Book 6

All night, the fearless Angel, unchased, made his way across Heaven’s vast plains. Then, dawn arrived. The circling Hours woke, and with a rosy touch, they unlocked the gates of light. There’s a cave within God’s mountain, close to his throne.

Inside, light and darkness constantly shift, creating a cycle, like day and night. Light bursts forth, and darkness slips in through the other door, a gentle exchange. Even though it seems like twilight here, darkness could easily be mistaken for night.

Now, the dawn appeared, dazzling, as if Heaven itself was draped in gold. Night vanished, shot through with brilliant beams. Suddenly, the plain filled with a massive army - bright squadrons, chariots, and warriors with flaming weapons and fiery steeds, reflecting light upon light.

He saw war - war was coming. He already knew the news he’s been sent to report. Gladly, he joined the friendly Powers, who welcomed him with loud cheers. One out of so many myriads had returned, not lost. They led him up the sacred hill, praising him, and presented him before the supreme seat.

Then, a voice, from within a golden cloud, spoke softly.

"Servant of God. Well done! You’re a champion, fighting alone against a huge, rebellious crowd. You defended the cause of truth with words stronger than their weapons. You’re bearing universal shame - far worse than violence."

All you cared about was being approved by God, even if the world thought you were wrong. Now, the easier victory awaits, with this host of friends. Return to your enemies, more glorious than when you were scorned.

Subdue them by force - they refuse reason, refuse the rightful King, Messiah, who reigns by merit. Go, Michael, prince of the heavenly armies! And you, Gabriel, next in military strength, lead forth my sons to battle.

Lead my armed Saints, by the thousands and millions, ready for fight, equal in number to that Godless crew! Fearlessly assault them with fire and weapons.

"Pursue them to the brow of Heaven, drive them out from God and bliss, into their place of punishment, the gulf of Tartarus, which opens wide with fiery chaos to receive their fall."

So spoke the Sovereign Voice, and the hill began to darken. Smoke rolled in dusky wreaths, reluctant flames - a sign of awakened wrath. The loud, ethereal trumpet sounded from high above. At that command, the militant Powers, standing for Heaven, joined together in an unstoppable union.

They moved forward in silence, their bright legions marching to the sound of inspiring music, breathing heroic fire into adventurous deeds, led by their God-like leaders, for God and his Messiah.

They moved forward, firm and unyielding. No hill, no valley, no forest, no stream divided their perfect ranks. They marched high above the ground, and the still air carried them effortlessly, like when all the birds, in perfect formation, were summoned over Eden to receive their names.

So, they marched across vast stretches of Heaven, province after province. Ten times the length of this...

Finally, way off in the north, a fiery zone appeared - like, a whole horizon of it. It stretched out, a chaotic mess, and as we got closer, it was clear: a forest of spears, a mountain of helmets, and shields covered in boastful designs.

It was the demonic army of Satan, moving fast, totally convinced they’d conquer God’s mountain and put their boss, the jealous and arrogant Envy, on the throne. But they were so wrong.

It was weird to see angels fighting angels, right? Like, these were beings who usually hung out together, celebrating with joy and love, all children of the same Father. But the battle cry ripped through the air, and suddenly, everything changed.

In the center, towering above everyone, was Satan. He sat in his blazing chariot, a divine idol surrounded by flaming Cherubim and golden shields. He leaped from his throne - there was barely any space left between the armies - and stood face to face with them, a terrifying sight.

Satan, armed in gold and adamant, strode forward. Abdiel, one of the strongest angels, couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Seriously?" he thought.

"How can something so much like God still exist, when faith and reality are so messed up?"

He wondered if strength and power would fail too, if virtue had already crumbled.

"Why would strength fail when the Almighty is on my side?"

he thought. He’d already tested Satan's logic and found it to be totally off. It was only right that the one who won the argument should also win the fight. Even though this battle was brutal and unfair, it was logical that reason would be overcome by force.

So, Abdiel stepped forward, meeting Satan halfway, and defying him with a fearless look.

"Seriously? You thought you could just waltz up to God’s throne without a fight?" Abdiel challenged. " You thought you could take God’s side, using just your power or your words? Fool!"

