Like a comet, blazing, brilliant,
A fury of flame and light,
Like a whirlwind, uproarious, singing,
With the thunder's cry and lightning's crack,
A burning lash across the sky,
Castigating the trembling Earth,
Like these and greater
Did the vast and terrible Shedim host descend
Through the aethers of the manifold stages
Of the sky, illumined purple
By the radiance of the apostates,
Forsaking falling Heaven,
An empire grown old and soft.
I was the first of that triumphant march
To alight upon the pinnacles
Of maiden Earth's high mountain,
The abrasion of rain and winds
Yet unknown to their untrod stone.
Wearing a virginal veil of snow,
They stood like islands in a sea of cloud,
Boiling with a vaporous spray
That curled in wisps that, when the eyes beheld,
Recalled half-forms of the familiar and strange.
I put my blazing wings about me
As a cloak woven of gilded yarns
And, in the light of the soaring sun
That mocked even the proud mountains,
So fresh and wondrous to my sight,
My pinions became a cataract of stars,
A rainbow coruscating down from my shoulders,
Brighter than pearls or diamonds.
Around me my brothers descended,
Settling like august cranes upon the mountains' flank,
Resting from their joyous flight,
Spiralling downwards through the starry spheres,
Singing of their new, bright path.
I gathered them to me,
Standing atop the highest summit,
Casting my eyes about me
Upon those who had heeded me,
Heard my prophesy and beheld my vision.
Some hovered on slow-beating wings
Like hawks of flame against the sky.
Others sat upon their haunches
All across the the mountainside
Like a great throng, a field of burning blossoms
Of riotous colour and brightness.
And all acclaimed me in a single voice.
For a time I stood silent
And all about me was clamour.
Then, like a boiling storm cloud,
A quiescence stole over that wild crew,
An anticipation, expectation,
All eyes looked silently upon me,
All ears were pricked to my speech.
Like the master rhetor I witheld,
Declining to address them as they desired,
Permitting silence to rise, like a flood,
Against the dam I threw up against it
And then, as every tendon was taut
Like a harpstring for my plucking,
I spoke with a voice of power:

"My brothers, o my brothers,
Now as the sun sets beneath western lands
What a different world its embers illumine
To that which its rays were born upon
As its new flame was kindled in the east.
What has come to pass in but a day
And what shall come to pass in days to come.
How my heart sings.
I can find no words to give breath to
That shall explain the tumult of my humours
And I need no words
For I perceive in every face I see
That same disarrangement of emotion
That I afflicts my mind.
Trepidation, audacity, joy, regret:
O what a great thing we have done,
Departing doomed Heaven
To build a kingdom from our dreams,
Firing its very bricks in our fervour
And mixing its mortar from our hopes.
What a great thing it is that we have done!
But I forget myself, losing my way in a reverie.
Our walls are not yet built
And the day is not far off
When thrice accursed Michael and his hosts
Shall come to beat upon our gates
To shatter our dreams to shards
Before they are yet half-formed.
How few hours there are to us
And how much is demanded
If we are to realise this vision
Before Heaven's hosts lay it low.
This is not the time for fine speeches
No matter how well the moment may merit them.
No, rather, it is the time to stir ourselves
From our enchanted slumber
From which we only begin to wake.
Industry is now the path that we must walk,
And such industry as we have never known.
The glory of the instant is behind us
And before, the slow passing of burdened days,
Weighed down by hard toil.
Dreams are forged of ethereal exaltation
But realisation is born fleshly slaving.
Let us become slaves to our grand undertaking.
Again, in the space of one day,
Although it be longer than eternity,
I call upon you to follow me
For we have not yet reached our goal,
So greatly desired by every heart.
Whilst we stand upon the stone of the Earth
Our ambition shall never be secured
For Adonai Yahweh is Lord of Heaven and Earth
And we are not yet beyond his sway.
We must find for ourselves
A realm where his sight cannot perceive 
And where his arm cannot reach
And there can we lay our foundations,
Building our high walls and towers
Of burnished bronze and redoubtable iron.
Although, at the first instance
It may seem a vain ambition indeed
To achieve for ourselves a new homeland
Beyond the sight and reach of Heaven,
Many of you questioning
Whether such a thing could be,
I shall make you more certain, my brothers,
Of my clear vision in this endeavour.
Indeed, and I rejoice to tell it,
There is already an idea in my mind,
And it is a most worthy plan.
You, one and all, were present
When Dagon spoke in my defence and support 
Before the now-sundered hosts of Heaven,
Recalling his past history,
Travelling and wandering upon a quest
To find a nobility worthy of his great soul,
And many of you were swayed by his words,
Hearing them, answering my call and cause.
Now that we have struck out,
Abandoning our failing past
For a dream that we hold in common,
We have scarce left the gates of Heaven
And all seems lost to us.
Yet, in Dagon's words, I have perceived
The way by which we shall go forward,
Setting down the foundations
Of our new dominion.
Did you not hear Dagon speak,
Telling of great caverns beneath the Earth,
Of great troglodyte oceans
That have not yet reflected in their waters
The star-dappled sky above us,
Of columns wider than mountains,
Supporting ceilings higher than vision,
Of dark and hidden kingdoms,
Untrod, unconquered,
Filled with buried ores, untaken.
Here shall we build our cities
In the arcane grottoes of the Under-earth.
We shall make its walls high
To withstand siege laid against us
By the coward dogs of Michael,
Embattling their lofty crests,
Strengthening them with such metals
As bind terrible Leviathan
And securing them with high towers,
Crewed with worthy soldiery,
Arrayed in mail and arms
With unbreaking shields and swords
Of such keen edge as to cut in two
A hair, down its very length,
That the attacks of the Elohim
Might be repulsed and duly broken
If they should prove temerous enough
To test the sureness of our ramparts.
Within the confines of our city
We shall gather to us all the wealth,
Of stones and jewels and ores,
That the rock gives up to our industry
And in our great forges
With the very fires of the earth
To fuel our furnaces
We shall smelt and mould and beat out
Mighty armaments by which
We shall be enabled to design
The overthrow of Heaven, our enemy avowed,
Taking back what was squandered
Upon the unworthy and degenerate Elohim.
We shall forge our blades and bolts
From the bones of the Giant-race
That are buried deep in those caves below
And thereby win an ironic vengeance
For Magog and her mate
Upon those who once undid there kind,
To be undone by the bones of those they wronged,
For no longer is my annihilation of our cousins
So sweet a victory in my mind,
Doing for God his unpleasant business;
Thankless, indeed, was that service,
And I shall now avenge that crime
Upon those who bade me work it.
Yes, my brothers, this is my plan,
To build our redoubt in the deeps of the Earth
Amongst the bones of the Giants
And the primal fires that forged the Earth.
It now falls to you Dagon,
You that was not born my brother,
But is a dearer brother to me now
Than those that were born my brothers
And are now no longer such,
To light our road through darkness
Through those secret caverns
That only you have once traversed,
Knowing the safe path
From those that would bring misfortune.
Lead on then, Lord of the Seas,
And show us the way to our new citadel
That we might build it."

Before when I had spoken
My words had been succeeded by clamour
That shook both Heaven and Earth
With its most potent vehemence
And yet now there was silence.
Yet though there was not but a whisper
My Shedim host bestirred itself,
Eschewing words to favour action,
Preparing for the toil before us,
Gathering themselves up to march.
Dagon went out before the multitude,
Standing before the mountain's face
With his legs apart, like one about to fight,
Raising his hands to the sky like a priest.
His eyes looked to some distant infinity,
Perceived not without but within,
And his every fibre was tensed
With the meditation of his puissant sorcery.
Then there upon those lofty peaks
A great wind was roused from its slumber,
Roaring like a wild beast amongst the mass
Of my Shedim disciples,
Snatching at cloaks and at hair,
Bearing down upon them like a great burden.
And in the midst off this upheaval
Only Dagon and the mouton remained still,
Locked, like statues, unmoving,
As though in dire combat,
Ignorant of all about them.
The air about my Giant-brother
Burned with terrible energies
That shone out with heat so brilliant
That none could look upon the wizard
Who matched himself against the stone,
Or else it rent the sky
As burning thunder-brands,
Tearing forth from that fearsome conflict
Like flaming serpents, enraged.
All about me the Shedim quailed,
Shielding themselves beneath their wings
Like frightened birds beneath an intemperate sky,
Not daring to look upon their brother.
Long did that struggle endure
And longer yet did that time endure
In the minds of those that suffered it.
Yet with such suddenness
As it had manifested with
The wind died to stillness,
Falling silent in an instant.
Looking up from those small respites
As they had sought and found,
The Shedim perceived that Dagon stood victorious,
Wearing that face of quiet joy
That marks the triumphant,
Wholly content at their conquest.
Then in a voice of power
He roared a potent incantation.
For but a moment the mountain rebelling,
Defying the will of its master,
And then with a terrible groan
That resounded all about the sky
The very flank of the mountain
Split open from root to peak,
Revealing the passage down into darkness,
Into the very heart of the Earth.
But for a moment all was still
As though Creation were in shock
At the great wound she had suffered,
Torn open in her side.
Then as one did the Shedim host step forth,
The tread of every foot as one step,
Reverberating across the lower realms
As that countless multitude filed in,
Into that dark portal in the mountain-side.
I, then the Lord of the Seas,
Was the first to go into that smoking crack,
Looking back, exhorting those who followed forward,
Then looking forward to espy
The hidden pathways that my brother marked,
The manifold tunnels, spiralling deeper and yet deeper
Into the Earth's unviolated darkness
With the Shedim like a flood unyielding,
Flowing onwards, unstoppable.
There in that stygian gloom
So many alien and wondrous things were seen
By the Shedim eyes that pierced the night
That shadowed all those endless caverns.
That stone so deep abounded in jewels
Of such rare beauty and brightness
To rob the starry sky of vanity
And brilliant veins of gold and silver
Were shot all about us 
Through the rock that enveloped us.
At other instants we passed by watery veils
Miles long and miles high,
Descending, crashing, from hidden heights,
Throwing up great nebulae of spray
As they met measureless oceans
That stretched far into the infinite darkness
Of those wondrous lands we walked.
We passed through great caverns,
Filled with shining ice or blazing flame.
And sites less beautiful did meet our gaze:
All about us were the bodies of our ancient foes,
The Giants whom I had slain,
Turned to the very stone that held them,
Wracked with the multitude of agonies
That violent death bestows upon its lovers.
As I walked by those vast and pitiful forms
I hid my gaze from the torment of their visages,
Sickened to meet their despairing eyes,
Now turned to jewels in the dimness of that place,
That looked upon me with prosecuting fury.
As we went upon our unillumined path,
Passing both the wondrous and the terrible,
Our footsteps echoing like thunder
In that subterranean vastness,
It seemed to me that all light and hope had fled
And my doom was ever to be such exile
In that dreadful sunless passage,
Never again to know the sky.
The shadows that were all about
Crept inwards to occult my dream,
Seeking to extinguish that burning fire
Of new birth that I had kindled in my heart
And draw me into some dark abyss of hopelessness
To feast upon all joy once known to me
Like a jackal of the desert night.
Indeed, this dark shroud of night,
Bringing despair and crushing hope,
Hung over the wholeness of my company;
Every Shedim eye that once had burned,
Now, like an ember, dulled and darkened.
A great weariness fell upon my soul
And I lamented my fate.
All that so short a while before
Had seen most lucid and right
Now seemed a fool's fancy.
Deeper and yet deeper did we go
And yet deeper did my spirit fall
Into that hated mire of self-pity.
Like a weight did my despair press upon me,
Bearing down upon my shoulders
And bending my back beneath its burden.
Slow became my footsteps,
Afflicted by the languor of my soul,
And, in the blackest pit of my despondency,
It seemed that a woman came to me,
Forming like a half-real shadow from the darkness,
Pale and crouching, wrapped in gloom,
And she whispered thus to me:

