Book 3

Hail, Light! Holy, radiant Light, firstborn of Heaven, or of the Eternal beam. Can I even try to praise you without messing it up? God is light, after all. And light has always existed, untouched, pure.

Or should I say, pure, ethereal stream? Who can even tell where it comes from? Before the sun, before the Heavens, you were there. And when God spoke, you wrapped the rising world - dark, deep waters won from the formless void - like a cozy blanket.

I’m visiting you again, bolder now. I escaped the Stygian pool, though I was stuck there a while. During my flight through total and middle darkness, I sang songs - not like Orpheus - of Chaos and eternal Night.

The heavenly Muse taught me to descend into the dark and climb back up, even though it’s tough. I’m safe with you now, feeling your powerful light. But you don’t look at me. My eyes roll around, searching for your piercing ray, but find no dawn.

A thick, calm darkness has extinguished them, or a hazy veil has covered them.

Still, I wander where the Muses hang out - clear springs, shady groves, sunny hills - struck with love for sacred song. Especially you, Zion, and the flowery brooks beneath you, washing your hallow’d feet, warbling as they flow.

I visit you every night and sometimes remember those others, equal to me in fate. If only I had their fame! Your command, that Man should find grace...

Blind Thamyris, and blind Maeonides, Tiresias, and Phineus, old prophets - feed on thoughts that move freely, creating harmonious numbers. Like a bird sings in the dark, hidden in the shadows, creating its nightly song.

Seasons come and go, but day, or the sweet approach of evening or morning, or the sight of spring flowers or summer roses, or flocks, or herds, or a human face - doesn’t return to me. Instead, a cloud, an ever-lasting darkness surrounds me.

Cut off from the cheerful ways of humans, I’m presented with a blank page - nature’s work expunged and erased, wisdom completely shut out.

So much the more, celestial Light, shine inward, and illuminate my mind with all your power. Purge and disperse all the mist from there, so I can see and tell of things invisible to mortal sight.

Now, the Almighty Father, from above, from the pure empyrean where he sits high on his throne, bent down to look at his own works and theirs. All the Sanctities of Heaven stood thick as stars, receiving beatitude beyond words. On his right, the radiant image of his glory sat - his only son.

On earth, he first beheld our two first parents, the only two of humankind, happily placed in the garden, reaping immortal fruits of joy and love - uninterrupted joy, unrivall’d love, in blissful solitude.

Then he surveyed Hell and the gulf between, and Satan was there, coasting the wall of Heaven on this side of Night, in the murky air, sublime, and ready now to stoop with weary wings and willing feet onto the bare outside of this world, which seemed like firm land without a firmament, unsure whether it was in the ocean or in the air.

God, looking down from his incredible view - past, present, future, all laid out - spoke to his only Son. "Hey," he said.

"Do you see how mad our Adversary is? Nothing can hold him back - not the boundaries of Hell, not the chains piled on him, not even the huge, empty abyss. He’s bent on revenge, and it’s gonna blow up in his face."

And now, breaking free from everything, he’s flying towards Heaven, right into the light, heading for the newly created world and the humans there. He’s gonna try to destroy them, or even worse, trick them. And he will trick them.

They’ll listen to his lies and easily break the only rule, the only promise of their loyalty. They’ll fall, and so will their descendants. But whose fault is it? Only his. Ungrateful. I gave him everything.

I made him just and right, more than enough to stand on his own, even though he was free to fall.

That’s how I created all the heavenly Powers and Spirits - those who stood, and those who failed. They stood freely, and they fell freely. If they hadn’t been free, how could they have proven their sincere loyalty, their constant faith, or their love? It wouldn’t have been real.

How could I have enjoyed obedience that was just a matter of necessity, not a choice? They were created free, as they had a right to be. They can’t blame me, or their creation, or their fate. It wasn't predestination ruling them - it was their own choices. They decided to rebel.

If I knew they would, that doesn’t mean I caused it. Their fall would have been certain even if I hadn’t known.

