PCS to Eden – Calm Before the Storm

“Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah…hallelujah…ha-lle-lu-jah!” A choir of mortal souls sang their praises at the entrance to the Hall on Most High.

Their words were filled with joy, wonder, and awe. Handel, the composer of this particular hymn, stood among the choir shouting his love of God. Michael couldn’t help but smile as he walked past the small gathering. The humans righteous enough to gain entrance through the Pearly Gates often clung to their old ways, and the atmosphere of Heaven encouraged those souls to do what they wished.

The manipulation of æther in Heaven was not the same as in Eden or Hell. The Archangel didn’t know how the building blocks of the universe were twisted in Hell, but they were collected in Eden. They were collected in the souls of man and the bosom of nature. His Father had done a truly magnificent thing on Earth.

In Heaven, æther wasn’t collected. It was expressed by God himself. Aether permeated everything with a sense of calm and content. Many of the souls granted entry had lived hard lives serving others and following the commandments of God. Constant peace was their reward.

<If only.> Michael mused as he tried to avoid stepping on any of the humans.

He was in his true form in Heaven – three hundred feet tall – but without his armor. Armor was for the battlefield, so he wore a plain white tunic that allowed his wings to spread freely behind him.

Stepping on the humans wouldn’t do anything. They would poof like a cloud and quickly reform, but it was considered rude and bad manners. These souls deserved respect.

“All hail the Sword of God!” The choir ceased their praise and waved as Michael passed.

He waved back, but didn’t stop. He’d learned long ago that stopping would lead to hours of discussion. It was usually riveting discussion, but time was of the essence. He made one long stride and he was passed them and into the Hall on Most High.

To his left and right were statues, icons, and trophies of his Father. Only when you passed them did you see hidden nooks where members of the Cherubim Guard stood on watch. There would have been a time when those hiding places were empty, but they’d been manned, to some degree, since the War of Rebellion. Today, every spot was filled, and roving patrols walked the hall. The items of celestial power in this hall couldn’t fall into enemy hands.

The Hall itself swirled with his Father’s æther. If God deemed it necessary, he could make the hall loop around so invaders or thieves would run in an endless circle until caught. It was the first of many countermeasures to keep these items out of enemy hands.

Michael didn’t have to walk before another angel joined him. “Castor.” Michael nodded to the Captain of the Cherubim Guard.

Most humans didn’t know the true nature of cherubim. Popular culture showed them as fat, baby-like creatures with bows that dispensed love to humans in need. The only thing remotely true in that description was the bow. The armored angels of the cherubim were masters of the bow, spear, sword, shield and wore all of them into battle. In reality, the cherubim were some of Heaven’s fiercest warriors. Their most recent deployment was driving the Infernals from Eden into Hell under the command of Michael and other archangels millennia ago. Castor had been there.

“Michael, you look better.” Castor gave the heavenly general a quick once over.

Michael’s recent battle with Satan had left him with several new scars and a deep amount of guilt. The Powers were monitoring the situation in Charlotte, but the casualty numbers were rising, and it was all his fault.

<I couldn’t defeat him.> It had been a draw, but in the tie Satan had still accomplished his mission.

The Veil his Father had erected between the realms was crumbling. Infernals would start making forays into Eden when the realized the weakness, and humanity would suffer their wrath. All that stood between them and destruction was the Divine Host.

“Chin up, Brother.” Castor noticed the pain on his older brother’s face. “We will finally defeat them once and for all.”

Castor was a slightly smaller version of Michael. He was just a hair under three hundred feet tall with shoulder length black hair bound together by a strip of leather. His steel gray eyes weren’t cruel, but they were intense to the point of indifference. Like Michael, he had seen the worst this universe had to offer while defending Heaven and Eden from a multitude of threats. Michael wouldn’t say his younger brother was eager for war, but he was eager to end the fighting. Although, Michael knew Castor would have no idea what to do with himself if they actually succeeded.

Michael didn’t reply as they reached the end of the hall. Two squads of Cherubim stood to either side of the entrance to God’s throne room, while a single angel stood blocking anyone’s path who wished to enter.

The angel was as large as Michael, with four metallic-gray wings fully extended to cover the entrance. He held his sword pommel up with the blade tip resting easily on the floor. It was an imposing stance by an imposing figure.