"You have no idea how weak you are against the all-powerful God, who could raise endless armies from the smallest things to crush you, or simply end you with one hand."

He paused, then added, "But you see, not everyone’s on your train. There are those who believe in God, even if it’s not obvious when I'm the only one who disagrees with you. He gestured to the few angels standing with him. " Now you see how few can be right when thousands are wrong."

Satan, with a scornful glance, snapped back, Bad timing, Angel! You’re just in the way of my revenge. He sneered. You’re the first to return from hiding to get what you deserve. This is just a warm-up for my right hand.

"He reminded Abdiel that he’d dared to challenge a third of the gods in a meeting, trying to question their power. "

"While they feel the power of God within them, they’re not letting anyone claim omnipotence."

You’re way ahead of your crew, super ambitious to win something from me, to show off your success and trash the rest. Seriously? This pause is just to stop you from bragging, to let you know... I used to think Liberty and Heaven were the same thing.

But now I see most people would rather just serve, like trained-up spirits, partying and singing! You’re basically weaponizing that heavenly music, pitting servitude against freedom, and we’re about to see how that plays out.

Abdiel replied, all serious, "Apostate! You’re still messing up, and you always will. You’re twisting the truth, calling it servitude to serve who God or Nature has appointed. They both say the same thing: whoever rules is the best, and better than those they govern. asterisk"

"That’sasterisk servitude - serving someone foolish or someone who’s rebelled against someone better. You’re not free either, you’re trapped by yourself! And you dare to criticize our service?"

"Reign in Hell, your kingdom," he snapped.

"Let me serve in Heaven, obeying God and his divine commands, because I’m worthy. You’re expecting chains in Hell, not ruling anything."

Then, he turned back, as he’d been asked to do, and slammed a noble blow onto Satan’s crest. It was so fast, like a storm, that even his shield couldn’t block it. Satan reeled back ten huge paces. The tenth landed him on his knees, his massive spear barely stopping him from falling.

It was like winds underground, or water forcing its way, had shoved a mountain from its place, half-sunk with all its pines.

Amazement gripped the rebel armies, but even greater rage surged as they saw their strongest warrior defeated. Joy and shouts filled our ranks, a sign of victory and a fierce desire for battle. Michael sounded the Archangel trumpet.

It echoed through Heaven, and the faithful armies shouted "Hosanna!"

The opposing legions didn't stand around gawking. They charged into the horrifying clash. Now, fury exploded, and the noise was unlike anything Heaven had ever heard. Armor clashed, and the wheels of brazen chariots raged. It was a terrifying din.

Fiery darts flew in flaming volleys, and both armies rushed together with devastating attacks and unstoppable rage.

Heaven reverberated. If Earth had been there, it would have shaken to its core. What else would you expect? Millions of fierce angels fought on either side, and even the weakest could control the elements, armed with the power of their entire region. How much more powerful was the army?

But the Eternal King, all-powerful, intervened from his strong hold in Heaven, overriding and limiting their power. Even though the legions seemed countless, each armed hand was a legion.

Each warrior was a leader, knowing when to advance, retreat, or turn the tide of battle, opening and closing the lines of grim war.

There was no thought of flight, no sign of fear. Each warrior relied on their own strength, believing the moment’s victory lay in their arm.

Epic stuff went down, seriously. It was a massive war, all over the place. Sometimes they clashed on solid ground, other times they soared through the air, setting the whole sky on fire. For a long time, it was a total stalemate.

But Satan, who was seriously flexing his power that day - like, no one could even touch him - was tearing through the ranks of the Seraphim. Michael was straight-up demolishing squads with his sword.

He swung his massive, two-handed blade, and the edge came down like a wrecking ball. It was insane destruction.

Satan saw Michael’s attack and raced to meet it, holding up his shield - a giant orb of unbreakable adamant. It was huge, like a planet.

The great Arch-Angel paused, hoping to finally crush the enemy and end this civil war in Heaven. With a fierce glare and burning face, he started talking.

"You, the author of evil - you were nameless in Heaven until now! But look at the chaos you’re causing! These acts of hatred are disgusting, especially to yourself and your followers. How have you disturbed Heaven’s peace and brought misery into the world?"

