by Wendy Alec
Lucifer rose and turned. ‘We have taken possession of the covenant of the race of men. From this time on, I, Satan, am their rightful sovereign, the ruler of the race of men. The territories of the planet Earth, its solar system, the Second Heaven, are now annexed to the kingdom of Satan, emperor and regent of the nether regions.’
The satanic chief princes laid the ark on the onyx altar. Lucifer wrapped his ermine cloak around his frame and stared at his trophy. A slow satisfied smile spread across his features.
* * *
‘Charsoc was there?’
Jether stood with his back towards Michael.
‘He was found wanting,’ Michael stated.
Jether sighed in anguish. ‘I knew it would be so.’
‘He is sightless, Jether,’ Michael said softly. ‘He was greatly overcome, this much I know. He did not expect – ’
Jether spun from the window of the monastic chamber, his face raw with a terrible grief and anger.
‘He did not expect? He who sat on one of the eight governmental thrones of heaven? Who journeyed to the source of the universes and saw the chambers of the whirlwinds, the treasuries of the snow? Who entered the secret vaults of the cherubim and saw the very face of Yehovah? He did not expect?’ Jether’s breathing was laboured. He sat heavily in his chair, his head in his hands. ‘He who was steward over so much, who was accountable for so much – my friend . . . so greatly has he fallen.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘Charsoc made his choice. He revered the creation more than the Creator. And his choice was treachery and duplicity with full intention. He did expect, Michael. He knew exactly what to expect.’
Michael looked around the spartan chamber. Silent.
Finally Jether raised his head. ‘We must forearm ourselves, for Lucifer well knows that Charsoc’s knowledge of the mysteries of Yehovah can be perverted and twisted to fulfil his dastardly ambitions to annihilate the race of men.’ He stood. ‘Time is against us. We must make haste.’
Chapter Twenty-four
The Demon Seed
Thirteen rings of ice radiated from the top of the dark portals, the laboratories inside which Charsoc’s sinister dark apprentices spent their existence. These impish apprentices, the third of the younglings who had defected with the angelic hosts, laboured in the sweltering underground tunnels of the nether regions, rigorously pursuing their witchcraft and sorceries.
The air was thick with the eerie hum of demonic incantations, voodoo, hexes, and enchantments. Two-thirds of these younglings were deformed, with shrunken, misshapen limbs, distorted heads, and warped features.
Charsoc circled the laboratories, his thin bony face ablaze with malevolence as he watched through sightless sockets the dark apprentices rocking to and fro, like zombies, reciting their black arts and enchantments. Thousands of silver tomes and ancient black codices were piled from floor to ceiling: Witches’ Brew, Hellbroth, Necromancy, Magic Lore, Walpurgisnacht, Alchemy, and hundreds of other such titles.
Three younglings, their features contorted with malice, swiftly chained up a fourth youngling. The unfortunate apprentice screamed in terror as he was held over a mammoth cauldron of burning tar and fetishes. ‘We’re calling this one “Dwarf!”’ the smallest cackled maniacally. A satisfied smile crossed Charsoc’s features.
Lucifer entered the laboratory followed by a hundred of his chief generals. They ignored the younglings, who were shivering with terror, and walked straight towards a large black vault.
Charsoc’s embroidered black sorcerer’s cape billowed as he bowed before Lucifer. ‘The dark portals, Your Majesty.’
Lucifer stared at the vault, entranced. ‘My trophy. The sacred mysteries of Yehovah.’
Asmodeus nodded to his warriors. Carefully they lifted the heavy lid of the black iron vault. Silver smoke snaked up towards the dome from the contents.
Lucifer nodded almost imperceptibly, and Asmodeus leaned over to remove one of the heavy jewelled codices. As soon as he touched it, he let out a blood-chilling scream and withdrew his hand in agony. Seared into his palm was the insignia of the Royal House of Yehovah.
Lucifer strode up the nave, drew himself to his full height, and raised his face to the centre of the jewelled dome. He began a guttural incantation that grew quickly in intensity. His face began to burn with an unnatural light. His subjects stared in awe as six darkening wings became visible around his figure. A look of ecstasy crossed his features. He raised his arms towards the dome, then rose, hovering over the casket. The codex rose through the air towards his hand. Triumphantly he thrust his hand over the huge jewelled codex and inhaled the silvered mist. He descended gently until he stood once more on the ground.
