Hope's Light

Chapter 31

by Erisian

Book 6

 

If you have yet to read the saga - the tale starts here:

Into The Light

Hope you enjoy!

 

Chapter Thirty-One - Riders

 

Like most plans, it was easier said than done. Which is why I again floated between the realms in that weird space-that-wasn’t, blazing out with six wings and trying to spot a specific distant spark in a burning haystack the size of a galaxy.

Oh, and while getting yelled at.

“You must tighten the focus!!”

With a grunt of frustration, I tried - the floodlight of feathers swiveling in their pursuit of a target several realms away. “I don’t see him!” Threads of that domain filled all vision, spinning with incredible complexity and detail - soul after soul, story after story, each a universe of emotion, history, and entanglements. As well as all the rules forging the patterns through which they moved.

It was too much.

Eleleth tsked from where she hovered besides me. “You are too easily distracted.”

Dammit. “How the heck do you filter everything?!”

“Force of intent, of will. You must let go, while also seizing the perceptions with all that you are.”

“That makes no sense. You know that right??”

“We are channels of the Light that perceives and thereby upholds all things. You keep reaching towards the All instead of the One.”

“With this much energy, that’s what it wants to do!!”

“The Light or you?”

Ugh. Dangit. “We’re connected, he and I. I could just-”

“No cheating! Focusing only to those directly inscribed with your Name will not be possible against our true quarry!”

I couldn’t help it. Just thinking of it caused a vision of Tsáyidiel to pop into view, with him glowing so bright inside with all the love I had for him - and him for me. He lounged as a panther across a thick tree branch in a glade upon a small and isolated isle surrounded by deep ocean in the watery realm of Forneus.

Eleleth scowled, and with a swift flick of wrist whacked me upside the head with a glowing staff.

“Ow!”

“I said no cheating. Now we must wait while the Hunter finds a new hiding place. Tell him.”

“Argh. Fine!” Reaching out, I communicated with the resting cat. “Tsáyidiel!”

“My Queen.” The image shifted as the big kitty stretched while yawning a set of large and sharp teeth, with tail brushing past the thick leaves.

“We’ll need to try again. Find another spot.”

“Should I restrict our connection?”

“No!! Never do that! I need to learn control, I really do. I’ll get it!”

“Perhaps another should help-”

“Your stealth is the best at simulating the effect that holding the Book of Secrets is granting our foe.”

“There are Fallen with such skill.”

“None I can so easily communicate with.”

Fuzzy ears flicked above his head. “With your granted strength, the Servitors of Light are able to narrow the region where the original and nexus of Beelzebub resides, correct?”

“Yes, but that’s as far as they can go. It’s a hazy blob of possibilities and not a precise location. They think I can do more.”

“You can, and eventually will, my Queen - but there is another concern.”

“Oh?”

He hesitated.

“Say it, my beloved Hunter. Whatever it may be.”

“Your searches, my Queen. They feel as the warmest of suns after the chill of early morn. Your target will sense their presence and have warning.”

Shit. “That…that is indeed a problem.”

“You have the ability to shift instantly to distant places should you know the pattern intimately, yes?”

“I do.”

“Then I offer an alternate solution: work with the Servitors to isolate the nexus as best as possible. Then send me to complete the hunt. And when I succeed at locating our prey, through our treasured connection move yourself to me direct as only you can.”

“That’s too risky! If you are spotted-”

“All hunts carry risk, my Queen. Is not your fighting Beelzebub’s nexus also a danger?”

“You’d be alone. I cannot-”

“Please, my Queen. For ages I was a slave to Azazel, the threads of my pattern made puppet while a hidden core helpless to resist experienced all. Beelzebub is an evil greater still, for he allows no such core to remain. He denies even the hope of freedom to those engulfed by his will - I would fight for those lost to such horror, and to save those he would yet corrupt forevermore.”

“And should I say no?”

“Then I would beg, my Queen. With all heart and spirit.”

I floated there, burning with Illumination’s love for all things. After a moment’s internal reflection, I spoke to Eleleth - all quirky student casualness having vanished from my tone.

“Change of plans.”