"You’d create misery even if it didn’t exist! How have you poisoned thousands, who were once good and faithful, now proven false? Don’t think you can disrupt Heaven's rest. Heaven will cast you out from her boundaries!"

Heaven, the place of pure bliss, cannot tolerate violence and war. Go, take your evil and your offspring to Hell - the place of suffering! You and your crew will deal with endless fights before my sword brings your doom, or some other punishment from God, bringing even more pain.

"That’s what the Prince of Angels said."

Then Satan responded, "Don’t think you can scare me with empty threats when you can’t defeat me with action. Have you made even the smallest of these angels retreat? Or if they fall, do they not rise again, stronger than before?"

"It would be easier to defeat me than to hope you can chase me away with threats. This isn't the end of the fight - this is the fight for glory! We intend to win, even if we turn this Heaven into Hell. I’ll live here freely, if not to rule."

"Bring on your full power, and call on the Almighty to help you," Satan continued.

"I'm not running; I’m seeking you out."

They stopped talking and got ready to fight - it was unbelievable. How can anyone, even an angel, describe the power on display, or compare it to anything on Earth, to lift the imagination to such heights?

They seemed like gods themselves, standing or moving, in their stature, motion, and arms - perfect to decide the fate of Heaven.

Their fiery swords flashed, and in the air, they created horrifying circles. Their shields blazed like two suns, while everyone stood in stunned horror. The angelic throng quickly retreated, leaving a huge, unsafe field caught in the wind of the chaos.

If the constellations were to clash - if two planets, fueled by fierce opposition, were to collide in the sky - it would be a smaller version of what was happening now.

Together, with almighty power surging, they aimed one blow. A single strike that would decide everything - no need for a repeat. It wasn’t about raw power; the odds seemed even. But Michael’s sword, forged in God’s armoury, was unlike anything else. No steel could resist that edge.

It met Satan’s sword with a force that sliced clean through, then spun back, plunging deep into his side.

Satan finally felt pain. He writhed, twisting and contorting. The sword tore through him, a jagged, awful wound. But the ethereal substance of his being closed quickly, mending the gash.

Then, a stream of golden, shimmering fluid flowed from the wound - the kind celestial spirits bleed - staining his once-bright armour.

Immediately, countless angels rushed to his aid. They interposed themselves as shields, while others carried him back to his chariot, pulled away from the battlefield. He lay there, groaning in agony, humiliation, and rage. He wasn’t invincible.

His pride, once so immense, was shattered by such a crushing defeat, so far below his delusions of equaling God in power.

But he healed quickly. Spirits, living through every part of them, aren't as fragile as humans - no heart, head, liver, or lungs to fail. They can’t be killed by mortal wounds, just as the air can't be pierced. Their whole being is heart, mind, eyes, ears, intellect, and senses.

They can shape, color, and size themselves as they please, becoming solid or dissolving into nothingness.

Meanwhile, other battles raged, deserving of remembrance. Gabriel fought with fierce determination, piercing the deep ranks of Moloch, the furious king. Moloch defied him, threatening to drag him down by his chariot wheels, and blaspheming against the Holy One of Heaven.

But he was cleaved in two, his arms shattered, and he fled bellowing in pain.

On each wing, Uriel and Raphael, his vaunting foes, though huge and armored in diamond, vanquished Adramelech and Asmadai, two powerful Thrones who dared to think themselves less than Gods.

They learned a harsh lesson about their arrogance, their bodies mangled by ghastly wounds through plate and mail.

Abdiel didn't hold back either, redoubling his attacks on the atheistic crew, scorching and blasting Ariel, Arioch, and Ramiel. He overthrew them all. I could list thousands more names, but those elect angels, content with their fame in Heaven, don’t seek the praise of humans.

The others, though powerful and eager for renown, were banished from Heaven and lost to sacred memory by decree. Let them dwell in dark oblivion, nameless. Strength divorced from truth and justice deserves nothing but scorn and shame, yet it vainly strives for glory through infamy.

Eternal silence is their deserved fate.

And now, with their leader defeated, the battle shifted. The ranks broke, a chaotic mess. The ground was strewn with shattered armour, overturned chariots, and fiery-foaming steeds. Those that remained recoiled, the remaining Satanic forces barely holding a defense, pale with fear.

