PROLOGUES

The Wars in the Heavens takes place through Archontic time.

-- R'AZEL

 

 

And a wounded eye on his wings of 1001 eyes dripped with blood.

Blood wept from several of her 1001 eyes as she screamed out in agony when she took flight again as the dragon pulled it self out from the webbing and struck It with a psi bolt from its eyes.

The Thing flew around the dragon at a dizzy speed hoping it would give him vertigo. But the dragon lashed out with psi bolts every direction. There was a backlash that struck the dragon in one of its eyes. The Thing was also injured. It felt to the ground and crushed the forest below it.

And a wounded eye on his wings of 1001 eyes wept blood.

The knife cut him across the throat like an angry wind. It wasn't deep but it hurt as he screamed out, "No, please." He fell to his knees while clutching his wound. The man stood over him with a knife dripping with Michael's blood. His life didn't flash before him like he thought it would. A man came up from behind him and kicked him in the back. The words that were in his throat huddle into corners. A dry scream imprinted images on the inside of his mouth.

"Kill the faggot. Fuck him up good."

Michael's fingers dug into the concrete as if he was clinging on to the edge of a cliff.

The guy kicked him. He doubled over in pain. The blood streaming from his neck was hot. Puddles were before him as if they were offerings.

One of the men slapped him hard across the face. Another man spit on him. Another kicked him. They were coming at him from four directions. Blood was oozing from a wound in his head.

And a wounded eye on its wings of 1001 eyes caked over with dried blood.

He didn't enjoy the taste of blood; but he had to live; even if it was for himself; it was for the one who made him. He believed the voice that called to him was an angel. He believed when he sat in prayer that he was being called by god. So when he would steal out at night to meet this transcendent lover, he didn't know the depth of darkness he would be bound to know in his dark night of the soul.

He had been in solitary prayer for several days from his brothers. He had raised his voice in question to a senior member of the brotherhood. For his punishment of disobedience he was confined to his room; to repent, to pray, to cleanse his mind of his transgressions. And then the voice spoke, softly, like a warm breeze. At first he thought madness had touched him. Then he thought the devil was tempting him to make his tongue vicious and drip poisonous words. But the voice was gently and sometimes he saw a faint glow, an outline of a man standing off to the left side of him.

This voice told him that they would meet, they were eternal lovers, that he was the angel that would bring him immortality and he would no longer be bound to the laws of man; that he would walk a higher path, a higher purpose and emotions he thought were buried, feelings that were no longer inked in passion, wrote themselves upon his skin and he tingled, he became aroused and his senses no longer could hold the prayers he offered up to God at night for they had no depth or height until his Angel called to him.

"Why won't you look at me," the Angel first said.

"I cannot look toward the direction of your voice. I fear what I might see."

"Steal away from this prison cell. Walk the path that I will whisper to you and you will find me in the grove of trees waiting for you."

And a wounded eye on his wings of 1001 eyes wept blood.

His face was pushed down into a puddle in an alley. He tried to spit out the dirty water seeping into his mouth. The pebbles scratched his face. He felt the urine smell in the alley burned his skin. The leather sole of the man's boot pushed his face so hard into the shallow puddle until his screams were muffled as he heard the stranger unzipping his pants. His friends were egging it on.

Michael had gone to a club that he hadn't gone to before. One of the guys had staggered into him and Michael shoved him away before the man spilled his drinks on him. The man's friends were mad. They thought Michael was starting a fight. They didn't listen. Too them it was a color issue.

"We don't need niggahs around here. We need to show you what we do to niggahs."

"It was a Hollywood club. It was known for being a hangout for ex-cons, street people, prostitutes, and hustlers, anything rough and with attitude. The people were real and not fake.

"You think you can walk in here with attitude. Bitches like you need a good fuck. That's what you here for."

The other three men laughed. Time seemed to move into slow motion as he heard the other men's pants being unzipped. Hands grabbed at his waist from behind and unbuckled his pants. He felt someone pulling his pants down while his face was being pushed into a puddle.

He tried twisting and turning and was kicked by another man.

His scream was crippled before it could escape.

And a wounded eye on its wings of 1001 eyes dripped with blood.

Blood began dripping from more of its eyes. A psi bolt ripped through its wings as The Thing cried out in pain. The four wings of eyes were starting to shutdown. It felt its life force flowing out of its body. It attempted to raise its head as the dragon rained rocks down upon it from a mountain it had shattered. It attempted flight but both wings were severely damaged.

