PART 2: WRATH OF GOD, Chapter 6 Fire Master Part 1

Citadel of Fire, central region of the First Heaven

Kneeling on the marble floor, surrounded by the vapors of the temple, the archangel Gabriel meditated. The expression was serene, like the morning dew that runs down the surface of the plants, meeting the first rays of sun. She had long honey-colored hair, tied in a long braid. The body was thin, but fierce, and she was covered in beautiful gold armor, with plates that protected not only the torso, but also the legs and arms. Beautiful shoulder pads supported a white cape, divided in half so as not to hinder the movement of the wings. And in front of her, a foot away, rested the Scourge of Fire, the flaming sword that, in the past, had served to expel Lucifer and his followers from the divine abode.

The Temple of Harmony was a gigantic hall, entirely worked in white stone and supported by thick columns, measuring one hundred meters high. The floor, in its entirety, was filled with boiling water, with the exception of a bridge that led to the archangel's platform. The pure liquid evaporated, flooding the place with warm, comforting mists, with an invigorating aroma. The mist confused the vision, but the darkness was driven away by beams of light that entered through openings in the ceiling.

The temple was the main building of the Citadel of Fire, the political core of the First Heaven, home of the ishins, the caste of angels that controls the elements of nature. The citadel was at the mouth of the largest volcano in paradise, Neptunia. Four large chains, attached by hooks to the walls of the volcano, supported a very heavy block of stone, on which the fortress city was shaped. Few meters below, lava bubbled. Agents loyal to Gabriel patrolled the surrounding area, alert for any invader, whether angel or demon. In the distant past, the Citadel of Fire was ruled by Amael, the Lord of Volcanoes, but he allied himself with Lucifer, leaving the reins of power in the hands of his pupil, Aziel, the Sacred Flame. Later, when the unity of the archangels began to crumble, Aziel would give the temple to Gabriel, giving shelter to his angels, who no longer wished to remain in the Fifth Heaven, close to Miguel's tyrannical oppression.

Gabriel, with his hands resting on his knees and his eyes closed, took a deep breath, letting the hot steam flow into his nostrils. He relaxed, trying to feel the universe, trying to touch the immensity of the cosmos with its pulsating aura. In concentration, he felt a presence. He lifted his eyelids, revealing his sublime brown eyes. Calmly, he watched the visitor walk across the marble bridge. It was the ishim Aziel, the Sacred Flame, who had come to answer his call. She stepped lightly on the stone, barely letting any sound escape. She was wearing a delicate tunic, made of silk and cotton, and revealing long black hair that reached her waistline. Her skin was as white as her wings, and her eyes were black, like the deep night.

Aziel knelt before her patron, not daring to invade the platform. The Scourge of Fire stood between them, unsheathed, with the blade crackling, ready to cut off any unpleasant invader.

"I come to obey your command, Master of Fire," Aziel said, using the main title of the archangel Gabriel, famous for his mastery over the elements. "How can I help you?"

"Ablon is still alive," said Gabriel, directly.

"Yes. I captured the emanations of your aura."

The Fire Master breathed in the scorching mist and faced his subordinate.

"The Renegade Angel hid his presence for countless centuries, probably to prevent Miguel's agents from finding him. But now, the aura he holds in his heart has expanded again. And this energy is so strong that it was felt even here, in the First Heaven."

Aziel lowered her head in doubt.

"I don't understand, master. Why would he do that? Just now that the Seventh Seal has been broken... I imagined that he would wait for the Last Judgment, and only then execute his revenge."

"I would say it is a calling," replied Gabriel, conclusively. "Ablon is asking for our help. And we need his help too."

"But he probably doesn't even know we exist. How could you know that we parted ways with Miguel and set up an army of our own? Ablon is a fugitive and, wandering hidden on Earth, there would be no way to watch our progress."

"That is correct, Aziel. In fact, perhaps not even the general himself knows that his ideas divided the sky and planted the seeds of civil war. But despite everything, I'm sure he still trusts that there are angels loyal to his cause. It is to them that the cherub expands its aura. It's to them that he counts. That's why we have a duty to meet him."

Upon saying this, the archangel observed a minute of silence. Then he took the Scourge of Fire and stayed for a long time looking at its blade. Like Ablon, Gabriel also feared forgetting — forgetting the situations he had been through and, most importantly, the things he had learned. The sword was there as a witness, to help him remember his old mistakes and force him not to make the same errors again.