Then first with fear surprised, and a jolt of pain, We fled, totally embarrassed, by the sin of disobedience. Before that moment, we weren't scared, couldn't run, felt no pain.

But the Saints - untouchable - stood strong, a solid wall, Invulnerable, completely armored. Their innocence gave them a huge advantage over their enemies. They hadn't sinned. They hadn’t disobeyed. They fought tirelessly, unharmed. Even when thrown back by force, they weren’t hurt.

Now Night began her journey across the sky, Bringing darkness - a welcome break - and silence to the awful war. Both sides retreated under her cloudy cover, Victors and vanquished alike.

Michael and his Angels encamped on the battlefield, Setting up guard with shining, angelic fires. Satan and his rebellious crew disappeared, Far into the darkness, restless and drained. He called his leaders to a nighttime council, And, without a flicker of doubt, began to speak.

"Okay, we’re tested now, proven in battle, Not meant to be defeated. Comrades, we’re not just fighting for freedom - that’s basic. We’re fighting for honor, power, glory, and respect. We held our own for one day. Why not forever?"

Heaven’s Lord sent his strongest forces against us, And thought they’d be enough to crush us. But he was wrong. So, he’s not all-knowing, is he? It’s true, we were a little outmatched, And felt some pain - something new to us.

But now we know it's nothing, We’re in our perfect, heavenly form - Impossible to injure, immortal. Even when wounded, the wounds close quickly, Healed by our own power.

So, this evil is small - easy to fix. Maybe stronger weapons, More violent attacks, when we fight next, Will help us, and hurt our enemies even more. Or at least even the odds.

If there’s some hidden reason they were stronger, While we can keep our minds sharp, Investigation and discussion will reveal it.

He sat. Then Nisroch, the greatest of the Principalities, Stood up - he looked like he’d escaped a brutal fight, His arms torn, his face grim.

"Deliverer from new rulers, leader to freedom - Enjoying our rights as Gods - but it’s tough, honestly. It’s too hard for Gods to fight in pain, Against enemies who feel nothing, are impassive. That’s where ruin begins. What good is courage or strength, When it’s crushed by pain?"

Pain is the worst evil - it destroys everything. Whoever can invent a way to attack Our still-uninjured enemies, or protect ourselves, Deserves all the thanks we owe for our freedom. Satan, looking calm, replied,

"That’s not exactly new. I have a plan for that."

Who’s looking at this amazing world, right? This awesome space where we stand, this huge continent of Heaven, decked out with plants, fruit, flowers, jewels, and gold? Seriously, does anyone even think about where all this beauty comes from?

Deep, dark stuff, crude materials, fiery fumes...until touched by Heaven’s light, and shaped into something gorgeous, opening up to the light.

These raw beginnings, the deep earth will give us - pregnant with infernal fire. We’ll funnel it into long, round machines. We’ll pack it tight, then ignite it. Boom! It’s gonna launch far, with a massive roar, right into the faces of our enemies.

It’s gonna smash and destroy everything in its path. They’re gonna think we’ve taken away the Thunderer’s ultimate weapon.

It won't take long, I promise. Before sunrise, we're done. Seriously, shake it off, ditch the fear. Combine strength and smarts. Nothing's impossible.

He finished speaking, and their spirits lifted. They were all amazed by the invention. Everyone wished they’d thought of it first. It seemed so simple once you found it, even though most would have thought it impossible.

But, maybe someday, if people get really mean, some genius with evil intentions, inspired by the devil, could create something like this to punish humanity, obsessed with war and slaughter.

Immediately, they jumped into action. No arguing, just a ton of hands ready to work. In a flash, they dug into the celestial ground and saw the raw beginnings of nature - sulphurous and nitrous foam. They mixed it, experimented with it, and carefully crafted it into black powder, storing it away.

They dug up veins of minerals and stone - like Earth has guts - to build their machines and their projectiles. They found a specific type of reed that would ignite with just a touch.

All through the night, they worked in secret, quietly and efficiently.

When morning finally arrived, the victorious angels rose to arms. The trumpets blared the call to battle. They stood ready in golden armor, a shining host. Others surveyed the hills and scouted the coast, searching for the enemy. They spotted them moving nearby, in a slow but steady formation.

