Tropical Autumn

The Boeing 747 in which Shamira was traveling will take off from Baghdad at 11:48 pm — late, as is usual. 

This time, it wasn't the airline employees' fault. On its trajectory, the plane would fly over 

Israel, whose airspace was being blocked two or three times a day due to invasions by 

Arab reconnaissance jets — coming mainly from Syria and Lebanon. Whenever this 

happened, fighter jets were called in to patrol the area, and the atmosphere of tension increased. For the first time 

Since the Six Day War, there had been the threat of widespread conflict in the Middle East. The countries 

Arabs occupied by the United States rose up, and free Muslim nations formed an alliance 

against the Berlin League, the Western bloc headed by the USA and Europe. In Jerusalem, the 

The number of terrorist attacks had also grown in equal proportion to the army's aggressions. 

Israel to the Palestinian territories. The only thing, according to experts, guaranteed the integrity of the 

Holy Land was the fact that it was located on sacred ground for the three religions — otherwise, they said 

the most pessimists, would have already suffered an atomic attack. 

The aircraft was shaken by unexpected turbulence shortly after flying over the Dead Sea. The old lady 

sitting next to Shamira, she grabbed the armchair and kissed the crucifix. She was a nice lady, with 

more than 70 years old, who had spent most of his time speaking about the lives of Christians in Iraq, 

but now he only said prayers. The commander had reported, through the amplifier, that the vibrations 

board were the result of an air current, but the sorceress knew the region well and knew that this 

it had nothing to do with the weather. Seconds later, the babies began to cry, and the mothers, impatient, 

they were unable to calm them down. Even though she was aware of the mystical implications of the situation, the necromancer maintained 

calmly and placed his laptop on the table. Tried to turn on the device, but the battery 

failed, a sign that the fabric of reality was being shaken. The agitation I had been feeling in the plan 

mood reached its peak when they passed through Jerusalem, which for millennia has been an area where 

spiritual activity is intense. 

Ten minutes later everything calmed down and the children stopped shouting. The flight continued smoothly 

Mediterranean and made stops in Athens and Madrid, before crossing the Atlantic Ocean towards Rio de Janeiro. 

January, the final destination. When they landed in Spain, the plane was overcrowded. The elderly lady sighed 

relieved, she thanked God for arriving safely and said goodbye to Shamira, distributing 

thanks. The empty seat was occupied by a middle-aged man with fair skin and gray hair, 

dressed in a gray suit — a blasé and somewhat arrogant type. 

The crew served dinner, and then the lights inside the plane dimmed. 

The sorceress didn't sleep. He turned on the personal lamp in his armchair and spent the whole night immersed in the 

laptop, studying and writing down everything he could about the upcoming global conflict. Next to the 

micro, left open a copy of the Bible in Revelation 5,6, which read: "The opening of the six 

first stamps." He tried to establish some connection between the political situation and the holy book, but he could not 

found nothing concrete. Most of the things described there were nothing more than metaphors and allegories that 

could be interpreted in many ways. She felt frustrated and, when the sun rose in the immensity of the 

ocean, stopped working and napped for half an hour. She was awakened by the flight attendant, who 

shook in the seat. 

— Newspaper, magazine or headphones? — offered the flight attendant, dressed in a silk shirt 

white, closed by a blue linen jacket. 

— No... thank you — replied Shamira, still bewildered by tiredness. — Just a cup of coffee, 

please. 

After composing herself, the Enchantress of En-Dor noticed the clock. 

2:11 pm. 12th day of March. Beginning of autumn in the southern hemisphere. Then, when the vision cleared, she stretched 

neck and identified the newspaper's main headline, in the hands of his neighbor on the bench, who said the 

following: 

"Berlin League launches offensive in Türkiye". And it continued: "Eastern Alliance admits to using weapons 

nuclear weapons to defend their domains." 

The plane shook again, but now the vibration was purely mechanical—the landing gear was being 

activated. He heard the sharp sound of the turbines sucking in gulps of air, and then the warning came over the loudspeaker. 

speaker: 

— Attention, crew, prepare for landing. Local temperature 35 degrees. 

Shamira had no problems clearing her luggage at customs, despite all the objects 

strange things he carried with him and the rusty sword he had unearthed in Iraq. I had authorization 

international standard for transporting ancient artifacts, issued by a dozen archeology universities 

around the planet. She was a scientist, for all intents and purposes, a very ironic disguise for a 

sorceress. But it was efficient. Unlike Ablon, who tried to preserve his 

anachronism, remaining on the margins of mortal society, the necromancer was always informed about 

new technologies and used this to their advantage. He openly frequented the most public places 

varied, from colleges to dance clubs, with a purely didactic objective. Increasingly, if 

surprised by man's changing capacity, with his ability to create, innovate and adapt to 

more unusual situations. He came to the conclusion that no matter how long he lived, he would always 

I would be amazed at the fickle mind and passionate soul of human beings. 

He left the customs section through an automatic double door, which opened into a large hall, with 

inclined metal columns that supported a glass roof. In front of you, separated by a frame of 

chains, a small crowd gathered, waiting for passengers. Tour agents 

they held identification signs, and family members waited for relatives. 

It was already past fifteen o'clock, and the afternoon sun was coming in obliquely through the glass roof, which folded into 

a wall that is also transparent. Outside, the paved street was full of the characteristic hustle and bustle of the 

airports, with their usual traffic of commercial cars, public buses and hotel vans. 