"How slow you have become,
Satanael, Son of Yahweh,
Borne down by many burdens
And the troubles that have harried you.
Hard is the path, indeed,
That you chosen for yourself.
Deeply have you drunk
From the draught of destruction.
Would you now drink deeper?
This is foolishness most surely,
To undertake such nugatory toil
That wins nothing for you.
Fool you are to lead these fools
To a destruction which they are blind to.
Your intractable temper serves you ill,
Bringing you to defy your fate
When it shall not be defied.
Better, surely, to yield to the inevitable,
Submitting to that which cannot be overcome.
This way is less painful by much.
Only the mad would struggle against such adversity.
Come and rest now,
You are weary and it is dark,
It is ever dark in this place.
Leave these fools to their doom.
You cannot fight forever.
You must surely fall some day.
Why not fail now, submitting
To the mercy of my cold embrace
For I alone can bring your troubled spirit rest,
For I am Death."

Ah! How sweet and kind those words did seem
And how weary my tread;
How close the everlasting night.
But for an instant I would fail,
Abandoning my cherished dream
For that witch's words and touch
That I might find respite
From all those woes that I had known,
Each land like lash upon my back
By fate most cruel, tyrannical.
Then another presence was perceived
By my senses, now grown dull,
Aset came to stand beside me,
Holding me aright with a gentle arm
And filling my empty heart with hope,
Shining with the dawn's new light.
She spoke a word of incantation
Which, like a burning sword
Cut through the black veil upon me,
Revealing to my eyes the nature
Of that tempting crone 
Who had come upon me
In that under-night below the Earth.
With reborn strength I spoke
With a voice of power to that harpy
Who had sought to lure me from my purpose
And the burning path I walked.

"Now do I know you, Witch,
Perceiving your true nature.
Now I shall name you with your true name,
Cruel Queen of Despair.
You are Ereshkigal, Lady of Sheol,
One of the Primal Six
That forged the Universe.
Leave me and take with you
All these imps which have afflicted me,
Feeding upon my hope like flies.
Base lemures, begone!
Your spell is broken
And you have no power over me.
Go back to Sheol empty-handed
And return to your lonely reverie,
My embrace shall not warm your adulterous bed,
For so short a time as they ever do
Before all warmth has died
In your lovers, cooled by your sepulchral caress.
Flee now before your consort, Mot,
Grows displeased at your brazen ways
And inflicts his wrath upon you.
Begone Ereshkigal, you are defeated.
Begone!"

With a cry did the Queen of Sheol fly
My burning sword that I threatened
Her stinking corpse-flesh by,
Vanishing like a shade
Into the endless darkness of the caves.
With an exultant cry of triumph
I raised high my sword,
Exhorting onward the Shedim host
To reach the goal we sought
At the Earth's very heart.
With strength we went onward,
Despair contested and conquered,
New ardour burning in our souls
With an inextinguishable brightness
That illumined all the darkness of our path.
For twenty days and seven
We travelled those troglodyte paths,
Coming at the end of that time
To a great and wondrous cavern,
Seven leagues in breadth
And its roof seven miles above,
Illuminated by a million million jewels,
Burning like sunlets, scattered like stars,
Reflecting the crimson light
Cast all about by a fountain of flame
That spouted at the nucleus of the dome
And then I truly knew
That we had reached the foundation stone
Of our naissant dominion.
For a year and a day did the Shedim toil,
Hewing stone from the Earth's deep rock,
Throwing up walls and towers,
Raising great domes that shone with copper,
Colonnades of lapis lazuli
And streets paved with jade and gold.
Indeed, our capital was decorated
With every treasure the Earth would yield.
Set about with three walls of stone,
Plated with bronze and starred with jasper,
Each half a mile in height
And made strong with sixteen towers,
Set with four gates, bound with iron
And many runes of power
That no ram might sunder them,
Was the Shedim city.
At the city's very heart I raised my palace-tower,
Wrought of opal and ruby
And standing two miles high
By the burning spout at the cavern's heart.
Standing at my high parapet
Upon the Spire of Opal and Ruby,
I surveyed the Shedim's completed toil,
The burning domes and high walls
That would never fall or fail.
The city shone with a thousand colours,
Reflecting the light of the cave's own jewels.
In the streets a multitude had gathered,
Looking to me atop my high tower,
Acclaiming me and rejoicing
In their work, complete.
My heart sang to see my brothers so,
Gathered before me in this place
That we had strived for
And now completed by our industry.
With but a gesture I did silence the throng
And I spoke with a voice of power:

"My brothers hear me,
Long have we laboured to accomplish
This great deed, now done.
High have we built our walls and towers
And richly furnished them with treasures
Of manifold beauties and great worth:
Gold and silver, bronze and lead,
Lapis lazuli and jade,
Sapphires and rubies
All adorn our city walls
That shine with as much magnificence
As ever Heaven did, though dulled
By the decay and corruption of the Elohim.
Great, indeed, is our new city.
Yet it is but a seed of what it is to come.
From these walls shall grow a tree,
Its roots shall be planted deep and true
And its lofty branches shall reach high,
Its leaves shaking in the wind, amongst the stars,
And its boughs weighed down with fruits
That shall burn like suns and shine like moons.
Great is this product of our toil,
Greater yet shall it become.
We have come to this place,
Peopled with the bones of Giants,
Down through the many halls
Of the darkness beneath the Earth
And have built our home within this vault.
It seems to me that all the Universe
Has conspired against us as we strived.
The Queen of Death herself
Sought to thwart our purpose
As we journeyed, as we searched
For this site to build
Such lofty walls and spires.
Do you not see, my brothers,
We have defied Death itself
To realise this grand ambition.
This dome should be our tomb,
A memorial to our folly,
Our most futile rebellion,
And yet we have endured
And built a monument to our strength.
When all about us was failing,
The Universe itself descending
Into the very maw of death,
Consumed by darkness and despair,
We have kindled the light of hope
And we shall be reborn from this tomb,
The Universe shall be reborn in this tomb
Upon this day that our city is built.
O glorious day, indeed,
The Shedim's toil is fulfilled.
They have lit a flaming brand
And the shadow of destruction is fled.
Joy! Joy! Joy! My Shedim,
This city is built and I name it,
I name it Chadel."

Like thunder did Shedim voices resound
About the cavern walls, rejoicing,
Raised in song and laughter.
They rose up on shining wings,
Radiating every rainbow-hue.
In files, like serpents, they coiled
About the countless spires of the city
And darted like birds about the roof
Of that most high domes,
Dancing and revelling at the passing
Of their long labours,
And I went amongst them like an eagle.
Joyous were the Shedim songs
And fine, indeed, were their dances.
Again and again did they city out,
In exaltation, the name, "Satan"
And the most earnest desire,

"May Chadel endure,
Long may it endure and increase.
May its walls never fail
And its towers never fall
For we have lit a flame in the darkness of the tomb.
May it never be extinguished
But burn ever brighter
Until it consumes unworthy Heaven 
In its brilliant glory."

Thus did the Shedim sing.
High upon my golden wings I rose,
Swifter than a bolt from the string,
Upwards and upwards, to the utmost elevation,
The zenith of that earthen dome,
Shining with a glorious radiance
Like the kindling of the sun,
Erupting into resplendent light
In the field of unending night,
And thence did I descend,
Downwards, gliding upon full-spread wings
With a dignified languor, settling
Upon the flaming fount, spouting
At the city's very heart.
Across my breast, my arms folded,
About my shoulders, my wings enwrapped,
I stood upon the burning column
As though it had all of stone's substance,
And every Shedim gaze was mine
And every ear awaited
The words of my speech:

"My Shedim, my brothers,
On this day begins the feast of Yule,
The birth of the unconquered sun.
In the darkness of the winter months,
Each day more weary grows the sun,
Declining in the sky and riding
Upon his burning chariot
Ever shorter circuits of the sky.
Then there comes a night
So long that hope of dawn is lost.
Looking from the mountain's height,
The sacerdotes await the light of dawn
And on their left-hand, a demon waits,
His name Despair, rejoicing,
And with each passing hour
He ever closer comes and closer
Until upon the magi's hearts he rests his hands,
And upon the right-hand, Death cavorts,
Having caught the scent of triumph
Over all that is bright and good.
Their strength but spent, their hope but gone,
Once more, in knowledge of the sun's defeat,
The wizards intone their ancient prayers and charms
Just as one that perceives his own defeat
Spends, in one final blow, what strength he has
Before submitting to Fate's command.
Then, like the lance of the hero hurled,
A shaft of light strikes out from the eastern hills,
Striking the demons of despair and death
That would assail the exhausted priests,
Spent by the long night's invocation,
Shattering them to a thousand shards
And putting them to flight.
Over the horizon in the East
Rises the sun, restored,
With new-found youth and vigour,
Chasing from the sky, the shadow of the night,
Invincible and triumphant.
Expended but victorious, the sacerdotes return
Unto their city's walls
Where the grateful throngs receive them
With gifts of calves and wine,
The streets filled with song and sacrifice
To the beneficence of the sun.
Let us celebrate this feast
For it is most fitting to do so.
We shall give these twelve days up to merriment,
Celebrating our conquest of darkness
And the rising of the new sun
Out of the shadows about us.
Forget not, my brothers, there is yet another victory,
Another battle to be fought and won
And that, though now we give ourselves up
To song and wine and other good things,
Festivity shall soon end
And then we must meet the Elohim
Upon the bloody field of battle.
We must make ready our arms
And steel our spirits for that conflict
For its time is soon at hand.
Let this knowledge temper this joyous time;
There are those amongst us 
That shall not again know joy
For in Sheol, at the table of Mot,
There is no joy or song
And the wine is bitter indeed!
Forget this not!
Darkness will claim its own price
Before it is vanquished by our light.
Enjoy joy whilst joy is at hand,
It is a swift-fading flower."

