by Nana Malone
“You don’t understand,” Hezekiah shrieked in anguish. “THEY took her! The priests! Of Moloch! Bormilcar murdered her father and claimed Moloch is displeased the nobles sacrifice slave children instead of their own. The mob has seized the youngest child of every noble in the city! Three hundred of them! They’re sacrificing them to Moloch as we speak!”
“Sacrifice?” Bile rose in his throat. “Is she…?”
“Not yet! They began the sacrifices last night, but her mother hid her from them. They just found her! I called for backup, but they won’t be here for hours! You might be able to save her!”
Hezekiah held out an ancient communications device, Alliance by design, but of a type Azrael had only ever seen in history books, thousands of years old. It was the source of the energy signature which had brought Azrael here in the first place.
The tutor reached for his eyes and pulled out contact lenses, revealing he possessed the gold-green eyes of a serpent, and unfurled his tail from beneath his robe. Hezekiah possessed Sata’anic eyes? Like his friend Ensign Zarif had back on Ceres Station? And a tail? Only Hezekiah was … human? Half-human? Nobody had told Azrael anything about human-Sata’anic hybrids numbering amongst the Fallen! What in Hades was going on here?
“Screw non-interference!” Azrael pulled out his comms unit and called back to base. “Papa Bear, Papa Bear, this is Baby Doll calling with a Code-1 emergency. Over.”
“Baby Doll … this is Papa Bear. What’s your emergency?”
“These nutcases are sacrificing 300 children to Moloch!” Azrael called. “Request backup.”
Azrael had learned one thing from being forced to commingle with the ‘warrior class.’ Even the Sata’anic lizards loved giving a good tail-kicking when it came to protecting hatchlings … um … kids.
“Baby Doll, this is the C.O.,” a gruff voice came on. “You know the policy for that planet. No interference. Repeat. No interference. You are not to interfere.”
“They’re killing children!!!” Azrael screamed into the radio. “To Moloch!!! Three hundred of them. The Emperor will make an exception!”
“You are not to interfere. I don’t like it, but you know the Emperor’s policies. Non-interference is his highest law.”
“The evil bastard is searching for a new host body so he can escape!” Azrael shouted. “This kid is a direct descendant of Lucifer! She just might be the one!”
There was silence at the other end of the radio. The C.O. pushed the push-to-talk button, pausing as he thought on his feet. In the background, Azrael could hear the other soldiers shouting they drew the line of noninterference at letting innocent children get murdered. The C.O. was about to have a riot on his hands.
“Baby Doll, Baby Doll, this is Papa Bear. Stand by and await further orders while I clear this with the Emperor. I repeat. You are to stand by. You got that?”
“She’ll be dead by then!"
“Private Thanatos, you are to stand by until…”
Azrael never heard the rest. He dropped the microphone and took to the air, streaking towards the malevolent bonfire where humans murdered their own innocent children and cheered.
Thirty feet tall and clad in bronze, the statue of the city's patron god dominated the city with its body of a man and head of an enormous, sneering bull. Built on top of a platform, at its center was a brazier for lighting a bonfire. The statue possessed moveable arms suspended over the bonfire with chains so the priests could manipulate the gears to make it appear the sacrifice was bringing the statue to life.
Unlike most cultures which made burnt offerings by slaughtering an animal humanely and then cooking it, usually a 'sacrifice' which was merely ceremonial as the participants then feasted upon the meal the way they would any other cooked meat, the Priests of Moloch placed live animals upon the statue's hands and cooked the poor creatures alive. Including human victims… It was a gruesome way to die, one designed to cause the victim horrific pain.
Azrael spied Elissar being led up the steps along with other child-victims to stare up at the Evil One who was about to devour them. It was not to Hashem that he prayed, the immortal Emperor he knew could not hear him, but a much older goddess. One legend said had stripped Moloch of his ability to recreate his own physical body and rendered him a disembodied wraith. One who might sympathize with a lowly Angelic’s prayer to save the life of his young friend.
