Prologue: Story's Beginning

         All forces of the Multiverse must exist in balance. If the balance is disrupted the consequences could eradicate existence. Good and Evil, light and dark, life and death. All things kept in balance under the watchful eye of the Creator. God created the Multiverse and therefore is responsible to maintain the existence of Her Creation. God, however, is not infallible. She can make mistakes, like all other beings. Her mistakes, and Her sins, are on a much grander scale than ours. They are the stuff of legends…

         “Kyrie eleison… Christe eleison…  Kyrie eleison…”

         This is the story of one of those legends. A story in which Life itself was held in the balance. And like Christ himself, the son of the Holy Mother, there are always three phases to such a story.

         “Kyrie eleison… Christe eleison…  Kyrie eleison…”

         Gisei, Sukuu, Ai… words of a foreign tongue to you they may be but they are the key to those who wish to change the fate of the world. Into the Darkness and Back from the Light, one must travel through the void of your mind to find yourself. God, Herself, can only help your quest. But remember, even God sins.

         “Kyrie eleison… Christe eleison…  Kyrie eleison…”

         And then is the time for prayer…

         “A……………… men……………………”

         Heaven – 1000 years ago.

         The choir’s solitary voice died down as a priestly figure took his place behind the grand central altar. The vast room adorned in the purest white of marble held the congregation that was prepared to hear the words of the man behind the altar. The man appeared to be in his late twenties. Short stubble had formed on the chin of the bespectacled man’s hard face. Priestly vestments adorned his hardened body while his black hair ran the length of his back in a ponytail. His voice warm, yet cold as he spoke from the golden book in front of him, “And she said unto me, These sayings are faithful and true: and the Lord God of the holy prophets sent her angel to show unto her servants the things which must shortly be done. Behold, I come quickly: blessed is he that keepeth the sayings of the prophecy of this book. And I John saw these things, and heard them. And when I had heard and seen, I fell down to worship before the feet of the angel which showed me these things. Then saith she unto me, See thou do it not: for I am thy fellow servant, and of thy brethren the prophets and of them which keep the sayings of this book: worship God. And she saith unto me, Seal not the sayings of the prophecy of this book: for the time is at hand.” He paused as he gazed across the congregation rapt with attention at every word, “The Book of Revelation, chapter 22 verses six through ten… who here cares to note the importance of these words of prophecy?”

         Silence. The words spoken still hung on the ears of the mass and they had yet divulged into the meaning. The priest smiled before continuing, “Our Heavenly Mother sent Her angel to John on the Mortal Plane… the angel, Ariel, delivered the message of Revelation. Ariel delivered the message of the End of Days, fated by the Mother, and John accepted them as prophecy. As Revelation 22:10 said: ‘And she saith unto me, Seal not the sayings of the prophecy of this book: for the time is at hand.’ The time of the Revelation was 500 years ago. The prophecy lies in wait… until the time is right. God, Herself, will enact it. The End of Days, however, is but the climax, the story is from now until the Tide. Meditate on this, my fellow Angels. Pray on this my brethren Men. The Heavenly Mother, her Son, and the faithful of the Son all rest on our preparation.” The congregation broke into prayer once more; the Lord’s Prayer rang out as epiphany spread through the congregation. As the prayer finished the congregation stood as one and exited the hall. All except one, an angel dressed in the White of the Servants. A New-Tried… “Yes, young Rathiel, do you wish further explanation of today’s reading?”

         Rathiel approached the priest, his long flowing hair set in broad contrast to his angular face. Hair the color of platinum, he strode evenly towards the grand altar. He knelt, making the motion of the cross, then rose again and looked straight in to the priest’s eyes. “Tell me, Lord Michael, will the End of Days happen?”

         The Arch-Angel Michael looked upon the New-Tried with a sharp stare, “It will happen. It’s just a question of when.”

         Rathiel returned the cold stare, “Then why are we here? If the End of Days will come as predicted then why do we continue from day to day believing that we have free will?”

         “The Tide may be predicted but the specifics are not…”

         “Revelation goes into pretty good detail…”

         “With metaphors!” Michael exasperated, “All that is truly known is that someone will open the Seven Seals, which will cause the Seven Calamites to befall the Mortal Plane. After which the Antichrist will reign in the Mortal Plane for 1,000 years and at the end of that reign a Second Ethereal Plane War will ensue as the final struggle between the Holy Mother and Lucifer will be decided.”

         “And God will start the chain of events that will set the End of Days in motion?” Rathiel asked.

         Michael let loose a ragged sigh, “Yes, the Holy Mother will be the start of these events.”

         “Then why do we continue to exist under the guise of free will?” Rathiel said, “If even God, omnipotent and omniscient as She is, is bound by prophecy to act in this accord this means even She doesn’t have the free will required to escape Fate.”

         “Somebody mentioned me?” a chuckling feminine voice filled the hall causing the two angels to turn towards the door. “I tend to turn up where I’m called.”

         “Go away, Ailana,” Rathiel said addressing the young female angel who walked into the church, “I am seeking guidance from the War-Bringer.”

         “You of all angels know that all are welcomed into my church,” Michael said before turning to the raven-haired angel, “Welcome, Ailana.”

         The Angel of Fate, Ailana walked over to altar gracefully with every step placed thoughtfully. That is, until she tripped a little on her long white and golden dress – earning a chuckle from Rathiel. Giving Rathiel a cold stare from her green eyes, she proceeded to the altar where she knelt; repeating the ritual Rathiel had partaken earlier. Her eyes growing cold she stood and looked Rathiel in the eyes, “Maybe it didn’t cross your mind, Angel of Trust, but I may have more pressing matters to be brought to Lord Michael’s attention.” With that she gave a softer look to Michael, “Tell me, can the Angel of Fate be wrong?”