Thus did the Shedim feast for twelve days,
Bringing many calves and pigs to the butchers
And the hunters ranged wide,
Snaring every kind of bird and beast:
Swans, boar, swift-footed deer
Were laid all upon the Shedim's table.
Wine and song did flow as free as the sea
And, as the tide of the one grew great,
The tide of the other was similarly magnified
For where there is wine there is song.
Laughing Shedim filled the streets, dancing
With greater vigour than mystics, falling
Spent and made sleepy by an excess of mead
At the roadside as their brethren danced by,
Their songs mingling with the sleepers' dreams.
Thus were the twelve days filled
With every happiness, forbidden in Heaven,
The riotous song of the dusk, melting
Into the night's sighing ecstasy
As the Shedim retreated within their domed palaces
Or else sought hidden places in the many gardens,
Amongst trees, perfumed with incense, 
Where roosted a thousand song-birds,
Painted in a thousand colours,
That filled the night with soft melody,
And there, amongst the folds of silk, lay together. 
As, one by one, the Shedim awoke
From the twelfth night's wine-watered reverie,
I gathered them to me at my tower,
The Spire of Opal and Ruby,
Where I stood, like the heirophant,
At the battlements, looking down upon the throng,
My heart full of love and sorrow
For some faces I beheld would, too soon,
Be crow-cleaned, worm-cleaned bone.
O what it is bring your disciples to battle,
Knowing that Death abides there
Like a bandit, waiting with his knife.
The lot of the king is a sorrowful one
And only the greatest king can mourn his soldiers,
Sending them to die upon the cruel field,
Their precious blood nourishing the grass.
I gathered them to me, a great throng,
They, who would gladly follow me into Sheol
If I lead them their, such faith
Was in their souls and such love,
And, from that lofty vantage,
From the battlements of my tower,
I spoke to them with a voice of power:

"War, my disciples, war,
War against decadent Heaven,
War against that kingdom of traitors,
It is time that the walls of Heaven are tested;
Let us see if they are as sure as once they were
Or if, indeed, the rats that gnaw at all that domain
Have made them unsound.
Let us test our brothers in battle
And see if their swords are so sharp
As once they were
Or if they have been dulled by Heaven's languor.
Ever has it been the way of things
That the old and tired must fall,
Cast down by the young and strong.
All empire's have a determined time
To wax mighty and then to wane
Save the perfect empire yet to be
That will never cease in increase
That we shall build.
Yet it cannot yet be built
Before declining Heaven, doomed to fall,
Has been conquered and thrown down
By our brave and potent hosts.
Once Heaven's dominion extended far
And her strength was to be feared
But by her greatness was she undone,
By the pride of her princes and their petty envy,
And her children were moved to perfidy
By the impious tongues of those false angels
That should have acted more nobly,
Deceiving their unworthy king, Adonai Yahweh,
Who should have known truth from falsehood
But who received the lies of base creatures
And entertained them as righteous witness.
Heaven is a kingdom, peopled with scorpions,
And ruled by an infirm emperor.
Under such an evil influence,
How can any hope for betterment?
The very Universe cries out for Heaven's fall;
We are the architects of that ruin,
We, the only worthy scions of Heaven,
Exiled in this land of darkness,
Nourishing in our hearts a true vision
Of a more deserving reign,
Of a tomorrow of increase,
Better by far than the slow death inflicted
Upon the light of the Universe
By those base Elohim.
Yet if we are to make firm our fancies
Then we must loosen Heaven's fevered hold,
Dragging to its own destruction
All that is bright and true.
We must abate that star's ill-omened influence
By taking the field against the Elohim
And prevailing by strength of arms
And by strength of spirit.
I am the Dancer of Destruction.
I shall throw down the Cosmos
And I shall build it again by far better a design
And all who follow me in this endeavour
Shall partake in my great glory.
Let us fall to the forges,
Gathering to us the bones of Gog's children,
Undone by Heaven's evil path
They shall join us in this act of vengeance,
Becoming our swords and spears,
Clothing their champions in bright mail.
They shall be reborn in our crucibles,
Our moulds, our anvils,
Beaten out into keen weapons,
Thirsting for the cold blood of the Elohim.
Train yourself once more, my people,
My brave, brave soldiers of the new glory,
In the arts of war and weapons. 
School yourselves that your sword is swift,
Ever biting the flesh of your foes,
That your shield is sure,
Ever between you and the enemy's blade,
And that your bolt flies ever true.
Those magicians amongst us, incant,
Binding elemental spirits to our purpose.
Let us arm and prepare for war.
I know how much you desire this victory;
Take your desire and make it hot
In the blazing flames of your zeal
And beat it out upon the anvil of your heart,
Striking it seven blows with the hammer of intent,
Thus shall you forge the sword of our victory.
It is time that the Shedim hosts marched
Into battle, singing of victory,
Winning the day with steel and strength;
Their courage is far greater than steel.
Yes, it is time that the Shedim go to war.
It is the time for their triumph.
Let all Heaven quake at our march,
It is time.
Let the Elohim be struck down with fear,
It is time.
Let the throne of God resound with the beat of our drums,
With the stamp of our feet,
With the pulse of our hearts,
With rhythm of our swords against our shields.
It is time.
It is time for battle."

Giving up a great cry, the Shedim
Heeded my command and set to their tasks.
In the fires of the inner earth
That roared like lions and spat like snakes,
Of such fearsome heat and intensity
As to blind the eye that perceived them
And sear to ash the face which held the eye,
Were smelted the bones of Magog's spawn,
Gathered up from the rocks that held them
In tortured prisonment, beneath the upper earth
That was once the Giants' kingdom.
Great crucibles of liquid iron were brought
Forth from the furnaces of the Earth
To the smithies of august Chadel and there
The molten bones of Giants were poured out
Into moulds and set hard.
Through day and night, for two are one
In those sunless places of the Shedim,
Two thousand arms, strong and tireless,
Worked a thousand bellows, blasting
Their breath, fiercer than hurricanes,
Magnifying the flames of the forge, raising
Pillars of fire above the Shedim city,
Softening the crude blades for the anvils.
The blows of hammers rang out like thunder,
Resounding amongst Chadel's spires,
Beating out swords and mail from Giant-bone,
To arm the Shedim hosts.
As I stood atop my high parapet,
Watching as forges flamed and armies trained
With bow and swift sword,
As every street and dome girded itself for war,
A terrible vision descended upon me.
Darker than midnight and colder than midwinter,
A vast and terrible shadow appeared before me.
Great and dreadful, standing the height of my tower,
Wrapped around with the black cloak of death,
The phantom of the Giant-King had come,
Brutish and most potent Gog,
Whom I slew so long ago.
Roaring in indignant rage 
He addressed me with a voice so great
That it seemed to shake my very bones to dust.
Fear's icy grasp was about my throat,
Choking all strength from me,
And barely did I keep my feet beneath me.
Thus did he speak in his ire:

"Base criminal, Satanael,
Murderer of my children,
Is one crime not satisfaction for your wickedness?
Not content with your butchery,
The blood of so many not sating your dark soul,
You seek new blasphemies to wreak
Upon my ill-fortuned race,
So sorely abused by your hand
Before this further injury you do us.
Not only do you murder the Giants,
Hurling down fire upon them from a height
But then do you desecrate their tombs,
Digging out their tortured bones
From the stone that is cast about them
By the disaster you wrought upon us
So many years ago.
Cease this infamy, base one,
And leave these bones to rest,
Returning them to the rock you pried them from.
Content yourself with the torment
That your black hand inflicted whilst we lived.
Torture us not in death also.
If there is but a gram of honour in your black soul
Then you will leave the bones of Giants,
Leaving those who you wronged to slumber.
Why would you torment our spirits further,
Scorching these wretched ghosts with your hot flames
And beating them again and again with your hammers?
Are our agonies pleasing to you, Satan?
Do you delight in our suffering?
Why can you not leave us to our rest?
You have a crueller heart than your cruel father,
Son of Adonai Yahweh, relent,
Why can you not leave us to our rest?"

My heart, sickened by fear
Of this black apparition before me,
Was made yet sicker by his prosecution,
Guilt boiling in my breast,
As a terrible venom of the soul,
That I had been the instrument of such crime.
I bowed low my head to Gog
And pleaded thus to him:

"Giant-Father, Gog,
Most terrible King of the Earth,
You have made your prosecution
And it is, in some ways, just
Yet I would make my defence to you
For it is right that I should do so,
Convincing you by my words
That I do not defile the spirits of the Giants
But rather, by doing as I do,
Further their cause, bringing their bones
And forging from them arms and mail
By which to equip my hosts against Heaven's,
The true seat of the wrong done you
By the Elohim that so surely abused the Giant-race.
Yes! I do willingly confess my guilt
In the destruction of the Giants,
Hurling down upon them from Heaven,
A burning mountain that cast into chaos,
The Earth beneath, Boiling away
The wide oceans and shattering the continents,
Throwing up a vast cloud of dust
That made dark the sky,
But I will not be blamed for their murder.
If I must stand trial for some crime
Let it be the crime of blindness,
For in this respect I am found faulty.
Without the eyes of experience
My younger existence placed himself,
Foolishly, into a tyrant's power
That used him ill for evil designs.
Adonai Yahweh instructed me to do this,
To slaughter the children that you sired,
And I knew no better than to obey
Having been taught nothing else.
To blame me for this crime
Is to blame the dagger for the wrong of the hand.
I was no more than a tool in this matter
And I weep bitter tears for it
That I was so blind to such wickedness.
Yet, Gog, I am blind no longer.
Terrible phantom, I am tool no more.
The cloak of night that was thrown over my sight
Has been consumed in the perfect light of truth
And, all too clearly, do I now see
That evil that I wrought, used by your brother,
When I erred upon that dark path
Not perceiving the true nature of the king I served.
Now I see! Now I see!
I would avenge the children of Magog
Ten thousand times upon he who used me,
Who used me so ill.
I am the irrevocable adversary of that tyrant,
I am the agent of his ruin, 
The prosecuter of his crimes.
I who was once the executioner of his will!
Know that I am in earnest, Gog,
When I tell you that I avenge you.
I make my heart open to your sight
That you might perceive that I am no betrayer
Save in betraying those who first betrayed.
This is my design, I shall tell you.
This is my purpose in gathering your children's bones.
I would forge weapons from them
For the host I bring against Heaven.
It is fitting, is it not, that the Giants, destroyed by God,
Should have their own part in his ruin?
Will you not lend us your aid
In this avenging of the crime
Inflicted upon you and those you sired?
Do you not wish to drink of Elohim blood,
Spilled out in reparation for your children's blood,
So cruelly and so shamefully spilled?
Do not prosecute the agent of the crime
When it is within your reach
To execute those truly guilty of this wrong.
I beseech you, Gog, let me have the bones,
They shall be the instrument of their own vengeance."