It was starting to lose consciousness as the attack continued from four directions.

The dragon was able to summon parts of itself from other timelines and their attack was from five directions.

The dragon claws had ripped a hole in the back of The Thing's head causing it to scream out in pain. As the two thrashed about in an unholy dance, The Thing bite into the dragon's neck causing it to lurch its head back and cry out. Blood dripped from the dragon's mouth and neck as it held on to it tight. And part of the dragon's blood dripped into The Thing's mouth.

The land below them burned with fire, with acid that dripped from the dragon's wounds.

As the dragon threw it away from him, it attempted to strike with psi bolts, but one of its eyes had been wounded.

It knew it was losing the battle. Even its wings could not shield it from the onslaught. There was no place for coverage. It erected a telekinetic shield channeling all of its life energy into it.

The onslaught of the dragons from the four directions continued. It was like someone pounding on a door to enter. It was like a ringing noise in one's ears. Its cry of anguished seemed to claw at its insides. It knew its body was failing as it sent its consciousness spiraling through the corridors of time but it was too weak to maintain and its consciousness fragmented.

Falling.

 

 

Some of the Archons thought they were clever to hide their plan to destroy the creation know as humans. By creating probabilities, they were always able to hide the original Earth, Gaia, while dramas were carried out on other prototypes or probable Earths to enslave humans multi-dimensional existences.

 

The original planet was locked away even from the Archons.

 

When their deceit was discovered so was their plan to shut down access to some of the probable Earths and their affect to create an outcome to the Archon's liking.

 

The Archons realized that at some point there would be a merging of consciousness, a merging of dimensions, of probabilities and those that carried a certain frequency would overlay and take dominance and move the original planet into a new frequency of creation giving the humans access to their hidden powers that would manifest to its full capacity.

 

Humans carry certain frequencies that entities can ride and experience physical manifestations. The reason for this is to return "fallen creations" back to its original source.

 

In the journey of the frequency, it learns and expands but it became so enmeshed in the material world that it was becoming difficult to separate from it. A new form of creation had to be brought to the forefront to bring these new versions of creation back to the original source.

 

It was also determined that there must be a flaw even in the higher worlds to bring about such a manifestation and so others from higher dimensions journeyed into this fallen Creator's creations to understand what was going on, what had happened and because no one had had this experience before, they became enmeshed in this Vampire's creations and their frequencies were changed.

 

Therefore, these affected entities divided themselves into various forms, different frequencies and became even denser and became lost and/or trapped.

 

 

These "Gods" are within the vampire's creations and are asleep to their true identity and they have forgotten they have brought forth manifestations that needed to be healed also.

Channeling from R'azel

Falling.

When I think about separation from someone I love, there are always these feelings of abandonment, jealousy and self-sacrifice.

The seed event was my fall during the first war between light and darkness. Before the construct, the Warrior of Light was totally consumed by Darkness, parts of it were saved by the Ones Who Do Not Live In Shadows but some of us who were part of the construct were left behind.

Journal entry from the Michael Journals

Falling.

"Makes no sense," Michael said. "How can I be mortal in a spirit world? It's not possible. Sounds like I'm passing from this life into another." I wanted to hear something interesting like I could do what Marie could do, psychic readings, look into people's eyes and know what they were about.

 

"I can only tell you what I see. My spirits tell me you will soon understand."

 

A voice stepped within Michael and spoke within. "You will feel an earth life step aside, don't feel robbed. You are in the world not of this world and must prepare for a journey that will take you to a higher plane and many spirits will travel with you and will come to you for help. Do not fear the confusion that will set in one day. You will understand and return to being a higher consciousness. You are the Life. It will seem you are physical to people but you will be more than that. Once you know the mystical darkness, an Androgyny will be born. Before this second birth, you will be tempted by many to stay in the ways of the flesh. All of your lives are returning to this one life. You will live the story of the Exiled Goddess. You will be the myth that you have read about."

 

The Voice was silent. Michael knew the reading was over. His back felt heavy and in great pain. Marie was still talking with Michael, and had not noticed the distraction.

 

There were times I looked in the mirror as Michael and cried. Something in me cringed from the light, felt so hideous. My curly black hair began turning into small serpents. In my mind, I saw I am Medusa. No human would ever witness me and live I thought. As they have cast me more and more into this form, I would take their spark and encase it into stone and watch it sink lower and lower into the dark worlds below.

