I am Mosadiel, scribe of Zion.
I reside in the presence of majesty and perform my duty within the depth of the eternal Shekina. I partake in a duty that has been set upon me by the Ancient of Days before Time was principle. I write upon the everlasting scroll of the universe with dark matter as my quill. For aeons has my ink traversed the pages of the eternal parchment and now, for the second time since creation and concept, I chronicle a verse prompted by my own accord.
I recall all those aeons ago as though they were but a fleeting moment past. That period when the saga I relate henceforth caused Zion to tremble and the Throne Room to resonate with the power of the Spirit of Yahweh. By the virtue of my standing and the privilege of my access into the mind of Yahweh –that my accounts may be unblemished with bias- the words hereupon this scroll is truth as can only be sourced from the great omniscience.
“Thou were the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty…”
His name was originally unmentionable. It had been given, nay, bestowed upon him when the workmanship of his music had been perfected upon his creation. The angels had not the appropriate ability to declare it and so they called unto him after the manner of the light of heaven.
Luciferus. Morning star.
The angels adored him and Yahweh loved him. He did not pass unnoticed for he was the biggest living creation, as appropriate for his place. His beauty was unrivalled, his voice more sonorous than ten companies of angels’ singing and his zeal for the throne, unequalled. The elders honoured him and his subordinate, Michael adored him.
As the anointed cherub who covered, He stood at the height of the Throne in the presence of Yahweh. Flanked by six other cherubim; Mosadiel, Ozariel, Zerubal, Shael, Oriema and Azazel; and in their presence sat the Elders on 24 thrones around the sea of glass.
Upon occasion, it behoved thousands upon thousands of companies of the Host to minister worship unto Yahweh, with Luciferus at their helm. The songs of his harp and timbrel resonated throughout the realm, uplifting the spirit and strengthening the bond between Yahweh and Host.
“You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till iniquity…”
His eyes roved over the innumerable armed company in his presence, a congregation he would ratio at about a third of the entire Host. They watched him, the slightest apprehension tugging at their soul fragments. They needed reassuring, he could sense, so that their strength of purpose should not falter. They believed they were safe from the mind of Yahweh in this place, a far reach within the darkness that clothes the outside of Zion,for they had all assembled with extreme caution. Despite their trepidation, they could not but look in awe at the form of he who had gathered them for this final assembly; the one who had walked upon the holy mountain of God, in an adornment of precious stones. They regarded the big harp in his right hand and the flaming sword-a gift from Yahweh- on his left. His mighty wings covered his form with a flourish and his four faces stared straight ahead at the congregation which surrounded him. He caught the visage of Baal, Asmodeus, Dagon and Ashtoreth standing in a group, mighty angels in every way and comrades in this purpose. He had promised them lofty positions upon the success of this dissention. A shame that Michael was not represented here. He would have been a mighty ally. Luciferus had not seen the same seed of resentment against the throne as he had seen in these.
He exulted in the coming glory of his rule.
For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will sit upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the North: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High. Yet…
He exulted in the coming glories. He was riled with being ordered around and singing all the time. Bowing to the one being his soul disagreed with. Yahweh had given no sign of being privy to the thoughts of his rebellion, an observation which had given him the courage to rally others. A specially selected others. If this venture were to come to nought…no, it could not. They would flank Zion and take it unawares. He was sure they could take down the six cherubim in the throne room; Asmodeus and Dagon would see to that, for their hunger for joining battle was apparent. The cherubim would go down, then what? What?!
His grip on the flaming sword tightened as Yahweh gained primacy in his mind.
Then he began.
Now the lips of Luciferus did not move when he spoke, for his essence interacted with that of those to whom he referred in soundless noise. It was a gift from the Throne Room, in order to magnify him. This he did now to keep them in awe of his power. His pride. He soothed their fears, for the moment of their action was near at hand. As an addendum, he played for them when he was finished, ministering unto their souls with the power of his harp and giving them renewed courage.
Then he sounded the battle cry; a mixture of frayed notes from his instrument and the power of the sound of his sonorous voice, spurring them into battle at the height of their morale. Like a cherubim, he moved faster than the lightning that oft flashed across the Throne room and appeared at the head of the group. Flanked by the high-standing angels, they darted towards Zion and barged in through the side that was of the shortest route to the throne-room near the center.
“It is begun”
The outer fringes never stood a chance. The denizens of Yahweh’s kingdom were taken unawares. Luciferus moved with purpose, brushing aside the inferior angels as though they were mere objects of discomfort. The whole scene flashed with the dispersed essences of angelic beings as the onslaught of Lucifer’s army prevailed against the initial resistance.
And so they went on, Baal showing a thirst for destruction that Luciferus warily took note of. Luciferus knew Yahweh would never come here. The Cherubim at the throne room would be burning with zeal by now, but Yahweh would never let them go. He was afraid, was he not, that his mightiest ally had turned against him? With Dagon and Ashtoreth on his side, the victory was surely within his grasp.
