The Angel's Casket

Prologue

A war was waging in Heaven. Lucifer had returned for his vengeance, his control, with his fallen loyally by his side. He refused to be known as Satan, and his Fallen no longer wanted to be considered foul and vile demons. They were angels, and they knew this. They were angels, just with a different mind set as their Godly counterparts.

Lucifer had invaded, striking when and where God was most weak: his first heaven. The creatures, the humans, were most influential, easily taking the side of Lucifer, of free choice and will. God had banished him to the first heaven before he could be sent to the burning pit, and he took advantage of what God had willingly given him. He granted the humans the ability of free will, which then caused them to willingly turn from God and follow the path they desired; the path less travelled quickly became the path paved by tar, asphalt, and large automobiles.

Quickly, he reclaimed the second heaven: air. The atmosphere. The memories of being imrisoned here then being forcefully cast out invaded his mind. He bounded between the boundaries separating the two, quickly eradicating the pure angels who dared stand in the second heaven in defiance of him. As they were unprepared, they were disposed of quickly. They only possessed small weapons, such as daggers and bows with very few arrows. With sharp slashes of swords, their heads were flying, and their hearts were torn in half. Blood coated the armor, the swords, and the skin of the Fallen. Hardly any of it was their own. Only few Fallen were injured, covered mostly in bruising and shallow wounds. Few black feathers littered the ground, drowned in the feathers that were once pure, blinding white but now bloody from the battle.

Lucifer and his comrades watched as the bodies of the angels turned slowly into glittering dust, leaving nothing behind and heading to the highest of heavens, the stars. They bowed their heads in respect, granting them a safe journey homeward, watching as their stars formed above them. They did not wish to kill their brethren, but knew it was necessary for their goal. Yet, they strived to kill as few of a number as possible. Lucifer did not wish to eradicate God, nor any of the angels he'd watched over during his time of reign as God's right hand. He just wanted change, thought it was the rightful time to change the views and leadership of heaven and allowing the creatures under its rule to be truly alive, rather than puppets.

The Fallen started shifting again. Their brethren had reached and joined the stars, the other angel spirits, safely, and it was time to continue their march forward. Nearly in unison, their wings extended outwards at both sides, blocking out the blue behind them with a wall of shiny, inky black feathers. Their wings flapped down forcefully, sending down to the ground a strong burst of air and propelling them upwards, an army heading forcefully to the third and final heaven.

They'd achieved their goal for entry, a surprise attack. God, nor none of His angels, knew of their arrival; Lucifer and his Fallen had the upper hand. A class of fledgling angels, untrained and unprepared for war, attempted an attack against the Fallen. With heavy hearts, they were slaughtered. Without their knowing, one escaped and warned the archangels of the incoming army. The archangels prepared for war; Saint Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel treaded forward to warn God.

"O Father, the war has come upon us," Michael cautioned. "What do you wish us to do?"

"My Angel," God addressed Michael, "Fight. Fight for your brethren and the Kingdom in my name. Fight, I say!"