Without any push or shadow of fate, without anything I had immutably foreseen, they trespassed. They are the authors of their own decisions, both what they judge and what they choose. That’s how I made them - free. And free they must remain, until they trap themselves.

Otherwise, I would have to change their nature, and revoke the unchanging, eternal decree that guarantees their freedom. They chose their own downfall.

The first group fell by their own suggestion, tempting themselves, corrupting themselves. But Man will find grace. The other won't. Through Heaven and Earth, my glory will shine - in mercy and justice. But Mercy will be brightest, first and last.

As God spoke, an amazing fragrance filled all of Heaven. The blessed Spirits felt a joy they’d never known. The Son of God was more glorious than ever before - all his Father shone through him. Divine compassion was visible on his face, endless love, and boundless grace.

And he spoke to his Father: "Father, your final word - that Man should find grace - was so amazing. Heaven and Earth will praise you endlessly, with countless hymns and sacred songs that will surround your throne forever. You are eternally blessed."

If humanity is finally gone, if my creation - my youngest, dearest son - falls, tricked and messed up by his own mistakes? Nah, that’s not happening. That can’t be your plan, Father, you who judge everything fairly. Or will the Adversary win? Will he ruin everything you’re about?

Will he get revenge, making your goodness worthless? Will he drag the whole world to Hell, because of him? Or will you just erase your creation, undo what you made for your own glory? Then your goodness and greatness would be questioned and cursed, defenseless.

The great Creator answered, "My son, the one my soul loves most, the son of my heart, my only one. You’re speaking my thoughts, reflecting my eternal purpose. Humanity won’t be totally lost - but salvation is available to those who want it."

Not through their own will, but through grace freely given by me. I’ll renew their lost powers, even though they’re trapped by sin and crazy desires. I’ll lift them up, and they’ll stand strong against their enemy again.

They’ll see how fragile they are, and they’ll owe all their rescue to me, to no one else.

I’ve chosen some with special grace, set apart from the rest - that’s my choice. The rest will hear my call, and they'll be warned about their sinful state, and they’ll find grace to calm my anger. I’ll clear their minds, soften their hearts, and help them pray, repent, and obey.

Even if they try with sincere intention, I won't ignore them. I'll listen, and my eyes won't be closed. I’ll put Conscience within them - my guide. If they listen to him, they'll gain light after light, and they'll reach the end safely, if they persevere.

This patience, this grace - those who ignore and mock it will never taste it. They’ll become even harder, even more blind, stumbling and falling deeper. I'm excluding only those who reject me.

But it’s not over yet. Humanity disobeys, breaks their loyalty, and sins against the authority of Heaven. They’re trying to be God, losing everything, and have nothing left to pay for their betrayal but destruction.

They, and all their descendants, must die - they must die, or justice must be served. Unless someone else, equally willing and able, pays the price - death for death.

"Tell me, heavenly powers," the Creator asked, "where can we find such love? Who of you will become mortal to redeem humanity's mortal crime and save the unjust?" Does all of Heaven hold such dear charity?

He asked, but the heavenly choir was silent. There was silence in Heaven. No one appeared on humanity's behalf - no patron, no intercessor. No one dared to take the deadly punishment and pay the ransom.

And humanity would have been lost - doomed to death and Hell - if not for the Son of God, in whom the fullness of divine love dwells. He renewed his mediation.

Dad, your word stands. Humans will find grace. And if grace doesn’t find a way - the quickest of your messengers - to reach every single creature, to visit everyone without being asked or sought, what’s the point? It’s a win for humanity that she’s coming.

When we’re dead in our sins, totally lost, we can’t find our own forgiveness, can’t offer anything good enough. I’m here: I offer my life for his, take the anger meant for him. Consider me human; I'll leave your side, give up this glory, and die willingly. Let Death unleash his worst on me.

I won't be defeated for long. You’ve given me eternal life; I live because of you. Even though I’m giving myself to Death, and it’s my due, everything that can die in me won’t be left to rot in the grave. You won’t let my pure soul be consumed by corruption.

