In the beginning, there was war in Heaven.
Thunder rumbled in the distance as Thantor tore through the sky, keeping low off the clouds that looked like mist. The plan had been successful; more angels had pledged allegiance to the Cause. But one person worried him.
It wasn’t the head-and-shoulders-above-all-angels, Archangel Michael with the glowing sword. It wasn’t even Yahweh. It was Luragon!
Luragon, with the thick muscles and fiery eyes. Luragon who, during the Cleansing of Earth, had grabbed one of those twin-headed, double-horned Brutosaurus by the tail, flew to an high altitude, then hurled the shrieking beast back to earth.
Yahweh’s voice seemed to float from somewhere in the clouds, but it sounded like the One, Himself, was flying right beside him.
“Where art thou?”
“Flying back to the Kingdom, Lord. I went to deliver your message to the Etherlanders.”
“Go to the Harpers and summon me Luragon and Gabriel.”
“What for, Lord?”
The silence that answered him told him his error. You don’t question Yahweh. “I am sorry, Lord.”
Luragon sat, strumming an instrument of nine strings. Thantor waited. Like the other Chosen, Luragon had that arrogant tilt to his chin when he stared at Lesser angels like Thantor.
One flaw in Yahweh’s armour Thantor had been able to exploit so far: He had not made all the angels equal. Thantor would goad the Lessers one by one.
The Rebellion would come.
But he needed Luragon. He wasn’t one of the Lesser, but with him on the other side, the Rebellion would be squashed easily. Luragon’s ruthlessness put the fear of Yahweh in everybody.
Thantor, like other angels, had a gift. His was the gift of Minds. When he peered inside Luragon’s mind, he smiled at what he saw.
Ambition! Arrogance! Recklessness!
Thantor shut the gift just as Luragon finished playing and looked up. “Yahweh summons,” he said.
Luragon nodded. Thantor took a deep breath then started working the other gift. The gift he had developed himself. Persuasion.
The Guardians fought off the Rebels.
Thantor’s shield clanged as Gabriel unleashed another wave of slashing sword attacks. Further off, Luragon battled Michael hand-to-hand. Michael sidestepped punches with blurry swiftness, smacked the heel of his palm into Luragon’s face and threw a kick to his head.
Floating figures grappled in the clouds, angels shot into each other like missles arrowing into targets, flaming swords sent smokescreens and yells rang like thunder.
Luragon knew all was lost when Yahweh’s voice roared the curse in his head: “Shaitan!”
The fireball struck him from nowhere. Its force propelled him down to earth then right into it, where he landed with an explosion into a darkness that started burning and burning . Other fireballs flew and one by one the Rebels were cast out of heaven.
Then Yahweeh’s voice like thunder bellowed, “Let there be light!”
When Luragon looked up from far down the earth’s burning bowels, he thought the light was beautiful. He thought that the light was good.
About the writer
Foxes have holes, the birds of the air have nests, but professional wakawaka Hymar David can’t exactly pinpoint where he should say he lives. He writes when he is not busy pressing phone and avoiding messages. He used to work out, but now he walks out of damn near every place he has been in.
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