“Ki … I know you’re too high and mighty to listen to the likes of me. But please! She’s just a child!”
The Priests of Moloch beat drums to rile up the citizens of Carthage into a religious fervor. The people were not fearful because they watched their own children being murdered, but because their god had sent an invasion and this is what the Priests had told them must be done to appease him. The crowd sang hymns to drown out the screams of a little boy who’d just been placed upon the Devourer of Children's outstretched hands.
The arms slid down, casting the hapless child into the flames below. The boy screamed. Tears sprang to Azrael’s eyes. His wings pounded the air, his heart pumping so fast he feared it would burst, but he was too far away to save the boy just thrown into the pit to burn alive.
“Elissar!!!”
As he got closer he saw the priests no longer held onto the chains, but somehow the arms of the statue moved. How? This was a pre-technological planet. The statue's red eyes sprang to life as its mouth moved into a satisfied sneer. The head tilted downwards to look at Elissar who had been led by priests to stand before it. Azrael realized there was real intelligence in those eyes. Whatever the priests were doing somehow fed the ancient evil and acted as a power source, giving the Devourer of Children strength. Bits and fragments of legends he had researched sprang to mind. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place.
The tutor possessing unauthorized technology. Passing along secret knowledge to the direct descendent of Moloch’s last unwitting host, Lucifer. Preparing her with knowledge she might need to one day lead her people as the new Morning Star should Moloch ever escape. Knowledge to resist Moloch.
“Let me go!” Elissar screamed. She stomped on the priest's foot and bit him as he placed her upon Moloch's outstretched hands.
The statue's eyes flared with malevolent glee as the mouth moved. Azrael realized it was more than a statue, but a golem, a robotic prosthesis of some sort which could be animated given the right sacrificial consciousness to speak to Moloch's followers.
“Quaerebamus inter nost est [this is the one we’ve been looking for].” Moloch spoke in a horrible, deep voice that made the stones in the city shudder. “Ego devorabit vitae industria et capere corpus meum [I shall devour her life energy and seize her body for my host].”
A cheer went through the mob. Priests signaled the band which played instruments and beat drums to play louder to drown out Elissar’s terrified screams. Azrael realized Elissar was about to be consumed, not by a fire lit beneath a statue of the ancient malignant god, but by Moloch himself. Whatever Elissar had, Moloch needed it to escape.
“Let me go!” Elissar fought against the metal fingers which clutched her small body, but she was too young to defend herself!
‘They –have- to be young,’ a voice spoke in Azrael’s mind. ‘Otherwise their consciousness develops enough to resist possession. Moloch keeps himself alive by feeding upon the life energy of others. Lucifer was taken when he was fifteen years old. Elissar is only nine!”
All of a sudden, Azrael understood that death was the least of Elissar’s worries. There were worse fates than death…
And also that these thoughts were not his own.
“I understand,” Azrael said, thankful the goddess had heard him. Ki asked something of him, offered him a choice.
The hands of the ancient god slid down to drop Elissar into the brazier, the trial-by-fire that would cause enough pain to separate her spirit from her mortal shell so Moloch could seize it for himself. A dark-winged blur streaked down from the sky, following her through the putrid green dimensi
onal portal the brazier hid straight into the fires of Gehenna.
“Azrael!!!” Elissar screamed. Her small hand reached up towards his as her body slid into the flames. For so long as he existed, he would never forget the look of terror on Elissar's face as she disappeared beneath the sea of molten fire.
Azrael sped in behind her.
It hurt! It hurt! His feathers caught fire as he pressed his wings against his back and raced into the pit after her. He grabbed her hand, pulling her against his body and wrapping himself around her, his arms, his wings, trying to protect her. He understood they were no longer on Earth, but the trans-dimensional prison known as Gehenna, the reason for the Armistice.