Her persona of disapproving instructor shifted entire in response. “Warleader?”

“We practice a different maneuver. Call the Servitors.”

 

~o~O~o~

 

“This really what you be wantin’ to do?”

We gathered, the entire war council, there in the Aerie where everyone stood around the many tables and their displays - some showing active fighting even now. Asmodeus in his wheelchair, Lilith in a tight dress of flowery green, Cassiel in blue silk robe, and Abagor in the usual colorless suit. Plus Camael and Nathanael in gleaming armors forged in ancient battle against many of those present in the room. Tsáyidiel also was there, except being nervous around such powers, had chosen the form of a raven to perch upon my white-leathered shoulder. Many lesser Sarim were not in attendance, staying close as it were to their own realms which were too vulnerable should they depart.

But it was Nathanael who had asked the question.

“Want?” I said to him. “This isn’t about what I want.”

Abagor, arms held behind his back, spoke. “Perhaps with more time, your ability to focus will increase-”

I waved him off. “Every moment that Book remains in Beelzebub’s hands, and with every additional soul sucked into his devouring ego, the threat to everyone here grows worse. We’re running out of time.”

Lilith, cleaning an immaculately painted fingernail with the sharp tip of another, nodded. “Victory lies with those willing to grasp it. This plan can succeed - or at worst deal tremendous damage to the foe.” She gave Camael a respectful nod.

The warrior in black and gold had been quiet so far, but now broke that silence. “Should I do this, it will change the nature of this conflict.”

Asmodeus scoffed. “All this will do is hurry it up. We have tap-danced around the stricture - but neither Lucifer nor Samael are enforcing it. One side or the other will break it first - better us than them! And we even have the excuse that you new arrivals have never taken the oath that was forced down our collective throats!”

Camael’s eyes burned from behind the helmet’s slit to stare at mine. “If this is your true wish, then my blade shall serve as it ever has: without mercy or hesitation. Whether I prefer or no.”

My chest tightened hearing that. “If there was any other way-”

The legless angel in the wheelchair laughed, a horrible screeching merriment. “What is this?! Is the Butcher suddenly reluctant to shed rebellious blood? The scandal!!”

“Shut it, Asmodeus!” I snapped. “No one asked you.”

Unashamed, he smirked. “Only because I am dying! But to think I would live to witness such a day!”

Beginning to pace (and reminding me of Isaiah as he did so), Abagor again tapped at lips with a forefinger. “The Seers believe Beelzebub’s true self is upon his home realm, surrounded by Flies of all strengths. He would only flee should he truly be filled with terror.” That finger pointed then at Camael. “It requires a massive attack led by Camael, the Champion of the Powers we so feared, cutting down all Flies before him with an aim towards the general location of the nexus center - this will strike great and terrible panic into Beelzebub’s core.”

Nathanael nodded. “Ayup, precisely. Now that the Servitors of Light have purged the majority of spies, we’ve a chance for real surprise. Oh, he’ll know we’re planning a large op, but for once not the details. When Camael strikes, the bug’ll skedaddle. Even in the War he stuck around only when assured of success, or else the bum fled like a spooked donkey in a monsoon.”

Abagor’s lips curled into harsh smile. “Unless Samael threatened him otherwise.”

Cassiel, however, frowned. “I still mislike it. This requires commitment of the bulk of our forces. And he may not flee alone, but take stronger Flies with him, leaving Amariel and her hunter outnumbered. From what I understand, she’s carried others before across the distances without anchor, why not now?”

“Because,” I said, “we timed it. If I carry anyone else when I, well, when I blip…the transition takes longer. Much longer. No matter how many times we tried. And most passengers spend precious moments after disoriented.”

Many looked to the raven on my shoulder. But none commented on how such a delay would leave Tsáyidiel openly vulnerable after breaking stealth to contact me.

Lilith folded arms under her chest, a move that gathered most male gazes away from the bird. “Every action taken so far has been defensive. This is no way to win.” She turned attention to me. “What say those Seers? Does fortune favor this action? Or shall I draw cards?” She smiled, and not unkindly.