Disembarkation was at 2:37 p.m., but Shamira had spent at least twenty minutes filling out documents for 

clearance and waiting for bags on the conveyor belt. Now, free from bureaucracy, he looked around, looking for the 

Renegade Angel, but he was nowhere to be seen. Terrible fears ran through his mind, about the 

possibility that the fugitive had finally been found... and perhaps dead? But he soon remembered that, 

As an outcast, Ablon had learned to assume a discreet posture, and therefore, incredibly, sometimes the beings 

humans simply didn't see it. At first it was intentional, but now it happened almost all the time, 

and the cherub no longer needed to make an effort to disappear into the scene. 

The sorceress improved her gaze and located him, motionless next to one of the steel columns. It was already more 

I hadn't seen him for a century, but he hadn't changed anything, except for his dark clothes. The evening rays, already 

weakened, they gave a golden tone to her blond hair. The look was the same: expressive, 

determined, reckless. And the expression was one of undeniable satisfaction at finding the only person in the whole 

the world he really cared about. 

Ablon showed a smile — affable, welcoming. Shamira came close to him and placed her bags on the floor, 

on the dark marble. For a long moment, he just stared at him, in silence. The girl's face 

it was a mask of disbelief, but also of relief. A minute later, then, she hugged him, 

excited. 

— And you? It doesn't even seem true - she said, comforted. — It's hard to believe you're 

vivo. 

He smiled again. 

— It gets easier. If I were dead, you would already know. 

— It's likely. The way things are going in the spiritual world, I wouldn't be surprised if you received news 

disagreements about you. 

Ablon picked up the two suitcases on the floor — one handheld, the other larger — and carried them outside. Both 

They crossed the lobby and exited through the automatic door. 

"Really," he agreed. —Heaven and hell are preparing for war. That's why 

the spirits are so agitated. The fabric of reality is about to tear. 

— Armageddon! So it's true. Finally, Judgment Day approaches — she was amused by the 

own words. — Look at me, I sound like one of those prophets speaking. 

— They had their value — commented the renegade, nostalgic. 

They stepped out onto the sidewalk and felt the scorching heat of tropical autumn. The street was buzzing with noise 

of engines, horns and sprints. 

— And what do you have to do with all this... I mean, with the end of the world? I thought you decided not to 

take part in celestial politics. 

—Now it's different. Looks like the basement wants to make a deal with me. 

— That's why you called me here, isn't it? 

— I need the protection of your enchantments. 

"I thought you said things were easier," the woman replied, making her point clear. 

concern for the Renegade Angel. 

— Both sides are mobilizing their troops, concluding alliances, arranging everything for the final battle. 

No one is worried about hunting me anymore. For the first time since the purge, I feel safe. You 

angels and demons have their own concerns. 

—Still... I don't think it's hard for you to sleep with one of your eyes open — he warned, as a strength of mind. 

expression. 

— I never sleep — he replied, spontaneously. Shamira was a cautious woman. I had learned 

this with the renegade general himself. 

At the end of the sidewalk, they arrived at the place where Ablon had parked his motorcycle. It was black in color 

metal, thick, matte tires, and chrome wheels and handlebars. The leather seat was long, making a 

speed bump for the passenger, I still have room for luggage. 

— Unusual transportation for a lady — noted the sorceress, relaxed. 

— But in keeping with a renegade — replied the warrior, in the same informal manner. 

The Last Renegade Angel 

The angel and the sorceress stopped by the Hotel Montenegro, in order to unload their luggage, and then continued 

to a more airy place. Shamira had never traveled to Rio de Janeiro, she only knew the metropolis through 

photos and films, which is why she convinced the renegade to take her close to the sea, where he would reveal his plans. 

The city, coastal and rugged, is hot throughout the year, and the climate cools very little, even at 

twilight falls — an environment totally different from the Iraqi desert, with its freezing nights and 

unbearable early mornings. 

At around 5:30 p.m., just before the start of rush hour, the motorcycle came to the center and maneuvered between 

cars heading towards the south, reaching the coast. Ablon and Shamira walked along the avenue by the 

sea ​​to the end, where the motorway continues, circling the side of a rocky mountain. 

Halfway there is a tourist spot, a beautiful viewpoint close to the cliff, which displays one of the 

most beautiful landscapes in the world. From that place they could see the entire Leblon and Ipanema beaches, which, 

Together, they form a cove, with its strip of sand ending in a boardwalk of Portuguese stones. 

Beyond the sidewalk is asphalt, and then countless tall buildings with glass balconies and canopies. 

millionairess stand like concrete giants. Starting from the shore, towards the west, the land goes 

gradually tilting upwards, giving observers the false impression that the city is 

supported on flat ground. This is where much of the urban area is located. 

In the extreme west, the horizon is cut out by a chain of green hills, on which are fixed 

numerous radio and TV transmission antennas. The highest point of this mountain massif is a 

sharp ledge called Pico do Corcovado, crowned by the impressive statue of Christ 

Redeemer, with open arms. 

