Angelic Wars- First Rebellion

by Rick E Norris

  “Who was that?” Uriel asked.

  Azarias stared. “I don’t know, but I felt like he has known me since my beginning.”93 He blinked hard and turned to Uriel. “Let’s stay with the plan and escape up through the roof.”

  After ascending to the roof, they discovered the enemy below in the courtyard. They seemed bewildered. The two angels spread their wings and escaped unnoticed.

  All around the Philadelphian underground metropolis, angels were fighting the rising vinifera current. Waves of the once tranquil liquid now washed up over the narrow banks and into doorways of the structures. Outstretched fingers plucked the screaming angels from being carried downstream.

  “Dionysius, what’s happening?” Raffaela tried to reach one of the angels struggling helplessly in the current.

  Dionysius covered his face. “How can anyone have this kind of power?”

  The waterfalls deafened Raffaela ears. The entire underworld seemed to be groaning under the weight of the roar.

  Dionysius shook his head and yelled into Raffaela’s ear. “Raffaela, we must stop this before it floods the entire Philadelphia underworld.”

  The two angels burst out of the submerged metropolis.

  Carving a route through one arch, Raffaela did a double-take at the mass of vinifera rivers. They were now raging inundations, filling the valley with the cries of chaos.

  “Where’s all this coming from?” Raffaela shrieked, trying to be heard above the noise.

  Dionysius pointed to the higher elevations. “Look.”

  No longer did the carpet of blue-purple cover the upper slopes in vinifera plants. The braided rivers and streams blended into reddish-purple quagmires.

  “We must go to the source,” yelled Dionysius. “To the upper altitudes.”

  The angels flew into the upper regions, to where Raffaela met Dionysius earlier. The area of the small plants had changed. The plants were completely stripped of their vinfera.

  Raffaela surveyed the ridges.

  Barren, cross-shaped skeletons, once the glorious stems that held the purplish orbs, now stood as victims to this apparent evil.

  Dionysius gripped his chin, his eyes large and riveted. “Raffaela, the fruits have all melted away, leaving scarlet streaks down the trunks of the plants.”

  Dionysius reached into his pocket and retrieved the fruit he had taken.

  He shook it in Raffaela’s face, his eyes pushing the limits of their sockets. “What did you see? What did you see on the fruit? Tell me!”

  Raffaela took the fruit and rotated it in front of his eyes. With sadness, she said, “The marks are the design of the rebellious angels…a five-pointed star enclosed in a circle.”

  She rotated it further. “On one side it just looked like a net, but here, when I do this, the star’s design is revealed. The lines intersected into five points.”

  Dionysius clenched his fist as he stared at the fruit. “Why didn’t I see that? Come on.”

  The angels shot like two comets back to the arches.

  Dionysius landed and dropped to his knees next to the riverbank.

  He cupped a drink, then rose and closed his eyes. “Just as I thought, nothing. Nothing is happening to me.”

  Raffaela looked at the river. “What do you mean?”

  “It is void of the Lord’s Spirit. The vinifera has been darkened both in color and in spirit. No longer can an angel experience an immediate prex précis with the Lord’s Spirit, and no longer does it emit the violet light. It has been contaminated by this evil spirit.” Dionysius turned to her with tear-filled eyes. “What do we do now?”

  Raffaela’s voice didn’t waver. “We do what we always do; ask the Lord.”

  Both angels faced each other with palms turned upward and heads bowed in prex précis.

  Raffaela’s mind opened. She saw an encapsulated angel hurtling into a dark abyss while terror devoured it. It was alone, with no communication with the Lord’s Spirit. The vision was so intense that Raffaela forced herself out of the prex précis.

  “What did you see?” Dionysius eyes widened, surprised.

  “I don’t know.” She could not verbalize what she had seen. All she knew was she did not want to be there.

  Dionysius pressed his lips together. He seemed to fight back the tears. “Well, I saw my angels being swept away. We must return quickly to the underworld.”

  The angels burst through the portal back into the underworld.

  “Dionysius,” screamed Raffaela. “Look!”

  The cavern no longer glowed with the Lord’s Spirit. Darkness now devoured the light leaking through the portals far above. Silhouettes of a thousand panicking angels fluttered around, casting shadows on the rising flood far below.

  “Angels,” Dionysius hollered, in a word that was more spiritual than audible. “Evacuate the district at once. The evil spirit seeks to steal you away into darkness.”

  As if a strong wind had entered the district, scores of angels blew through the portals, surrendering the Philadelphia underworld to the ravenous evil.

  Dionysius and Raffaela flew throughout the cavern, searching for any remaining souls. The flood level rose at an alarming rate as all the waterfalls burst through their narrow openings high above.

  “Let’s exit through the waterfall—” suggested Dionysius.

  Raffaela watched in horror as a rogue wave hit Dionysius. He tumbled toward the torrential river below.

  “Dionysius!” she screamed.

  She changed direction and dove toward her new friend, grabbing his waist. The two engaged in the same spiral tumble, nearing the dark vinifera.

  Raffaela let out a loud scream and slung Dionysius toward the portals, above.