Aziel waited patiently until her master resumed speaking.

"Send our troops to the ethereal plane and position them near the Fortress of Sion, bastion of enemy forces," ordered the archangel. "Apparently, the final battle will actually be fought on Earth, although not on the physical plane, but in the spiritual world. Whoever wins this war will guarantee sovereignty over Haled."

"Our spies reported that a black-winged angel took a human to Sion, probably a sorceress," added Aziel.

"Maybe it's Shamira, the Sorceress of En-Dor. I learned that Ablon saved her in Babylon. If it really is, then everything falls into place. Ablon wants our help to free her."

"But why would Miguel kidnap a human?"

"It is difficult to predict my brother's intentions. I'm an archangel, but even I don't know everything. In fact, I know a lot less than I thought I did. But the only thing a land has that angels don't possess is the soul."

Gabriel daydreamed for another short moment and then added energetically:

"Execute military maneuvers and hand over command to Baturiel the Honored. Then go to meet Ablon and take him to our troops' camp. I heard they were good friends in the past. And one of the few whom the warrior admires."

He paused, but then continued:

"There is a portal to the ethereal on Horeb mountain, through which the general can pass, even being stuck with his avatar. I will be waiting for you. Sieme, of the seraphim caste, will accompany you on this journey."

Aziel was displeased, but didn't show it. The problem was not the mission, but the company. She had nothing in particular against Sieme, but the seraphim's cold and calculating stance sometimes irritated her. That didn't mean they were evil angels, they were just too self-confident. But she didn't blame them. How could she? That was their nature. Seraphim were politicians, diplomats, and advisors, which is why they were designed. It was natural that they liked to command and had serious problems receiving orders and accepting differing opinions. They were always trying to convince others of their own points. In view, they were irreducible, and that was the kind of thing that Aziel hated most.

"The Renegade Angel is the missing element in our theater of operations, Aziel," explained the Master of Fire. "Only he can lead our army at Armageddon."

"Yes, master," replied Aziel, bowing as a sign of respect. As soon as she realized that her leader had finished speaking, she turned around respectfully and left the Temple of Harmony.

Gabriel watched the Sacred Flame leave. He placed the Scourge of Fire in front of him again, placed his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes, meditating once more. Before diving into the mystical trance, he said to himself, in a calm voice:

"Finally, you can fight for your ideal, general. Your revolt was not in vain. And returned to the harmony of the cosmos."

Aziel and Sieme

Aziel and Sieme arrived on Earth in the early hours of the morning, before the sun had even risen above the horizon. To travel between dimensions, they used a vortex that connected the First Heaven to a beach on the astral plane, relatively close to the city from which the emanations left the night before of the Renegade Angel. They flew astrally over the sea and, upon reaching the streets of the metropolis, slid between the buildings until they found an alley, where the fabric of reality was thinner, and then materialized, finally reaching the physical world.

There are many types of mystical connections that link the different dimensions. The main ones are the portals, the vortices, and the vertices. Portals are undoubtedly the most popular type of passage. They link the higher and lower realms (such as heaven and hell) or the ethereal directly to the material plane. An entity who crosses this threshold does not need to spend energy to materialize, passing into the adjacent dimension using their spiritual body, without having to form an avatar. In the same way, a human being can reach another plane of existence with their physical body, without having to project their spirit. Permanent portals are very rare and are therefore guarded by creatures native to the dimensions to which they are attached. Human practitioners of magic have developed, with their skills, rituals capable of opening portals, but their duration is always limited by stellar conjunctions, climatic activities, or depletion of sacrificial material. Evil sorcerers often open portals frequently to summon demons in their terrible spiritual forms and use them in macabre tasks. There are still some portals, less important, that have the property of connecting the material world to the ethereal plane, but these are rarely sought after.

Vortices are connections similar to portals, but they connect some higher or lower realm to the astral or ethereal plane — but never to the physical plane. Once in the astral or ethereal, the traveler still will have to use their own materialization capacity to cross the fabric of reality and reach the material world. The vortex taken by Aziel and Sieme connected the First Heaven to the astral plane over a beach near Rio de Janeiro.