‘The sacred mysteries.’ He placed the codex on the altar and lovingly opened the pages. ‘Each and every one of Yehovah’s mysteries has an antithesis. Charsoc, you have indeed surpassed expectation.’
Lucifer surveyed his generals. ‘From this moment forth, our hallowed undertaking is to desecrate and pervert the sacred mysteries of Yehovah to the race of men. We shall introduce the race of men to evil. They shall sacrifice their sons and daughters to demons. Their lands shall be polluted with blood. Where there is devotion, we will bring perversion and degeneracy. Where there is reverence of Yehovah, we shall bring every form of blasphemous magical arts: the courses of the moon and planets and stars, multitudes of twisted sorceries and enchantments. Where there is vigour, we will ravage the bodies of the race of men with disease and every manner of malady. We shall lay waste to the healing properties of Earth’s lush green vegetation until it lies stark and ravaged. We shall pervert the forbidden knowledge of technological expertise and reveal to mankind the means to create instruments of death – weapons of warfare that they shall war against themselves and aid us in our destruction of this wretched race.’
Charsoc bowed again so deeply that his hair swept the floor. ‘And yet that is not Yehovah’s greatest dread, milord . . . ’
Lucifer leaned forward, intent on Charsoc’s words. ‘Go on.’
‘When I yet walked amongst my compatriots, the twenty-three ancient patriarchs, their greatest dread concerned the human genomic code.’ Charsoc stopped and turned to where the younglings were gathered on the far side of the portals. ‘Prospero!’
A gangly, dirt-covered youngling slunk out of the darkness, cowering in terror.
‘Prospero worked on the genome code under Xacheriel’s direct command. Is that not true, youngling?’
Prospero nodded his head, shivering in fear. ‘I was chief youngling, executor of Yehovah’s explicit instructions to create the genome for the race of men.’
‘Explain yourself to your emperor!’ Asmodeus bellowed.
‘The human genome is the three-hundred-billion-base-pair sequence uniquely programmed to each aspect of the race of men. It carries them from one-cell egg to adulthood.’
Lucifer leaned forward. ‘You have caught a prize, Charsoc.’ He stared at Prospero, engrossed. ‘Continue, youngling.’ His voice was coaxing, cajoling.
‘Ten times two-point-four times ten to the ninth power possible sequences of nucleotides, Your Majesty, all of which led to complete biological malfunction . . . ’ Prospero continued. ‘ . . . except for one, sire.’
Lucifer nodded.
‘Forty-six chromosomes to each of the new race’s living cells. Genotypes of all cells derived from a particular cell are programmed to be precisely the same – ’ Prospero faltered.
Charsoc smiled with malice. ‘But if . . . if there was to be a mutation of the code . . . ?’
‘The code cannot be mutated, sire.’ Prospero shook his head vehemently. ‘It is impossible!’
Charsoc rubbed his thin fingers together. ‘Humour me, Prospero. Let us muse awhile. If, say, by perchance,’ Charsoc crooned, pacing in front of Lucifer, ‘simply hypothesizing, of course . . . a section of the fallen angelic host left their first estate . . . ’
Prospero frowned, but Lucifer moved nearer to Charsoc, transfixed. ‘C
ontinue, Charsoc.’
‘The angelic host are male in their creation, Your Excellency. Let us imagine an instance where fallen angelic beings left their own habitation and lowered themselves by transforming their own spiritual bodies into bodies of matter.’ Charsoc swung around to Lucifer. ‘Could they not also replicate . . . ’ he lifted his hands in triumph . . . ‘with the daughters of men?’
Lucifer inhaled sharply, a terrible malice on his features.
‘And if there was to be an impregnation of fallen angelic seed into the daughters of the race of men . . . ’ Charsoc continued, staring around sightlessly at the warriors. ‘Man’s genetic code would be demonized!’
Lucifer rose from his throne and circled Prospero like a shark smelling blood. ‘Would that mutate the genetic code, youngling?’
Prospero stared at Charsoc and then at Lucifer, shivering.
‘Think.’ Lucifer’s tone was gentle. ‘Take your time. Would this demonization mutate man’s genetic code?’