“I’ve got you." Azrael wrapped his very soul around her, refusing to let her go as they sank into the magma to die together, every nerve fiber screaming with agonizing pain. Let Moloch deal with his stubborn soul! Not that of a nine-year-old child!
The most powerful energy source in the universe was not fission, or fusion, or even the clash of anti-matter or gravitons, but the energy cast off by the life-spark the gods called 'consciousness' and human legend called the soul. Ascended beings were merely consciousnesses whose soul-sparks had grown powerful enough over the course of many lifetimes to use their own energy to manipulate matter. It was a source of power more potent than a hundred million suns, especially at the moment a lifespark transformed from one type of matter into another.
The flames parted and Azrael saw, not the effigy of a bull-man, but the Devourer of Children himself. Moloch towered above them, an enormous, muscular creature whose hand was so large he could fit the both of them into a single palm. His snout had a slightly bovine flare and he had horns and ears like a bull, but no ruminant had ever had such sharp teeth or snorted fire the way that Moloch did.
“Heac mea est! [she is mine!]” Moloch clutched at Azrael’s body with fiery claws. “Da-te ei mihi! [Give her to me!!!]” The hell dimension shook as Moloch tried to force Azrael to release her.
“Go to hell!” were the last words Azrael was able to form as flames incinerated his face. He felt Elissar shudder and die in his arms. She was dead. But her spirit still clung to his, intertwining with it so Moloch could not take her from him, his young friend who he loved more than his own existence. Together they were a larger morsel than Moloch could digest. The Evil One tried to tear them apart, but Azrael held on.
He heard a song. A beautiful song. Not Moloch, but the song which underlay the thoughts which had urged him to cast himself into the fire to save Elissar from a fate worse than death. It was the song which underlay All-That-Is, the Song of Creation.
‘Give her to me,’ Ki whispered into Azrael’s mind. ‘You will see her again. I promise.’
Azrael used the energy released by his own death to punch a portal out of the hell-dimension and push his little friend into the welcoming arms which reached down from the highest realms. Safe. Although Elissar’s mortal shell had expired, because he had protected her at the moment of expiration, the life-spark containing her consciousness was safe. It was the only thing that mattered. That … and making sure Moloch didn’t have enough left of him to use his body as his next mortal vessel.
With his dying breath, Azrael flapped what was left of his wings to dodge Moloch's fiery claws and cast himself into the unearthly fires of uncreation where even Moloch couldn't follow him. His body turned to ash as pain stripped his spirit of the ability to recreate his own mortal shell.
The faint melody of the Song of Creation rang like a lone cello, filling his soul with joy even as it was being destroyed.
So beautiful.
* * * * *
Part II
And if the people of the land
do any ways hide their eyes from the man,
When he giveth of his seed unto Moloch,
And kill him not:
Then I will set my face against that man,
And against his family,
And will cut him off,
And all that go a whoring after him,
To commit whoredom with Moloch,
From among their people
Leviticus 20:4-5
* * * * *
Chapter 5
In the beginning …
The Earth was without form, and void.
Genesis 1:1-2
Time: indeterminate
Highest Ascended Realms
The life spark drifted upon the Song of Creation like an infant rocked in a boat upon a gentle sea. Although he sensed his twin-spark was far away, her consciousness remained tethered to his like a lengthy mooring. She was okay, and so long as he knew she was okay, he was content.
He fed upon the Song like a newborn suckling at the breast, gathering sub-atomic particles of primordial chaos to the consciousness which had survived the fires of Gehenna. He reconstituted his being until, at last, he regained awareness.
‘Azrael,’ Ki whispered. ‘It’s time to awaken. I need your help.’
He nestled deeper into the Song like a small boy protesting his mother’s command to get up for school, not wishing to remember. He didn’t like it when he remembered. It hurt. He stretched his consciousness across time and space, stroking his twin-spark's mind, reassuring himself she was still there. He couldn’t understand why Ki wouldn’t let him go to her.
