I & II

Book I

“And Grace so loved the world…”

I

“I tell you, in the name of he who has patronized this land; repent so that the kingdom of Havon will be saved!” 

The words echoed through the streets.  People walked by, paying the useless seer no attention, for he was not like a man.  No, he was something else.  He was a Moerlf—a cross breed between Man and Elf.  The race in which people hated, were discriminated against, and scorned. 

Even in being ignored, the Moerlf continued to speak.  “Our time has come!  The end is near!  I tell you only truth; for Grace hath revealed to me and only me:  Havon will be destroyed!”  

A lone a boy watched in curiosity, no, in fascination.  He was barely 15, and approaching the wonderful stage of acne in his life.  The boy was average height and had brown hair with bangs that came down just over his eyes.   His eyes were a fair blue as he looked towards the Moerlf.  His father had told him to move on, to do his chores quickly and intently.  But the Moerlf interested him.  And he never listened to his dad.  He and his dad were nothing alike anyway. 

For some reason the Moerlf’s message captured the boy.  And the seer had taken notice.  He looked directly at the boy.  “To those who will listen, be weary young one, for I am not one to be trusted.  Do you not know who I am?”  The boy nodded, simply acknowledging the question.  “But you listen anyway.  Will you not heed the truths I tell you?”  The boy stared back at the seer.  Truth was a compelling idea to even the 15 year old.  He nodded with a smile: the seer was going to tell him and only him truths, for no one else would listen.  “Then heed what I tell you.  Hear my voice ring true in your ears.  Then you must discern what I say to be truth or not:  it is only then that you will find your place, only then will you find your truths.  I have a vision from the Rock.  It has shown me what will be and what is to come.  I tell you this:  repentance must come from the heart and the heart of Havon must repent so that it may be saved from the One who hates this world.  Havon must accept the truth in its darkness before we all suffer eternal damnation on Havon!  These words will come to pass if the wrath of Grace is not fulfilled!…”

“Travis!”  The boy’s head flung towards the sound knowing exactly where and, more importantly, whom the voice was coming from.  He saw his father standing, waiting, with this foot tapping and a face reflecting impatience.  He looked back at the seer for a brief moment; the seer, though, had disappeared.  He then turned back and ran to his father. 

“What was so intriguing?”

“The seer.” he looked back again; still the moerlf was gone. 

“What seer?” his father hadn’t seen.

“Nothing, I was just seeing things.”  Travis walked beside his father looking back with curiosity every so often to see if the Moerlf was back prophesizing.  The Moerlf, though, was gone.

II

            A lone figure walked through the hallways of the massive castle of stone.  This was a castle that was made by none of the Fallen nor would the Fallen ever walk within its walls.  This castle was known as Castle de Havon.  The figure that now walked within Castle de Havon was taller than a Man and broader than a Dwarf and when in complete glory the figure would be 210 square feet.  He was a figure that had never had a reason to show itself.  He was an Archangel. 

When the Rock had created life among the lands it desired partnership.  So the Bread of Life created both Archangels and Man.  These two races were the first, both made to reflect Grace’s relational nature.  Man was made to rule over Havon; to tend and care over the gardens.  The Archangels were created to praise and exalt Grace solely for its glory. 

The Word though was perfect and could see into Man’s hearts.  Men were naturally emotional and lacked the presence to do all that was required.  Because of Grace, love was free.  Because of freedom, the race of Man was tempted by an Archangel that had began to praise and exalt himself over Grace.  In being tempted, Man partook of the forbidden bringing about the Fall of Man, the Archangel known as Luciphor, and those Archangels who chose to follow the one who would become Satan. 

Grace chose to continually yearn for his creation.  But Grace’s creation had changed through the fall.  Other Races came into being as Man began to adapt to its surroundings of the Fallen world of Havon.   Havon though, was equally being sought by Luciphor.  That was when the Archangels who remained became more then those who would worship and praise.   Their task evolved into being called to trust in Grace as they protected the barrier between Light and Darkness . 