‘There . . . there would of certainty be a mutation, Your Excellency.’ Prospero trembled. ‘The replicated offspring would no longer be men but a mixture of demon and human seed. They would replicate as . . . half of each, sire. Halflings.’
An evil smile spread across Lucifer’s face. ‘And therefore Yehovah would be bound by eternal law to destroy them.’
‘Respectfully, milord,’ Prospero said, ‘it is expressly forbidden by eternal law for the angelic race to cohabit with the race of men. It is punishable by – ’
Lucifer struck Prospero so violently that he fell to the ground like a stone, whimpering.
‘Insubordinate swine!’
Prospero raised his bruised face, staring at Lucifer with a growing defiance in his eyes. ‘We were told that to defect with you would bring us glory,’ he whispered. ‘We younglings were promised honour and power and . . . riches. Where is our glory?’ he shrieked.
A few reedy voices piped up from the darkness in support of Prospero.
Prospero came to his feet. ‘Where is our glory?’
Soon all the younglings joined in a rhythmic, mutinous caterwauling: ‘Where is the glory? We want our glory!’
Lucifer’s face contorted in a vicious snarl. Moloch kicked Prospero and grabbed five younglings by the throats. ‘If you cannot control the rabble, Charsoc . . . ’ Lucifer’s tone was silken.
‘Summon the hellhounds!’ Moloch screamed. ‘Deliver the reprobates to the experimentation chambers.’
Lucifer turned to Zadkiel, who stood to his left. ‘Zadkiel,’ his voice was sharp, ‘I place you in command of one-fifth of my satanic battalions. My generals are under your authority. It is my supreme command that you and my legions impregnate the daughters of men with demon seed. Every genetic line of man must be defiled. Demonize the human seed. Go and violate. Destroy and return victorious.’
Lucifer flung the huge golden codices from the vault onto the chamber floor in an unbridled fury. ‘Then pervert and desecrate every vestige of the sacred mysteries and knowledge of Yehovah. Obliterate the human race!’
Zadkiel looked directly at Lucifer, then slowly saluted and marched straight out of the golden chamber doors.
Lucifer stared after him with an unfathomable look in his eyes.
* * *
Zadkiel, Sariel, Azazeal, and Gadreel rode like the wind on their monstrous black steeds on thunderbolts through the Second Heaven, towards Earth and its unwitting inhabitants. Their great legions rode behind them – powerful, barbarous, and menacing. As they reached Earth’s atmosphere, they separated.
Gadreel tore across the desert on his black mount, his cape billowing behind him. He flew over a vast range of mountains and tore across the dusty plains, the hooves of his steed thundering through a small village; hundreds of people scattered from his path.
He pulled hard on his stallion’s reins and stopped outside the village hall. Riotous sounds of revelry and music filtered from within. Gadreel dismounted and walked up to the doorway, towering over it. Leaning his strapping shoulder against the wood, he smashed his way through to the inner hall.
He towered over the assembly, a savage, menacing figure. He stared menacingly around at the group of petrified men and women until he found a young, flaxen-haired beauty at the far side of the room. He licked his lips, and a lecherous smile spread across his face.
Chapter Twenty-five
The Verdict
They sat under the open heavens on the heights of the Tower of Winds. Above them, the thunderbolts and lightning illuminated the firmament. The winds roared as they blew the mists of wisdom and justice down onto the white heads of the eight Ancient Ones, seated around the golden circular table, their heads bowed. Charsoc’s throne was now occupied by Zebulon. Their lips moved silently in supplication to the Ancient of Days.
Lamaliel expelled a deep, trembling sigh. ‘That such a day would be upon us . . . This is an agonizing day in the annals of the Council of Ancient Ones.’
Jether stood, his shoulders bowed with strain. ‘You have been summoned here today, honoured elders of the Ancient of Days, by Yehovah Himself. Each of you has weighed the facts. Now we must reach our verdict and issue our decree, our pronouncement – against those of our own angelic race.’ He surveyed the solemn, weathered faces around the table. ‘Once Yehovah has passed judgment, it will be irrevocable.’ Jether nodded to Lamaliel, who opened a large, golden-bound ancient book and passed it to Jether.