‘You will destroy her in your current form,’ Ki said gently. ‘If you wish to see her again, you must evolve enough to act as her protector.’
The twin-spark urged him to do as Ki asked. As soon as he had the right building blocks in place, she would join him. He signaled his assent, stretching millions of tendrils of consciousness as he finally began to awaken from his long slumber. Images played upon his mind. A mother. A sister. A best friend. Agape. Unselfish love.
The memories changed. Fire. Gigantic arms reaching towards him. The scream of a helpless child as a bull-like maw chewed upon the souls of the innocent. Elissar! He’d sped down into the flames to prevent the evil god from consuming her.
He opened his mouth to scream and realized he had none. He reached towards Elissar's mind and found his arms no longer existed. He flapped his wings and discovered thousands of tendrils of consciousness now took their place. Pain. So much pain. He directed the flow of primordial matter which drifted in the Song to give voice to the scream he no longer had a mouth to shout.
Azrael had his own song to sing now. The Song of Destruction. As he recognized his own existence, twenty-seven solar systems went supernova. Luckily, nothing more evolved than bacteria existed on those worlds. Ki had foreseen his panic and nurtured him back to sentience where he could do little harm.
‘See, sweet boy,’ Ki whispered. ‘Your power is too raw and new. You must learn to control it.’
He sent a query to the mother-consciousness who sang to him, asking what she needed him to do. Images jumped into his mind of a small, nimble gnat biting a great bull until it became so exasperated it bucked and twisted like a rodeo bull. Hatred flared for what the bull had done to his twin spark. Azrael signaled his assent.
Ki began to teach him how to bait the bull…
* * * * *
Chapter 6
For we will destroy this place,
Because the cry of them is waxen great
Before the face of the Lord;
And the Lord hath sent us to destroy it.
Genesis 19:13
Earth: 146 BC (165 years later)
Carthage
Death from above. A creature of nightmare sent in whenever Ki needed someone to slip in, sever the consciousness of a Moloch-worshipping Agent from a host it had hijacked to remain corporeal in this realm, and drag it back into the fiery hell-dimension that was now as familiar to him as breathing had once been. Gehenna. The place where he had died.
It was funny how staring death in the face every day made you miss the little things you’d experienced when you’d still been alive. Like Mom’s delicious home-cooked meals. Or the endearing way his little sister had r
ifled through his things and followed him around. Or Elissar, feeding him honey cakes and chattering about the intrigues of generals and kings as they’d played dolls upon the roof.
Elissar! Her name was a sob upon the lips he no longer possessed. He missed them. Mama. Gazardiel. But for some reason, he missed Elissar most of all! The best friend he’d ever had…
The Roman army had no idea he trailed behind them, watching them pull the city apart stone by stone. Carthage, whose Moloch-worship had grown so abominable her neighbors had finally set aside their differences and united to destroy her. Death. Death from above. Death to those who worshipped the Evil One who fed upon the souls of children. It was his job to make sure no Moloch-worshippers escaped as the Romans razed the city to the ground.
Ki’s voice had grown faint once she’d sent him back to this realm, the lonely cello whose notes would grace his ears whenever she wished to send him on a mission. It was like experiencing the same beautiful memory over and over again. The Song Ki had sung to keep him alive. If he was alive…
Was he alive?
If feeling satisfaction at watching the Romans enslave the descendants of those who’d beaten drums and sung songs to drown out Elissar's screams meant he still existed, then perhaps he was still alive? No. Loneliness more accurately described his feelings than revenge. Or hunger. A great aching void which nothing could fill. He clutched the spot where his heart would be if he still had a heart to break. It sure felt like a broken heart, even though his consciousness passed right through the nothingness that had once been his physical form.
Anti-form, he corrected himself. He was the opposite of a physical form. A creature of the void. Whatever he touched simply ceased to exist. Death incarnate. Only the life spark itself possessed immunity to his loathsome touch. Consciousness. What humans called the soul.