            This lone figure that walked the halls of the Archangels capital, though, had grown tired of the Castle.  He had grown tired of Havon: the world that existed out of necessity.  Grace had made Havon so that Grace could share the greatest achievements and worst failures of creatures that resembled the Rock.  For Light needs the darkness to be light.  Without one; the other cannot exist.  But because of darkness Grace’s beloved had fallen into the hands of something far crueler than any other.  The Lord of the Demons, the Lord of the Darkness.  Since Darkness blinded creation’s eyes, Grace had been trying to set the creatures free from the deception.  Even if the Creatures did not disserve love, the Rock had created them so he pursued them. 

            This Archangel, Luscious Aramous, had gone through the histories slowly but surely reading every line as it appeared in the books kept in the Castle’s walls.  Luscious had been there when Luciphor and his followers fell.  Luscious Aramous could see it clearly as if it was happening in front of him in how those who fell complexions darkened.  He remembered his desire to be faithful to Grace so he continued to fight for the Light.

            Over the years, though, his desire had lessoned as he continually tried to speak to the Fallen so that they would listen.   Time and time again he had called out to the Races and time and time again the Races had turned away.   They constantly rejected Grace’s true teaching ever becoming less worthy, less loveable.   Still, Grace pursued.  

Far too many tears had fallen:  tears laced with golden light landed on the castle’s walls everyday as the Archangels above cried.  The walls shone now in painful golden brilliance as Grace had been rejected yet again, and again, and again.  Luscious, though, would stand by and watch no more.   He would bring about a day when the Archangels would no longer cry.  If Luscious Aramous had read correctly, in which he was sure he had, there would come a time where there would be no more Archangels to cry.  

I will give the Fallen a reason to come back to Grace.   Light will be consumed by the darkness.   Then, when they are consumed by the Evil that will reign, they will have no choice but to plead for the Light to return.

Luscious Aramous’ midnight stroll came to an end as he looked down on the lone altar at the pinnacle of what was known as the Great Hall.  The altar had been placed there for the Archangels to place their prayers upon as they were heard from the people who took the time to have faith.  This was the altar where the pure Archangels could take their pleas up to the Rock itself and in Grace’s greatest glory the prayers of the Fallen would be heard. 

Luscious lifted his wings just enough for the hilt of his sword to come into view where it was sheathed at his side.  He reached down and pulled the sword slowly and precisely from its sheath raising it upwards to the heavens above just as he had done every time before.  Thus far an Archangel’s sword had yet to shed Demon blood but had only scared them away from those with faith.  The Archangel’s sword had also never cut into his own skin. 

But that was then, Luscious Aramous would create the now. 

Luscious placed the sword down upon his wrist and began to cut through his skin.  Pain seeped into his being.  This, however, did not prevent him from cutting only deeper and deeper still.  The sword crept through the veins deeper to the tendons till he no longer could feel his hand.  He let the sword fall to his right as he turned his wrist over so that the wound faced down towards the altar.  Blood spilled on the pure altar thus letting impurity pollute the symbol in front of him.  As the blood seemed to seep down into the altar Luscious Aramous breathed one last prayer. 

“You are the Rock. Grace that is greater then all else, yet you cannot control your own people.  I have been faithful and I have prayed enough prayers for hundreds of lifetimes and I find no purpose in this.  This act will bring about a change in Havon that not even You will be able to cope with.  With this act I will meet the creator and controller of all Demons.  My actions may bring about greater Evil, but this Evil, I believe, will only bring about Your greater good.  I will bring balance back to the Fallen of Havon.” 