Zophiel, the fastest of the Cherubim, flew through the air and shouted, "Warriors, arm yourselves! The enemy is close! We thought they’d fled, but they’ll give us a chase today! Don’t fear their retreat! I see a thick cloud in their face - a grim determination and confidence!"

"Let each warrior secure his armor and fasten his helmet. Grip your shield tight! This day will bring more than a drizzle; it's going to be a storm of fire-tipped arrows!"

He warned them, they realized it, and quickly, without any issues, they got ready. Immediately, without a fuss, they sounded the alarm and moved forward, a battle line. But wait! Not far off, moving slowly, the enemy approached.

Huge and monstrous, in a boxy formation, he brought his terrifying machinery. It was surrounded by deep squadrons of shadowy figures, all to hide the trick.

Both sides stopped for a moment, but suddenly Satan appeared at the front, and his voice boomed out.

"Vanguard, spread out to the right and left so everyone can see who hates us. Let them see how we seek peace and are ready to receive them with open arms if they accept our offer. Don't back down or turn away! But I’m not sure; anyway, Heaven, witness this!"

"While we do our part, you who were assigned, briefly explain what we’re offering, and make sure everyone can hear!"

He finished with sarcastic words, barely done, when the lines split to the right and left, retreating to the flanks. This revealed something new and strange to our eyes: a triple row of pillars, set on wheels.

They looked like pillars, or hollowed-out bodies made of oak or fir, with branches cut off, felled from the woods or mountains. Brass, iron, and stone made up their mouths, which gaped open in a hideous way, pretending to offer peace.

Behind each pillar stood a Seraph, waving a reed tipped with fire. We stood there, suspended, amused by our own thoughts. But not for long. Suddenly, all the reeds extended and were applied to a small opening with incredible precision.

Immediately, flames erupted, quickly covered by smoke. All of Heaven seemed to disappear. From those deep-throated engines, a roar erupted, shaking the air with an outrageous noise. It tore through the atmosphere, spewing forth a devilish mess - chained thunderbolts and hail of iron globes.

These struck the victorious host with such fury that anyone hit couldn’t stand, even if they were as strong as rocks. They fell by the thousands, Angel rolling over Arch-Angel.

They could have easily evaded the attack as spirits, by shrinking or disappearing. But now, a foul dissipation followed, forcing a panicked retreat. It didn’t help to relax their tight formations. What should they do?

If they charged forward, they’d be repulsed and overthrown, becoming a laughingstock to their enemies.

In view stood another row of Seraphim, ready to unleash a second barrage of thunder. Retreating was even more abhorrent.

Satan observed their predicament and, in mockery, called out to his allies.

"Friends! Why didn’t these proud victors charge earlier? When we came to entertain them with an open front and arms - what more could we do? - we proposed terms of peace. But they changed their minds, scattered, and acted like they were dancing!"

"It was an extravagant and wild dance, maybe for joy of offered peace. But if we offered again, we’d force a quick result."

To this, Belial responded, in a similarly playful mood.

Leader! The terms we sent were serious, packed with meaning, and delivered with force. They definitely got everyone’s attention, and tripped up a lot of them. Anyone who wants to understand them needs to really get it, from start to finish.

If they don't, they're also showing us when our enemies are off track.

So they were totally clowning around, thinking they were gonna win big. They thought matching God’s power with their own inventions would be a total breeze, and they were straight-up mocking his thunder and his whole army.

They were in a bit of a bind for a while, but then rage kicked in, and they found weapons to fight back against this crazy mess.

(And check this out - God’s Angels are seriously powerful! Their weapons went flying, and they bolted toward the hills. Earth has this cool thing where you can find beauty in hills and valleys. They ran like lightning, loosening the ground as they went.

They ripped up the mountains, rocks, water, trees, and all, carrying them on their shoulders.

Amaze, be scared, and feel the terror! The rebel army couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw the bottom of the mountains turning upside down. Then they saw their own engines crushed under the weight of the mountains. They were invaded next, with huge cliffs falling on their heads.

Their armor actually made things worse, crushing them and bruising them. They were in so much pain, letting out a lot of sad groans. They struggled to get out, even though they were pure Spirits of light - now made gross by sin.