I’ll rise victorious, conquer my conqueror, and strip him of his bragging rights. Death will feel Death's sting, humbled and powerless. I’ll soar through the air in triumph, dragging Hell captive - take that, Hell! - and show the powers of darkness bound.

You'll smile down from Heaven, pleased to see me destroy all my enemies, Death last, and feed the grave with his carcass. Then, with the countless I’ll save, I’ll enter Heaven, long absent, and return, Dad, to see your face - no more anger there, just peace and reconciliation.

Wrath will be gone forever, replaced by joy in your presence.

His words ended, but his gentle expression spoke volumes - immortal love for mortal people, a filial obedience that shone brighter than anything. A willing sacrifice, he waits for your will.

Awe swept through Heaven - what did this mean? Where was this heading? But then the Almighty replied:

"Oh, you, the only peace found for humanity under wrath, my sole delight! You know how dear all my creations are to me, and humans are no exception, even though they were made last."

I’ll spare you from my side, from my right hand, to save them - to save the entire human race, even though losing you hurts. You, who can redeem them alone, join their nature to yours. Become human among humans on Earth, made flesh from a virgin’s seed when the time is right, by a miracle.

Be the head of all mankind, though Adam’s son. Just as Adam’s sin destroyed all humans, so you, like a second root, will restore as many as can be restored - none without you.

His crime makes all his sons guilty; your merit, passed down to them, will absolve those who reject their own righteous and unrighteous deeds, living in you, transplanted, and receiving new life from you.

So, it’s only right that human satisfies for human, be judged and die, and then rise, raising his brothers with him, ransomed by his own precious life.

"Heavenly love will triumph over hellish hate, giving to death, and dying to redeem what hellish hate so easily destroyed - and still destroys - in those who, when they could, reject grace."

You shouldn’t, by pretending to be human, make your own nature seem less important. You’re already equal to God, enjoying everything God enjoys, and yet you’re giving it all up to save a world from total destruction.

You’re recognized, not because of your family, but because of your goodness - far more than just being powerful or high up. Because you love more than you crave glory, your humility will raise you to this throne.

Here you’re going to live as a human, reign as both God and man, both Son of God and man, the universal King. I give you all power; reign forever, and claim your merits. Under your leadership, I’m reducing all thrones, princedoms, powers, and dominions.

Every knee will bow - in Heaven, on Earth, even in Hell.

When you appear gloriously from Heaven, and send the Arch-Angels to announce your judgment, the living and the dead from every age will rush to their doom. The sound will wake them from their sleep. Then, surrounded by your saints, you’re going to judge the wicked and the fallen angels.

They’re going to be condemned and sink beneath your sentence. Hell, completely full, will be sealed forever.

Meanwhile, the world will burn, and from the ashes, a new Heaven and Earth will rise - a place where the righteous will live, and after long trials, they’ll experience golden days filled with golden deeds, joy, peace, and fair truth.

Then, you’ll lay down your regal scepter, because it won't be needed anymore; God will be all in all.

But, all you Gods, adore him who dies to accomplish all this; adore my Son, and honor him as you honor me.

No sooner had the Almighty finished speaking, but all the Angels, with a shout louder than any sound imaginable - sweet like blessed voices - filled Heaven with joy. The eternal regions rang with jubilation and loud Hosannas.

They bowed reverently toward both thrones, casting their crowns woven with amarant and gold to the ground. Immortal amarant, a flower that once bloomed in Paradise by the tree of life, was removed to Heaven when humans sinned.

There it grows, shading the fount of life, where the river of bliss flows through Heaven, over Elysian flowers. The chosen spirits bind their radiant locks with beams and garlands that never fade.

Now, they cast the bright garlands on the pavement, which shone like a sea of jasper, and smiled with celestial roses. Then, crowned again, they took their golden harps - harps always tuned, glittering like quivers by their sides - and began their sacred song, waking raptures high.

Every voice joined in - such harmony exists in Heaven. They sang first to the Father, Omnipotent, Immutable, Immortal, Infinite, Eternal King - the Author of all being, the Fountain of light, invisible amidst the glorious brightness where he sits throned and inaccessible.