Ablon stopped the motorcycle in a small parking area around the lookout. Shamira no 

He held himself back and walked to the stone wall. Ten meters below, sea waves crashed against the 

cliff, throwing splashes, and the sorceress stayed there for a few moments, calm, contemplating the 

marine spectacle. The renegade arrived soon after, bringing a bottle of mineral water, which he had 

purchased at a kiosk. He knew that the necromancer still harbored human needs, even 

who had already learned to avoid his own death. She looked at the entire landscape, until her vision stopped 

far away, where Christ the Redeemer stood imposingly. 

—Now I understand why you chose this city to await the Day of Reckoning. 

— Sounds suggestive, doesn't it? — agreed the general, looking away from the statue. —But that's not it. I 

I have the impression that when everything starts to fall apart, this will be the last place to disappear. Brazil is 

one of the so-called neutral countries, one of the states outside the line of conflict between the Berlin League and the 

Eastern Alliance. 

— I think I missed something... — replied the sorceress, without quite understanding. 

— I don't know what the end of the world will be like. I don't believe that stars will fall from the sky, or that the moon will 

will turn into blood. What these prophecies indicate to us are signs. And these signs are evident. 

Shamira looked at Ablon, seriously. 

— Do you think the Apocalypse is approaching? 

— He's already started. There is no doubt. The four horsemen began their march. 

— War, hunger, disease... we've seen this before. What makes you think this is different? 

He glanced over the hills. Beams of sun cut through the clouds, coloring the verdant slopes. 

It was a rare moment of peace, very reminiscent of ancient times. It was sad to think that everything 

that—the earth, the sky, the oceans—would soon be over. 

—Humanity is corrupted, Shamira —and as he said this the renegade's expression was much more 

of frustration rather than melancholy. — In the hearts of men, hope was supplanted by hatred. 

— But not in all of them. 

— As always, few will pay for the mistakes of many. It was like this in the flood, which destroyed Enoch and 

Atlantis. It was like this in Sodom and Gomorrah. And it will be like that at Armageddon. Would it happen sooner or 

later. The Wheel of Time cannot be contained. Only God himself has the power to move it. AND, 

As we know, he is absent for now. 

— The Wheel of Time... — murmured the necromancer, as if she were searching for something stored there in the cave. 

back of mind. — You told me about her once. 

—The Wheel of Time is a divine artifact. It was created by Yahweh with the aim of marking the 

continuation of the seventh day. When your cycle reaches the seventh day it will also be finished. THE 

Most High will awaken, and the fabric of reality will fall completely. The two worlds, the physical and the spiritual, 

they will become one, and this will also be the beginning of the kingdom of God. 

Shamira listened in silence, intent. 

—This is what the sacred manuscript of the Malakins tells us — continued the general. — But he doesn't 

says that the end of days will be preceded by cruel and bloody episodes. It was humans who 

they prophesied the Apocalypse in this way. Personally, I have always believed otherwise. Always 

I thought I would awaken when the lands had reached plenitude, when peace reigned 

absolute. That's how I always wanted it to happen. But, after so long on earth, I stopped 

I deluded myself and understood that the salvation of the soul is a gift for a few. 

Ablon stopped talking and took a deep breath, enjoying the pleasant smell of the sea. The moon rose in the east, 

appearing to emerge from the ocean. Its light formed a trail that began at the horizon and only 

it ended in the surf, close to the beach. The sorceress's mind was buzzing with so much information, but 

she remained silent, digesting the sincere words. 

— Do you remember when I met her"? — he said, suddenly, — I once told you about the free book. 

agency and said that this was the ultimate prize granted by God to mortals. 

— Yes... — replied the woman, simply. 

— I don't think it needed to be like that. It was the lands that chose the path, they did the 

your world. They decided on the path of death and went in their own lust. But... — he thought again — I'm not talking 

this as an inquisitor, nor as a judge. I am not and never have been a role model. Also already 

I made a lot of mistakes. 

As he said this, he looked at her with gray eyes and continued tenderly: 

— I remember that I was once at the gates of corruption. But, in the darkest moment, I had someone who 

rescued from darkness. 

— I just presented you with the options. You made your choice. 

— Yes. Not everyone had the chance I had. Not everyone had someone to show them the way. 

path. That's why I don't judge them. Sometimes I think I'm partly to blame 

in this. Could have done more. Could have helped humanity, instead of walking in the shadows 

of the world, trying to reconstitute brotherhood. But regrets won't change anything. What is done is 

done. 

The night was coming, stealthily. The tide receded, and the waves receded onto the sand. 

— Very well — said Shamira, breaking the tension of the conversation. —So what does the Renegade Angel do? 

Do you want me? You talked about a deal. 

— Lucifer sent Orion to bring me a message. It seems like the Morning Star wants me to 

join their ranks in this final war. 

—So why do you need me? Is the Dark Archangel's protection not enough? 

— The real protection I need is against him. Lucifer already betrayed me once. I don't intend to accept 

his proposal, but I'm curious to hear what he has to tell me. That's why I decided to go visit him in 

inferno. 

— Look what you're going to do... — she warned. —Do you remember the last time you requested my magic? 

for that kind of thing? 

— I never forgot. My body still hurts from the burns. That was reckless. But the times 

they were others. I was hunted back then, and there was a bounty on my head. Furthermore, I 

I lightly invaded forbidden limits. It was natural that Lucifer's subjects expected a 

ruthless attitude. Now, however, I have been invited. 

