a sense that this movement is growing rapidly.”
Azarias sat back and exhaled. “Who are these powerful angels that can secretly infiltrate even the councils?”
* * *
34 Acts 1:4-5
35 John 1:46
36 Job 12:7-10; Psalm 19:1; Romans 1:20
37 Luke 12:7
Chapter 5
Squatinidale never thought about the concept of eternity. Now, he was living it. He had been stumbling through a desolate countryside, without direction or purpose, chained to the burden within his soul. He was fortunate to escape.
His decision to fly with Abaddon to see the Great One filled him with remorse, and due to his unworthiness, he could not call on the Lord’s Spirit to guide him home. Certainly, he would not dare to fly under his own spirit. He didn’t want to defy the Lord any further. And frankly, he wasn’t sure how to.
The rugged silicium was void of amborlite. The grainy particles didn’t shift as in other parts of Heaven. No, here the silicium crumbled, forming shards that tore into his feet with each step, devouring his energy.
Squatinidale peered into the distance. He didn’t recognize the mesas because they didn’t display the golden amborlite that usually dripped over the bluffs in Ephesus. Instead, high, flat, barren surfaces stuck out like deformed growths from the desolate, unnatural landscape.
He looked upward. Maybe the atmosphere would provide clues. Something had to be familiar to direct him home. If he traveled toward a lighter atmosphere, he may be heading toward his home district, or any district but here.
But his hopes were dashed. The bright atmosphere of the Lord’s Spirit had almost vanished. Instead, darkness appeared and disappeared with no apparent pattern. Could he be traveling in circ
les around the Siq? If the darker atmosphere appeared only around the Siq, then it should be only dark here. Where did the light come from?
Or maybe…the changes in the atmosphere resulted from Abaddon’s confidants searching for him. Yes, that could be it. The darkened atmosphere followed them because they traveled without using the Lord’s Spirit.
He stopped and lowered his shoulders. “I am lost. Oh, how I am lost. I have betrayed my Beloved. I have betrayed myself. I have no meaning or purpose anymore. How long must I wrestle with my burden and the sorrow in my spirit?”
He dropped to his knees. “O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger. Do not discipline me in your wrath. My spirit has no soundness, because of my transgression. My guilt overwhelms me like a burden too heavy to bear. My wounds fester and are lonesome because of my folly. Your light has gone from my eyes.”38
He fell face down and sobbed. He had not only betrayed the Lord but the entire Holy Order, the family he had always known and loved.
He gazed at the desolate terrain spinning about him in all directions. Was this what his spirit had become? As far back as he can remember, Squatinidale secretly objected to the way the Lord had created him—stout and unimpressive. He now sees he was like the beautiful amborlite that carpeted the plains of Heaven. Beauty comes from substance, not form. But now, he lost his substance and is withering away.
“Have mercy on this stout little angel, O Lord, according to your unfailing love and great compassion. Please blot out my deed, for it is always before me. Let me hear joy and gladness. Create in me a pure heart, O Lord, and renew a steadfast spirit in me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”39
Silence pierced his soul with treachery. Squatinidale covered himself with his wings like a death veil.
“Lord, please grant me one last request, then. Please lead me to the Siq, where I may throw myself into the material world and be removed from your Holy existence. Then I will not infect your Holy ears with the filth of my requests. I am not worthy of a heavenly existence, and my soul no longer will dwell here. My soul defiles your house with spiritual excrement.”
Silence, still.
Abandoned. Yes, he sentenced himself to abandonment. He had walked away from the Lord. But where was he to go? He wasn’t worthy to go back to his district; he betrayed the Holy Order, too. The Siq? He thought of throwing himself into the Siq but was unsure of its direction. Truth be told, he lacked the courage to do so anyway.
So, he took the easy option—complete surrender to God’s mercy.
Then, a light. It was faint, but definitely a light. A soft, golden light snuggled under his right wing.
Squatinidale froze. The light didn’t fade but slightly shimmered.
He lifted his wing.
Lying almost on its side, bowed a tiny, golden amborlite flower. Its single petal glowed in the darkened atmosphere.
Squatinidale stared.
Nothing happened. The coy flower offered no solace.
He lifted his weary head and inspected his guest.
A movement. Yes, he thought he saw a movement within…yes…within the petal.
Squatinidale peered into the petal. Never had he thought of examining amborlite. He just flew through the countryside and watched it wave in the Spirit’s wake.
As he focused, he could see life in the petal. The interior displayed an entire micro-universe of moving spiritual jewels that emitted a transparent golden color. The jewels inside were also transparent, but distinguishable because they sparkled with an incredible light.
His tears dried, and his vision grew clearer. Each of the interior jewels resembled a microscopic Heaven. Just as Heaven consisted of doubled intersecting spirals surrounded by a spiritual bubble, that which is God’s Throne, so did each of these jewels exist like rotating spiral galaxies in space—moving freely, but not colliding.
Peering within, Squatinidale perceived spirals intersecting in the middle, creating a dark, black ball. The resulting shape was like two intersecting star galaxies. However, instead of their centers being light, they were dark.