         The War-Bringer closed his eyes and searched the inner depths of Ailana’s soul. Michael felt Ailana’s worry and dread. Calmly he opened his eyes and looked softly at Ailana, “I believe that we do what we can to mold your predictions, but they tend to be accurate most of the time.”

         Ailana breathed a short sigh, “I hope then that what I saw comes to pass in a good light.”

         Rathiel scoffed loudly, “And just what did you see?”

         “I wouldn’t be so quick to know seeing as though it concerns you,” Ailana said hastily.

         “Bah!” Rathiel sneered, “I control my own fate, woman. Prophecy may be your gift but free will is mine!”

         “The Holy Mother gave us all free will…” Ailana countered but was cut off.

         “But I seem to be the only one using it. Even the great Jaisa, lord, ruler, and creator of the Multiverse, seems slave to your predictions. Maybe you should take her job… hmm?”

         “Enough!!”

         All three heads turned to the door, and swiftly Michael and Ailana knelt before the presence of the divine. A woman of striking white-blue eyes and long jet black hair strode into the room. She was flanked by two companions, a tall man with a goatee and brown eyes and an angel dressed in modest black and his eyes a cold steel like gray. Both men wore their hair shoulder length, the angel taking his into a ponytail. The bearded man and the woman of divine both wore regal looking white robes. Rathiel stood in defiance with a scowl on his face. When the three reached the altar, instead of kneeling to cross the altar, the angel and man turned toward the woman and knelt, giving the sign of the cross and then rose to join Rathiel, Ailana, and Michael, where they immediately knelt again. Rathiel’s sneer grew wider as he said, “Jesus and Metatron. Companions of the Holy Mother both yet you still feel the need to kneel in her presence?”

         Michael’s head snapped up as he glared at Rathiel, “Silence, Rathiel!”

         “No,” the Holy Mother said taking a step towards the defiant angel, “Let him speak.”

         Rathiel bowed his head in thanks before continuing, “I ask of you, why are you here?”

         Jaisa smiled, “Rathiel, I heard the bickering you and the War-Bringer entangled yourselves in. Tell me, if I am a slave to prediction, then what prediction caused me to create the Multiverse? To create the angels? To create Adam?”

         Rathiel chuckled, “We don’t call you ‘The Holy Mother’ for just any reason.”

         “Explain,” Jaisa said gently.

         “A mother’s job is to create life and then protect the life they create,” Rathiel said as if he was talking to a child, “It’s a matter of scale. Where a human or an angelic mother may have one or two offspring, you have the entire Multiverse as yours.”

         Jaisa thought for a second before nodding and smiling, “I’ve never thought of it quite like that, but yes. You speak the truth.” She turned Her attention to the others, “You may rise now.” As the others rose to their feet Jaisa’s face grew grim. She drew from nowhere a sword, regal and ceremonial in nature. She pointed the sword at Rathiel and before anyone could say anything the power of God flowed through the sword from the tips of Jaisa’s fingers, reminding everyone that She was God. The power struck Rathiel in the chest and he screamed in agony. His wings, forced to unfurl, changed color. The white of his feathers grew dark as night. His robe turned from the white of the New-Tried to the black of the Fallen. Pain shot through him, unimaginable pain that few would live if they were mortal. The spell ceased, and Rathiel finally slumped to his knees in forced submission. But it was too late as Jaisa looked upon him scornfully, “Your thinking I was powerless against an angel of my design was what caused this turn. Your mockery of my Son sealed your fate. Your transgressions against me and my kind do not deserve the Pit of Hell where the traitor himself lies. However, I believe a lesson in humility may be in order. I have stripped you of your powers, not your immortality. You will go to the Material Plane as a Fallen, but you will live among the humans as a human.

         “I will release you when I deem you have learnt humility,” Jaisa said with a touch of sadistic glee that made everyone else in the room gasp slightly, “Don’t you think that’s fair? Come Metatron, Son, we’re through here.”

         As Jaisa gathered her two companions and turned toward the door Rathiel painfully stood. He reached for Jaisa and screamed, “A cruse be upon you for forcing me to join the Fallen! For in the time of the greatest change since the Creation, I shall rise forth and destroy your greatest treasure. Innocence shall fall and give rise to the death of hope and the blackening of the light! Death will be in place of Life and the Fallen shall be in place of the Risen. I promise this in your presence, Jaisa, and I have every intention of going through with it! In your name I swear it, Amen!!”

         A mighty thunder clap echoed through the hall as Jaisa turned around and stared at the defiant Fallen, “How dare you! You issue a threat against me and yet you use my name to seal it? You disgust me, Fallen! If you carry this through I will show you no quarter! I will bind you to Satan himself!! Leave now, Fallen! Get out of my sight!!” And so with that Jaisa touched Rathiel and he disappeared, to where no one but Jaisa knew. Jaisa then wordlessly took her leave, companions in tow shooting worried glances between themselves.

         Once they had left Michael turned to Ailana, who had knelt in pain and agony and was crying. “Ailana!” Michael said as he rushed over to comfort the Angel of Fate, “Tell me what’s wrong!”

         After Ailana latched onto the broad frame of Michael and cried on his shoulder Ailana spoke softly, “My vision has begun, and there may be no way of stopping it.”

End of Prologue