But when he shades the full blaze of his beams, and draws a radiant shrine around him, his skirts appear dark with excessive brightness, dazzling Heaven. Even the brightest Seraphim approach cautiously, veiling their eyes with their wings.

Next, they sang about creation - the very beginning. About the Begotten Son, the Divine Reflection, whose bright face, clear as a mirror, showed the Almighty Father. No creature could look upon the Father directly, but through him, they could. His glory shone through him.

The Father's Spirit rested on him.

He created Heaven and all the powers within it. And he threw down the arrogant, rebellious spirits. Remember that day? He didn’t hold back his Father’s thunder. His flaming chariot-wheels shook the very foundations of Heaven, as he drove over the defeated, scattered angels.

His forces cheered him on, hailing him as the Son of his Father’s might, sent to unleash fierce vengeance on his enemies. But not on humankind. No, the Father, full of mercy and grace, pitied them.

When his dear, only Son saw the Father’s intent - not to condemn fragile humans so harshly - he understood. To appease the Father’s wrath and end the conflict, he saw a path forward.

He recognized the balance between mercy and justice, even though it meant giving up his own bliss, second only to the Father. He offered himself to die for humankind’s sins.

Oh, the unexampled love! A love found nowhere else but in the divine! Hail, Son of God, Savior of Men! Your name will be the focus of my song forever. My heart will never forget your praise, nor will it ever separate your glory from your Father’s.

And so they sang in Heaven, beyond the starry sphere, spending their joyous hours in hymns of praise.

Meanwhile, on Earth - a dark, opaque globe - Satan walked. It seemed far away before, now it felt like an endless, desolate continent. Lost in darkness, exposed to the starless sky and ever-threatening storms of Chaos.

The sky was bleak, except for one side, which caught a faint reflection from the wall of Heaven, though far away. The air there was slightly calmer.

Here, the Fiend roamed the vast field, hunting for his prey. He was completely alone. No living or lifeless creature could be found.

Not yet. But soon, all sorts of fleeting, empty things would fly up from Earth - vapors of nothingness - when sin filled the works of humankind.

All those vain things, and all those who built their hopes of glory and lasting fame on those vain things - all those who sought happiness in this life or the next, finding only the reward of praise from men - would find their fit retribution here, as empty as their deeds.

All the unfinished works of nature, the monstrous or unkindly mixed creations, dissolved on Earth, would wander here in vain - until their final dissolution.

Not in the moon, as some have dreamed. Those silver fields are more likely inhabited by translated Saints, or spirits between the angelic and human kind.

Here came the messed-up kids and daughters, born First from the ancient world - those giants showed up. They pulled some major clout, even though it was kinda lame back then. Then came the builders of Babel on the plain of Sennaar, always chasing some pointless goal.

They’d build another Babel, no doubt, if they had the cash. Others just showed up solo. Like, one dude, Empedocles, jumped into Aetna’s flames to be seen as a god. Another, Cleombrotus, thought he could chill in Plato’s Elysium by diving into the sea.

Seriously, so many more, way too long to list - embryos, weirdos, hermits, and friars - white, black, and gray, all decked out in their ridiculous stuff.

Here wander pilgrims, lost so far to find Him dead, who lives in Heaven. And those trying to guarantee Paradise, dying, they rock the robes of Dominick, or think they can sneak in disguised as Franciscans.

They cruise past the seven planets, past the fixed stars, and that crystalline sphere where the balance weighs everything - the wobble they talked about, the first movement. Now Saint Peter’s at Heaven’s gate, waiting with his keys.

And at the foot of Heaven they lift their feet, when suddenly a crazy crosswind from both coasts blows them sideways - ten thousand miles off course.

You see habits, hoods, and robes, their wearers tossed and fluttering into rags. Relics, beads, indulgences, pardons, bulls - just toys for the wind.

All this gets whipped up, flying way over the backside of the world, into a huge, empty space, later called The Paradise of Fools, unknown to most for a long time. Now, it’s deserted, no one around.