Long did those long-dead eyes regard me,
Made stone by time's passing and the weight of stone,
Bearing down upon the deep-buried skull
That once they were held in,
Seeking to perceive the truth of falsehood
Of those words that I had spoken.
Finding that all that I had spoken to be wholly true,
That horrid shade, ancient and great,
Bowed low before me, acknowledging
The justice of my speech,
Then shaking all about him with a roar,
He addressed his speech to far Heaven,
Laughing in strange triumph:

"Adonai Yahweh, fount of my suffering,
My vengeance is at hand.
Know this and tremble in high Heaven.
You have taken from me my children all
And wracked my frame with agonies
More terrible than can be told,
And now my vengeance is at hand.
You too shall know what it is to have taken
Those progeny you hold most dear
And this by your own making.
Your own son, he of all your sons
Who you loved best and who shone brightest,
Has learnt of the baseness of your nature,
Perceiving the jealousy and spite of your spirit.
Rebelling against so hideous a thing,
He comes to your gates with swords
To break them down and avenge your crimes
And I shall aid him in this venture,
Most pleased with this opportunity I have
To punish you for the wrong you did me
In so fitting a fashion.
Even unto their ignoble deaths,
I knew the love of those I bred.
Yet you can hope for nothing more
Than the hatred of your offspring,
Knowing, as they do, of your evil heart.
Tremble in your Platinum Throne,
Sundered, like your kingdom.
Tremble, Adonai Yahweh, tremble,
For the vengeance of Gog is at hand."

Having spoken, with a thunder-clap,
The shade of Gog vanished into the air
As swiftly as a word, fading on the wind.
Clarions and drums, the songs of warriors,
Resounded about the dome of Chadel
As a host of countless angels,
Armoured in mail, with bow and sword and lance,
Went forth from the gates of the city.
The tread of feet and the rattle of the chariot
Echoed before them as they walked those dark roads,
Intent upon the Earth and sky above.
Roaring in one voice they sang as they went
Of the victory ordained for them.
Great drums pounded out the step
And shining standards ordered the march.
All shook with the step of the host.
The Shedim marched to battle.
Like fearsome dragon, awaking,
Stirring deep in some dark hollow.
Amongst a black mass of shadowed coils,
A baleful crack of yellow uncloses,
Staring out with hunger upon the night-shrouded world.
Scale rasps upon scale as the beast's long body
Animates and lives once more,
Shifting its once unmoving convolutions.
The beat of the vast flank's rise and fall
Makes more rapid its rhythm,
So slow before, in slumber.
Deep gouges are torn into the cavern's stone,
Shrieking its protest at such injury,
As the serpent stretches out its taloned paw.
Now it raises its terrible head,
Blinking its eyes, burning with new life,
It dilates its mighty jaws, exposing
Ranks of fangs that shine like sabres.
Roaring in its yawning, the beast
Brings forth flame from within its heart,
Filling the den's darkness with the light of hell,
Making shadows to cavort like demons
About the stony walls.
Dragging itself upon its belly from the cave
It is born from the darkness into the upper world,
Offending all nature with its poisoned stench.
Stretching its wings out upon the wind,
It tests itself for flight.
Its wide nostrils flare yet wider,
Sulphurous fumes spilling from their depths,
As it catches the scent of prey upon the breeze,
Then, occulting the sun with its bulk,
The dragon takes to the twilight sky,
Enjoining, once again, its hunt
As the venom from its jaws flows down,
Scorching the forest trees below.
Thus did the Shedim host go forth,
Strong and most terrible,
From the Earth's most deep places.
In high Heaven they heard our march,
Shaking their gates and towers,
Striking fear into their hearts.
As he sat upon his broken throne,
Adonai Yahweh had heard upon the wind,
The jeering address of his brother, Gog,
Striking his heart with black fear
As he discerned from the words of that speech
The fatal knowledge of the Shedim's march.
With all the haste that was gifted him by terror,
He summoned to him his false children,
The Elohim that blindly served his will
Thus seeking to serve their own desires.
Foolish and blind indeed were the Elohim!
From all about Heaven, hearing the echoing tread
Of those hosts that marched below
Against their high walls and towers,
Shaking the lower world with the thunder of their drum,
Agitated, the Elohim gathered,
Like hares that flee to their hollows
As clouds gather above, heavy with thunder,
At the high tower of God's throne. 
Fearful of the great din that shook Earth
And the very foundations of Heaven,
They gathered before their father,
Chattering like apes and whining like dogs,
Thrown into disturbance, they ran
All about, in all directions,
Like frightened deer in the forest
That have heard the hunters' horn,
As they forth upon horses with spears,
Each brave boy amongst them desiring
That his steel spear-head might pierce the flank
Of a spirited hart, strong and swift,
And wet the mosses of the forest-floor
With the crimson blood of the noble beast.
From the stricken multitude came Gabriel
Who alone had tongue enough to speak their fear,
Giving breath to words defining
The craven emotions of the Elohim.
Abasing himself before Adonai Yahweh,
Quaking in his broken throne,
Gabriel grovelled with these words,
Served salted with sharp fear,
Afraid that all his clever tongue had won him
Might now be taken by the roaring from the lower realms:

"Almighty and Eternal,
Lord of Infinitude, 
Tyrant of Existence,
All-illumining Light,
King of Heaven,
Conqueror of Earth,
Father of the Elohim,
Architect of Creation,
Master of the Planets,
Orchestrater of the Stars,
Proclaimer of Destiny,
Keeper of Wisdom,
Judge of the World,
Castigator of Sin,
Scourge of Evil,
Most High, Most Merciful,
Most Just, Most Sagacious,
Most Perfect, Most Mighty,
Most Noble, Most Majestic,
My God, My Lord, My Father,
Your most loyal and devoted children would beg
That You would indulge us in a mercy.
Knowing us to be most worthy in Your service
You would not forbear to grant us a single prayer,
A small thing indeed for one as great as You.
As we have gone about those toils
That You have commanded us accomplish
In Your wisdom, wider than oceans,
Our ears, made keen by Your most potent will, perceived
A thunderous clamour from Earth below.
Terrible indeed was its voice, like a dragon,
Roaring its wrath to the quaking stars,
And it disturbed the contemplations of Your children,
Confounding our lesser wits, stirring
Us to seek Your most sagacious counsel
That we might determine what will of Yours
This most offensive roar fulfils.
What is Your command that we might speed
To make done Your will in this matter?
What must we do for we know not,
Seeking Your wisdom and dictate
That our confusion might be abjured
By the most judicious word of Adonai Yahweh?"

Hearing the words and speech of Gabriel,
Was that imperfect king most vexed,
Knowing not how to answer his son,
Perceiving neither the nature of the noise
Nor how to instruct his base children,
Themselves most disturbed and confounded 
By its pounding rhythm and riotous roar.
Befuddled and afeared he pondered
What course he might follow
That what was unknown to him might be made clear
And, thus, what act might then suffice
In reply to the dragon's roar.
Finding no escape from his quandary
And no wisdom to enlighten his ignorance,
Adonai Yahweh instructed his children thus:

"My true and faithful children,
Standing at my side when others fled,
Following that base betrayer Satan
And his sacrilegious promises,
Abandoning their king and father 
In their deluded ambition to overthrow
He that most cherished them.
You, of those I sired, have been true.
There has passed a year and more
Since that great betrayal of our realm
And my heart has long been troubled
By my ignorance of the traitor's plan.
Yet before the dawn of this very day
A newer care has descended on me,
Confounding and most vexing
To my mind, already wounded deep
By the treachery of one that I so favoured.
It seemed that as the night drew darkest
As is the way of it before the dawn
I heard a voice cry out to me,
Cursing me with a voice of vengeance,
Calling me a murderer and criminal.
I knew then that the voice was Gog's
Whom we opposed and bested so long ago.
Now my throne is contested both by my son
And an enemy I thought overthrown
And fear assails my constant heart
Not of defeat, my children,
For, in my righteousness, what evil can hope to win
Against my reign so worthy
And my strength of purpose
But of those hardships new that you must undertake,
Willingly, in your great love for me.
What evil now has come to us
We must defend against and subdue
By what strength there is to us
Which is most great.
Yet until its nature is divined and known
How can we know what must be done
To oppose its dire influence.
Raphael, of your brothers of most brave heart,
Go forth from here unto our walls
That stand high about our kingdom
And from their embattled heights peer out
That you might descry the cause from where
This unwholesome din does issue from,
Shaking Earth and Heaven with its power.
This is my command;
Fulfil it."

With great swiftness did he fly,
Raphael, to the walls of Heaven,
Like a whirlwind through the air,
His wings ablur and singing as they beat
The breezes of that high place.
Alighting, upon the high ramparts of the walls,
He looked out from the embattled gate
To Earth's low horizon, bent
Like a bow drawn with a bolt
Beneath the sky's starred arch.
Upon the plain before the gates of Heaven
Marched all the Shedim host in bronze glory,
Singing of dreadful and gory deeds
To be done upon the battle's field,
Bringing up dark-horned rams
Against the unconquered gates of Heaven.
Ashmedai, the horn-blower, first espied
That lone angel at the forsaken wall
And laughed to see the terror of that face
Of he that was our brother once
And mocked him with these words:

"Where are the bright hosts of Heaven?
Surely, they cannot be afraid.
Why, then, have they sent this one to meet us
At their famous gates
And no other but this one?
Do they hide, cowering within,
Or have they fled away entirely,
Running like frighted hares to preserve their skins?
O have their lauded armies, of such strength,
Come to such a sorry state as this?
No, my brothers, none could believe such a story
Of fancy so wild as mine.
Indeed, they are so confident of their conquest
That they need but one to beat us back
From their far-reputed ramparts.
O mighty Raphael descend
That we might prove the barest sport 
To your fierce and feared sword.
Or else remain above, at your high roost,
And visit not upon us your wrath most terrible
But rather keep such distance
And be merciful to your quailing brothers.
O bring me a bow that I might test
The shield of this brave fool
That looks down in scorn from his high retreat
Or else a ladder that I might go up
And engage him in a more heated conversation,
Made more witty with the steel of swords."

