It overshadowed the world with wrath and war. With its vicious forces that stretched like the sea, the world fell again and again.
Brutality. That was the word for the massacre. With their weapons dripping with blood and flesh, the forces of the dark lord hacked mercilessly the souls of men. Countless heads rolled down the mountains of the earth. None could save it. Its helplessness was a disaster.
The enemies advanced deeper into the heart of the world, thirsty for more blood, for more victories. Amidst dark and gruesome clamour, they plundered everything they found on their ways. like swarms of locusts on the loose, they marched, raining fire and chaos. Women, helpless and powerless met their doom in the hands of these brutal fighters who raped and tortured them to their untimely death. Vulnerable, children found their innocence stolen from them, as they saw blood flowed like a river. They saw their world crumbled and they wept.
On his dark beast, the dark lord beamed with delight at the horror that sprawled out before him. This was his moment, the ultimate hour of his victory. After centuries and centuries of crafty waiting, the world was at last becoming his own to rule and ruin. His aim was to kill as much as he could and the remnants would become his slave. None would be spared.
He looked up towards the heaven and grinned mischievously. Since he was shamefully thrown out of that paradise of a palace, and disrobed of his honour and glory, he had vowed to mock his former master at every given opportunity. This was one of such opportunities and he was making the most of it.
He missed his former glory and that painful realization made him hate the maker even more. He was ambitious and proud, so what? What is wrong in the clay striving to be better than the porter? He envied the ultimate power wielded by The Maker and had dreamt of usurping his throne. That attempt failed fatally and had cost him what he held so dear. He could not forget that epic battle easily.
He missed the ceaseless pleasure that flows sweetly from the fountain of life. The crystal rainbow that lightens the supple space and creates beauty from ceaseless harmony. And how much he loved harmony. Once, harmony had flowed from him like streams of water and had sparkled round the throne of the Maker. He was a singer; his voice was like magic, mellow and mellifluent. He had led the choir and they had rendered sweetest adoration to The Maker of all.
His thought was disrupted by one of the commanders.
'My lord,' the commander bowed before him.
Rudely ;what is it?'
‘We are about to chain the prisoners and set the world on fire! We only ask for your permission.'
'Permission granted! You shall all be honoured at the great banquet. Our victory shall be celebrated.'
The commander bowed and took his leave.
And so, the earth was set ablaze and the remnants taken captive.
Darkness had won.
The captive were shown hell. They carried on their backs the bulky burdens of their enemy. With their sweat and blood, they built for the dark lord cities renowned for abominations and cruel perversions. Those that proved too weak were fed to the beast, which was as gruesome as its rider. His only drink was blood and his meat human flesh. His appetite was deep; nothing could fill it to the brim.
There were some among the captives who believed in hope and prayed earnestly for deliverance. They knew it was their trips that gave the earth away. And so, they prayed for another chance, another day of glory, when the earth again would be free, when the light would return and human souls float in ultimate victory.
Though they did not realized it, their hope worked.
Up, far above the cloud, a decision was reached. The earth must be saved from the hands of a rebel whose fall from grace was the most shameful.
There were volunteers. Mickeal was one of them. He had led the heavenly forces that defeated the Dark Lord during that epic battle and he wanted to do it again.
As an archangel, he still could not understand why Lucifer of all angels dared question the authority of the Maker. It was unheard of. He had everything, why then did he allow evil into his soul? Mickeal wished above all other things to meet the dark lord again. this time, in the battle to save the earth.
Determined, the captain of the heavenly host fell down at the feet of the Maker. The ceaseless light from the throne bathed him tenderly and he felt his Maker's presence more than ever before.
'My lord, let me lead this battle and take care of this rebel once and for all. My task is to take care of your enemies and am ready to do it even now. All am asking is your permission.'
'Mickeal,' the voice was like the echo of flowing waters.
'You are a faithful servant and I love you. But am not permitting you to lead my host this time around. Someone else is doing that for me.'
'And who is this?' the archangel asked.
At that moment, the heaven floated again in suspended harmony as angels merged their voices together in holy adoration. This was the moment they have all been waiting for. Who would have the honour of saving the earth?
Amidst these echoes of love, the maker stood in his majesty and there was quiet, a great hush fell. In uniformed humility, every creature fell on their faces and worshipped him who is clothed in lightening.
'The lamb will lead the host and free the earth.' he announced and sat on his throne.
Immediately, it became lively again as songs gushed out like water and drenched the heaven in golden melody. The Lamb, clothed in love and power would lead the host of heaven to victory. It was going to be a very short battle.
The dark lord brimmed with anger as he gathered his troop. He had filled the earth with his darkness and poisoned its soul with its filthy breath. Now, after years of dominion, his reign was being threatened. Another epic battle he knew it was going to be and he wondered why heaven could not let him be. He had worked so hard to make the earth his own and no one would take it from him. no one!
He gathered his troop, humans and fallen angels alike; he pour his spirit and dark hell into their souls and they became possessed, ready to fight with their last breath. And so they marched. led by the dark lord and his beast, they proceeded to the great mountain where it would all be decided.
Their nightmare began immediately they got to the battleground, where the heavenly host was already waiting. Multiple lights became as sharp as swords and pierced the very heart of darkness. Some of the fallen cherubs burst into emptiness and melted away. Panic gripped the rest, and they retreated. Seeing his troop fleeing, the dark lord became furious and roared like a wounded lion.
Somehow, the roar was magical. It woke the hell in the retreating troop and they came roaring back to their doom.
One by one, the dark fighters were shown the way to hell by the superior forces. They bowed to the ultimate power of the lamb who rode gallantly on his white horse. Seeing the lamb riding his way to victory, the dark lord charged forward at him. That was his undoing. The lamb pointed his two edged sword and from it flowed invisible mighty chains. It happened so fast, the dark lord found himself bound. He had never felt so helpless and humiliated.
Seeing their master and his beast in chains, the dark forces knew it was over; they surrendered to he who they can never conquer in battle. Like their master, they were put in chains too and dragged into the dungeon.
Like a warrior who he truly was, the Lamb rode to the edge of the mountain and smiled. The earth had finally been redeemed. He lifted his sword and pointed it towards the earth. Swiftly, darkness fled and there was light.