His words echoed throughout the hallway onto eternity.  Slowly, his life force faded away into oblivion.  He began to loose his focus as the hallway around him began to spin.   Luscious Aramous fell to his knees as his strength faded away.   As he focused his last remaining thoughts upon the altar he realized that his actions were irreversible.   The Archangel was experiencing a sensation that he never thought he would feel:  Luscious Aramous was dying.  Consciousness began to leave him as the room seemed to close down upon him as darkness overcame his being. 

*****

The Archangel Gabriel woke suddenly from the slumber he had needed from a long day under his Creator.  As his dreams of Grace left him the Archangel was overcome by a ceaseless emptiness of cold sorrow.   His mind instantly focused on Grace above every person praying for the Fallen knowing that yet another life had either been lost or another soul corrupted.  Now the emptiness only intensified.  As the cold sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, he remembered another time when he had felt such pain.       

The Rock had created Archangels purely to praise and to be messengers.  One of these Archangels became self consumed and in that act the Angel had realized life without Grace and had lusted for it.  In doing so the Angel had found a realm of Good the Rock had created merely out of creating Good.  Through creating something the Rock had created a possibility for the lack of that something or an opposite of that something.  This Angel had found that opposite:  Evil. 

A great battle was fought amongst Angels of Good and those of Evil.  The Archangel Luciphor was banished by Grace and the heavenly realms along with those Angels who followed.  Thus a Balance was created that Grace controlled the heavens and his creation but Lucipher received the Fallen in their nature after the fall thus ruling over Havon.  It was the Balance; one that Grace had been trying to overcome for its glory for too long.

Until now.  The Balance had been broken. 

Gabriel though, was aware that although the Balance had been broken it was not because of Grace, but by something else.  The Archangel, with his wide, white wings, flew through the air to the one place he feared was desecrated.  With the wind of his wings the doors to the Great Hall flew open and he saw a fallen Archangel in front of the Altar of Prayers.  He quickly was by the Archangel’s side bending down to see the fallen one’s needs.  What he saw was exactly what he had feared. 

Luscious Aramous, Archangel of worship, had cut his wrist to the bone with his own sword.  Gabriel’s tears fell down into the open wound of Luscious.  He looked up trying to make sense of this Archangel’s actions only to see blood seeping down through the grains of the wood that constructed the Altar.  The Altar of Prayers had been desecrated.  The Archangels would no longer be able to be mediators.  Where they once would bring the prayers of the faithful up to Heaven to place they now would no longer be a part of the Heavenly, but another fallen race lost to Havon.  Their purpose, if nothing else, was going to change.  Gabriel then looked down once more to see the bloodied ground under Luscious’s body.  Luscious body, though, was gone.

Then Gabriel remembered the Scriptures, the Histories that recorded the way Grace interacted with its creation throughout all of it’s existence.  The Histories recorded the fall of Man and the Archangels demise.  It also prophesized:  “An Archangel of Light will fall away from it’s meaning and find meaning beyond what I, the Rock, hath meant for my creation.”  For so long the Archangels knew this to be the already fallen Archangel Luciphor.  “Darkness will then break what I, Grace, hath given my own.  But even then, all will not be lost.” 

Gabriel thought quickly, trying to make sense of the Scripture in light of what Luscious had just done.   Was it possible the Archangels had been wrong?  Could it be possible the first fall had nothing to do with this prophecy?   Gabriel then realized a horror he didn’t want to accept.  If, in fact, Luscious Aramous had brought the first part of the passage true, then the second part of the promise was surely coming just as sure as Luscious actions had already been committed.  Darkness would be coming upon the land of Havon.   

*****

            Luscious Aramous awoke in a foreign hall eerily similar to the one he had just spilled blood in.  He was now on his knees in the hall that just preceded the Great Hall in Castle de Havon.  For a moment, Luscious began to wonder if he had not completed the action he had meant to.   Had he been dreaming?  