The renegade's arguments were convincing, and Shamíra agreed with them. However, it continued 

preferring that Ablon did not undertake that journey. She got up from the stone wall and, thoughtfully, 

He walked a little, mentally researching the enchantments he kept up his sleeve. Yes, she 

had some rituals that could be useful. 

— A trip to hell... — he pursed his lips, reasoning. — You know the dangers. Once 

there you will be vulnerable. 

— I'm willing to take the risk. 

— I know some spells that can give you limited protection. But if they want to end 

you, not all my power can preserve you. 

— I prefer to think of your magic as a precaution. I do not believe that the Dark Archangel and his hordes 

they really want to kill me. Not this time. 

The necromancer still had her doubts. 

— Why do you trust this so much? 

—Orion. He seemed to be telling the truth, and I trust him. Furthermore, if Lucifer is at the gates of 

war, it's very likely that you really want my help. It would be practical for him to use me as a symbol, 

After all, I have always been the icon of resistance. 

— That goes against all the propaganda he made in favor of hunting down renegades, don't you think? THE 

The devil put all the blame for his fall on you. You told me that yourself a long time ago. 

— Yes, but the Morning Star knows very well how to shape situations in its favor. It's the biggest 

master of persuasion that exists. It is capable of turning even the worst enemy into a martyr. If you had it 

known, would know what I'm talking about. He has a tongue as sharp as a snake and the intelligence of a thousand 

strategists. It was not for nothing that he dragged a third of the winged people into his rebellion against the archangel Michael. 

— Orion... the Fallen King of Atlantis — pondered the sorceress. — Yes, you have reason to trust 

in it. But isn't Satan himself falling victim to his master's persuasions? — The satanis 

They constitute the noblest order of demons, equivalent to the celestial seraphim. 

- Perhaps. But, as I said before, it's a risk I'm willing to take. After so many centuries, 

Finally, I feel ready for any challenge. I feel prepared to face Miguel in combat and 

then present weapons before God. But I will only be able to call the Prince of Angels to the duel when 

fabric of reality fall. For now, my curse binds me to the physical world. So all I have left is 

wait. Wait until all of the Apocalypse Seals are open and the membrane has 

dismantled. 

The moon finally rose straight into the sky, and the cars on the avenue reduced their flow. The windows of the buildings 

they glowed, and TV antennas swayed in the wind. 

— We are all that remains of an era that was lost in oblivion, swept away by the same 

storm that devastated old Babel — declared the woman, wistfully. — I'll help you, general. I give you 

I owe that, and much more... I will always owe you something. But I don't agree with that. I think I am 

selfish, deep down... I don't want to lose him. 

— You always expect the worst... and in a way I do too. And our way of reacting to the unknown, 

to the unpredictable future. But I've escaped death many times, and I think I can do it one last time. 

— But what if I can't? 

— You yourself said that our era is over. We are living beyond our time. And I've been a lot 

further than it should go. I'm the last renegade angel. And upon me weighs the task of those who, one 

One day, they decided to accept my ideals. I can't disappoint them, sorceress. 

It really can't — thought the necromancer. You have never forgotten them nor forsaken those you 

he likes. He saved my life and defended me many times. Afterwards, he defeated spirits, witches, murderers and 

hunters. He escaped hell and defeated the envy of his enemies. Now walk your route 

final, for the most terrible of wars, for the ultimate convergence of all its virtues. 

Yes, Shamira would help him. And he would do it with pride. 

Night Interlude 

Ablon and Shamira returned to the Hotel Montenegro shortly after nightfall. The landlord was 

drunk and had to make an effort to greet guests with a wave of the hand. muttered 

A few words, all incoherent, and he went back to dozing on the counter. 

They went up to the room and settled in the room. Moments later, a storm engulfed the 

city, forming paths of water on the window pane.: There were no beds there, but the sorceress 

He improvised a mattress with a blanket and pieces of canvas. When he finally stretched his body, he noticed the 

He was exhausted and remembered that he hadn't slept in almost two days. 

She lay down, closed her eyes and tried to relax. Before, however, he noticed Ablon sitting at the table, in the 

dim light, reading some ancient parchments, and felt a pleasant sensation, which he hadn't felt in a while. 

a long time. It was like being back in the cave, falling asleep under the protection of the renegade, always 

livestock, always alert to any invasion. She was sure and certain that, while those gray eyes 

If they watched, nothing bad would happen to them. 

Fell asleep. 

He woke up around midnight. It was still raining. Ablon was standing, silently glued to the window, examining 

looking at the stillness of the street, the streetlights, the roofs of the buildings. She knew that expression 

sharp, like an eagle in the nest, and feared the worst. 

- What there was? — he asked, in whispers. 

— Shhhhh... — signaled the angel, indicating not to make any noise. The necromancer's blood ran cold before 

the alleged threat. 

About three minutes passed until Ablon relaxed his posture, moving away from the window. Acted as if 

had picked up a false alarm. The tension dissolved and Shamira asked again: 

- What happened? 

— Nothing. Everything is fine. I just had the impression that... I just thought that... 

- What? — the sorceress cut in. 

— Nothing. It doesn't have to be anything. Go back to sleep. 

She insisted some more. 

— Maybe a hunting angel or a vengeful demon? — and used a more relaxed tone, to 

hide your nervousness from yourself. 

