Angelic Wars- First Rebellion
Page 25
116 Hebrews 12:29
117 Psalm 9:12
Chapter 25
Raffaela. How could she? Why would she? Seeing her standing next to the Great One in his lair—this weakened, no, sickened Azarias. She was Azarias’s confidant, his soul mate. Now she’d become the enemy, enticing Malachy into the enemy’s dark world. A world of darkness, a world of false light, a world without the Word of God.
Azarias drew a deep breath. It seemed harder to breathe in here. Without the breath of the Spirit, his own became shallow.
Silence pinged in his ears. Why was nobody speaking? He ignored the enemy and focused on the former Septemviri. Their faces sagged with guilt, their posture weighted with betrayal.
Still choosing silence, the Great One’s light brightened. It chased the darkness from the immediate area.
Azarias and Pollyon stood only several yards away, and Azarias shivered as he scanned a vast auditorium. He and Pollyon stood on a lower surface, below a high ceiling that arched like a large dome. Azarias scrutinized the intersection of the walls with the ceiling. They bowed like shallow parabolas but did not meet at the perimeters, leaving a gap as large as an angel between them.
Moving his gaze downward, Azarias froze at the emerging awareness of thousands of seated seraphim surrounding them, their faces stoic, battle-prepared. They fanned out in concentric rows that climbed to the rim of the cavern. The so-called enlightened cherub illuminated them.
A spirit-deafening cheer extinguished the silence. It crushed his spirit, causing him to double over and fall to his knees alongside Pollyon.
Azarias rolled to his back, eyes closed, and whispered, “Lord, why have you led us here?”
He opened his eyes. His spirit ran cold.
Seated upside-down on the ceiling, mirrored to all the upright angels, were again as many seraphim. Their wings hung quivering toward their comrades seated on the floor. Their faces reveled in victory. Failure commenced a stranglehold on Azarias.
“Azarias, join your friends. They have seen the true light.”
Could he withstand the temptation? After this, could he turn the enemy away?
“Azarias, under the Creator, you have been a failure. With me, you will taste victory for the first time, and realize the success you are. I know about your questioning the Creator. You did so because you knew the Creator was flawed. He never answered you, did he?”
Turning over, Azarias rose to his knees.
One of the seraphim lieutenants on the platform motioned the cheering to cease.
The Great One’s voice thundered: “Pollyon. Rise.”
Pollyon, rising slowly, faced the platform of the victorious commanders and their exalted leader.
Azarias, standing alongside him, looked to Pollyon. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of answering. Fight whatever promise he offers you.”
Pollyon shot a glance at Azarias and then looked up. “I present to you, O Great One, Azarias, the leader of the Septemviri. He is the Creator’s best effort to combat your glorious quest.”
Azarias’s mouth dropped open. His heart choked his speech. Three Septemviri defecting? No, Lord, please. What have you allowed to happen?
But yes, it was true. Pollyon looked to the Great One, his face seeking approval.
Pollyon’s betrayal buried Azarias’s spirit. He sunk down to his knees and closed his eyes. He whispered, “To you, I call, O Lord, my rock. Do not turn a deaf ear to me.118 Do not drag me away with these of untruth, who speak and do things against your Will. Repay them for their deeds and empower me to give them what they deserve.”
Though Azarias had kept his voice covered, the Great One laughed. “I know what you are saying. Why do you keep calling your Creator when one as great as Him is in your presence? Kneel to me and recognize the god within you.”
Azarias opened his eyes. He noted the trembling of his hands. He looked up to the Great One. His eyes shifted and locked with Raffaela’s solemn gaze. She shook her head.
He rejoiced. She hadn’t betrayed him.
No, instead he realized that the Great One’s lieutenants held her prisoner. And if she hadn’t betrayed the Septemviri, then neither had Malachy. Pollyon had led them into a trap and imprisoned them. He was the traitor. The feelings jostled his heart. First, Raffaela. No, Pollyon. He reeled for a moment.