“Metatron.” Michael gave the Seraph a bow. “Father called for us.”

Metatron didn’t speak. He simply nodded. The Seraph’s voice was just as dangerous as his sword. He’d given up his ability to converse with his brothers and sisters to better protect their Father. God had bestowed the new gift upon him after half his guards were cast into Hell for rebelling against him.

Metatron furled his wings and stepped to the side. The massive doors to the throne room swirled in front of them. They were another line of defense against attack. Right now they weren’t anything more than swirling æther. There was no knob to turn, and if someone tried to rush through they would find themselves back at the main entrance to the Hall on Most High. It was an elegant trick, and it ensured God only saw the people he wanted.

Once Metatron stepped aside the door solidified into an ornately carved piece of white marble. In the center was a starburst that represented the birth of the universe. From that starburst, figures spring forth, but only one was truly defined: their Father.

The door’s seam split right down the center of the starburst and opened to admit Michael and Castor. A second angel, this one larger than Michael or Castor, stood before them.

“Brothers.” Amenadiel gave them a warm smile.

Most considered Michael to be God’s champion and the strongest of the Divine Host. They’d be wrong. The most powerful angel, in terms of sheer strength, was Amenadiel, but strength didn’t make a commander. The second of four Seraphim lacked flexibility. He didn’t have the tactical mindset to adapt and overcome to a constantly changing battlefield. That was why he was their Father’s closest guard and confidant.

Michael suspected that Satan had been jealous of their Father’s relationship with Amenadiel, even though the Prince of Darkness had been Captain of the Seraphim Guard.

“Please follow me.” Amenadiel led the way.

He was in his full regalia of Divine Steel armor and weaponry. All of the Seraphim were ready for battle at all time. Castor was also armed, but Michael had forsaken everything to focus on his healing.

There was no suspicion or paranoia that his brothers were going to turn on him and kill him as they approached his Father’s throne. That only happened in a realm ruled by Satan, and that mentality had already claimed a victim.

Michael had heard of Seere’s death. Despite the former Throne’s exile and theft of Divine property, Michael still mourned his death. He had been a good angel before Lucifer and Satan sunk their teeth into him.

God’s throne rose up before them as they approached. It went up and up without end. The throne connected to all parts of Heaven. It emitted the heavenly peace that the human souls’ cherished, and it gathered æther from Eden as mortals beseeched him for guidance. Despite the immensity of the object it was made of plain wood, bore nothing ornate like other thrones throughout creation, and even looked uncomfortable to sit on. Sitting on it was an ordinary-looking, middle-aged man.

God had normal brown hair cut in a modest style. He had a neatly combed brown beard that took up the majority of his face. Kind blue eyes tinged with sadness were staring intently down at a chess board. A bit of a pot-belly extended from his plain beige tunic. A frayed sandal adorned a calloused foot resting on his knee as he sat cross-legged and watching his opponent closely. If Michael hadn’t been created by this man he wouldn’t have noticed him walking down the street.

God’s chess opponent was the third Seraph, Zebadiah. Zebadiah had been elevated to his position after the War of Rebellion. He took Lucifer’s spot. He was cunning, not as cunning as the Morningstar, but their Father engaged him often in topics of debate. Zebadiah had a firm grasp on modern man and their proclivities.

“Michael, Castor,” God held up a finger for them to wait. He tugged at his beard before moving his queen. “Checkmate in three.”

Zebadiah took a few seconds before admitting defeat and tipping over his king.

The fourth and final Seraph, Castiel, stepped forward. He watched Michael like a hawk. All of God’s children loved him and wanted to protect him, but Castiel was the most zealous. He’d taken Satan’s place as Captain of the Seraphim Guard, and seemed determined to right the wrongs of his predecessor. He was strong, smart, determined, and ruthless. Everything that Satan was with the addition of absolute loyalty. Castiel would not fall like Satan had.

Michael could sense Castiel wanted to rebuke him for having the chance to kill Satan and failing, but he held his tongue. His fallen children were a tough subject for their Father.