As he tried to grasp reality he looked down at his wrist which was still cut deep down just as his sword had done.  If this was still his dream then he could will himself to do things he may not regularly do.  He tried to stand only to find to his surprise that all his limbs were working properly.  In standing he began to walk forward.  The sight he saw was the same, even the smell.  Everything but the feel.  Something about this dream was different, but still, he walked forward as if he was to relive the moment he had just experienced.  The doors at the end of the hallway that would lead him back to the Great Hall watched him as he came near. 

Waiting. 

As he approached, the doors crept open.  For a moment, he was afraid.  He tried to will himself out of this horrible nightmare only to be reminded of his actions.  He had willed this and with this realization an overwhelming sense of anxiety over came him. 

Had he misread the histories? 

No, he had read them clearly.  Nights upon nights he had read and read trying to formulate a clear action.  His action would change the course of Grace and It’s creation forever. 

Something spoke within him to continue to walk and like a puppet he did so.  His footsteps echoed in the hallway until the doors closed behind him.  He glanced back in mid-stride: Was this truly happening; had he just broken the Balance?  When his head turned back towards the font of the room he saw a replica of the altar that he had just let his blood fall upon.  He walked, slowly towards the new altar, ever hesitant of reaching it, but reaching it all the same.  He stood for a brief while, waiting.  Then, a thick red drop landed on his arm.  Luscious looked up to the ceiling as he saw more crimson bead up and fall down upon him and the altar in front of him.  Then, as if the levies broke, the red came down in steady streams. 

Thick red blood seeped into the altar just as it had done at Castle De Havon.  Following the streams a voice entered the room, pounding clear through to the heart of Luscious Aramous.  It was harshly low, more inaudible beats than any sort of pitch.  Somehow though, it comforted Luscious.  At first Luscious could not understand any words, but then, slowly, the words transformed into an audible, understandable language. 

“Luscious Aramous, I have heard your prayers at night.  I have watched you since the day you were created.  You are my son.”  A pause.  Luscious breathed in the atmosphere, knowing that from that second on he would feel more alive then he ever had before.  In death he would have life everlasting.  “Luscious Aramous, it is from this moment on that you will follow me.  You will serve me just as you have always done.”  A smile came to Luscious’ lips.  Finally, a purpose higher then being a mere protector.  He would follow his Father.  “Do you know what you have done?”  The question was unexpected and lay in the air waiting for the Archangel’s response.

“Only partially.  I know what I was doing and what it symbolized.”  Silence.  As if Luscious was left to put the puzzle together.  A puzzle that had already formed whether he liked it or not.  Or, maybe more accurately, whether he realized it or not. 

“Luscious Aramous, you have brought about a change in the Balance.  And in that change you will serve me as you bring about the dominance of my will in Havon.”  The Balance.  Luscious had interpreted correctly.  He was not in the Castle De Havon at all, but Luciphor’s parallel, his deceit.

Realities came together and tore apart all in seconds of each other.  The parallel of Castle De Havon imploded upon itself over and through Luscious Aramous till all that was left was the ground below Lucious’ feet.  Beyond the ground, Luscious found himself in a great expanse of void and space separate from all that Luscious had ever known and removed of all he had ever been.  The castle that had been surrounding him was destroyed by the realization of Luciphor as truth was revealed. 

In front of Luscious now stood something completely different then the altar or the presence that was before.  It had no form, but Luscious could see it.  It had no smell, but Luscious resented the smell.  It had no face, but Luscious was afraid of it.  The presence spoke with a different voice than he had before.  This voice was no longer a deep baritone but spoke with a thousand different voices from the dead and gone.  The voice then somehow correlated into one whisper of complete Evil. 

“Will you serve me even in realizing what you have done?” 

Luscious focused upon the presence that wasn’t really there, the smell that overwhelmed him, and the face that he wanted to cower away from.  It was all too late for cowering.  He spoke his words.  “In my action I have confirmed service.”

“Luscious Aramous is no more.  From hence forth you will be known as Luscious, Commander of the Demons, Son of Luciphor.  You will command my armies and you will be praised for my sake!”