  But not herself.

  * * *

  78 Psalm 18:30

  79 Exodus 26:1

  80 ibid

  81 Exodus 25:31-40

  82 Exodus 25:23-29

  83 Exodus 25:30

  84 Exodus 26:31-34

  85 Matthew 17:1-9; Revelation 1:12-15

  86 Genesis 14:17-24; Hebrews 7:1-25

  87 Hebrews 8:5-6; 8:1-2

  88 Romans 8:18-23

  89 John 3:10-13

  90 Matthew 24:36, Mark 13:32

  91 1 Corinthians 2:9

  92 Isaiah 14:12-14

  93 Jeremiah 1:5

  Chapter 19

  The dark abyss swallowed Raffaela both in spirit and soul. Fear and panic devoured the glorious harmonies and brilliance of the Philadelphian underground. The two hundred waterfalls still assaulted the district, screaming in her ears as they crashed into the dark and putrid mire around her. Did she save Dionysius? It took everything she had to do it.

  She was alone.

  Her decision to sling Dionysius up toward safety to the Philadelphian portals betrayed her wisdom. She knew now that she had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late. She couldn’t redirect herself away from the raging vinifera. A mysterious force grabbed at her, sucking her deeper and deeper into the darkness.

  “Lord. Where are you?” Her voice drowned in the echoing falls.

  As she fell, she could see the raging deluge. Maybe if she could forge her wings into a flattened shape and skim the energy, she would avoid plunging into the dead spirit.

  The seraph cupped her two flight wings around her head. She cupped her two feet wings around her legs. With her two middle wings spread out to her sides, she braced for impact.

  The collision ignited a blast of energy, reaching high toward the portals on all sides of her.

  Raffaela looked for the structures, but they were long submerged, if not destroyed.

  She had to stay afloat.

  It wasn’t the fast-movin
g current that concerned her.

  No, the backwash of the waves bounced off the sides of the cavern, recoiling at her from all directions.

  Crests of waves broke over her, threatening to submerge her.

  Why was the sloshing giving way to a fast, moving current?

  She should be able to ride the rising tide up to the portals.

  A sickening feeling consumed her. The vinifera emptied into another underground cavern somewhere ahead. But where?

  How did this system work? Normally, two hundred waterfalls cascaded from above into the underground center. The resident angels surely did not consume it all when basking during normal conditions. There must be a fissure allowing the vinifera to escape this cavern. But where did it go?

  “Lord,” Raffaela pleaded above the roar. “I have never known this feeling before. I feel like you are no longer in control.”

  Raffaela could not posture herself into a prex précis but pleaded in song with the Lord all the same.

  http://ow.ly/f4ck50wD5ff

  (Click link to hear Raffaela sing)

  Why am I here? O Lord, I cannot see.

  The dark closes in. A fear embraces me.

  My eyes, filled with tears, searching for a crutch.

  Distress reappears. I need Your gentle touch.

  My God, my Savior-have You forsaken?94

  I cast myself at Your feet.

  For You are Holy; You are mighty; ever-loving Lord.

  The peace within me, stifled by my pride.

  Purge this mystery and make me justified.

  The joy, no longer here. Hiding deep inside.

  My sight is so unclear. A blindness I confide.

  For You, are the Way, and Truth,95 and the Light,96

  And I will not stray, I will fight the good fight.97

  Without You, I cannot succeed…Lord?

  “Am I losing faith?” She could hardly believe she was saying the words.

  Farther ahead, the vinifera seemed to evaporate.

  No, that couldn’t be it. The vinifera couldn’t just vanish. There was no other alternative to existence. Spirit was matter-less energy and could not disappear or change like mass.

  The energy must be transformed or channeled into other energy, maybe into the cavern wall.

  “What now, Lord? I can’t get back to the surface. The raging vinifera could hold me against the wall with no escape.”

  For the first time in her existence, she questioned where she was going, and who was in control.

  Her fear raged, as did the vinifera.

  A fissure. That was the only alternative. The vinifera was disappearing through a fissure. A large, no, immense fissure drained the entire flood to depths below the cavern.

  “O Lord!” Raffaela cried out. “Where are you taking me? Surely you must be in control. Nothing in Heaven can escape your awesome power. Are you going to submerge me into this deluge?”

  Raffaela cupped her two free wings over the top half of her body, joining the bowings at her head and feet. She was now completely enclosed in a cocoon that sealed her body from the vinifera.

  She could hear the white caps lapping at her wings.

  Raffaela’s spirit raced as she felt her vessel tip forward. She was almost standing on end as she cascaded toward her doom.

  “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. O Lord, please hear my voice as a cry for mercy.” 98

  Her breaths became shallow.

  “Why are you silent?”

  Nothing.

  “I know you hear me. Lift me out of this pit…this mire. Set my feet on a firm place where I can worship you again.”99

  Still nothing, only the booming sound of the vinifera rushing against her winged capsule.

  All was dark.

  Cold.

  “Why are you silent? Do you not love me anymore?” Her whimpering gave way to a shriek. She was trapped within a winged sarcophagus. She turned her head from side to side.