“Thank you for coming.” With a wave of God’s hand the chess board vanished in a puff of white smoke. A snap of his fingers made the room shudder. From the floor a hundred foot globe slowly ascended until it was the dominant feature in the room aside from the throne.

For a moment the perfect sphere was blank, and then information began to flood into it. It molded into a perfect replica of the Earth, and around it a thin shimmering light sprang to light.

“The Veil is weakening,” Their Father wasted no time in confirming their worst fears. “I have spoken with Behemoth. He and his people will do their duty to stem the flow of the Infernals into Eden, but he cannot stop them all.

Michael had met Behemoth, one of the two giant beasts born during the War of Rebellion. He was a massive creature of brute strength and power equal to any archangel. He and his offspring were charged with patrolling the Veil. During peacetime, Michael actually found him to be very pleasant and fun to be around.

<Now because of Satan’s lust for power Behemoth’s entire family is being put in harm’s way.> The fact that it was the purpose of their creation didn’t matter. Michael didn’t want to see more innocents butchered for pointless reasons.

“My Little Ox may not be able to stop them all, but he will be able to tell us where they are headed. We will deploy our resources accordingly and defeat the Infernals.” It was a straightforward plan with anything but straightforward execution.

Tens of thousands, maybe even millions of Infernals were going to be popping up all over Eden. The Host would be spread thin, and there were only so many troops they could deploy to Eden without dangerously weakening Heaven.

“I have secured assurances with Fey.” God referred to the primordial Lord of the Fairy Realms. “He knows I would be displeased if he aides my wayward children, so he has pledged his neutrality and closed his borders.”

That was a breath of fresh air. Nothing had gone according to plan so far.

“Gabriel will reach out to the Elder Races.” God referred to the Remnants of Eden’s prior hierarchy. “They will need to decide what kind of world the wish to live in: a world of peace, or a world of pain.”

Michael hoped the Remnants made the right decision. He had no doubt Satan’s minions would be approaching them as well with promises to take back the realm their Father had taken from them.

<Gabriel has his work cut out for him.> Michael didn’t envy his brother.

“Castor, are your troops prepared.”

“Yes, Father.” Castor bowed. “We have several quick reaction forces ready to deploy once we hear from Behemoth. They will be able to plug the holes within minutes.”

“Good.” God nodded and gazed intently at the map. “Michael, you need to start marshalling the main body of the Host.” More sadness leaked into God’s eyes as he spoke those words. “The battlefield for the future of these realms will be Eden. I will not allow the bloodshed to spill into Heaven and affect the eternal peace these souls have earned.

“The humans…” Michael couldn’t stop the outburst.

“I know.” God waved his hand to silence his general. “We will bring them into the fold in time, but we do not want to spread fear and panic. It will only fuel and embolden the Infernals.”

“Yes.” Michael knew his Father was right. “May I suggest alerting key leaders: the Pope, presidents, and prime ministers of the world’s primary powers? This will allow them to develop plans when Armageddon finally occurs.”

“Armageddon.” God’s face soured at the word. “I never liked the name, and I’m sorry I ever let those thoughts be heard.” He shook his head had rubbed his temple. “Permission granted. Begin alerting key leadership to the coming disasters.”

“Thank you.”

It would be a living hell for Michael to sit in Heaven administrating the preparations for the Divine Host while humans suffered and died by the droves. Now, he could at least give them a fighting chance.

“Father, I beseech you to…” Castiel began.

“NO!” Heaven and Earth rumbled at God’s outburst. “You are not going to lead an attack on Hell. You cannot comprehend the risks of such an operation.”

“But, Father, you cannot win a war playing defense. We must…”

“Enough!” God cut off Castiel again. “I will not hear any more of this. The answer is no.” With the issue closed he dismissed the small war council.

“Ensure you see your sister at the Healing Garden, Michael.” God left those parting words as he vanished into thin air along with Amenadiel and Zebadiah.

Castiel remained as he took up a sentinel position in front of the throne. His stone-cold stare dared Michael to do anything but leave.

“Brother,” he inclined his head to the vigilant Seraph and walked toward the exit.

Time in the Healing Gardens sounded good about now while they were empty. He doubted it would be like that for long.