My face however pinched. “They’ve had a lot of trouble seeing my future. According to them, I’m a smear of static. But they do see a Beelzebub attempting escape of the realm and Tsáyidiel’s sudden call. After that, everything is uncertain.”

“But,” she said, corners of her mouth sliding into a darker smirk, “he does flee.”

“He does.” I nodded. “And alone - shoving everything else he has in Camael’s path.”

Nathanael tapped a desk. “What if some of us hang back, waiting to ride in to wherever Amariel ‘blips’? I’d gladly lead that charge.” He winked at me.

That caused Asmodeus to snort. “A fight between Archangels is not for lesser Captains. Has her shine up your lower cheeks befuddled your perception of scale, oh Gift of God?”

I was about to yell at Asmodeus again, but Lilith spoke before I could. “The crippled buffoon is right. With Beelzebub’s current power, only myself, Camael, or Amariel have the potential to take him on. Or Abaddon, but he still refuses all entreaties to join the cause, and hides sniveling amongst his vainglory mirrors. I will stand by, but it must be at a sufficient distance, or Flies would be sent to engage me as well, as forced distraction. Should I see opportunity, however, I shall take it.”

Again, she looked to me. “In the end, it is the Warleader’s call. Shall we rally our armies of demons and souls to invade Beelzebub’s home and force his exodus?”

Everyone quieted and awaited my reply.

“Let’s win this,” I finally said. “I’ve got even crazier problems waiting after that I need to deal with.”

Only Asmodeus laughed at that.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Everyone went their separate ways to prepare. As promised, I sent Nathanael to the Spires to bolster its defense - which in turn would free Abagor and more of his Maschitim to join the assault on the realm simply called ‘Beelzebub’, because of course it was - given that every single resident had been absorbed by the Fly’s immeasurable ego.

In secret, I was relieved that since those at the Spires were recovering from their recent attack, they had reason to not join this new one. Maybe that wasn’t fair to all the other demons and souls the Sarim were gathering for the invasion, but it’s how I felt.

With everyone busy - Seers keeping eyes peeled on the Fly’s movements, Tsáyidiel stealthily making his careful way towards the target realm and egotist’s nexus, Cassiel organizing the logistics of his army gathered from the residents of Dis, that sort of thing - this left me free to wander the halls of the Citadel.

How many salutes I missed from total lack of paying attention went uncounted.

Passing one of the few more expansive indoor gardens, I slipped inside to stare at a small grove of twisting felwoods - their dark roots waiting to trip the unwary, and broad leafs ready to slice unprotected skin. Grow-lights lining the ceiling shined brightly from above, but the thick foliage kept everything below in shadow.

Including a certain armored figure kneeling in the dirt before a floating and flaming two-handed blade, one burning with the same brilliant crimson which had protected me through so much pain and adversity. The helm had been put aside, and the revealed head’s bare skin matched the shade of surrounding bark as it bowed in meditation.

And prayer.

I hesitated, not wanting to disturb, but of course he noticed my presence.

“My lady.”

“Prince Camael.”

“Are you in need?”

“I…need many things.”

“Then speak,” he said, lifting eyes to stare only at the sword of fire, “and I shall render aid.”

Worrying a tired and perpetually-healing lip, I sighed. “I need to know this is right.”

“Beelzebub is an evil, a blight long overdue being cleansed from all Creation.”

“Not him. On that, I do agree.”

“What then troubles you?” The fires across the blade danced and sang of their finely honed fury. And underneath, their ever present hopes.

“Asking you to do this.”

“I have already agreed.”

“But you are weary of such fighting. I can feel it press against your spirit, now more than ever.”

“Such changes nothing of what must be done.”

“And for that, I am sorry. I let the Book get away, and now we’re here.”

“Kalka’il failed in his task to bring it to you.”

“Only because I forced a good man to total silence.”

“Secrecy,” he said with a note of ancient sadness, “is both blessing and curse. Which is why Raziel’s Tome was commanded buried so long ago.”

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll find another way. Somehow.”

“Time itself aligns, and therefore runs thin. And your statement of additional tasks needing accomplishment is entirely correct.”

“Still.”

“Worry not for me, Blessed Lady. For this path of stains and my feet are well acquainted; indeed, I shall grant you a secret of my own to ease your thoughts should you wish it.”