The rest copied them, ripping up the nearby hills. Hills crashed into hills, fighting with terrible shouts. They fought underground in dark shadows. What a racket! War seemed like a kid’s game compared to this chaos. Everything was falling apart, and Heaven was about to be destroyed.

But the Almighty Father, safe in his heavenly sanctuary, had foreseen this whole mess. He allowed it all, planning to honor his chosen Son, avenge him against his enemies, and show that all power had been given to him.

Then, to his Son - the Assessor of his throne - he spoke: "Radiance of my glory, beloved Son, Son, in whose face my divine nature is visible, and through whose hand my decrees are carried out - Second Power!"

Two days have passed, two days as we measure them in Heaven, since Michael and his forces went to tame these rebels. The fight has been tough, as it was bound to be when such enemies clashed. I left them to their own devices, and you know they were created equal, except for what sin has ruined.

And that has happened subtly, for I haven’t condemned them yet. That’s why they’re locked in a perpetual war, and there’s no solution to be found.

"War has done what war can do, and now they’re letting rage take over, using mountains like weapons, causing chaos in Heaven and threatening everything. "

Two days have passed. This third day is yours. I’m ordaining it for you. I’ve endured this far so the glory can be yours - ending this massive war, because only you can do it.

I’ve poured immense virtue and grace into you, so everyone - in Heaven and Hell - will see your power is unmatched. This chaos has been orchestrated to prove you’re worthy to inherit everything - to be Heir, and to be King, by divine right.

Go now, Mightiest One, in my power. Ascend my chariot, guide these rapid wheels that shake the foundations of Heaven, and unleash my war - my bow, my thunder, my almighty arms. Gird yourself, and place the sword on your powerful thigh.

Pursue these children of darkness, drive them out of all of Heaven and into the utter depths. Let them learn, as they choose, to despise God and Messiah, my anointed King.

He said, and shone a direct beam of light onto his Son - fully expressing his Father’s essence, received and reflected ineffably on his face.

Then the Divine Son spoke, answering: "Father, Supreme Ruler of the heavenly realms, first, highest, holiest, best - you always seek to glorify me, and I always glorify you, as is only just."

"This is my glory, my exaltation, my greatest joy - that you, pleased with me, declare your will fulfilled, which is my ultimate bliss."

"Scepter and power, you’ve given to me. I gladly accept, and even more so shall relinquish them when, in the end, you are all in all, and I am within you - forever. And within me, all whom you love. But whom you hate, I hate, and can unleash your terrors, just as I embrace your mildness."

"I am your image in all things, and soon, armed with your might, I’ll rid Heaven of these rebels. I’ll drive them down to their prepared, awful home - to chains of darkness and the undying worm. Those who dared to revolt against your just obedience, to obey which is complete happiness."

"Then your Saints, pure and separate from the impure, will circle your holy mountain, singing unfeigned Halleluiahs, hymns of high praise, and I will be among them, leading the chorus."

He said this, bowing over his scepter, and rose from the right hand of Glory where he sat. The third sacred morn began to shine, dawning through Heaven.

With a whirlwind sound, the chariot of the Father’s deity burst forth, flashing thick flames - wheels within wheels, undrawn, instinct with Spirit, yet escorted by four Cherubic forms. Each had four faces, their bodies and wings set with eyes, like stars.

Their wheels were made of beryl, with careering fires between them. Above their heads was a crystal firmament, whereon rested a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure amber and the colors of the showery arch.

He ascended, fully armed in celestial panoply of radiant Urim - divinely wrought. Victory, eagle-winged, sat at his right hand. His bow and quiver were filled with three-bolted thunder. Fierce effusion rolled around him - smoke, bickering flame, and dire sparkles.

He was attended by ten thousand thousand Saints. His coming shone far off. Twenty thousand (I heard the number) chariots of God, half on each hand, were seen.

He rode sublime on the crystalline sky, in a sapphire throne - illustrious far and wide, but first seen by them. Unexpected joy surprised them when the great ensign of Messiah blazed aloft, carried by Angels - his sign in Heaven.

Under his leadership, Michael quickly subdued his army, spread out on either wing, all embodied in one.