- No. If any entity was nearby, I would have already noticed the vibrations of its aura. 

Shamira's eyelids felt heavy. If I hadn't been so tired, I would have gone back to the subject, but the lethargy 

dominated. He slept peacefully and never woke up again. 

The Protection Ritual 

Shamira spent the entire morning casting invisible charms and performing small rituals inside the room. 

Ablon's apartment. The aim was to convert the old warehouse into a sanctuary. A sanctuary is, for 

definition, an area tied to the physical plane where the fabric of reality is very thin, almost null. THE 

softness of the membrane, in a sanctuary, allows it to tear more easily, and the result 

The practical reason for this is that the supernatural effects, at the affected point, are produced much more effectively. 

There are many ways to create a sanctuary. Each magical tradition, sect or religion has its own 

methods for this. The path of necromancy, in particular, makes use of mystical objects and fermulas 

magic to remodel the tissue. The preliminary incantations were contained in a very 

ancient, with a leather cover and papyrus leaves, called the Grimoire of Nippur. A slimy preparation, 

special, is used to delimit the chosen chamber — which extended from the door to the window, encompassing 

the entire room space. 

There are rarer situations in which sanctuaries are created without any human intervention. That 

frequently occurs in places where saints or legendary characters are killed, or where entities 

mystics make occasional appearances. 

The size of a sanctuary is variable. They can be as small as shrimp or as large 

as forests. Contrary to what many think, these mystical places, however, can be 

tainted. There are intentional means of doing this, such as the use of unholy spells, but the most 

The simple trivialization of the place is common. A cathedral that is demolished, transformed into a public square, and 

whose importance is totally forgotten, soon returns to the initial level, and the tissue reverts to the consistency 

normal. 

Shamira's intention in creating a sanctuary there was to prepare the room for the performance of a ritual 

really powerful. It would have to be strong enough to protect Ablon in hell, as the demons 

They are rarely fooled by cheap tricks. I decided, this time, to use a little of the old 

magic, the forgotten magic, the magic of old Enoch, recorded in the pages of the ancient grimoire. THE 

execution would leave her exhausted and unable to use her mystical abilities for an entire day, but it would be for 

a good cause. 

The Enchantress of En-Dor completed her preparations late in the afternoon. You rested a little and satisfied yourself with 

the Chinese food in little boxes that the renegade had bought. As always, Ablon accompanied her to dinner, 

although he didn't need to eat - no angel does. Sitting on the wooden floor, stripped down, 

They talked about frivolities, about their trips to the East, and Shamira remembered the taste of authentic 

Chinese food, from the mandarin era, very different from those oily noodles. 

— When are we going to start the ceremony? — asked the general, collecting the remains of dinner. 

— Let's wait for the night. It is at these times that the spiritual world is most accessible. And I still need 

finish the details. 

After taking out the trash, the angel and the witch moved the desk and larger bookshelves aside, 

creating a clean area, a large empty space. On the old plank floor, Shamira drew a 

pentagram, a five-pointed star, using an ancient reddish clay, whose earth 

it had belonged to the soil of Enoch. Clay alone was already loaded with mysticism, due to its 

legendary origin. 

The pentagram was surrounded by inscriptions. At four of the five points, the girl positioned containers of 

pottery containing tiny portions of natural elements — one of them was filled with earth; the second 

contained water; from the third emanated fire; and the room let out white smoke. On Thursday 

At the top, the necromancer fixed a dagger, her personal dagger of enchantment. 

The stage was ready. The sun had died, without them noticing, obscuring the streets. The sky 

it was clean, without clouds, and now it was the moon's shine, not the raindrops, that tinted the window, 

drawing silver shapes on the floor. 

— We're in luck — warned the woman. — And a busy night in the spiritual world. I think we will 

able to successfully complete the ritual. Are you ready? 

— No problem — replied the celestial. 

She put aside her modern clothes and donned a simple, one-cut tunic. It was made of cotton 

raw and had an old appearance, but it was preserved. and had belonged to his first teacher, in Canaan, and 

remained intact thanks to the Sippar preparation. In one arm he held the grimoire and with the other 

hand gestured fingers. 

— What we're going to do here is try to invoke two greater spirits. The entities power is great, 

comparable even to the power of the celestials. Once invoked, we will have to bargain some of the 

their essence, and with it I will energize the dagger — and he pointed to the knife lying on the pavement. - Only 

then complete the spell. 

— Do you think it will be easy to convince them to give up their essence? 

— It's never easy. These spirits are very old and over time they become more arrogant. But already 

I have some experience with them. 

— You are modest — commented the general. — What should I do? 

—Nothing, at least until I say otherwise. For now, just watch. 

Ablon nodded and the sorceress began to cast a spell. She repeated, out loud, the series of 

mystical runes contained in the book: 

"Mayor Sidi!" More Kurra! Mer Urulu! Mer Martu! Zi Dingir Anna Campa! — the intonation was strange and 

it did not resemble any language known to humanity. It was part of a code 

magical, an occult language spoken only by sorcerers. 

As the song continued, Shamira began to sweat. It was then that something strange happened. THE 

The brightness of the moon, which cut through the window, gradually disappeared, until everything outside was dominated by the most 

complete darkness, a terrible pitch, comparable to cosmic blackness. 

- What is happening? 