 

I always stood in shadows. Turn my eyes away so many would not find them selves pulled into my eyes and lose a part of their essence. You ever hear that expression, "taking someone into your eyes." I have done this as a Destroyer. I have done this as a Healer. Then as Lilith, sometimes as Michael, I have done this as a Protector.

 

Falling.

 

Michael sat quietly in his meditation. The incense was spiraling around him. The sound of the outside world filtering through the windows could not deter his focus. He felt a shift of air movement around him. The room began to waver in and out of focus. He heard the sound of a thousand insect wings.

 

He found himself in an apartment that he knew was not his. No furniture. There was a half working television. No wine. He had been there for quite some time. No phone for a few days. There was no particular interest in going out. What should he do? There was no lamp in the bedroom or ceiling lights. There seemed to be illumination coming from the walls. There was just a mattress on the floor. There was a knock.

 

He opened the door. There was a woman with red hair, and she looked like she had been squashed down until she had a short statute. She carried a baby whose face was hidden from view.

 

"Are you Michael," she asked emphatically.

 

"Yes," he said standing guard in the door way.

 

"You don't know me yet but you will. Michael stood puzzled. "Are you lost? I think you have the wrong apartment."

 

"One day you will know a man I love, Lazarus?"

 

Violin music that he just noticed playing in the background struck a bad chord. Close the door in her face now he shouted to himself from within.

 

"May I," she said pushing her way passed him. "Interior decorator I see. Early poverty seems to suit you." She paraded herself around the room as she held the baby close. The baby did not make a sound.

 

"Sorry I have nothing to offer you to sit on. I'm sure you would like a glass of water, I could rustle up a glass." He wanted to sound insulting.

 

"I'm not staying in your nightmare any longer than I need to. I don't like you. You're causing me unnecessary problems. Lazarus will not like you. You're not fulfilling the mission. He feels incomplete with you. You will only subject him with foolish notions of a Donna Reed show you can't fulfill. First of all, you'll never be a white woman. He will get tired of explaining you as a charity benefit. You will only be like a rummage sale in his life. Stop standing in the middle of his bed like you're on a street corner asking for handouts. You will be only a mind fuck, a masturbation fantasy. The reality is that you're just a passing phase who will stay too long at the dance. It's my dance to be exact. So I'm telling you, stay away from him, I don't intend to share my affections. I have the breast he needs to make him feel like a man. Mine have milk. Yours are flat and you have no milk."

 

Michael's face went through fifty or so soap opera contortions.

 

"Lazarus will not even like women especially one who is bit size and wear Salvation Army clothes. He's too much muscle-minded and fashion conscious."

 

"He's a momma's boy through and through. In a lineup you wouldn't stand a chance of his mother selecting you. The family jury has already turned in the verdict on you. You are guilty of non-existence."

 

"Just who are you and what's that you're carrying, leftovers from rummaging through someone's garbage."

 

She gave him a look that would have made the gates of one's inner hell tremble. "There is no air. Your presence I find suffocating."

 

"Don't die on my carpet," Michael said. "Let's stand on the balcony for a moment."

 

"I don't need your kindness. You will be like a wedge between Lazarus and me but I know your wicked ways. It's me he loves. I feel the movement of a man slow walking into the secret place inside a woman."

 

Michael searched the night sky for a quick answer. Yes, there is a full moon. This one definitely needs to be flushed out of here before she freaks out.

 

"I don't appreciate you weaving your blackness through his eyes. I don't appreciate the enchantments you breathe through him with your kisses. I can't accept your arms holding him. I never had him completely because he kept crawling back to you when the night pulls down his pants. You are breathing too hard through him. Stop it, I can't see through the fog. The air is thick with your scent."

 

"I don't understand you or your madness."

 

"My baby is incomplete because it has your smell. I've perfumed it and boiled it but the baby is incomplete. You bastard, I only have half a baby. You have the other half in your womb. A womb you have stolen. You're an abomination before God. Women's wombs will bleed because of you. I have an incomplete baby."

 

A scream falls from her lips as she hurtles the baby over the balcony.

 

He stands motionless.

 

There is a knock on the door.

 

"Are you okay," Matthew asked Michael as he touched him. "You were having a bad dream."

 

"A dream," he said surprised.

 

"You okay, can I get you something," Matthew said with concern.

 

A cold front hit Michael's heart. "No, I'm fine."

 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

 

"No, I'm fine."

 

"Here," Matthew said offering to hold him.

 

Michael reluctantly gave in. This relationship is not feeling the void. What are you doing to me Lazarus?"

 

"You okay. We could talk about it."