Before him, Power Divine had paved the way. Hills uprooted at his command retreated to their places, hearing and obeying his voice. Heaven renewed its beauty, and hills and valleys smiled with fresh life.

His hapless foes, though, stood defiant, rallying their powers in a rebellious fight, fueled by despair. Seriously, could such stubbornness exist in heavenly spirits? But what signs or wonders could move the hardened to change their minds?

They were made even more stubborn by seeing his glory, consumed by envy, and yearning for his power. They re-embattled themselves, determined to conquer God and Messiah through force or trickery. They were now heading to a final battle, rejecting retreat or surrender.

Then the great Son of God spoke to his host on either hand: "Stand firm, ye Saints! Stand, ye Angels, armed and ready. Rest from battle today. Your warfare has been faithful and accepted by God. Fearless in his righteous cause, you've done what you were meant to do."

But the punishment for this cursed crew belongs to another. Vengeance is his - or whose he appoints. No number is set for today’s work, no multitude. Just stand and witness God’s fury poured out through me. They’s disrespected me, envied me, and all their rage is directed against me.

The Father, to whom supreme kingdom, power, and glory belong, has honored me according to his will. Therefore, he’s assigned their doom to me, so they can try their luck against me in battle - me alone, or all of them against me. They measure everything by strength, not valuing other excellence.

"I won’t engage in other strife with them."

The Son changed his countenance - too severe to behold, filled with wrath bent on his enemies. Suddenly, the Four spread out their starry wings, casting a terrifying shadow. His fierce chariot rolled forward, the sound like a torrent or a massive army.

He drove onward, gloomy as night, his burning wheels shaking the heavens - all but the throne of God.

He soon arrived, grasping ten thousand thunders in his right hand, unleashing plagues into their souls. They were stunned, losing all resistance and courage, their weapons clattering to the ground.

He rode over shields, helms, and the heads of fallen Thrones and mighty Seraphim, who wished the mountains would fall on them to shelter them from his ire.

Tempestuous arrows rained down on both sides from the Four, their faces distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels, each filled with countless eyes. One Spirit ruled them, and every eye flashed lightning, shooting out destructive fire among the cursed, withering their strength.

They were left drained, exhausted, spiritless, and fallen.

But he didn’t unleash his full strength, checking his thunder mid-volley. He didn’t intend to destroy them, just to root them out of Heaven. He raised the fallen, herding them like goats or a frightened flock, driving them forward with terrors and furies to the bounds and crystal wall of Heaven.

The wall opened wide, revealing a spacious gap into the wasteful deep.

The monstrous sight struck them with horror, but something even worse urged them onward. Headlong, they threw themselves down from the verge of Heaven, while eternal wrath burned after them to the bottomless pit.

Hell heard the noise - it was unreal. Hell saw Heaven falling apart, basically. And it almost bailed, like, ran. But Fate had sunk its roots too deep, and everything was locked in tight.

Nine days they tumbled. Chaos roared, totally freaking out. He felt like ten times the confusion as they crashed through his wild mess. A massive pile of destruction just buried him. Finally, Hell opened wide and swallowed them whole, sealing the deal.

Hell, their new home, was packed with fire, endless pain, and just... woe.

Heaven, finally free of that drama, started to heal its walls, putting everything back where it belonged. Messiah, the ultimate winner, turned his chariot, ready to roll. All his Saints stood waiting, silent witnesses to his power.

As they moved forward, a parade of bright orders shaded him with palm branches, singing his praises - a triumphant king, the Son, the Heir, the Lord, given dominion. He was celebrated as he rode through Heaven's courts, into the temple of his Mighty Father, who welcomed him with glory.

Now he sits at the right hand of bliss.

So, basically, I’m showing you what happened in Heaven, using what you know on Earth, at your request, so you can learn from it.

I’m telling you about the fight that broke out, the war in Heaven among the angelick Powers, and the epic fall of those who reached too high - those who rebelled with Satan. He's jealous of you now, plotting to trick you into disobeying, so you can share his eternal misery.

It’s his revenge against the Most High, his only comfort.

But don't listen to his lies. Warn your friends - it’s good to know what happened. They could have stood strong, but they fell. Remember that, and be scared to mess up.