— A momentary transfer to the ethereal plane. I'm opening the passage through the four 

gates. We, together with this roomer, are now crossing the borders of reality. 

A ghostly cold filled the apartment. Nothing could be seen through the window: the buildings, the 

moon, the streetlights on the sidewalk... nothing, just darkness. It was as if the hall had been thrown 

to the ends of space, inhospitable and distant. Now the only source of clarity came from the bowl with 

fire, which burned at one end of the star design. 

The necromancer stopped the recital, rested her head and laid the heavy tome aside on a box. 

common. The silence was absolute, but it didn't last long. 

The general heard the sound of breaking wood. Suddenly the floorboards arched upward. 

outside. A foul-smelling creature forced its way out, destroying the floor within the area. 

demarcated by the pentagram. If she weren't already so expert, so accustomed to the bizarre universe, Shamira 

she would have been nauseated by the apparition. 

The entity that emerged from the boards was a monstrous and deformed being. It resembled a mass of meat, 

sometimes black, sometimes greenish, with hundreds of small eyes spread across the surface of the body and 

dozens of mouths that bit the air. It moved slowly, using pseudopods 

goo. The unbearable smell came from the secretion expelled by the flesh, combed from open pores, 

full of pus. 

Fearless, the girl walked to the magic circle, without going inside. He looked at the creature with 

authority. His gaze was hard and austere, and his face was not defenseless. 

— Baccarat! — that's how she called the monster, in an obscure language normally used by 

corrupted spirits that roam in the depths of the ethereal. 

The multiple eyes fixed on the necromancer, and the mouths opened, Dantesque. 

— Sorceress of En-Dor, master of the art of necromancy, conjurer of many spirits. Baccarat 

listening. 

The copious lips were all articulated at the same time, producing a shrill voice. 

—Bacarata, prince of the matter. I come to implore a condice of your essence for the realization of 

protection spell. 

The conx is a type of mystical unit used to measure spiritual energy. 

The creature moved, spitting out the unwholesome odor. 

— And who will receive the enchantment? — summoned the monster. 

— Ablon, the Renegade Angel, expelled from heaven even before Lucifer's fall. The cherub who 

challenged the tyranny of the archangel Michael after the destruction of Sodom. 

Quiet, a little further back, Ablon had the impression that some of Bacarata's eyes were watching him, 

analyzing him from head to toe. The angel's wings were folded, as always, fused to his back, 

imperceptible. Even so, his shadow on the wall showed the outline of his open wings. There is a 

confraternity of sorcerers, the Black Magicians, who seek the energy for their spells in the darkness. They 

They often say that the shadow always reveals our true nature. 

"His aura is powerful," the entity rambled, and then let out a ridiculous growl, followed by a 

silva. 

— I don't think — the general whispered in the necromancer's ear — that we're not going to get anything out of this. 

disgusting figure. — He was starting to get impatient. Cherubim are fighters and little 

accustomed to diplomacy. 

— Patience — suggested the woman. — The bargaining hasn't even started yet. 

The entity roared again, sliding into the pentagram. His words were barely understandable, very 

scratched. 

— Powerful aura... Bacarata wants the angel's essence. Essence for essence, that's the exchange. 

—But this is not an exchange, Bacarata — challenged the Sorceress of En-Dor, casting a dangerous look. 

Immediately, the spirit emitted a sharp scream of hatred and recognized the ruse. Excess secretion 

Coming out of her body indicated a state of anger, and the creature advanced in fury against the necromancer. 

But he stopped when he reached those in the circle, as if some invisible wall trapped him inside. In a 

reflex, the general advanced, took a step forward to protect his friend, she stopped him, indicating that she was not 

was in danger. 

— You're trapped in the Pentagram of Bethor, Bacarata, if you haven't noticed yet. 

Vulnerable and unable to cross the demarcated area, the entity writhed and more water flowed from its body. 

a liter of the goo. He spat out a torrent of infamous noises, cursing the sorceress. 

— Sorceress... you will burn in Xahra's fire when I free myself. 

She smiled mischievously. 

— Don't swear, "prince." I might decide to leave it there forever," he threatened, and then resumed his 

bargain. — I'm just looking for a bilateral solution — and he paused for his mind to calm down. 

calm down. —Would you be able to forget this hatred if I gave you a drop of the renegade's blood? 

—Blood... it's just matter — growled the creature. 

— You are the master of the matter. I'm sure you'll find a valuable use for the fluid 

vital. What I'm asking for is a condex of your essence. In return I offer you freedom, plus the 

boiling plasma of the fugitive general. 

Baccarat had no way out. He had been cornered, cheated, deceived by a witch - a kind of 

quite humiliating situation for such an influential spirit. But despite the circumstances 

unfavorable, he came to the conclusion that he would not lose much by accepting the offer. 

By the grunting and irregular movements of the pseudopods and the agitation of the tiny mouths, 

Shamira understood that he had accepted the exchange, even grudgingly. And what other option did he have? 

— Ablon, make a shallow hole in your finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the pentagram — 

indicated the necromancer, offering the cherub an enchanted needle. — But don't step inside the 

circle, or the protective seal will be broken. 

The warrior angel looked at the entity, intrigued, and hesitated to give him his blood, but his friend did so. 

comforted. 

- Don't worry. He has no effective power over his avatar. 

