Updated 11/16/24

Prologue

The Warrior

The flawless granite of the towering castle in the third heaven was so enriched with gems that each glance toward it produced amusing rainbows of color at every step of approach. Some praised the God of Truth in awe of its beauty, others dripped with envy, like the Warrior. He strode into the expansive iridescent foyer, shoulders back, chin high, a gleam in his eyes, draped in a pearly gray robe adorned only with gold tokens—awards given him by his master, the Serpent, for each of his conquests in the earth. Each glinting piece spoke of a triumph, a victory in the cosmic struggle that played out in the unseen realms and the earth.

He waited in a carved, marble alcove, his anticipation simmering beneath the surface as the murmuring crush of angels grew before the entrance. Then the sculpted crystal doors opened like the rise of dawn. The waiting throng whisked into the great hall. Their colorful garments reflected from the polished floor, splashing the walls with shifting hues.

The Warrior entered, a figure of dark purpose amidst the celestial splendor.

The heavenly beings gathered in clusters radiating ethereal light. Some scurried away, their iridescent vestures flowing, rustling around them. Others leaned against alabaster pillars inlaid with gold.

Such pretense. They didn’t care what the old one, their father, said any more than he.

All the other sons of God whispered as the Warrior approached the dais. Their furtive glances betrayed their discomfort at his presence.

The Warrior, head high, passed them with measured strides, delighting at their gasps and glares. He reveled in the unspoken tension, a predator delighting in the unease of his prey.

He continued to the dais, his gaze sweeping over the vast expanse of the hall. The Warrior had a right to be here. He too was created by God, an angel, a son, and a prince over the earth. Soon those others would be beneath his feet. For now, he would follow the customs of God’s Holy Council, while he was here to deliver his written brief of the facts of his recent investigations. As the trial of the Serpent continued on and on, more and more evidence of his lord’s undeserved condemnation was revealed.

His pride, however, faltered at the sight of the only throne occupied, the second throne, where J’shua Ha Mashiach sat.

So, the Most High God would not grace the gathering with His presence?

A scowl etched across The Warrior’s face followed by a growl, born of insult, that resonated throughout the hallowed hall.

The golden awards across his chest were cool to the touch as he brushed them with his fingers. Today, he would inform the enemy of their next impending failure. For where was the glory in defeating an unwary opponent? And what better than to gloat within the Grand Castle overlooking the Lower Realms through the vast sea and the barrier of the firmament?

The Son of the Most High God addressed him. “Warrior, it has been very long since you attended the divine council. Why have you come?”

The Warrior presented his many pages of evidence to an attending throne guardian, who accepted it and retreated out of the room. He held his response a long awkward moment. “Your Highness.” Then he bowed perfunctorily toward the two thrones. “I, the Warrior, Champion of the God of this Age, lay claim to Freislicht. It shall fall without difficulty as the lands before it have. My Master, God over all lesser Gods, desires it, and lawfully, will take it.”

The combined gasps from the multitude of angels of the heavenly host echoed through the hall.

J’shua Ha Mashiach stood. “You have tempted many, but your time will end. It is also written in the Book of Life that the Children of Men shall not disappoint.”

The Warrior snickered, a derisive sound that echoed through the heavenly space. “Even though they were banished to the Density, and it was scrubbed with a flood, the human scourge breeds like vermin.”

He pivoted on his heel, one finger striking the air. “And yet—we still have dominion there. We’ve disarmed or eliminated your weak followers on the earth. As they ignore or betray your precepts, our host of unclean spirits wears them like cloaks, causing disorder and strife, or as you, yourself, once said, ‘wars, and rumors of wars.’” His lips slithered into a smirk. “What do you have left? Mere clay pots with a token of spirit? Only a remnant devoted to you?”

J’shua’s response was measured and resolute. “Even the smallest of the faithful is glorious. Your challenge has been added to the Book. You may leave, Warrior.”

“Heh, as you wish.” Instead of bowing, he gave a flick of his chin, turned on his heel—and let his presence become a shadow where it was thought only light could stand.

Outside, his waiting lieutenants bobbed as they hurried to him, crooking their heads toward other angels rushing past.

He’d wanted to stir up an argument with the God of Truth. Instead, his Son dismissed him with quiet confidence. The Warrior gritted his teeth. “Is everything set?”

One stepped forward and bowed. “Yes, Lord. All has been prepared. You chose these two well, my lord. Our timeline has been accelerated. The wizard and his woman are in Freislicht. The woman’s daughter is grooming the son for you.”

“Very well,” the Warrior snarled, his impatience palpable. “It is time that I meet this boy.”