The Fiend found this dark world as he passed, wandering for ages, until finally a glimmer of light sped towards him. He sees it - a magnificent structure rising in stages, up to Heaven’s wall. At the top, even more amazing, a royal palace gate appears.

The frontispiece is diamond and gold, thick with sparkling gems - impossible to recreate on Earth, no matter how talented the artist.

These stairs were like the ones Jacob saw, where angels ascended and descended, bands of bright guardians, when he fled Esau to Padan-Aram, in the field of Luz, dreaming under the open sky and waking to cry, "This is the gate of Heaven!"

Each stair was mysterious, not always there, sometimes pulled up to Heaven, invisible. Beneath flowed a bright sea of jasper or liquid pearl, where anyone arriving from Earth, failing, would be carried by angels or fly over the lake, rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds.

The stairs would then be lowered - either to tempt the Fiend with an easy climb, or to worsen his exclusion from the doors of bliss. They faced directly against the gate, opening from beneath, right over Paradise.

A wide passage down to Earth - way wider than the ones over Mount Sion, or over the Promised Land to God so dear.

This was the way his angels went back and forth, on high command, and his eye watched with special care, from Paneas, the source of Jordan’s flood, to Beersaba, where the Holy Land meets Egypt and the Arabian shore. So wide the opening seemed, like the bounds set for the ocean wave and darkness.

Satan, from there, stood on the lower stair - the one he’d climbed using golden steps to reach Heaven's gate. He looked down, totally floored by the sudden view of the entire world.

It was like when a scout, after battling through dark, dangerous trails all night, finally reaches the top of a high hill just as the sun starts to peek over the horizon.

Suddenly, he sees a gorgeous, foreign land stretching out before him - or maybe a huge, famous city with glittering towers and spires, all bathed in sunlight. That’s the wonder that seized him, even after seeing Heaven. But way more than wonder, it was envy that hit him hard.

He looked around, and he could - he was so high above the dark canopy of night. From Libra to the distant, fluffy star of Andromeda, across the Atlantic - he surveyed everything. Then, from pole to pole, he took in the whole breadth of the world.

Without a second thought, he plunged downwards, shooting into the world’s first region. He effortlessly wound his way through the clear, marble air, surrounded by countless stars.

Those stars seemed distant, but close enough to be other worlds. Or maybe happy islands, like the legendary Hesperian gardens - fortunate fields, groves, and flowery valleys. How happy those islands were, he didn’t bother to find out.

Above it all, the golden sun shone, brighter than anything he's ever seen - it reminded him of Heaven. His gaze locked on it, and he changed course, heading through the calm, steady sky. It was hard to tell if he was going up, down, towards the center, or off to the side.

Far away from the common constellations, the great light source shone. It dispensed light from afar. They, as they moved in patterns that counted days, months, and years, turned towards its cheerful glow, or were turned by its gentle beam that warmed the entire universe.

Its power shot unseen, reaching even the deepest parts.

There, the Devil landed - a place unlike anything an astronomer might ever see, even through the most powerful telescope. It was beyond description, brighter than anything on Earth, metal or stone. It wasn’t all the same, but everything glowed with radiant light, like iron burning with fire.

Sometimes it looked like gold, sometimes like clear silver. If it was stone, it looked like carbuncles or chrysolite, rubies or topazes - like the twelve stones on Aaron’s breastplate, and one other stone, rarely seen anywhere else.

That stone, or one like it, is what philosophers have desperately sought for so long - in vain, even when they tried to bind the volatile Hermes or call up the shape-shifting Proteus from the sea, draining him through a limbeck back to his original form.

So, why wouldn't fields and regions here breathe forth pure Elixir, and rivers run with drinkable gold? After all, the arch-chemist sun, so far away, produces so many precious things here, mixing with earthly elements.

There, the Devil met matter unlike anything he’d ever seen - it dazzled him. His eyes swept across the endless expanse, finding no obstacle, no shadow, just endless sunshine. Like when the sun is highest at noon, shooting straight up and unable to cast a shadow from any object.

The air was so clear, it sharpened his vision, allowing him to see incredibly distant objects.