Resigned, Ablon pressed the tip of the needle and released a red drop onto the floor, near the 

monster. Bacarata writhed and uttered an unholy moan of devilish pleasure as he tasted it with his 

skin the precious celestial fluid. When, finally, there was nothing left to suck, the monster 

slipped back into the hole, and the sprung boards straightened out, as if they had never been 

ravines. 

The dagger above the pentagram burst into flames, but it did not melt. The fire was violet in color, 

different from the normal burning, and basically spiritual. The knife was energized, finally, with the essence 

of the creature, but one conx alone was still not enough. 

— I need to take advantage of the fact that the tissue is still flexible to call the next entity — he warned. 

Shamira, straightening her tunic. 

Without wasting much time, the sorceress walked to the suitcase and took out a parchment engraved with it. 

with magic formulas. They were inscriptions as powerful as those in the old grimoire, but the design 

it was very different, probably developed by some European culture. The contours of the letters so 

straight, but more circular. All the characters were connected by curves, giving the impression of 

form a single pictogram. The necromancer analyzed the document carefully and began reading. 

The spirit took a while to appear, and Ablon thought it would never come again. The more evolved it is 

an ethereal being, the more distant he is from the carnal universe — and therefore less accessible. The entities 

corrupted are very dependent on the energy of human beings, so it is easier to find them 

wandering, lost beyond the fabric, than fixed in their singular domains. The guest 

consequently, however, it was just the opposite. 

To attract the next creature, Shamira had to recite the spell several times. When I was already 

exhausted, almost without strength, a golden luminosity appeared ahead, floating one meter above the sky. 

circle. The spirit came in the form of a beautiful spectrum of light, which shone in copper tones. 

When observing him, the Renegade Angel distinguished arms and legs and also the head, but the face was 

dazzled, invisible in the light. 

The sorceress dropped the parchment, tired, and almost fell to her knees, but the renegade supported her. THE 

Exaggerated exertion had robbed her of all her vigor, and she needed to breathe, first and foremost. 

As Shamira composed herself, the entity spoke. Her voice was feminine, soft and musical, like 

lovely fairyland melody. 

—What do you bring me, sorceress? — hissed the image. —A celestial... I can feel your aura 

pulsing. A cherub... Sixth cycle. Angels like him don't usually visit the physical plane. What it does 

here, herald? 

Ablon opened his mouth to respond, but before he said a word the creature already replied: 

— You are a renegade angel, and you are stuck with your avatar. — If she already knew, then why did she ask? — 

whispered the general to the necromancer. 

— She didn't know until she read his thoughts. Got the answer on the tip of your tongue, as soon as you 

formulated in his mind. Her name is Korrigan, Celtic goddess of great wisdom. 

The spirit resumed its speech. She had already understood, through her divinatory powers, everything that Shamira 

desired and the real objective of that ritual. 

— The celestials are at war — began the deity, prophetically. — Armageddon, as the angels do 

they call, it's very close now. We, the spirits, do not want the devastation of the planet. That's why 

that the spiritual world is so agitated. My essence, as needed, is already in the dagger. 

And what else? thought Shamira, sure that Korrigan could hear her. You wouldn't help me 

grace,., Neither evolved spirits nor ethereal gods are so altruistic. What do you want as 

bargain? 

— All I want is the preservation of both worlds — maneuvered the image. — The general 

renegade... He is the one who holds the option of the future in the palm of his hand, the key to locking away celestial greed. 

He will prevent Armageddon from being completed - he determined. 

— But this is not and has never been my intention — questioned Ablon. — When the Apocalypse ends, the 

membrane will be shredded, and then I will rise to the clouds, to challenge the tyrant Michael. God, in 

Then he will wake up and punish the wicked. Even if I die in battle, the Prince of Angels will be 

condemned for having created the horror and disrespecting the Father's will. Armageddon is, for me, the 

final redemption. 

—And how can you be so sure that Yahweh will really wake up? — proposed the entity. 

— So it is written in the Book of Life — he replied, automatically. 

— Have you ever seen this book? — he instigated, and the celestial pondered. The Book of Life was a 

mystical tome, given to Michael by the Creator, which recorded the history of the world. There would be contained all 

the sequence of the seventh day, from the making of man to the Last Judgment. But only the archangels accessed it. 

The spirit floated to the edge of the pentagram. Korrigan could track thoughts, memories and emotions and 

interpret your values. 

— Not all things happen as we plan, warrior. Now, at this very moment, a 

army of angels is leaving the Fifth Heaven and moving to the Fortress of Sion, in the ethereal plane, 

where the archangel Michael awaits the beginning of the great battle. Whether the Heavenly Prince will indeed be punished 

by the Shining One, it doesn't seem strange to you that he is waiting so anxiously for the conclusion of this 

war? What would be his interest in promoting Armageddon? 

The Renegade Angel swallowed his protest and remained silent, worried, the Celtic deity had proposed a 

complicated question — and extremely important. How he had been blind because, for centuries, he had never 

reasoned about it! 

And what else do you see, spirit?, thought the cherub. What else can tell us about the plans beyond? 

— All I see is the twilight of time, a scorched earth, destroyed by humans and angels. I see 

an impasse, the most fundamental of dilemmas. 

When many have already died, and only ashes cover the face of the earth, you will have to resolve a 

crisis and choosing between divinity and humanity. 