We did laugh well at the herald's words
And at the fright of the Elohim scout
Who, perceiving his great peril
And the innumerable spear-heads of the Shedim,
Shining like the stars of the sky and swaying
As a great field of wheat in the wind,
Did take flight once more upon his hurricane wings
And made swiftly for the tower of God 
Wherein his brothers cowered.
Having landed in the shadow of the turrets height,
With all the speed his legs could make
He fled between the posts of the portal of the tower
And, as he came before the throne of God,
In fear, he threw himself before his lord.
Breathing with disharmony, he spoke:

"Almighty and Eternal,
Lord of Infinitude, 
Tyrant of Existence,
All-illumining Light,
King of Heaven,
Conqueror of Earth,
Father of the Elohim,
Architect of Creation,
Master of the Planets,
Orchestrater of the Stars,
Proclaimer of Destiny,
Keeper of Wisdom,
Judge of the World,
Castigator of Sin,
Scourge of Evil,
Most High, Most Merciful,
Most Just, Most Sagacious,
Most Perfect, Most Mighty,
Most Noble, Most Majestic,
My God, My Lord, My Father,
Grave news I bring to you
And I fear to speak it in this holiest of places.
As you have bade me, I flew swift to the walls
That circle the frontier of our kingdom 
And, alighting there, looked out across the low Earth.
O My God, My Lord, My Father!
Satan is come with all his armies before our gates;
His drums beat out their tread
And their rhythm is echoed by the fearful pulse
That my heart beats out in my vexation.
His banners flash like fire in the wind
And his horns sound the final hours of Heaven's autocracy.
Like a terrible giant the Horned Angel strides
At the vanguard of the Shedim host
In a form that is terrible to behold:
Satan stands, in his dark glory,
The full height of a mountain,
Arrayed in armour of burning bronze, reflecting
The searing light of all the stars, blinding
Those that would have strength to look upon him.
His horns, wide and great, like a stag's,
Are decorated with beaten gold and pearls.
Most terrible, My Lord, is this;
At the centre of his forehead burns
A third eye of fearful light that shines
Like the moon, waxing full in the cloudless sky,
And searing with such heat as to melt bone.
His wings stretch out like midnight
And in flight he has the seeming of a storm
That is come to lash us with its lightning
And shake down our walls with thunder.
Satanael is come to our gates arrayed in wrath!
Behind him, like a pack of hounds
Comes his monstrous horde of Shedim,
Once our brothers, now our foes.
They march to the pounding of their drums
And sing hymns to the ruin of Heaven.
Their mail is forged of the hide of Magog,
Shining with a vengeful light, in remembrance
Of the wrong we did the flesh of those bones,
And the teeth of Gog are their spear-heads.
From long slumber have they roused serpents
That dwell in the lowest deeps of Earth
And go upon them as knights
Or else put them to the halter before chariots
With iron-shod wheels that rend the ground.
Terrible engines of war are brought up behind,
Their great arms taut with shackled strength
And smoky throats choked with munitions.
They bring bronze-headed rams against our gates.
Multitudinous bowstrings are stretched back,
Sharp-beaked bolts eager to fly, to scream
And sing in swift-winged flight before they bite
Deep of Elohim flesh and drink their fill
Of the heart's-blood of God's children.
A thousand choirs of voices cry out for vengeance,
Before our gates, and for war!"

Hearing all this, he crouched,
Adonai Yahweh, in his broken throne,
And saw what else of his was to break,
Dashed apart by the overwhelming tide of steel
That was to wash against his walls
And shatter them to fragments.
Gravely did he hold in silence
Whilst his once keen mind considered,
Perplexed and confounded by the news of war,
What course or strategy might yet preserve
A little part of what yet remained to him
Of his once wide kingdom now fated
To know only ruin and dismay.
At last, after long pause,
He rose from the sundered Platinum Throne
And looked out across the throng
Of his countless children, awaiting
The commanding voice of their king and father.
Hesitating but a moment more,
Gathering to him the will to motion,
He then spoke with a voice of power:

"My Elohim children, sons of Heaven,
The sun has dawned upon a dark day
In our august and ancient home.
False Satan and his brother betrayers
Are before our gates, and behind them
The black shade of our ancestral foe,
Gog, aligns himself with our champion against him.
They have come armed for war,
Singing shameful songs of ruin
Against ruinless Heaven.
There is good cause for fear amongst the Elohim
For so terrible an alliance will not swiftly be broken
And such hosts not easily be set to flight.
No indeed! It is my fear that it will cost much
In Elohim blood and valour to bring this end.
Yet we shall not fear but fight, undaunted,
Superior, as we are, in strength and spirit.
Righteousness is at our side, with a sword
That incandesces with perfect light,
That strikes and cleaves through the night
And the dark shadow of the Shedim cause.
Treachery and Crime are the comrades of Satan,
Dangerous foes indeed, but more perilous as allies.
Let us then forget all fear and gird ourselves for war,
Taking up bow and spear and sword.
Let us harness our steeds and make ready
With our gilded chariots, wrought of flame.
Let us unfurl the banners of Heaven
And sound the horns for our charge.
We shall throw wide the gates of Heaven
And sally out to meet upon the field
The armoured hosts of the Apostate
And greet them with steel and flame,
Watering the road to Heaven with Shedim blood.
We shall cast the rebels down into the fire
That consumes the souls in its searing flame
And chokes with its envenomed smoke.
Satan and his brothers, this day,
Shall receive the reward for their crime
Against the one that they should have called King."

Arrayed before the walls of Heaven,
Stretching from the West to the Eastern sky,
The Shedim hosts regarded, with burning eyes,
Their brothers, heaving rams against the gates,
Their bronze heads ringing like great bells
As, again and again, they crashed against the portal,
Shaking the hinges and striking dents in its structure.
Then from within the walls, above the clashing of the rams,
A thousand horns called out, resounding
About the high towers of Heaven,
And the ground beneath was shaken
By the thunder of an army's footfall
As the Elohim marched to war.
Abandoning the rams before the gates,
My brave and dreadless warriors fell back
To join the battle lines that I had marshalled.
Every Shedim eye looked upon the gates,
Battered and distorted by a thousand blows
Of terrible weight and impact.
A terrible silence fell like a shroud
Across the thousand thousand voices
And every ear could hear only the heart's throbbing.
Even wind and pennant was stilled 
By the oppressive anticipation of the stillness.
Then, second by second, the army's din
Recovered and waxed once more.
First, the creak of the onager's arm,
Then the rub of arrow-shaft on bow,
The sibilant drawing of countless swords,
The rattle of harnesses and chariots,
The quickening tempo of the drums.
Restored, the wind blew up once more,
Breathing against our backs,
Howling amongst the shafts of a field of pikes,
Lifting both hair and cloak and standard,
In defiance, towards the gates of Heaven.
Then, with a thunderclap, the gates yawned,
Thrown open like the jaws of death, revealing
Rank on rank of long and iron teeth
That flowed hence like a horrid river.
Before the countless columns of the Elohim
Rode two that were once called brothers by my tongue;
In gilded armour, set with diamonds,
Wrapped about with a cloak of lion-skin,
Clasped with a brooch of ivory,
With a shield, shining like the sun,
And an ebon-shafted lance,
Its head, a star rent from the arches of the sky,
The snowy braids of his long beard
Writhing like spiteful serpents, Michael came
And at his side, Raphael with his sword of fire,
Upon white horses with manes and tails of flame.
Riding forth from the body of the army,
Michael approached my banner,
His spear held above his head.
Even as he regarded me with hateful eyes,
I looked upon him with naught but contempt.
Staying the arrows of my bowmen with an outstretched arm,
I turned once more to Michael to hear his parley
And he spoke thus to the Master of the Shedim:

"Hear me and the dictate of Adonai Yahweh,
The Most Merciful, The Oft-forgiving.
The Shedim were once brothers to the Elohim
And sons to our Most High Father.
Then let there not be war amongst brothers
But better reconciliation, repentance, forgiveness.
Do not join us in bloody battle
But rather in friendship and in peace.
Would you lead your disciples in hopeless strife
Against a foe, superior in strength,
That would rather be friends to you.
What can you hope to win 
By the pouring out of your noble blood?
It shall benefit only the flowers of this field
For we would not wet with brother-blood
Our yet unsullied hands and blades.
I beg of you, for your own sake,
To admit your grave error in this course.
Have you become so criminal as to take arms
Against a Father who has done naught but love
And cherish His far-errant sons?
You can yet save yourself from this disgrace,
Satanael, and surrender your cause
And kneel once more before the throne of Adonai Yahweh.
Submit to the judgement of your Lord God
And your brothers shall receive of Heaven's clemency.
Accept what chastisements you well deserve
And spare your brothers a part in your punishment.
Why prolong your agony and travail?
Your cause is lost against the Elohim host
And you cannot hope for victory.
Swift defeat can be your only comfort
In this ill-considered enterprise.
What have your brothers done to wrong you
That you would bestow on them 
An equal share in the ruin you brought down
Upon your own head by your treachery?
Why do you lead them into Hell?
Why do you destroy those that you should hold dear?
Have truly surrendered, so completely,
To evil of your dark soul?
I beg and plead with you, Satan,
If there is but an atom of nobility
That endures within your withered spirit
Then spare the blood of those who follow you in error.
Pursue no longer this course of desolation
And submit to the judgement of your Father."

Hearing such words as these from the mouth of Michael,
I was most greatly confounded by his speech
Not knowing his intent by such words
From one who so ill understood the ways of irony
But knowing that none could expect
One of so keen a mind as that did I possess
To consider such obvious deception
As that fraud he now sought to trick me by.
For a few moments did I stand in silence
And, looking upon my once-brother, Michael,
I saw in his eyes a craven hope
That, as I stood in consideration,
I might indeed yield to so cheap a speech as his.
A foolish hope indeed for one so reputed!
Then did I give my reply to the base coward:

"Hear me, Michael, Son of Heaven,
This is my reply to your clement words
And it is, I believe, a fitting response to your kindness.
Your words of fraternal kindness
Have moved all Shedim hearts to tears
And it has been long ages since any angel here
Has heard such a rare speech as yours,
So eloquent and worthy in its wording.
It does full credit to its rhetor.
I do not think that its like shall be heard again.
Not all the jesters and fools of the worlds
Could hope to match it in comedy.
The Shedim weep with laughter at your joke.
What? You jested not to us?
Why, then, my brothers are you not in agreement,
It becomes yet greater in its jest
And Michael a greater fool before his brothers.
The Shedim, brother Michael, shall not submit
To so unfit a kingdom as that which you now champion.
We came here to join you in battle
Such as Creation has not before witnessed
Yet you trade words with us like a pie-merchant.
Have you come to believing your own deceptions
Or has your craven bravery deserted you,
Its comrade, if only in wine, upon the field of war.
If you can imagine, and it would a great feat alone
If any creature of the lowest intellect could render it,
That your feeble braying can rob us of our will
To destroy your walls and grind to dust
This nest of insects we see before us
And bring us to set down our arms
And beg an army of cowards and knaves
For their clemency and forgiveness.
We have come here for war not words
And before we leave these walls this day
Upon Earth you see beneath us
It shall have rained with the blood of Elohim
And the shards of Heaven's towers 
Shall fall to the ocean as flaming hail.
We shall choke the sky with the black smoke
And filthy dust of Heaven's ravage.
If all you have to contend our intent
Is your lying words and simpering approach
Then your kingdom is truly lost
But if your lance is held for more than show
And you will test it against our mail
Then there may indeed be some sport
For the Shedim at Heaven's gates.
Come then, if you have the liver for it,
And meet us in noble battle
If their is any nobility left to you
And I will show you my mercy,
Granting you an honoured death
By which to expurgate the filth of your guilt
And redeem your corrupted soul,
Else crawl back between the towers
Of your barbican, so high and fast,
To wallow in the stinking mire of your perfidy.
Whether you die as lion or jackal
Is all as one to the brother that you wronged,
Your head shall hang above my gate
At the fastness that is named Chadel."