Squatinidale’s words echoed in his mind: Do you remember when you rescued me? What a presence you had. You talked Abaddon down and called upon the Lord’s fiery legions to support you…You see, you’re my hero.
Azarias exposed his darkness to the Lord and stood. He clenched his jaw and looked to Pollyon. “Pollyon, my friend and my confidant, I am sorry you made this choice.”
“You are sorry?” Pollyon’s voice shot forth, his eyes rocketing wide. “Can’t you see what is happening?”
“Yes, Pollyon, I know exactly what is happening.” He forced his faith to shield his feelings. He knew the Lord was in control. “The question is, do you know what it is happening?”
“Azarias,” boomed the Great One. “I am the Guardian Cherub of Eden in the material world. I, alone, have the power to pass through the Siq from Heaven into Eden, and Eden into Heaven without consequence. I, the starry host, am equal with the Creator Himself. I am the model of perfection, wisdom, and beauty. I am blameless in my ways.”
The Great One displayed his thousand eyes by raising his wings. But unlike Azarias’s Guardian Cherub of the Creator, he didn’t intimidate Azarias. His eyes did not have the all-knowing presence of God. Instead, they felt empty.
The Great One continued. “You too can be as great as I am and as great as the Creator. We have defeated the Most High because we are the Most High.”119
Thundering applause assaulted Azarias’s ears. He looked up. The upside-down hanging angels’ wings pulsating with every cheer. This wave of wings flowed like a current from end to end, reverberating to the ceiling/floor gap. The angels on the surface reflected the energy from the ceiling.
The Great One now cast additional energy waves over the ceiling and the floor. He circled his wings to the right, and then stopped and circled to the left. His subjects swooned. Rippling energy reverberated. The sight reminded Azarias of the amborlite leaning away for the Lord’s Spirit to pass; except this time dripping with darkness. They passed the energy between them, lighting up the cavern with this stain. Their spirits had been joined, their destinies sealed.
Oddly toned chanting first murmured, then grew louder with each stanza. It violated Azarias’s ears.
“Ego laus a deus intus vos. Ego laus a deus intus vos! Ego laus a deus intus vos.”
The chant translated: I see the god in you.
Azarias wanted to scream, You are not God!, but the noise would have drowned his voice.
Azarias looked at Raffaela and Malachy. They neither participated nor encouraged. Their eyes were fixed on Azarias. Then, Malachy pressed her lips together. Azarias knew for sure. The rebellious ones held the two Septemviri prisoner.
The Great One’s head rotated to the face of an ox, bellowing smoke that filled the cavern with a white warm mist. The rebellious ones inhaled the spiritual elixir as one would absorb the Spirit of the Lord. Azarias cringed. Their bodies pulsated a deep scarlet, the hedonism of chanting and smoke setting them horrifically alight. Azarias examined an angel in the front row. The scarlet circulated like a parasite through the angel’s system, filling and infecting him.
Azarias muttered the message the Lord’s Spirit had conveyed to him and his team in the Bibliotheca when he dispatched the other four.
Immersed in their pride
In the bowl of grandiose
The chanting tolls
Ego laus a deus intus vos
No compass rose to guide them
All energy is consumed in boast
In dark harmony they sing
<
br /> Ego laus a deus intus vos
The coterie has heard and not understood
They have seen and not perceived
Their spirits are waxed gross
As they succumb to
Ego laus a deus intus vos
The miscreant reveals itself
In victory they are engrossed
In their requiem they sing
Ego laus a deus intus vos
He paused before reciting the final stanza. He looked at his hands. His vessels shimmered as golden expressways, crisscrossing microscopic jewels throughout his body. It was happening again, just like when he stood in the presence of the priest from the Order of Melchizedek. God’s Spirit was entering him. He said the next stanza in the prophecy louder:
Enter the real light Most High
The foreshadowed singing of the hosts
Rapture of the captive ones
Ego laus a deus intus vos
Within him, the Lord’s Spirit exploded. He stared straight at the Great One. Opening his wings, he dropped his head and parted his arms in prex précis. The Lord’s Spirit instantly raised him off the surface. He hovered there, suspended between the cavern’s surface and the ceiling.