And that’s when he saw a glorious Angel standing there - the same one John had seen too.

His back was turned, but his radiance didnn't fade. A crown of golden light circled his head, and waves of brilliant hair flowed down his shoulders, like wings. He seemed lost in deep thought, or on a serious mission.

The impure Spirit felt a surge of hope, eager to find someone who could guide his flight to Paradise, the happy home of Man - our beginning of woe. But first, he needed a disguise, something to avoid danger or delays.

Suddenly, a young Cherub appeared. Not the most powerful, but his face held a celestial smile, and grace flowed through every limb. He looked the part, perfectly. His long hair curled around his cheeks, and he wore wings adorned with shimmering gold.

A sleek, speedy outfit hugged his form, and a silver wand pointed the way.

He didn’t approach silently. The Angel’s bright face turned, alerted by the sound. It was Arch-Angel Uriel, one of the seven who stand closest to God’s throne, ready to carry out his commands, his eyes scanning the heavens and the earth. Satan greeted him.

"Uriel," he began, "you are among the seven Spirits who stand in God’s glorious presence. You are the first to interpret his will throughout Heaven, where all his sons await your message."

"Surely, it’s by his decree that you’re here now, to visit this new creation and see all his wonderous works, especially Man - his chief delight and greatest favor. He ordained all this for him. I’m alone, wandering from the Cherubim choirs."

"Brightest Seraph," Uriel replied, "tell me, on which shining orb does Man reside? Or does he have no fixed place, free to dwell anywhere? I want to find him, to gaze upon him with secret admiration - on whom the Creator has bestowed worlds, and poured out his grace."

"So that, in him and all things, we may praise the universal Maker, who justly drove out his rebel foes to the deepest Hell, and to repair that loss, created this new, happy race of Men to serve him better. Wise are all his ways."

So spoke the false dissembler, unnoticed. For neither Man nor Angel can see hypocrisy - the only evil that moves unseen, except to God alone, through his permissive will, across Heaven and Earth.

And often, even when wisdom is alert, suspicion slumbers at wisdom’s gate, resigning her charge to simplicity, while goodness assumes no ill where no ill appears. This, for once, beguiled Uriel, even though he was regent of the sun and the sharpest-sighted Spirit in Heaven.

He answered the fraudulent impostor with straightforward honesty.

"Fair Angel, your desire to know the works of God, so that you may glorify the great Work-master, is not excessive or blameworthy, but rather merits praise. It’s admirable that you’re here, alone, from your empyreal mansion, to witness what some might only hear about in Heaven."

"For truly, all his works are wonderful, pleasant to know, and worthy of being remembered with delight. But what created mind can grasp their number, or the infinite wisdom that brought them forth, and hid their causes so deep?"

I watched as he spoke, and the shapeless mass - basically, everything this world’s made of - just piled up. Chaos heard him and went wild. But then, his voice calmed it, contained that endless, sprawling nothingness.

Then, with his second word, Darkness bolted. Light exploded, and order burst from the mess. The heavy elements - earth, water, air, fire - rushed to their places. And this heavenly essence, this quintessence, soared upward, spinning into a million different forms.

They rolled into spheres, becoming stars - like you see now - each with its own path, its own spot in the cosmos. Everything circled, building this whole universe.

Look down at that globe, the side facing us - it shines with reflected light from here. That’s Earth, home to humans. That light? That’s his day. Otherwise, like the other side of the planet, it would be all night. But there, that nearby moon - yeah, that’s the fair star opposite - steps in to help.

Every month, she circles through the sky, constantly fading and returning, showing her face with borrowed light, filling and emptying, to brighten the Earth. Her pale glow holds back the darkness.

That spot I’m pointing at? That’s Paradise, Adam’s place. Those towering trees? His garden. You can’t miss your way, and mine calls me elsewhere.

He said that, then turned. Satan, bowing low - the way higher spirits do in Heaven, where respect is everything - said goodbye. Then he shot toward Earth, hoping for a win. He plummeted down, taking a crazy, spiraling path. He didn’t stop until he landed on the peak of Niphates.