“I fear wishing for anything. But truth, truth I need.”

“Therefore shall I share. Each day since the War between our people dawned its horror, have I mourned the slaughter. Only within the shine of Aradia - within the Light that burns ever so brighter now within you - did I begin to admit such in full.”

“Then how…how can I ask this of you?!”

“Because you must. Now go, for you too should prepare. Purge all doubt, Amariel of the Light, for the hand of the Most High acts through you to correct that which needs correction. And we, we who understand, are with you however you may need.”

Biting harder, again the taste of wet and warm iron graced the tongue.

As bid, I turned to go, but stopped partway to say one more thing to the kneeling warrior.

“Camael, hear me: Any Heaven which would bar its gates to you, is no Heaven at all. To this, I swear.”

He said nothing, and so I stepped through the doors.

And behind, a black and gold gauntlet took hold of flaming sword.

 

~o~O~o~

 

I bore witness.

Alongside the Servitors, with their cores resonating brightly across every fiber of my being, we set our sights upon Beelzebub’s realm. The ego collective had created and consumed a planet, burrowing deep under the crust to fill the entirety with dedicated and synchronous activity. Each continent fulfilled swaths of industry or agriculture, with tremendous machines managing to the last particle every system of weather. Sweeps of perfectly circular clouds raced across a sky lit only by a single giant of turbulent red gas, providing the mechanism by which Beelzebub’s Will granted the realm the energy needed for its maintenance.

Energy ultimately provided by all the souls he’d consumed.

Everyone worked upon that world in silent harmony, for they had no need of individual communication. Nor laughter, nor entertainment, for no joy was present within this realm, only complete and absolute utilitarian purpose. There were no stray thoughts, only the expanse of the mind of Beelzebub peering through all senses, controlling every flicker of spirit, every move of muscle and bone.

Our first wave struck outside this simplified solar system, entirely beyond the fabric of space it simulated. A force of Maschitim, each with gleaming armor streaking colors of battle and destruction, spiraled inward as their spears and blades sliced away all portal connections - removing the enemy’s anchors of intent which allowed fast travel by realignment of the spiritual planes.

Even as white-armored and winged Beelzebubs swarmed in response to defend, additional Maschitim plunged towards the planet - spreading across the sphere to rip wide fresh portals of their own, each linked to the staging areas prepared across Dis and numerous other realms.

Thus was the perfectly measured calm of the world of Beelzebub shattered.

Spilling through those rifts came roaring armies of frenzied demons, charging below waves of technomagical marvels of military might, as craft built for air-to-air and air-to-ground assault shot outward to engage the reacting forces scrambling to launch their own. Endless missiles streaked across that managed sky, bringing death and obliteration to carefully chosen targets, striking radar stations, launch runways, defensive batteries, and more.

Buildings, installations, and souls exploded across the planet entire as every concentrated city found itself under full assault. Yet even as all those wiped out by the attacks collapsed into perfectly matching stones, not a single Beelzebub-conquered soul cried out.

Floating beside me in the space between realms, murmuring Servitors relayed the vision of the assault in absolute clarity to the commanders coordinating our units, channeling all data through the Citadel - a primary function for which the battlestation had been constructed, and a required counter against an enemy who instantly perceived and processed everything through a giant unitary Mind.

We knew, as Beelzebub did, that we did not have enough forces to conquer and hold against the greater hordes at his command. But this was not our goal.

Our goal was confusion. And chaos.

To support this, entire divisions assaulted city centers only to immediately retreat through their portals, their destinations then warping to the opposite hemisphere, where our forces would then attack anew. After the initial objectives, each additional target had been determined by the Citadel’s calculations to be indicators of a massive push - one which never came.

A frenetic dance of terror designed to occupy and stretch as much of that collective Mind as possible in preparation for one event and one alone:

Prince Camael’s arrival.

And arrive he did.