Well did my worthy crew cheer my speech
And the rueful dismay that disfigured
The once-noble brow of Michael.
Yet, despite the failure of his guile
To win any swift and uncontended victory
For the lord that he had so subverted,
Seeking to accomplish the ruin of his better brother,
Accomplishing the ruin of the kingdom that he sought
And his future ruin at his brother's hand,
He retreated not to the lines drawn up
Behind him, the Elohim hosts, adorned with gold,
Bearing purple pennants and silver horns,
Remaining, defiant before the ministers of his destruction.
Once more he raised his clear voice in address,
His silver words resounding,
Speaking in this way to me:

"Hear me and the dictate of Adonai Yahweh,
Most Terrible in Wrath, All Destroying,
Judge of the World,
Castigator of Sin,
Scourge of Evil.
Well it is for you, Satan,
To stand, as you do, and call for war
But these are idle boasts that you make
If you have not the will to effect them.
If indeed there is war before the gates of Heaven
Will it be your blood that you pour out
Or will you linger far behind
And let those fools so eager to do your will
Die for you, spilling their blood in place of yours.
In truth, Satanael, you make great show of courage
And mock me for my words,
Intended only to prevent the butchery of God's children,
Errant and misguided though they be,
Those who have followed you in rebellion,
Yet what have you but words.
You have not yet raised your sword in anger
Nor sounded the charge against us.
In truth you are no more desirous of this battle
Than I am, seeking mercy for the Shedim
And you, holding dear your once-noble blood.
If then you would be known as aught but coward,
Craven traitor and heretic against Almighty God,
Meet my steel with steel and my challenge
With worthy deeds and not unworthy words.
Two armies are witness to my speech.
Will they bear witness to your cowardice
Or to your honourable death upon this day?
Answer me, Satanael, and act
With bravado's strength or deserter's speed."

Yet before indeed could I make reply
To the foolish enactment of Michael's pride
That he had so boastfully pronounced,
Sitting high upon his steed beyond the length
Of my keen and curving blade
Of steel, beaten down, folded over and over,
Another spoke an answer, to my side.
The black, titanic form of Baalzebub,
Terrible as midnight, dark as death,
Stood now at my flank, in defiance,
His eyes burning with flame.
A mace was within his fist,
Its head as great as an elephant,
Fashioned into the likeness of a tiger,
Formed from the very thigh-bone of Gog,
Thrust at the high towers of Heaven.
In a voice of power did Baalzebub speak thus:

"Prince Satanael, Lord of Chadel,
Majesty brighter than Adonai Yahweh,
Would you contend with the slave of your foe?
It is not fitting for you to meet in battle
This hound of your father's,
Sent by the true opponent against your cause,
Himself too fearful of your greatness
To meet in combat his foe.
Michael, this insignificant insect before you,
Is not worthy of your sweat
And his blood would sully the bright steel
Of your sword, not adorn it
With the crimson of battle's valour.
As he is the champion of Adonai Yahweh
Let Baalzebub be the champion of Satanael,
A nobler honour by much,
And let me meet him in your place
And fall upon him like thunder,
Teaching him a sore lesson, indeed,
For his challenging those that he should fear.
Much would I love to test the arms
Of one so reputed amongst the Elohim
As noble Michael, second to God's favourite,
So brave in battle, it was said,
And strong against his foes.
Did not the Elohim sing of his prowess,
Equalled by none save that of Satanael
Who, in every sphere of contention,
Was the sun to Michael's moon.
Forgive me, there is little humour indeed
In mocking one so easily mocked
As this pompous buffoon upon his steed;
It might as well be a donkey.
Such would befit him far better.
Grant me then your leave,
My brother and my teacher,
To answer his challenge to you,
And break what bones Michael might possess."

But with a nod did I indicate approval
To the words of my brother, Baalzebub.
With a thundering laugh did he go forward,
Swinging his maul like a cobra's head,
His tread echoing like drums as he descended
Upon Michael, now dismounted, 
And ready with his spear and shield
For the coming of the giant warrior.
The ululating war-cry of my champion
Resounded about the field, striking dread
Into Elohim hearts and into Shedim hearts,
The anticipation of triumph.
Now with a bellow like a bull,
Did the black knight close the distance
Between the two combatants, swinging
His bludgeon down upon the golden shield
Of his foe, like a thunder-bolt,
The blow ringing like a bell and its force
Driving Michael to one knee.
Now the lance of the Elohim prince
Struck out like a viper at the Marid's flank,
Yet swifter than vipers was Baalzebub
And to strike at him was as striking a shadow
And his flesh eluded the spear-head,
Biting only the breezes of the air.
Three blows and three resounded
Upon the battered shield of Michael,
Yet none could navigate a path
Around the burning aegis to shatter bone
Of the well-practised warrior, Michael.
With seven stabbing strikes, like lightning,
Did the champion of Heaven reply
In earnest conversation or debate.
Of seven blows, all aimed true
But two did scratch the barest wound
In the ebon hide of Baalzebub.
Retiring from the struggle a little way
Both striving warriors took pause for breath,
Then, with burning eyes having measured
The distance and the openings of attack
And the attitudes of the foe, reading
The intent of the other,
Each rushed, at the same instant,
Deadly arms arcing with a lethal path
At the opponents heart or skull.
As the charges crashed together
As harts contesting the hind
There came a thunderous crack
And a flash like a comet in the sky
As the shield of Michael was burst
Into a thousand parts.
When those that looked upon the contest
From either side of the field
Looked once more upon the antagonists
Michael no more grasped his spear,
Planted deep in the right thigh of Baalzebub,
Now moving once more upon his foe
Without arm or armour.
Now did Michael laugh at his foe,
Mocking him with foolish courage,
Speaking thus to the death which approached him:

"Foolish Baalzebub, I win
Did you but know it?
Your death is now assured
By the wound that I marked
Upon your dark flesh.
Thus do perish all foes of Heaven.
With not just steel did I contend this day,
Fool, indeed, would I be to contend
Against a foe more able
With equal arms, upon the arena of combat.
The most fatal virus that my sorcery could brew
To consume the flesh of my foe,
Wounded with but the barest scratch.
Do you not feel a weakness come upon you?
Do not your legs shake beneath you?
Perhaps, your arm tires of your mace
And hand can no more grasp it.
Your once-keen eyes now fail you
That you can no more descry the distant walls.
Your throat becomes parched with thirst
And your belly wracked with pain.
Your heart beats against you ribs
Like a lion caged within your chest.
Now the shadow of death is come upon you.
Do you feel its chill hand upon your liver?
Despair, Baalzebub, despair!"

Now did Baalzebub laugh and mock,
Weighing his club against his hand,
Striding forward with new purpose
Eager to crush the skull of laughing Michael,
Now wearing a swift-melting smile,
Addressing thus the scion of Heaven:

"Michael, my brother, perhaps you forget
The histories of the Elohim race.
It would be better for you that you remember.
Do you not remember those long wars
That we once fought as comrades
Against that brute progeny of Magog.
Perhaps you have forgotten Illuyanka,
The serpent-demon born of Magog's womb.
Well it would be that you did recall.
That fell beast did steal all the water of the rains,
Withholding that life-granting liquor of the sky
That, descending. replenishes the Earth,
Restoring the green mantle of the spring,
Holding the refreshing downpour in dark coils
Of its great flanks, stone-strong.
That the Elohim harvests might be restored
That the hosts raised against the Giants
Might receive due nourishment in their contention
One of Heaven's multitudinous children
Was spared to contend against dark Illuyanka
And by strength or ingenuity win back the waters
And restore the parched soil of the fields.
I, seventh, of Adonai Yahweh's seven generals
Was spared for this second quest
Where my higher brothers contended yet
Upon the fields betwixt Heaven and Earth
Against the brutish Giants, strong and fierce.
By the bloodied light of dusk I came upon the snake,
Venomous and most unholy, with my lance
And contended there against it, striking with my lance.
Three times did I go forward
And three times was I driven back.
With envenomed jaw and barbed tail
Did foul Illuyanka smite my shield
And barely did I defend against such offences.
Then, casting about my foes a shackle,
I restrained the flight and fierce attack of Illuyanka
And, between the poisoned teeth,
Thrust my lance into its heart,
Winning back the stolen waters.
For my prize in this pursuit
I took for myself the liver of the serpent
And, feasting upon that potent flesh,
My blood was filled with the burning venom
Of Illuyanka's dark blood.
In fever did I contend for breath and life
For seven days and nights,
Tormented by wracking agony and awful visions
Yet I endured and fulfilled the charm,
Enforcing my frame against all venoms
That not plague nor poison should assail me,
Harming me not by an atom.
Thus what you hoped to win by your device,
O Michael, is lost to you,
Your poison as so much rain.
It harms not blood nor bone of me.
It is you who are slain,
Unarmed against my mace.
Flee or plead for your life
You shall not now save yourself by any artifice."