— I don't know if I understand. Why is my choice so important? 

— I wouldn't know how to say it, nor do I think I should. Your nature is upright, but there will be a day when you 

will decide for the world. And everything I know. 

— I didn't expect so much responsibility. 

— You have always been a rebel — stated the entity. — But living on the edge of the world is much more 

easier than governing it. His time as a wanderer is over. Sooner or later, you will have to return to battle, 

appear to enemies and assume your position. The Apocalypse has already begun. The last sign, the Seventh Seal, 

has just been opened. Now only the Seven Trumpets separate us from terminal destruction. 

Rarely, even in paradise, had Ablon been enlightened by so much shrewdness. Now, strangely, the 

The universe around him seemed to make more sense, and his perspective on many things began to change. 

He did not have the ability, alone, without the use of magic, to penetrate the ethereal plane, and he did not have the 

no idea what was going on there. But the spirit had brought precious information about the movement of 

celestial troops. 

The musical sound ended and, abruptly, the supernatural light went out. Korrigan's ethereal fell apart, 

disappearing from the pentagram. For a while, Shamira and Ablon remained silent, stunned, still unable to 

realizing the importance of everything they had heard. 

The apartment's window lit up, reflecting the mundane light from the electric poles and bringing them 

back to common reality. The outline of the buildings stood out in the landscape, and a siren in the distance 

confirmed the return. 

— Are we back? — asked the renegade. 

— To the material plane? Yes. 

— And the enchantment? Was it completed? 

— No. Not yet. I will use the energized dagger to cast the spell. 

From then on, the sorceress knew exactly what to do. The difficult part is over. And it's true that I never had 

This ritual has been tested before, but most complex spells are performed a few times, 

especially these days when there are so few wizards in the world. 

Shamira reached for the dagger, at the upper end of the seal, and took it between her fingers. Afterwards, he rotated 

heels and returned to the presence of the angel. 

— Extend your arm. This is going to hurt a little. 

He stretched out his right arm. Committed, the woman used the dagger to mark a rune 

magic on the lower part of his friend's forearm. The blade burned when it touched the skin, allowing 

a dark smoke and producing a tiny scar, which outlined the inscription. 

— This hurts more than a normal wound — said the general, proving the distress of the wound. 

—The dagger is enchanted. The cut is affecting not only his physical carcass, but also his body 

spiritual. Flesh and spirit are being affected—and he drew the blade away. —Now show me the other one 

arm. 

The cherub extended his left forearm, and Sharnira inscribed on it a second rune, different from the one 

first, but following similar iconographic patterns. They certainly belonged to the same code 

magical. There are hundreds of them. Practically every human culture with mystical traditions has its alphabet. 

hidden. 

The sorceress finished marking the last rune and took a deep breath, exhausted. He dropped the knife, and the gun lost 

the shine. The spirits' energy had been consumed, and the spell closed. The natural elements within the 

Ceramic pots no longer existed, taken away by the force of witchcraft. The red clay dried, and all the 

Magic formulas drawn in the circle were now blurred or illegible. 

"The spell is complete," the woman announced, panting. Some rituals require too much energy, and 

that was at the top of the list. 

Ablon looked at the burns on both arms. I felt the power of the inscriptions on my own skin, 

but I didn't understand its usefulness. 

— These injuries will heal at the same rate as a normal human — warned the woman. 

sorceress. — Unfortunately, you will not be able to use your angelic powers to regenerate them. After 

From this, only a dark mark will remain, like a tattoo, which will remain engraved on your body 

until the rune takes effect. 

—And what is the power of these runes? 

— Each of them has its function. The first, engraved on the right arm, is the body rune. She will 

spare him from a mortal wound. 

— If I am killed, will she bring me back? 

— Yes, but it will only work once. After that the rune will disappear and you will be back to 

vulnerable. The second rune, marked on the left arm, works in a similar way: the mind rune. 

It will preserve your mind against any psychic attack, such as forgetfulness, attempts to 

domination and reading of thoughts. No matter how strong your attacker's power, the spell 

will protect. 

The renegade smiled. He was satisfied with the result of the ritual, but his main joy was seeing how much 

her friend had evolved, learned and specialized during all those years. It was without a shadow of a doubt 

the most fascinating woman he had ever met, and an excellent practitioner of the magical arts. She was intelligent and beautiful, 

wise and attractive. 

— I think I'm well protected. This ritual is much more efficient than expected. 

— Yes... But don't forget, each rune only acts once, and no more. 

Magic is the most complex of all activities in the world, the most stimulating and rewarding. 

However, angels and demons cannot use it, so they will never truly understand it. 

A golden ray entered through the window. A new day was dawning. 

— Is it daytime yet? — the general was surprised. — I thought... 

— Time passes faster on the ethereal plane — recalled the necromancer. 

— Ah, yes, of course — reminded the warrior. — It's been a long time since I left Haled. The subjects 

ethereal ones escape me. 

Shamira was devastated. 

— Now I need to rest and sleep. I don't think I'll wake up before sunset. 

She staggered, and the renegade followed her to the bed. He stayed by his side for about ten minutes and listened 

as she whispered, before finally blacking out. 

—What do you think Korrigan meant when she said that the Seventh Seal has already been opened? 

The celestial's attention was lost in the cloudy sky, through the window. 

— She meant that the war starts today.