Upon one white and three scarlet wings, and ensconced in a nimbus of holy red flame, the warrior of obsidian and gold streaked through a sparking electric portal stretching above the planet’s largest city, one dwarfing Los Angeles in sheer area and New York in constructed density. Immediately the blazing sword cleaved high-rises entire, metal and steel groaning unto collapse in bursts of deadly dust and debris. And against the angelic Beelzebubs attempting to dislodge his portal’s anchor, the blade spun to cut not just their manifestations from the realm, but their spirits.

Sliced away and lost forever.

Across an entire planet, every resident - whether they be fleeing or fighting - broke their odd silence which had carried on even through the mayhem, as billions of voices suddenly cried out as one:

“BUTCHER!!”

Missile after missile, angel after angel, jet after jet - all swarmed against him, and all fell to that blade of crimson fire. Winged Beelzebubs in cities continents away fled duels against the Maschitim, away from everywhere portals flickered in and out of existence with accompanying clash of sword and shield. Each now sped on matching feathers towards the truest of threats attacking their shores.

Not that it mattered.

For Camael slaughtered all.

Defenders seethed in coordinated swarms, and a single cylinder launched from an orbiting satellite - aimed not outward, but down gravity’s well.

Eleleth shouted my Name. In an instant of understanding, through the connection forged with that one ivory wing, I channeled to our champion all that our burning hearts could carry.

Not needing to directly collide with the archangel marauding across city and sky, a device forged of angelic language detonated - not as a nuclear flash, but as a tearing through the fundamental structures upholding the realm.

Thousands of miles ripped asunder: buildings, earth, air - within a terrible cloud the very pattern of the city below shredded and collapsed.

To rising horror and dismay, all souls trapped within that terrible radius - be they within our demons or merged with Beelzebub - dissolved entire. No stones, no sparks, gone as if they’d never been.

Yet as the absolute destruction billowed outward, Camael floated still at the center, hovering now upon the blazing fires spilled from six blinding identical wings - the veins of each feather sparking with crimson blended equally with the purest of white flames.

Lifting his sword, the energies of that blade flashed upwards as a roaring column to torch the satellite, detonating in orbit the additional prepared doomsday weapons stored within.

And with that tremendous explosion the sky filled with a second circling sun.

Underneath the fiery canopy, then did the manifestation of War, the Second Horseman of Revelations, speak unto this world:

“If you care so little for your realm, then there exists no need for restraint.”

Swinging that immense sword about, the Prince Regent of the Seat of Light burned brighter still and sliced at the realm entire.

Aiming for its core.

Oh God.

About to shout across that link to order him to stop, a different connection flared instead.

“My Queen! The nexus flees!”

Repeated practice drummed thoroughly into instinct overrode all, and I blipped.

Into the heart of the primary sun.

Through those fires of roaring fusion, a curved sword of black flame forged not of physical metal swung at a towering golden-armored gryphon, the raven-like front claws desperately rising to parry against a strike they knew they’d be too late to counter.

A Spear of gold-entwined-onyx interposed, casting aside the intended blow with strength enough to toss back the attacker.

Hovering within the countering white fire spilling from six wings of my own, I spoke to the multi-armed figure holding not just that scimitar but several more.

“Beelzebub. Let’s finish this.”

A billion facets gazed back, and a Fallen archangel nodded.

“So be it.”

As though a Sensei had shouted ‘Hajime!’, our fight began.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Beelzebub.

An entity concentrated into iridescent white armor covering a torso with four weapon-wielding arms and two wide yellow wings, not feathered like those of birds but membraned like an insect. All while wielding a mind buttressed by billions of spirits, deployed as an incredibly powerful distributed network of calculation.

Which meant the fight was not going well.

Lack of any terrain within the element-fusing star yielded an open battlefield, which we both streaked through in clash after brilliant clash. His attempts to swing blades of oily blackness through its solar flares came under fire from my bow of purest illumination, as arrows brighter than the photosphere forced him to close again with multiple strikes against spinning Spear.

And with such shifts in proximity, the bow too would morph, flowing into defending concentrated Light wherever needed, acting as instant brilliant plates deflecting attacks as surely as any armor of Heaven.

Switching weapons occurred at the speed of thought, driven by instinct and the branching images of potential futures as foretold by the gifts of Light’s perceptions. Yet with the billions of Flies projecting every possible motion and counter, my opponent’s pre-simulated vision was as clear as mine.