The ox took notice and rotated, revealing the softer, human face. The mist cleared, and the chanting stopped.
Azarias raised his head, eyes wondrously wide. The Lord’s Spirit burned throughout his entire being, setting his wings on fire. Glowing white, he commanded:
This is what the Sovereign Lord says: You were the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone adorned you: ruby, topaz, and emerald, chrysolite, onyx and jasper, sapphire, turquoise and beryl. Your settings and mountings were made of gold; on the day you were created, they were prepared. You were anointed as a guardian cherub, for so I ordained you. You were on the holy mount of God; you walked among the fiery stones. You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you. Through your widespread trade, you were filled with violence, and you sinned.120
The angels hanging upside down from the ceiling, drool stringing out of their mouths, tried to grab him. Azarias moved out of their reach.
Azarias’s eyes remained riveted on the Great Cherub and continued the Lord’s proclamation.
In the pride of your heart you say, “I am a god;
I sit on the throne of a god in the heart of the seas.”
But you are a mere mortal and not a god, though you think you are as wise as a god.
Are you wiser than Daniel? Is no secret hidden from you?
By your wisdom and understanding, you have gained wealth for yourself
and amassed gold and silver in your treasuries.
By your great skill in trading, you have increased your wealth,
and because of your wealth, your heart has grown proud.121
Therefore this is what the Sovereign Lord says: Because you think you are wise, as wise as a god, I am going to bring foreigners against you, the most ruthless of nations; they will draw their swords against your beauty and wisdom and pierce your shining splendor. They will bring you down to the pit and you will die a violent death in the heart of the seas. Will you then say, “I am a god,” in the presence of those who kill you? You will be but a mortal, not a god, in the hands of those who slay you.122
So, I will drive you in disgrace from the mount of God and I will expel you, O Guardian Cherub, from among the fiery stones. Your heart became proud because of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor. So, I will throw you to the Earth; I will make a spectacle of you before kings. By your many sins and dishonest trade, you have desecrated your sanctuaries. So, I will make fire come out of you, and it will consume you, and reduce you to ashes on the ground in the sight of all who will watch you. All the nations that will know you will be appalled by you; you will come to a horrible end and will be no more.123
A droning hum commenced, softly at first, then intensifying until it moved through the cavern with the force of a gale. Azarias shifted his gaze to the rebellious followers. All the angels covered their ears and reeled in pain. He shot a glance at Raffaela and Malachy. They were blessedly unaffected by the sound.
From the corner of his eye, a light. A light of purest white pigment appeared from the ten-foot gap encircling the perimeter of the ceiling. Azarias turned and found his comrades posted at the corners: Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Squatinidale. Four razor-sharp beams shot from the gap, hitting him in the chest, back, and sides.124 His arms swung open, his head flung back. Fire, soothing fire, consuming fire,125 burned in his arms and legs.
The hum rose in octaves and blended into a harmonious song of a million angels from the Lord’s Throne, singing with forcefulness and conviction.
Azarias raised his head and met the riveted gazes of Raffaela and Malachy.
Chaos erupted from those seated on the ceiling and the surface. The two imprisoned angels leaped off the stage, their wings clubbing two of the lieutenants as the officers struggled to control the masses.
Azarias pointed to their only escape, the corridor from which he entered. He remembered the Word he read from God in the Bibliotheca: Enter the real light Most High, the foreshadowed singing of the hosts, rapture of the captive ones. God did not abandon them. The three angels bolted for the exit as thousands detached from their perches and fluttered in horror, trying to avoid the white purity of the Spirit’s light. The seated angels launched in confusion, colliding with those somersaulting helplessly from the ceiling. In the chaos, the rebellious angels attacked each other.126 The Lord’s plan was flawless.