  “Where are you? Why are you letting me vanish like this? Where is your love?”

  Silence kept its stranglehold on her emotions.

  “I do hear you.”

  She gasped.

  “Lord?”

  Hope. Hope’s sweet presence filled her spirit.

  She could hardly believe it. Why had she doubted him so?

  “You found me. You heard my cry. I knew you would not abandon me.”

  Nothing.

  A nervous silence filled her with a new fear, a fear of vulnerability.

  That was odd. The Lord had always filled her with a plethora of information when communicating with her. And where was the Spirit’s aroma? “Who are you?” She knew that the voice did not have the same warmth and familiarity of the Lord’s Spirit.

  Silence fed the darkened eeriness. “I am here to save you.”

  Who was here to save her?

  “Where is your God?” Sarcasm began to seep into the tone. “You pray to Him, and He is silent? How is that possible for an all-powerful God?”

  “Who are you?”

  “You know me,” the voice laughed.

  Rage lowered her voice to a guttural sound. “I know who you are. You are the leader of the rebellious ones.”

  “Rebellious ones?” The voice was amused. “You are obviously misled, my fellow god. We are not rebellious, just fulfilled. We have realized our potential as gods and are exercising it with love and compassion. How else could I be communicating? I come instead of your companions to save you.”

  His words stole her thoughts. She remembered how the Great One seduced people. He disarmed Squatinidale in a time of extreme uncertainty and emotional vicissitude. This was another ploy by the Great One to steal Raffaela’s allegiance from the Lord.

  “I am not God, and neither are you,” Raffaela said. She tightened her jaw. “Surrender yourself to the Almighty and ask for His loving mercy.”

  The Great One laughed heartily this time. “Please don’t beat yourself too hard against the inside of your little catacomb. You are not in any place to make demands of anyone.”

  Again, his voice changed to a serious tone. “A quarter of the angels in Heaven cannot be wrong…and our numbers are growing. Or are you ignorant of that little fact, oh, wise one?”

  “I know you do not speak the truth.” Raffaela’s body tightened. “I cannot believe that a quarter of the angelic population has turned their allegiance away from the Lord.”

  “Of course, you can’t. You are still under the misleading and deceiving spirit of the Creator.

  “But you will believe me.”

  Raffaela stiffened. “Believe you? You speak untruths. It is impossible for you to prove such a large number of my fellow angels have defected to your movement.”

  The rebellious leader hissed. “Nothing is impossible for me. I am equal to the Almighty.”

  He lowered his voice an octave. “Listen, and you will learn; listen, and you will believe; listen and you will succumb.”

  Raffaela exhaled. She had not forgotten her situation. Yet, she felt a little comforted that she wasn’t alone, even though it was with one not of her choice.

  She lay still, listening to the rumble of the vinifera. What was she supposed to hear?

  A sound. Her interest peaked. No, maybe she was passing under a waterfall or something. Anything was possible, and without the ability to see, she could have been imagining it.

  There it was again.

  A strange, but far-off sound.

  In normal circumstances, Raffaela would not even have noticed any sound at all. It was so slight, familiar, yet foreign.

  Staccato, staccato notes. Yes, that was it. But not the normal sounds performed by angels in worship. Those notes were in a major key. Instead, these tones were in a minor key.

  Raffaela was not impress
ed. “This is your proof? It is not very impressive for a new heavenly order.”

  The sound answered her by growing louder. It reverberated like staccato gongs.

  The singing seeped into Raffaela’s spirit, exploding with a poisonous barb that penetrated her body a millimeter at a time.

  It irritated—no, it agonized her.

  She understood now. Millions. Millions, upon millions, of angels singing in unison. This pseudo-god somehow channeled the singing into Raffaela’s capsule.

  The vibrations grew intense. Raffaela pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Stop it!” The words choked her.

  What was this pain she was feeling in her soul? Abandonment? Betrayal? Hopelessness?

  “Stop it,” she screamed louder.

  But the sound continued its barrage of Raffaela’s spirit. She couldn’t hear herself think.

  A dark presence pressed down on her. What was it? Crushing, smothering and probing, it sought to dominate her.

  Concentration. Yes. Concentrate on the Lord.

  She must concentrate to break away from this attack. Should she open her wings and succumb to the vinifera? Maybe it would stop.

  She screamed with anguish. “My Lord, my Lord. Why have you abandoned me?”100

  Nobody was there to feel her anguish, which came from loneliness.

  She surrendered.

  Michael squinted in the distance at the heart of God, the district of Sardis. It flickered in the haze like a troubled candle. He glanced over to Gabriel, who seemed unconcerned. A test run of peace, fueled by Gabriel’s fortitude, tested Michael. He raised his eyes to the multicolored rays fanning out from the megalopolis before disappearing into the atmosphere towards the Lord’s Throne.

  Gabriel, once again showing himself unruffled, banked and weaved around Michael’s steady flight through the sweet-smelling Lord’s Spirit. “How do you think the others are doing?”

  “Oh, probably better than we did in Smyrna.” Michael shook his head. “It was a rush,” he admitted, “but we sure got ourselves in deep.”