Therefore we continued, far faster than my beloved Hunter could keep pace with, and he fell further and further behind. Cut for cut, parry for parry, my tremendous speed versus Beelzebub’s overwhelming power.

And therein lay the danger.

Our physical fight, dramatic and intense as it was, spurring the star to more rapidly burn through all available fuel, only represented a portion of the true struggle.

A struggle of ideas.

Even while Spear sparked against ivory armor, and hardened Light flashed to deflect scimitars, a heated discussion occurred simultaneous in an alternate plane of thought, will, and spirit:

“You cannot win, Amariel. Surrender to the inevitable.”

“I disagree!”

“Our destruction no longer is possible. Confirm with your sight: should even this nexus be destroyed, another node shall expand to take its place. Eventually all existence shall be Beelzebub, and Creation shall reach intended perfection!”

“Only this nexus of yours has the energetic capacities to wield the whole! Take that out and the rest collapses - your Flies contain not the pattern of an archangel!”

“By this Book has been revealed that which is achievable. It has shown the lies to our perceived limitations. It has shown the lie to many things!”

“Then when I rip that scroll from your belt, I shall discover how to stop the rest!”

“Too late, sister and anomaly. By your gift into our hands, our ascension is assured.”

“Yet you flee from Camael!”

Each word, each meaning of communication, came with a hammered blow of sheer ego-driven willpower. Absolute certainty smashed against mental defenses, barriers erected by dodging and deflecting while holding to a single Light-infused thought.

I threw back at the collective a thought, causing the manifestation to stumble back as Spear drove forward with thrust after thrust:

“Your path stands against Creation’s Purpose! Never was the goal to combine into unitary stasis!”

“The great flaw as revealed to Samael! Without singularity of Plan, all that is built is vulnerable to that which lies beyond. Spread your vision further, Archon! Gaze from without, then attempt claim that Creation is stable. For you cannot, as the Throne itself is weak - weaker than any have ever suspected!”

A whirlwind of steel spun a fresh assault, requiring exacting precision to avoid being skewered upon sharp edges glowing blue from the extreme heat of our surroundings. Spinning the Spear at such a speed as to appear more a shield, sparks blossomed into explosions ricocheting outward.

And still Beelzebub continued the attack by words and blades.

“Yet rejoice! Again this gift revealed truth: with sufficient spirits forged to our Name, we shall burn past this prison and scrape that elevated seat clear - we shall bring Creation to its ultimate result! For in that glorious moment, all our siblings shall embrace the glory of Beelzebub!”

Stumbling back, I could see it. I could see Beelzebub’s ego-driven poison spreading soul to desperate soul across Hell, each aching for release from suffering, release from pain, release from hate. For even as stones, they cried eternal.

Hell would, within the unbound infinite granted by time, eventually succumb.

And should he break free and consume the Throne in Heaven, all angels across Creation tied to that Glory would too be lost.

Instantly.

A deep rip across a leg cast blood sizzling into the flames, and I darted back using rapid bowfire to grant fight’s delay to refocus.

My four-armed opponent, nimbly stepping aside from each Light-infused arrow, saluted.

“There!! You perceive! Why fight? Accept what shall be! We are and always shall be! And those Above have no strength to stand against us!”

“Accept? The Light shall never accept this!”

“Forget not, we too are born of that Light! We are its foregone conclusion!”

Against that vision, a heart boiled hotter than the star around us, and once more did I call upon the Spear. Once more did the Chaos bound within spiral outward.

With a yell both in spirit and manifest, I charged forward, spiraling alternate futures one after the other. Ones where Beelzebub fell, ones where all divine sparks would be kept safe.

Except Beelzebub was no stranger to fighting Chaos. Responding with his own roar ripped through billions of throats, a mighty singularity of intent clamped onto the black-yet-not-black coils attempting to coax the fabric of Creation into new lines.

That Will, that immense Unity, snuffed them out. One by one, before new threads could blend into the pattern and take hold as fresh possibilities.

And those united voices laughed.