 

***

 

God reappeared instantaneously in the same Healing Gardens he suggested Michael visit. The æther responded to his presence by rushing toward him. He ran his hand through the air to comfort it like a man would a faithful pet.  Knowing all was well with its Master, the æther dispersed back into the Gardens.

<Everything is not well.> God sighed and stopped himself from pinching his nose in frustration.

Instead, he smiled as the people seeking healing began to congregate. It wasn’t uncommon to see him walking these Garden’s. His æther reinforced them, sped the recovery of his injured children, and was a place for peace of mind in realms continually marked with chaos.

If he was being honest with himself, he was tired and needed these Gardens as much as the injured. He’d been doing this literally since the beginning of time. With each new creation, he hoped things would be better, but they never were. There was always war driven by any number of reasons. That was why he created Heaven in the first place. It was supposed to be a sanctuary of higher thinking, peace, and eternal prosperity. Then his favorite children had rebelled, he banished them from his creation, and ever since then the constant threat of their invasion had haunted him. No amount of power could put at ease a father’s mind when it came to the evil proclivities of his wayward children.

<Not here.> A true smile spread across his face as he found the person he was looking for.

She sat perfectly still on a plain wooden bench overlooking a glistening pool. Fish from the farthest reaches of the cosmos populated the pool and lived in harmony. He could see her eyes following one of the fish as it swam in a continuous circle. Another fish joined it, and they swam in tandem for a short time before breaking apart.

“Hello, Ava.” His words shocked her out of her trance.

“Father…” Adoration crossed her face.

God held out his arms and the young Dominion jumped into them and began to weep. “Shhh…shhhh….it’s ok.” He ran his finger comfortingly through her hair until she’d shed all of her tears. Then he took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “You did so well, Ava, and I am so sorry.” The congratulations and condolence caused a fresh wave of tears that took time to overcome.

“May I…can I see her?”

Ava knew her daughter, Maria, had lived a good life. She’d fought on the side of the angels against the evil in the world. When she died, some part of her must have been drawn to Heaven. That was Ava’s hope. She also knew her daughter’s death had been used to power a trio of ætherial conduits that helped break a Seal and fray the Veil beyond repair.

“In time,” God replied, and Ava cried again.

She might not be able to see her daughter now, but her Father’s statement told her that some part of Maria had surveyed that brutal night.

“Let me see.” God extended his hand palm up.

Ava gingerly raised her partially reformed arm and handed it to her Father. She had lost a lot of ichor and æther in the battle outside Charlotte. Some had been siphoned away by an abomination, most had been expended, and some had just been expelled and absorbed into Eden’s æther. It was a terrible loss, but what really mattered was that she was safe.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but you must go back.” God felt her body tighten at the statement. “Bad things are coming, and I need someone who knows the area, and the people to be at the tip of my spear. We cannot let the Infernals take back what Maria fought valiantly to protect.”

“Of course,” she sniffed and wiped her eyes.

“But I will not let you go back empty handed.” He smiled and Ava giggled at the bad pun.

In the last day, God had collected æther from billions of human souls praying for his assistance. He took some of that power and channeled it into Ava. A warm glow gradually spread down her arm. The warmth built until it became painful, and quickly that pain became unbearable. It seared up her arm and into her brain. She screamed and thrashed, but her Father held her tight in his arms.

As quickly as the pain was there, it vanished. She choked out a few breaths and blinked the tears from her eyes. The Healing Gardens æther washed over her and put her at ease.

“I am sorry,” God smiled down at her, “but now you have the means to fight back.”

Ava followed his glance down to her hand. Instead of soft, snow-white skin, her new had glinted metallic gold.

“Oh my god.” She stared openmouthed at the miracle.

God just smiled down at her for a moment before getting up to leave. He had two realms to govern, and despite wanting to, couldn’t hang around in the Gardens all day. She registered him going, but was too engrossed with her new appendage. She knew what it was, she knew the legends surrounding it, but she’d never seen it before.

She was now the wielder of a Hand of God, a powerful Divine weapon bestowed upon champions of her Father in times of crisis. The last recorded one was during the Conquest of Eden, and was rumored to have assisted in slaying several of that realm’s champions.

<Wow.> She didn’t know what to say, or think, or feel; except this had to be some sort of promotion, and her life had just gotten that much harder.

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