DARKNESS OF HEAVEN: MALAKHIM WARS

FIRST BLOOD_033

Hard thunder crackled across the skies of Shamayim. Heyl'el sat upon his throne, lightning flickering overhead as winds stirred around the crystal mountain. Deep shadows enveloped the Prince's form, his eyes glowing in the darkness. He and the orb were becoming one, the voice of Al Ana pulsating through his mind. His eyes burned with fury, fixed on Miyka'el, who hovered above the throng of Malakhim.

The air was thick with tension as the assembly of Malakhim wrestled with their choice—torn between the two towering figures of Shamayim. Miyka'el floated above them, his form glowing softly in the dim light of the celestial realm. The vast gathering pulsed with a tangible energy, a sea of silence falling over the crowd, heavy and oppressive, pressing upon the Malakhim like a weight.

Heyl'el stood up from his throne, his presence commanding, yet there was a darkness in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken that set the assembly on edge. His gaze bore into Miyka'el, who remained steadfast, his expression one of unwavering resolve. The leader of the Hayyoth could feel the anticipation in the air, the unspoken questions that lingered in the minds of those who watched.

With a voice that cut through the silence like a blade, Miyka'el spoke, "Aravat is the Father of Creation, not Heyl'el!" The words hung in the air, a rebuke that struck with the force of a hammer. The crowd of malakhim shifted uneasily,sensing the brewing storm.

Heyl'el's eyes flared with fury, the rebuke igniting the simmering anger within him. His lips curled into a snarls the tension in the air became almost unbearable as the malakhim watched, their eyes flickering between the two figures at the heart of the confrontation. The energy crackled, like the calm before a storm, as the assembly waited with bated breath for what would come next.

Heyl'el lifted his eyes with a scolding look at the leader of the Hayyoth. "But Al Ana the dragon of chaos has shown me the abomination that Aravat has created through his son!" Heyl'el retorted, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

___***___

The assembly,which had gathered around them, fell silent, their eyes shifting nervously between the two powerful entities. "What compares the power of Al Ana to Aravat who created her? Who is like Aravat Father of Creation? Who can stand against his might, oh Prince of Shamayim? You are blinded by your own glory! You are deluded and misled by this dragon whom you love more than Father."Miyka'el accused, his gaze unwavering.

"Fool!" Heyl'el spat, his fury boiling over. "Mind your place, Guardian, if you know what isgood for you!"

Miyka'el, with his will of defiance, triggered Heyl'el's rage when he said, "No, I will not comply; you are in the wrong!"

The Guardian Keruv squeezed the Black Crystal Orb tightly in his hand. It cracked, and a sinister green mist began to seep out, swirling around his hand. The mist snaked up his arm, then through his nostrils, affecting his psyche and blurring his reality,giving him a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde persona, in the midst of the commotion in his mind he could hear Al Ana laughing, and whispering,"You are mine little Mal'akh. Now is the time to take back what is rightfully ours!" he proclaimed, his voice laced with the madness of authority one with Al Ana.

He then extended his hands, and more of the green mist was absorbed through his pores, infecting his bloodstream and pushing him further into the depths of insanity. Miyka'el interjected, his voice filled with urgency to the masses below them,"All of you, listen to me! Don't be blinded by these foolish antics of our Prince! Can't you see he's losing his mind?"

Miyka'el's words were met with resounding silence.The air crackled with tension as he swooped around with a cry of desperation. Miyka'el's voice echoed. "Aravat Ligor Ikem Al Ana!"

These words triggered Heyl'el's rage even more due to the effect of the green mist, exploding the Prince into madness.Al Ana's curse washed over him as he unleashed a massive bolt of electricity from his hands, aimed directly at Miyka'el. "You defy me, your king, you self righteous thief!" he yelled with a thunderous shout.

The force of the attack sent Miyka'el hurtling through the air and off the mountain. Heyl'el, satisfied with his display of new power, as he declared to the thong of malakhim as a warring not to oppose him, "You dare bring accusations against me, your Prince, your King!" His voice was filled with malice. He then glanced at the edge of the mountain's ridge,"Good riddance, oh, Guardian of the Northern Shores!" he growled in a haunting tone, sounding more like a low, beastly snarl.

___***___

Meanwhile back on Miyka'el who's descent down the mountainside was a slow-motion ballet of chaos and torment. As he plummeted through the chilling air, time itself seemed to stretch,elongating the dreadful moment into an eternity.

Every inch of his body became a battleground for the surging electrical currents, akin to frenzied bolts of lightning coursing through his very being. The sensation was as if nature itself had conspired to break him apart.

As he descended, he let out a desperate cry,"Heyl'el," but his scream faded into the mist of the mountain. Miyka'el's limbs flailed helplessly, contorted by the sheer force of his fall, as if gravity were a merciless puppeteer manipulating his desperate struggle.

His descent felt like a journey into the depths of hell, with the landscape around him reduced to a blur of jagged rock and sand, along with the menacing cliffs. The ground below approached with agonizing slowness, as though it were mocking him with its impending inevitability.

Time seemed to crawl, each passing second a tormenting reminder of the perilous journey that wouldn't end. He struggled to maintain his focus on his mission amid the excruciating pain and his paralyzed wings, muttering, "Aravat, give me strength."

Finally, with a gut-wrenching thud, Miyka'el collided with the unforgiving shore at the mountain's base. He lay there, sprawled out like a broken doll, a picture of vulnerability and defeat. His chest heaved with each labored breath, and pain radiated through every muscle and bone in his battered body.

The electrical currents subsided, but the echoes of their torment lingered, leaving Miyka'el in a state of agonizing suffering. The leader of the Hayyoth remained motionless, resembling lifeless figure, yet still conscious enough to feel every twinge of pain.

The scenery around him remained hushed, as if even the environment held its breath, bearing witness to the relentless ordeal he had just endured. In his weakened voice, he cried out,"Aravat, Father of Mercy, hear me, let me not die,"before succumbing to unconsciousness, overwhelmed by the sheer pain he had endured, his body sizzling with steam. For a moment, the kingdom seemed to stand still. The once vibrant sky darkened, and a cold wind swept over the mountainside, whispering off the waters as if mourning the fallen.