This site was multiplied by a thousand times—little Heavens, all working in great harmony and organization. Squatinidale managed a troubled smile. “Beautiful.”
But just as quickly as the process began, the petal pattern metamorphosed. The jewels revolved to combine in a reverse mitosis. Just as drops of water were drawn together in anticipation of precipitation, these jewels were joined to form a large clear crystalline globe within the tiny petal. The thousands of tiny spirals combined to create two larger rotating spirals, again intersecting at their dark centers.
The crystalline globe spun slowly in a clockwise motion, drawing Squatinidale’s attention to the center, where the intersecting spirals created a large, dark ball. As the sphere spun, five points moved outward from the dark central ball, like spikes. They were equally spaced and grew concurrently. From each point, five rotating, pointed obelisks appeared. Each obelisk had a pointed top stretching toward the surface of the outer sphere. When the points reached it, the sphere rotated quicker and quicker. Rotating at an incredible speed, the pointed obelisks gave the illusion of a five-pointed star within the circle.
“Remarkable.”
Squatinidale, excited to tell someone, anyone, looked up to see if any angels were passing by. Then he remembered. There was nobody to tell.
He fought back the tears and resumed watching, hoping that it would distract his sorrow.
Returning to the exhibition, he noticed a new movement within the bubble. Three lines emerged from the inside edges, moving inward toward the menacing star. The three multi-colored lines met at their ends, forming an equilateral triangle. The black, white, and red triangle crushed the five-pointed star until it vanished back into the dark ball. What remained was the crystal-clear globe.
Squatinidale’s eyes burned with emotion. “Why do you show me this vision, Lord?”
Still, the silence churned in his gut.
“I am a failure in the Kingdom of Heaven, a burden to your perfect plan, a byproduct of your perfect creation. Please break the mold from which you designed me. I am not worthy to be called your creation.”
He placed his head on his folded arms and sobbed. “Look at me. I am so little, hardly a model representation of your creative prowess. You displayed my insecurities in my wretched form because you always knew me, and what kind of angel I would be.”
Still silence. Squatinidale gave up and laid his face on the flower. He just wished this pain would end soon. How? He didn’t know.
He turned over on his back, weeping.
Khasneh appeared a little dimmer to Gabriel now. He thought none of God’s creation can appear darker, but now he didn’t know what to believe. Were the angels following him? He was a target now. Paranoia joined him as he walked back down Khasneh’s main corridor. He spied the row of innocuous tabulators and tried to imagine which would betray the Lord. It unnerved him. He has never been on the defensive before, deceit was as foreign as the material world. He just didn’t understand how it could exist without experiencing it himself. He certainly didn’t want to experience such a dreadful way of thinking, but it blocked from him his only way of understanding it. He had to experience God’s creation to understand it. Since this was not God’s creation, he could not understand it. His mind spun with such thoughts.
He turned the corner and flattened his back to the wall. Leaning just a little, he turned and peeked back. No, nothing. Nobody seemed to be watching or following him. He closed his eyes and exhaled.
“What shall I do, Lord?”
His whisper didn’t seem to find a home. He thought Azarias might be watching, but he knew they could not communicate. Should he go back to Al Birka? No. The Lord’s Will, always, not his own.
/> Something on the opposing wall drew his eyes. He didn’t notice it before, an etching hiding under the eaves. The etchings had never concerned him before because they just broadcasted the functions of angels within the structure. But this etching lured him, intrigued him, and puzzled him. Past, Present, and Future, it read.
That was all. A simple display, or was it a message? He turned and looked around the corner again. Still, nobody seemed to take notice.
He stared at the etching, again. What could it mean? It seemed more than just a marquee. Should he enter? Or, maybe the message served dual purposes, functioning as a sign to the greater Heaven and a message to Gabriel.
“Well, Lord, if this is you, there is only one way to find out.”
He stepped into the middle of the corridor, looking both ways. He opened his wings. Immediately they were filled with the Lord’s Spirit, and he vanished.
The Khasneh multilayered forest, with its crystalline and transparent leaves, attracted angels from all corners of Heaven. As Azarias viewed Gabriel, he could see colored rays fanning high into the sky over the horizon. Millions of colors radiated upwards as beacons of beauty dancing in the Lord’s Spirit.
Azarias placed his head into his hands. This commission, or torture, pushed him to the edge of his faith. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Didn’t the Lord’s Guardian Cherub say he was supposed to lead this group? If he was the commander, then the Lord would use him so. It is obvious that the Lord doesn’t trust him because he has not trusted the Lord.
Or was He? Maybe Gabriel wasn’t being guided by the Lord? Could other angels interfere somehow in the Lord’s direction to him? Maybe Gabriel succumbed to a treachery, a trap?
Azarias knew he had a choice. Trust in the Lord, or not. He sat back and took a deep breath…then another…then another.
That second, Gabriel blasted into the Forest of Infinity that radiated millions of kaleidoscopic colors. The display soothed Azarias a little.
Angelic Wars- First Rebellion Page 6