The three darted into the corridor—Azarias, Malachy, Raffaela. How far would they get before anyone noticed? Azarias wanted to fly, but the corridor was too narrow to bellow his wings. Run—run!
“Azarias,” yelled Malachy with a shaky voice, “why is the Lord sending us through here instead of the ceiling gap?”
“I don’t know. The Lord is leading us back toward Laodicea.”
The angels scurried down the corridor. It seemed to take too long. Maybe they exited out of another opening. With all the confusion, did they take the wrong turn? Everything was so dark when he entered. He hoped he would see…
Wait? Yes! The glow of an opening into a dim gray atmosphere.
Azarias yelled over his shoulder. “Look! The Bibliotheca!”
But were they being chased? Fear locked Azarias’s eyes forward. He couldn’t waste time to look back.
Yes, they had reached the open gallery of the Bibliotheca. “Fly,” yelled Azarias to his freed hostages. The three leaped into the large gallery, grabbing onto whatever Spirit the Lord allowed in the deserted halls.
Then he heard it. His heart sunk.
The false and vulgar music of the rebellious ones echoed through the corridor behind them. No, above them. All around them. Where was the hideous noise coming from?
Raffaela swayed in her flight.
“Come on, Raffaela, we must hurry,” pleaded Azarias.
Azarias didn’t remember the Bibliotheca being this large. The more he pushed, the longer the structure grew. He seemed to fly in slow motion. Could the enemy be impeding their speed? That must be it. The enemy must have been interfering with the Lord’s Spirit necessary to fly, while the rebellious pursuers could rely on their own will.
The three Septemviri were at a disadvantage.
The wretched sound seeped through the vast cavities of the library. Were these echoes, or was the enemy coming from all directions? They may have flown above the structures and headed them off. In that case, he would be surrounded.
O Lord.
“There, below,” Azarias shouted and pointed to a dark passageway, near the Index, hardly noticeable from flight.
The three collapsed their wings and landed in a full
run. Azarias stopped.
“Azarias?” Raffaela’s voice seemed weak.
Azarias ignored her and ran through the arches and into the alcove. There, he removed three cloaks hanging on the wall. He looked to the sides and snatched three volumes entitled Way, Truth, and Life from a shelf.127 “Here, take these.”
He handed a cloak and book each to Raffaela and Malachy. “Now, do what I do.” He laid the cloak down and wrapped it around the book, tying the ends to bind the book covers snuggly. Malachy and Raffaela followed in order the best they could.
The music grew louder. “They’re almost here,” cried Raffaela. She turned her head toward the distant gloom.
“Okay, now submerge the wrapped book into the Index mist and absorb the wisdom of His Holy Spirit,”128 Azarias said.
They followed his lead, and then Azarias held his steaming bundle at his side, facing their pursuers.
The music grew louder from the other end.
Azarias looked at his comrades. “When I say so, do as I do.”
The distant gloom swirled.
There they were, hundreds of angels dashing in and out of the arches in the distance. Their presence intimidated, but the eyes, the red eyes petrified him.
Red eyes burning with hate. He couldn’t count them. They swarmed the vast Bibliotheca until the red blurred into intertwined ropes threatening to bind the Septemviri with the Great One’s lies.
Azarias tightened his grip.
“Azarias, whatever we are to do, do it now,” whispered Malachy.
“Wait,” he ordered. “Let the rebels get to the middle of the room.”
Something in his peripheral vision distracted him.
Azarias jerked his head upward.
Legions, red legions of angry angels etched circles as they flew in the rafters. They had entered through the openings high on the walls and soared downward, intertwining their red eye lines with their counterparts. The nebulous figures wailed their ear-shattering music. The relentless rhythm pulsed in Azarias’s mind.
He clutched his surprise package tightly to his side.