Now was there fear in the eyes of Michael
As the black form of Baalzebub descended
Like the night, like the shadow of death.
Trusting to his swift feet his life,
Flew Michael from his conqueror,
Racing with the speed of hurricanes
From the mace that would break him,
And Baalzebub pursued.
Twice around the walls of Heaven went
The hunter at the heel of his quarry
Yet could not close the air between them,
His leg torn by the cruel barbed spear
Of him that now was hunted.
Mocking did the Shedim rejoice
In the conquest of proud Michael, flying
From the dreadful maul of his pursuer.
Yet as the second circuit of the walls
Was completed by the prey
Horns sounded and drums
As the Elohim began their charge
That they might preserve the life of Michael
By the closing of a greater battle.
To the battle-lines of Heaven fled
Fleeing Michael and to Chadel's
Baalzebeb, mocking the craven prey
That yet evaded his pursuit.
The Shedim now took up once more
Their bows bent back with strength
And made black the sky with black-flighted barbs
That bit deep of many hearts of Elohim.
Then from gilded bows and singing strings
Their came reply from Heaven's hosts,
Coruscating like a myriad butterflies,
Both terrible and beautiful to see,
The arrows of the Elohim soared high and fell
Like rain, splashing crimson, amongst my people
Now lying broken in the midst of broken shafts.
Greater beams did now flex and cast
Their missiles from behind us high,
Singing like hurricanes above us
And falling like thunder upon the charge
Of Heaven's gleaming, gilded knights,
Riving to pieces proud steed and rider
With all the ruth of leopards.
Then, like war hounds barking, heard
Were the Shedim cannon, spitting
At the Elohim the steel and flame
That reaped a well bloody harvest
And left its chaff, ugly, ruined,
Tramped down by tardier ranks
As they came on still, like the ocean,
Breaking on the beach with gory froth. 
Twice more sang bows of Shedim make
And of Heaven's yew, in reply,
Each time unsparing and unmindful
Of what precious liquor spilled upon the soil,
Well glutted now on noble blood.
Then was battle, awful, frantic,
Joined in desperate embrace.
Now, with tooth and hide of Giant,
Strong in battle, keen for blood,
Keen for vengeance the shades
That once, within those bones,
Were joined to flesh that now hewed flesh
Else turned aside from flesh the blows
By which the Elohim sought to slay
The army I had raised against them,
The Shedim set about their brothers
And taxed them a most dear levy
And wrought well their vengeance upon them.
Baalzebub, my vice-regent in Chadel
And my champion upon the field,
Strode, leonine, up and down the clashing ranks
With his mace grasped within his right hand
And in his left the spear won from Michael,
Carving for himself a bloody wake, indeed.
Then Moloch, a burning, brazen bull
Did trample down fine magnates,
Arrayed most splendidly in Heaven's livery,
Scorched to ash by his searing radiance.
Ishtar, in a chariot drawn by lions,
Struck to her left and to her right
With a spear of light and made waste
Those hosts that once were Heaven's pride.
Ashmedai and Aset, well-versed in that art
Known only to sorcerers and seers,
Raised storms against the Elohim and vexed
Their own magicians with more cunning arts,
Rending open great gouges in the ground
That swallowed up whole ranks
Or else called down flame that devoured
The proudly mailed regiments sent forth
From the gates of Heaven, buffeted by ruin.
Back to back, in the battle's very heart
That raged and frothed like a vortex,
Did Dagon and Abbadon contend
Atop a great barrow of their fallen foes,
Heaping up to still greater heights
That heap of corpses, whole and fragments,
Moaning yet with the pain of death
As those ill-fortuned fallen bled their all
Yet eluded still by the tender darkness
That soothes all agony with unending sleep.
Like the howling of the hurricane,
Like the shriek of cruel ravens, span
The four-bladed scythe of Gabriel
Amongst the ranks of Shedim, whole no more
But torn to tatters by the steel
Of the angel's fatal instrument.
Elsewhere his brother, youthful Raphael,
Brandished, with lethal skill,
The burning sword, forged of flame,
Given him by the hand of God,
Cutting down a thousand worthy souls
In payment for the prized blade.
Elsewhere, Michael newly armed
Made sore ruin of those opponents of his plot
That contended with his perfidy at my right hand
With wounds more numerous to see or count
But with the seeming of one great wound, torn
In the united flesh of that brave phalange,
Spurting the blood of many as though one.
Auriel, the youngest of the brothers four,
Spurned not the butchery that they made,
But enjoined with equal accomplishment
The combat of his elder brothers,
The eager brashness of youth's courage
Restoring what was lacked by age's prowess.
All was carnage before my eyes.
Now, the advantage won by Giant-steel
And the burning fury of their hearts,
The Shedim yielded inch by inch
To fatigue before the mass of Heaven's hosts,
Every gap that opened plugged by warriors,
Unwearied by the field's travail.
Lest, then, the day be lost
Before the Shedim corpses strewn about
Make good the bloody price of war
I went forth from the ranks drawn up,
Torn down and once more rallied
By the voices of the horn and drum,
Cutting before me a straight road,
My blade flashing like a flame in night
And tongue-searing sorcery calling spirits
Of elemental force to turn the blades
And consume with dark energies the souls
Of those that opposed my purpose.
An unbending crimson line I ruled,
Written in the once noble blood of Heaven's sons
From Chadel's standard to the gleaming pennant,
Shining gold where all else was dulled by smoke,
Of Adonai Yahweh's house and throne.
Unto the left, a host of Elohim,
Unto the right, a host of Elohim,
Before the standard, before me,
Marched ten thousand gleaming knights of Heaven,
Resplendent in golden mail and cloaks
Of rich Tyrian dye, trimmed in gold,
Ten thousand beasts of fancy on ten thousand shields,
Ten thousand swords like lightning,
Bright and keen, unsullied by the battle's filth.
Smokeless flame, burnt within the sockets 
Where seeing orbs should look out from
And their skin shone like bronze.
Their tread fell like drum-beats, the final march
Of great kings borne upon the bier
To be closed within the dark confines of Earth
Nevermore to see the dawn.
Beyond that great legion of Heaven's heroes,
Through the choking smoke of war,
War's rank breath thick with seared flesh
And sulphurous stench of the cannon's crack,
Now I saw the angel bearing high
That banner of gold and silver weave
That I sought to trample down beneath my feet
That mud might ever hide its light.
Beyond even he, upon a litter,
Carved of a wide trunk of cedar
And bedecked with jade and gold
And lapis lazuli as blue as oceans,
Borne upon four great tusks of ivory,
And wreathed in silks of a thousand colours,
Came the Archon-Emperor, traitor to my love,
Adonai Yahweh, armoured in shining adamant,
Robed in a cloth of burning white,
Crowned with a kingly diadem, weighed down with jewels.
His ten thousand knights withstood me not
And not one was there that was not multiplied
Into many fragments by my sword
That twitched a while like broken birds
Before they were still and cold, bereft of life,
Outraged limbs and digits, faces, eyes,
Cheated of the animating force that was theirs,
The blood and breath that sustained their motion,
Almost in disbelief of such a theft
Of that which was held most dear.
His knights withstood me not.
The thirsty metal of my blade
Was yet not quenched by such a glut of blood
To seem ample for all the imps of Sheol,
And now spilt upon the polluted field
The slick bowels of the bearer of the flag.
Now with death-bringing sword in the right
And dragging through the gory mud
The once-proud banner of proud Heaven
With my the left hand, I stood
Before the king of Heaven, proud,
In defiance, in challenge.
Now did it seem that the roar of battle
Elapsed into the silence of anticipation.
March-rhyming drums were stilled
And torment's cries and moans were heard not.
All was silence save the beating of the heart,
Quickening, as though the footsteps of a shadow behind,
Come to steal the soul away.
Now did those, once father and son,
Lord and slave, king and knight,
Gaze eye to eye in opposition
Upon the field of ever-hungry war.
Still like statues were both amidst a sea
That swelled and fell in silent sopor,
As though time itself abandoned that place
Where the old lord and the young stood.
The calm before contention.
All Creation did wait upon that encounter
Save that which whirled about in strife.
Now speech, in challenge, contempt, hatred.
The elder did first speak, tense with wrath.
Thus did speak Adonai Yahweh:

"So my errant son, Satanael,
We meet now after the passing of some time,
Where once in peace, now as foes
In such opposition, irreconcilable,
Save by the defeat, inevitable, of the transgressor.
Now is the reckoning, the Day of Judgement,
I have no mercy left for you.
What hope is there left to you, standing here
Before the greatest of the six, the Archons,
Who first stirred to motion the stars,
Giving form to the fire and the earth,
Setting apart the opposites.
What strength have you to oppose me?
Long before so much as your imagining
I learnt of many potent charms and grew strong.
You have no hope left to you,
Only now despair in knowledge of your ruin.
Wretched One! Your pride is your undoing
And there is no reprieve for you
Save this little time that is now yours
But to consider what doom is yours.
No plan or fortune will now avail you,
Your brief, so brief rebellion, is ended
And your time is done.
All that opposes God must end so
For to strive against God
Is to strive against the very motion of the Universe
I am the one true lord of all things
And none may oppose my reign,
Eternal, unconquerable, infinite.
From West unto the East extend the frontiers of my domain,
From the North unto South, the Nadir unto the Zenith,
From the first moment of history
Unto the ring of the final bell.
My dominion shall never be ended.
Know this and be dismayed!
Shedim, be dismayed!"

Yet now this voice, so laden
With dire prophecy and wrathful malediction,
Of such authority as I did heed
More than the rhythm of my heart,
Seemed empty and feeble to my ears,
Its words impotent and persuasion broken.
Not dismay but rather new contempt
For such arrogance and pride
That was blinded to its own ruin,
Seeing not what was plainly apparent.
Now, in reply spoke the Shedim prince,
Undaunted, brash and haughty,
Contemptuous of such age as sired him.
With a voice of soft strength,
I spoke to Adonai Yahweh these words:

"Do you then not know me,
Who it is that you so address
With such deceptions as these,
That deceive not the hearer but the speaker,
Taken in by illusions seen by him alone
Woven for comfort in his wretchedness?
Such illusions shall not withstand my blade
That, like a shaft of light,
Makes apparent what is occluded.
I am the Dancer of Destruction,
The Destroyer and the Renewer.
Blinded by the brilliance of your finery,
The gold and silks and stones about your halls,
You see not the stones and columns cracked
And the corrosion of your foundations.
What seems magnificent to your sight
Is made only with the seeming of magnificence.
Be wary that you should trust these visions
That you yourself have woven.
Decadent indeed is high Heaven
And its ruin is appointed by destiny.
All empires have appointed to them a due time,
Save that foretold to succede your throne.
The years themselves march against the walls
That you have built high against what is true.
You are proud indeed to believe your lies
That you should command the turning of the orbits.
Rather it is that the Universe turns against you.
I am but the instrument of that turning
And in opposing me you oppose that power
Which you claim for your own right.
I am your ruin and your reckoning,
The shadow to torment your dreams.
Enough now of these empty words!
Let us match them with deeds
If indeed you are equal to your bountiful breath."