“Archon, think you that we cannot stand against the dance of Chaos? By blood and fire are we forged of that struggle - and by Raziel’s revelations are we rendered immune!”

Again we danced, the lines of possibility dividing and collapsing, roiling and forced still. Around us the star churned with the added heat, expanding outward to twice its size and more.

Neither of us gained advantage, but neither found resolution’s path. Back on Beelzebub’s planet, Fly after Fly fell to Camael’s blade - each loss weakening the powers of calculation, but not fast enough. Soul after soul, embedded within that whole, ceased all attention towards the demons cleaving through their ranks, shifting focus entirely to the fight between their enthroned nexus and the angel bleeding desperation to find solution.

Except there was a path. Flickering at the edges, I caught glimpses and rejected. Over and over.

Yet it kept coming back.

Frenetically I swung the Spear, risking and gaining additional scarlet lines across ferociously bright skin. I didn’t want this. Streams of Chaos flooded forward with potential alternate branches, only to be smothered like fires ripped free of all oxygen, leaving only the one. Still my chest cried against it.

But it wasn’t my decision.

It was his.

“My Queen.”

“Tsáyidiel! NO!!!”

“Ego’s ultimate triumph, my sacred Queen, lies within its willing sacrifice.”

From stealthed approach possible only to God’s divine Hunter, Tsáyidiel leapt through the solar fires, grappling with claw and beak to embrace the uncalculated instantaneous reaction of four slick-burning scimitars slicing through the golden-white gryphon armor.

Slicing through Tsáyidiel’s Name.

And I, shrieking a heart’s bleeding cry, instead of attempting to rescue my beloved, used the slimmest of opportunity to slam tip of Spear into the provided opening through Beelzebub’s nexus - sending unleashed Chaos and Light into every channel and thread within.

Beelzebub’s painful howl immediately joined my own.

With white-hot fury, those channels burned. With bleeding sorrow, they ripped asunder.

Across the nearby planet, and throughout the vastness of Hell, Beelzebubs echoed that cry as their many billions collapsed.

Four hands released blades still buried in thick hide to clutch weakly instead at the Spear impaled through their own chest, and the remnants of a beautiful gryphon tumbled away to consumption by fusion’s fiery caress. Beelzebub’s core gazed upward in astonished confusion and growing terror as connection after connection within sparked brightly.

And disappeared.

“We…We are Beelzebub! We are…I am…Beelzebub…”

Light flared. Ripping free the Spear, that channeled intensity flashed across the Name exposed by gaping wound.

“No,” I said, voice awfully distant. “Not anymore.”

The final remaining pair of eyes burned away in the heat of a Light greater than any star.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Camael found me floating amidst the furnace, clutching to breast a glittering scroll case as well as the only piece I could find: a shard of golden-white metal cast free from a mighty wing’s bend. Inscribed across armor’s fragment lay a final message, carved in immaculate script by a beautiful and glorious Kerubim as he prepared for one final leap, one final hunt:

Weep not, my Queen, my savior. For joyous redemption is at last accomplished.

I failed to heed that message. Tears fell unbound, boiling away in the runaway fusion of the realm’s now unstable sun.

With gentle and wordless compassion, the obsidian armored warrior guided me away from that space, away from the mess our attack had left behind.

Away from a devastated planet spinning alone around a solitary and expanding star. Away from the scattered wreckage of thousands if not millions of angels who in the depths of fallen despair had surrendered their deepest Purpose. And away from billions upon billions of lost souls scoured clean of all names, all pasts, and all stories of touching glory or miserable sin.

For their sacred sparks had been wiped complete at the moment of their acceptance of Beelzebub’s overriding Name.

The Regent led between the realms to the Citadel, past silent and watchful Servitors, past saluting officers of angels and demons, leaving me to the quiet and needed solitude of his meditative chamber of rooted earth under shadow-canopied trees. Upon the dirt I sat without chair or rug, the weight of countless sacrifice pressing heavily against thighs, held again in the manifest shape of a mighty tome bound by leather and gold.

I thought of them all, and opened the Book.

 

End of Part Six

 

 

New chapters posted every Monday and Friday. Thank you for reading, and for all the wonderful comments.

- Erisian