‘“The facts hitherto proven,”’ Jether recited, “‘read thus: The rebellious faction; namely, over ten thousand of the Luciferean battalions, have transgressed the eternal law. They have left their first estate and have debased the angelic race by cohabiting with forbidden flesh.”’ He looked up at the council. ‘By having intercourse with the daughters of men.’ Jether hesitated and trembled visibly. He read on. ‘“And teaching the race of men the annals of forbidden knowledge.”’ He rubbed his veined hand over a pile of documents next to the book. ‘The mutiny was instigated primarily by Lucifer’s generals. Their legions quickly turned, becoming deserters and renegades – violators, answerable to none.’
He nodded to Xacheriel, who stood, his face ashen.
‘Thousands of the angelic host violated, defiled, and assaulted the daughters of men in a horrific and depraved manner.’ Xacheriel cleared his throat. ‘The entire earth has been plunged into chaos and warfare. The acts they committed include sodomy, bestiality, and the ravenous eating of their own flesh. The rest is unspeakable. It shall not be mentioned within these walls. This past millennium,’ he continued, ‘more than fifty thousand of our fallen angelic brothers have left their first estate and infiltrated the race of men. They have cohabitated with the human race and corrupted them.’
‘This is only the beginning, my revered friends,’ Jether added. ‘Our fallen angelic compatriots have . . . ’ He swallowed. ‘They have revealed to the race of men the contents of the sacred codices.’
Gasps of horror rippled around the table.
‘The forbidden angelic illuminations of the scientific arts,’ Jether said. ‘Knowledge of the clouds, the celestial bodies, the signs of the earth, astrophysics, earth sciences, electricity.’ He sifted through the huge tomes that lay on the table before him. ‘Charsoc, one of our own – ’ Jether’s voice became choked with emotion. ‘Steward of Yehovah’s sacred mysteries, deliberately chose to commit treason. His treachery: to deliberately desecrate and pervert the sacred mysteries of Yehovah by revealing to mankind the means to create instruments of death. Weapons of warfare and myriad forms of destructive technology.’
Jether turned the pages of the tomes as he spoke. ‘Lucifer himself has, with calculated intent, introduced to mankind every form of blasphemous magical art.’ His voice was soft but clear. ‘The courses of the moon, multitudes of twisted sorceries and enchantments, psychotropic drugs, the smiting of embryos in the womb, charms and enticements, and every form of degeneracy and sexual abandon . . . Yehovah’s hand can be stayed no more
.’ Jether turned to Xacheriel.
‘The acts committed are heinous, but they are not our only concern,’ Xacheriel said. ‘After the first . . . cohabitation . . . there were over ten thousand births. The babies produced were not Homo sapiens. They were an unholy union of the fallen angelic race and the race of men. They were Nephilim.’ He paused. ‘They are giants. Half human, half demon. Halflings.’
His words sank in across the table. Jether looked long and hard at the ashen faces before him. He laid the papers down, his hands trembling. ‘Our records show that there are a hundred million of these hybrid “halflings” on the earth today.’ He sat down heavily. ‘The demon seed has infected the human race through this union.’ He paused, overcome by emotion. ‘I fear the contamination of man’s DNA by the demon seed is . . . irrevocable.’
Xacheriel shook with a horror so terrible that he could hardly speak. ‘I fear that will result in a complete mutation. The entire human race could become demonized!’
Methuselah, one of those at the table, buried his head in his hands. ‘Mutation!’
Jether sighed deeply and placed his hand gently on Methuselah’s shoulder. A gasp of horror rippled around the table.
Xacheriel looked around at the appalled ancient faces. ‘Our archivists’ findings have so far revealed that the demon seed has penetrated every genealogical line. Every one. They are reviewing them one last time for any error. Without one uncontaminated bloodline, Yehovah’s hand is forced. He will be left with no recourse save to destroy the entire human race.’ Xacheriel slumped down heavily in his chair.
Jether spoke from his seat, his voice exceedingly quiet. ‘The punishment for the transgressing of the eternal law is clear and irreversible. There is no doubt this is Lucifer’s evil, his diabolical mind. But in this he and his dark apostle Charsoc are untouchable. In our punishment we can take only the ones who did his bidding. This he well knows.’