Soon they were to be at the throne room where the ultimate engagement would take place. Stronger faithful angels were rushing into the fray now and his army was taking hits, but he was not perturbed. What was battle without loss? The angels he expected had not come yet. Why would they, they were nothing without his coordination, and now that he was gone where would they get their orders from, Michael? He wouldn’t make a good general in any case, not at this moment when the heat of war was at its zenith. Yes, he had chosen right. His glorious face broke into a smile as he cut down three powerful angels with a swipe of his flaming sword.
After a lot of destruction of both structure and souls of angels, Luciferus and his commanders reached the great clearing that surrounded the great white Throne room. He opened his wings in a proud flourish that elicited victory howls from the throats of those behind him. His eyes glimmered with the lust of the power that was to be his shortly. He looked to his side at the rebel generals. They had agreed he would lead the charge into the throne room, for even they quivered at the thought. Baal nodded quietly at Luciferus, showing his readiness. And Luciferus charged at the doors.
His essence went forth like lightning, designed to break into the throne room with the force of a thousand angels. His army watched in anticipation, for the moment of their glory was come. They were all one and the same in heart with Luciferus now. Every one of them was a true rebel against the Throne.
At the moment when Luciferus was to crash through the doors, the angels were suddenly moved to draw a step backward at the sight which suddenly assailed them.
Luciferus had fallen to the ground just before the door.
He righted himself instantly in anger, facing his army in the disorientation following his fall. In his confusion, he looked towards the door to see how the thing had stopped his onslaught. It wasn’t the door that had resisted him.
Michael stood in front of him, his countenance transformed, with a crown upon his head, a symbol of new anointing. In his hand he held a flaming sword. How had he appeared at the door unseen by the army? Luciferus realized Michael had moved like lightning as well. No, faster.
“Remove from my path Michael, for I shall not halt for thought in striking you down if you resist longer”, Luciferus said in hatred, his form shaking with anger at the resistance of this angel. His eyes were drawn to Michael’s crown. What exactly was the anointing about?
“Yahweh has decreed”, Michael replied. His voice was loud and powerful. He moved with purpose against Lucifer, and in another instant, Luciferus was on the ground further away. Like lightning. He quickly stood up again, and sounded the battle cry, inviting his army to go in for the onslaught. They rushed in blinded by anger and brought themselves to a sudden halt at the sight which unravelled before them.
In the space between Luciferus and Michael, a company of angels had appeared. Not just angels, Seraphim. The elite group that was hardly seen and only rumoured to exist. Each of them stood near the height of Lucifer, mighty creations with terrible yellow essences. Their eyes had actual fire in them and the heat of their presence was almost unbearable. Flanking the seraphim were the other mighty angels in heaven whom Luciferus had not recruited. He espied his personal comrades, Aquaintine and Azelario. Thousands of them, but much less than his army.
Angels of war. Yahweh had been well prepared. Michael floated to the height of the highest Seraph and spoke thusly to Luciferus.
“It has been decreed, oh mighty ———-, that thy station shall lie vacant and thy honour shall be stripped from thee. For the effrontery of thy rebellion, thine army and thou shall be thrown into the torture of hell in due course, a place that has been prepared by Yahweh for thy eternal recompense”.
He had called Luciferus by his true name, but now Luciferus had ceased listening. This battle could not possibly be over before it had begun. He stared at each of the Seraph in his presence. He was not afraid of them. From behind him, he heard Baal and the others. They were coming forth to fight till the very end. Just as well, for defeat held no hope of redemption for them.
The battle was joined again, this time decisively. The throne room behind the scene resonated with the spirit of Yahweh, but He did not honour this war with His presence, for He was greater than it.
Companies of rebel army fell as Zion shook to its foundation with the scale of battle. Luciferus cut down six of the seraphim before he lost his sword and Harp to Michael and his incredible speed of movement.
Everything went awry henceforth. The battle cries of sorrow erupted from the rebel army, as Michael and his angels pushed them backwards towards the fringe of Zion, expelling them into the great darkness. Michael bound Luciferus and threw him out personally. Yahweh’s anointing upon him had been greater than anything Luciferus had ever seen.
As Luciferus fell with his comrades sans his flaming sword and honour, he realized the meaning of his true name and understood that Yahweh was truly Lord.
Amiinngrofl’akia. The One Who Chooses.
The six cherubim stayed in the trembling Throne room, their zeal for the throne overtaking them and causing them to hunger for the battle outside. But the Lord held them back for His Spirit was in control.
And as I finished my account upon the fall of Luciferus and made to withdraw from the mind of God, it was given unto me to espy this Hell that was prepared for Luciferus and “his” angels.
I am concerned for Luciferus.
thanks for reading folks. show ya love, Like the post and leave a comment. you are also allowed to criticize, you know. i get far too many compliments. *adjusts halo