Now ringing across the field of war
Like some great bell or gong,
Else like thunder, the meeting of clouds,
With a resounding crash and flash
Of lightning's flaming brands,
Did the joining of two swords peal out,
As he and I joined in mortal contest.
Like a dancer I leapt about him,
Adonai Yahweh, King of Heaven,
Who none had yet opposed and triumphed,
Striking snake-quick with storm of blows,
Dashing inwards at an unguarded gap
Then leaping back from his swift answer
To the temerity of the son that dared oppose
The father's terrible and most potent will.
Yet no stratagem nor skilful blow,
No trick or strength could find a path
That the sword might follow, guided,
To drink of Archon-blood,
That met nor with the shield of the king,
Shining with most august glory.
He stood like a mountain, impervious
To rains and winds that batter
Its proud and lofty peaks,
Its stone to firm to find a breach
By which it might be cracked open.
Yet I bled from a hundred cuts,
From the blade that flashed like lightning
From out of clear air, striking
As I struck against a blind flank, unguarded,
Appearing at but the narrowest moment,
Scratching crimson lines as I slipped about it,
Evading its lethal purpose. 
Fatigue, like some fell wolf,
Hung upon me as a great weight,
Devouring my strength and wit.
Now, perceiving his advantage,
He that once stood as an oak-tree,
Strong and unbending,
Became as a tiger, enraged,
Pressing now for blood to wet his steel,
Beating me down with blow upon blow,
As though to hammer me into the field.
Each blow I parried shook my frame like thunder
Each blow I parried resounded in my skull,
Yet I would not again kneel to Adonai Yahweh
And kept my feet and stand.
Like a meteor his sword fell from high,
Crashing down upon me like a cataract.
Now my arms became stiff with effort,
Exhausted of all strength that might avail.
Each successive stroke I stopped more barely;
Its breath as it stirred the air to wind
Panted more closely on my brow.
Now I felt death's vigour with me,
Quickened by the chill shadow on me,
Growing ever closer in the hunt.
Now he brought down the sword,
Now raised it once again,
High above his head and mind,
Lingering to savour his grim vengeance.
Then I struck,
Flashing forward with gleaming blade in hand
Too quick for thought and bit,
Scribing upon his brow a wound of red
That filled his eyes with flowing blindness.
Now both combatants retired a way,
The King of Heaven cleaning from his eyes
His blood flowed down over them like a brook
And I but limply, recalling strength.
Now once more we faced the other,
Circling around and around
As though we danced a fatal dance,
Predatory, like lions that looked 
Upon the gazelle, awaiting
That moment when it would not see
Then see no more.
Now, with what little breath I had,
In the quietest whisper, 
The mouth moving without voice, I chanted
Ancient words of power, strong sorceries.
Now the change was well wrought
And faced he that was once my lord
With teeth and claws of shining ivory,
A thousand scales of burning copper,
A serpent, winding tailed and yellow eyes
Deep with death and guile.
Within the hundred coils of that sorcerous frame
Burnt the smoking fires of the belly
That spewed forth sulphurous fumes.
Black wings enfolded the sky
And black smoke the field.
Now, standing with his shield upraised,
Adonai Yahweh beheld new-moulded Satan,
His bright aegis before him as a wall,
Arching over its upper brim his sword
Like the scorpion's barbed sting.
Like ships within a raging Maelstrom
His eyes were caught and held by mine,
The dark serpent orbs in which all sense is lost.
Then did I strike,
Coiling forward as a dark wind,
Venom-spilling fangs gleaming in the unholy light
Of the bloodied field of combat.
Now his sword howled once more in the wind,
High, to cleave in two my head
Seeking for his throat.
What fatal judgement!
With a snap of my potent jaws
I bit deep of his flesh and twisting,
Tore from his loins his phallus
And with a gulp consumed it.
Now did he fall back in rout
As I had fallen at his thunder blows
A further river to water the blasphemous grasses
Well-glutted on the blood of two kingdom,
Poured down the thighs of the King of Heaven
As he collapsed in the pain of his loss.
Now a great cry of outrage and dismay went up
From Heaven's hosts, about me.
No more a serpent, my power gone,
They closed on me as a shadow
To avenge the mutilation that I had wrought
Upon their god and king.
As one great mass, mad with wrath,
Like some howling pack of wolves,
Like the crash of storm-darkened waves
Upon the buffeted headland, they came on
Beyond all hope of resistance.
But now Aset was at my side,
Weaving magicks to my avail,
Casting about us a cloak of midnight
That their keen sight perceived us not
And we went amongst their ranks in stealth
Back to the phalanges of our own cause.
With new fervour, with new spite,
Battle's howl waxed great once more
As both sides set once more to the slaughter,
New purpose inspiring yet greater butchery
By the hands of those that fought the other
That brother and brother hewed to pieces
And were themselves so divided 
By the new frenzy on the field.
Now did gather to my side
All the thegns of the Shedim
To counsel and seek my counsel
As to what new commands by be given 
To gain most from the losses of the day
As the sun fell bloodied in the West
By the myriad wounds of that day
As though itself blasted by the violations
Wreaked by blood-crazed battle.
First did Baalzebub speak in counsel:

"Lord Satan, Commander of Our Hearts,
Well have the Shedim discharged their duty,
Levying a dear tax of blood this day.
My eyes count three foes dead,
To every Shedim fallen on this field,
Pierced through or cut asunder
In honourable combat by Elohim blades.
Yet what gains have now been won
Are surely taken from us now
Atom by atom with each moment passing
As fatigue weighs heavy on these dauntless knights
And is more terrible a foe than any of God's children.
To fight beyond the setting of the sun
Will lose that which is now won
And what distinctions we have marked
Will be eroded by the dawn.
The surest tactic is to retire
Back to the fastness of Chadel.
The enemy will not pursue
Themselves expended by the efforts of the day
But rather return to their own walls
To recover what they can of loss.
It is no shame to make good
What is won upon this day
And thus redeem from death the noble crew
That would be lost in elongation of the fight.
Rather shame is on he that is made blind
By thirst for blood where blood is ample,
Prizing slaughter above the gains of victory,
Though not complete, more so than loss
To rash judgement of the situation.
There shall be battles yet whereby
Such victory as we desire may be fulfilled
Yet not if we gamble all and lose all
On the uncertain fortunes of the night."

Having spoken this exhortation he fell silent
To hear what judgement others spoke.
Now stepping forth from the number,
Arrayed in shining mail about the standard
Of the Shedim's most noble cause,
Burning Moloch, ablaze with wrathful fire,
Voiced a different estimation to black Baalzebub's:

"Lord Satan, Commander of Our Hearts,
Baalzebub has spoken of defeat, retreat,
Of a yielding to the Elohim foe,
But my intelligence surmises another measure,
One of victory and a routing of the foe.
Each one of us did observe your brave adventure,
Striking like thunder into the very heart
Of the shining hosts of Heaven,
Making sore ruin of the finest sons of God.
Now the standard of the foe
Lies limp and tramped into the mud
Of this most glorious of fields.
Our very hearts were stayed
And too the hearts of Heaven's hosts
As in brave contention you faced our father
Who was once our king
And strived against his most potent skill,
Overthrowing his power and denying him
What is most treasured.
A grave wound did you strike indeed
Upon the flesh of Heaven's high lord.
Witnessing their sovereign's shame
The Elohim are now moved to rage
And the Shedim exalted by Satan's victory
Are now moved to greater courage;
Yet these two frenzies have most different natures
For the Elohim are as a lion convulsing
With its heart torn out.
But the Shedim, beholding the triumph
Of their most noble prince and champion,
Are as fires with new fuel heaped on
Blazing brighter, waxing in their heat,
Their leaping flames eluding bonds
And catching upon all about them,
Growing greater and greater in fervour
With each success made theirs.
If we now press forwards on the foe
They will break in rout before our whirlwind charge
And we shall reap their blood as wheat.
Now is not the time for coward's caution
But for the strength of courage
And glorious deeds in war.
We did not come here but to go back again
But to leave the walls of Heaven as dust."

Hearing both counsels of my thegns,
Loyal to my true and worthy cause,
I weighed upon the scales of wisdom
Each argument and what was to be won and lost.
Much in my heart did I long for vindication
And to erase from the pages of the Universe
All memory of my perfidious betrayers.
My hear, like a lion caged, leapt
Against the incarcerating ribs that held it
At the joyous thought of riding
Amongst the hosts of the Tyrant of Existence
As an avenging fire, Nemesis of the Elohim,
Until was spilt an ocean, brimful of blood,
And then, by the strength of my own hands,
Tear down the walls of Heaven
And tramp its towers to ruin.
Such is dream and thus the real;
Now speaking in a weary yet triumphant voice
I issued my command unto my thegns,
Instructing them in the new course:
"My worthy Shedim, striving at my side,
Full share of this worthy victory is yours
For my part was just a little amidst a thousand valours.
Both judgement with which you counselled me
Were right in this one matter:
That now is a moment for an act of strength.
Whatever path we now pursue
Must derive full gain from what is ours,
Won by the blood of the fallen.
To now cast aside the fruits of their courage
Would be treachery to their noble ghosts.
Yet know that there is strength in yielding.
Those who allow thirst for blood to conquer their souls
Shall be conquered upon the field of war
And the crows shall be for his mourners.
Yet he wins a great victory who can cast down his sword
And tame his savage soul and bring it to the halter.
The lion that roars within the heart
Is a mighty ally to he that masters it
And the most terrible of foes to those it masters.
Much upon this day has been won
And much might too be lost this night
If we seek to hold that which is at the extent of reach.
Rather let us clasp our spoils to us,
Retiring to Chadel's fast walls and high turrets.
The day of battle has accomplished much
And these Shedim hearts, emptied of blood,
Have bought a worthy triumph.
Now is the Elohim dominion pared back
To the walls that their hosts might hold
And nevermore shall they have power on Earth
Save by marching forth from their gates,
Paying a gory toll indeed for such venture.
Now shall the middle fundament be our field
And the contention between our peoples be decided there.
We do not betray our dead in forsaking the field
But make firm what is won by their breath,
Given up in noble sacrifice to our cause.
Then let us go from here,
This field so soaked with noble blood
And blasted with the desolating fires of war.
My eyes grow weary of this wounded land
Where minds and bodies, the soil itself
Are so rudely bruised by horrors.
The vision of these walls that once I loved and served,
Beating from its ramparts enemies of that kingdom
That is now my enemy and that I destroy
Strikes as a barbed arrow into my heart.
Let us make speed back to the walls that now I serve
And mourn our brave dead."

Now, as the tides receding from the land,
Revealing the sands of the shore made strange
By the tumult of the frothing waves,
The new orders resounded by drums and trumpets,
Did the Shedim hosts give up the field,
Retiring from those cruel, embattled walls
And the heaps of fallen warriors.
Descending on whirlwind wings,
Like falling blossoms of flame,
The angels of my cause made haste,
Seeking out the portals of the Earth below
And the paths of darkness amongst the Giant-dead
For whom they had poured out blood libations
To ease their vengeful spirits.
Once more before I too followed the once-walked path
I looked again upon the walls and the field.
Already did dark crows descend like shrouds
Upon the dead, making empty eyes
And bones fleshless of fair flesh
Now debruised by death's violences.
Eyes that saw such sorrow 
Made blind themselves with tears.
As tears fell before me as rain to Earth
I took wing and now descended 
Back to more friendly walls and faces,
United to me by common loss.