 

"I'm tired. I think I can go back to sleep," Michael said as he pulled away. He laid in a fetal position hoping sleep would bring him a peace.

 

"Why won't he ever talk to me," Matthew said to himself. He lays there every night cold and distant to me. I can't ever seem to reach through this barrier he puts up. He closes up. When I touch him, it's like he is not there. He becomes so mechanical. I can't raise any passion from him. Why should I even bother? I try talking to him but he makes excuses. Matthew laid there falling deeper into thoughts. His eyes looked upward. The room was dark. He even tries to hide his breathing from me. A tear sat in the corner of Matthew's eyes looking for a place to hide.

 

Falling.

 

The Soul too the Ari An, a reptilian race, was a winged creature whose wings were now clipped thanks to their DNA manipulation.

The measure of their new fallen enemy had not been determined. Through the works of their scientists and geneticists, they found the market value of the Soul had far ranging implications. Souls would become a tool for the Ari An Empire to stretch their territorial authority beyond its current borders. They found that the Soul's essence could be fragmented and placed inside physical containments that could animate inanimate constructs and provided a new work force for the Ari An Empire.

These Reptilian Gods and Goddess assembled once again to witness the selling of another Soul. This intruder from beyond their domain had been defeated and the Ari An found that great sexual pleasure could be derived from these Soul units as well as the Soul was a provider of being a food source that would rejuvenate their species by feeding off its emotional energies when the Soul was placed in the beast man bodies they named Humans.

Many Souls had been hunted down, conquered, and imprisoned. Even the Ari An were surprised how they had overcome these beings who inherited abilities were beyond theirs but these souls had not reached their full potential. It was decided these Souls would be placed in physical forms and become manual laborers on mining colonies for the Gods and Goddess who had been given physical bodies. Eventually, they learned the Soul also provided them a means of entertainment as they were placed into holographic realities which are the "movie dramas" of the Gods and this became another food source as they siphoned off emotional energies of fear, hunger and sexual degradation.

 

A Soul, sitting in her prison cell, sees other souls flying around her; yet, she has lost the means to communicate with them. The drugs she was given kept her confused. The voices she heard she also thought were hallucinatory. The mental breakdown she was suffering made her more malleable to reptilian desires.

 

"The body we will imprison the soul in will wear our minds," said one of the geneticists.

 

Even the conquerors did not know the extent of her ability. She realized her jailer did not have the Sight. Though her words are slurred and her smile drips from the left side of her face, her eyes seem to point at small pinpoints of lights fly about her as if they were sparks off a dying ember.

 

"There goes one. There is another. All right! A few more got away. They remembered. They can fly," the Soul mumbled as if she was talking from several different places inside."

 

The Dreamseller taps on the bars of the cell drawing her attention toward him as he watches her stabbing at the air with her fingers. He is concerned that she may go insane before he can sell her. They had lost a few from the side effect of madness brought on by the medications. The drug was supposed to cloud their clarity from the energy of their emotions. The energy, when not diversified into various emotional states, became disturbing to the psyche of the Ari An.

 

The Dreamseller's eyes glazed over as if he was possessed, his voice took on a pleading quality. "Why won't you look at me? I can prevent this madness if you had shown me favor."

 

He watched her facial features morph into different faces. She says nothing to him. He strikes angrily at the bar with his tail. "Why won't you look at me?"

He must not let the other reptilian gods and goddess know that he doesn't have complete control over this Soul. He would lose credibility in the marketplace.

 

So he whispers to the Soul as he hands her a knife through the bars, "A simple cut. The line will run jagged through your wrist. You will not have the value you so richly deserve. You will not have the attention that is due you. Would you settle for the darkness of someone's back room, never to know light but the dungeons of their desires? Do not destroy what is valuable. I am here to help you make the best of your situation," he said smiling at her. If he couldn't have this Soul, than no one else would know his failure to bring this Soul into submission.

 

The Soul looked upward as if watching something only she could behold.

 

The Dreamseller's eyes flashed red as his voice takes on a commanding presence and it seems as if he is possessed as his stance takes on a more ominous quality. His features became dark, eyes became protruding. "Why won't you look at me? Did I not emancipate you, proclaim you, gave you freedom? Did I not give you ten laws to live by? Did I not give you a savior to build religious icons, (Sidebar: which really was a marketing ploy by me to keep your eyes upon me)? Did I not let you stop being colored? Am I not the dream fulfilled? You will do as I say or I will ride you through many realities until I possess you completely. You have no where to go. You will become a harvest for these gods!"