Finally, the vertices are not exactly mystical passages; they are places where an intersection occurs dimensionally. These are places that exist on both the material plane and the ethereal plane. These points can be frequented by both human beings and entities in their spiritual forms. Naturally, vertices exist in limited spaces, such as small caves, temples, and ancient basements. At sanctuaries, the tissue level approaches zero, while at the vertices, the membrane has a negative degree, thus allowing the fusion of the two planes.

Aziel, the Sacred Flame, and Sieme, the Master of Mind, emerged from the alley right next to the old boarding house where Ablon was staying. Sieme felt uncomfortable in her physical shell, as the seraphim did not usually work on Earth, since their office, essentially political, had the Seven Heavens as its center of activity. However, her avatar owed nothing to her spiritual body in terms of elegance and grandeur. She was a beautiful woman, with silver hair and a sculptural body, a thin face and a serious expression. She was dressed impeccably, in a leather parka, long boots, and mirrored sunglasses that protected her blue eyes.

"I don't feel anything," warned Sieme, with that confidence typical of seraphim, which bordered on arrogance. "No emanation. Are you sure this is the right location?"

"Absolutely," Aziel replied. "I myself captured the general's essence last night."

It was around six o'clock in the morning, and the neighborhood of townhouses and low-rise buildings had not yet reached the apex of its urban activity. In an hour or two, the shops would be open, the street vendors would invade the sidewalks, and cars would circulate without stopping. Now, however, there was only a group of garbage collectors collecting the waste accumulated on the curb from the previous night's rain, and some people who cut corners to take the metro on one of the big avenues ahead.

"Look!" Sieme pointed to the top floor of the Hotel Montenegro, to the broken window of Ablon's apartment. "The window was shattered. There are fragments of glass on the floor," she showed the small pieces she had almost stepped on in the wet asphalt. "These are battle marks. There was a fight here last night."

"Yes, it's true," Aziel agreed. The Sacred Flame's countenance differed immensely from that of Sieme. He wore simple, light clothes that highlighted the blackness of his midriffs. "Do you smell anything?"

"I'm a seraph, Aziel, not a cherub with predator senses. The only smell I smell is all this dirt," she was referring to the rot on the sidewalk. "But I'm also curious. I can, better than anyone else, capture the shocks in the fabric, and I don't understand anything. Either the Renegade Angel is hiding his aura, or he was the victim of the fight that took place here."

"Don't be foolish, Sieme. If he had died, we wouldn't have felt the explosion of his pulsating aura."

She paid no attention to her partner's words.

"Anyway... Enough guesswork. Let's go up and check. I'm not willing to spend all my time at Haled standing in front of this joint," she said, walking towards the door of the pension and entering the establishment.

Aziel accompanied her.

The door to Ablon's room, on the top floor of the house, was ajar. Sieme pushed her way through and observed the internal space. In the one-room apartment, there was complete mess. Shelves were thrown to the floor, scattering dozens of old objects across the wooden floor. A heavy mahogany table had been smashed and now lay in pieces in a corner of the room, along with broken glass. The electrical system had also failed, but the sunlight coming in through the window was now enough to bathe the entire room. But none of this caught his attention—only the seraphim, who searched for mystical clues. He found no sign of the renegade, so he rushed into the room and immediately noticed the difference in the environment.

"Magic!" he exclaimed in a low voice.

"What?" asked Aziel, who was following closely behind.

"They used magic to transform this place into a sanctuary. Don't you realize that here the fabric is incredibly fragile?" he said.

The Sacred Flame had just entered the room and also felt the change.

"Yes, it's a good sign. So the Enchantress of En-Dor must have been here. We are on the right track. But where is..."

The ishim suddenly fell silent. Before any of the newcomers could react, Ablon emerged from the shadows, behind them, and placed the Holy Avenger's blade on the back of Sieme's head, subduing her. The Master of Mind felt the icy touch of steel on her neck, and her cold seraph blood froze.

Aziel understood that the general had been there the whole time, hidden, hiding to surprise them. He had managed to remain hidden even in that well-lit room, and that left the Sacred Flame impressed. Aziel was assaulted by conflicting emotions. He was happy to see his friend again, but at the same time, he needed to convince him, as quickly as possible, that Sieme was not an enemy, but an ally. The renegade angels, especially their leader, were quite suspicious—a characteristic understandable for a band of fugitives who spent most of their days being hunted.

"Aziel," exclaimed the First General in a cordial but firm tone. "You are welcome," he added, without diverting attention from Sieme.

The Sacred Flame felt more relieved with the receptivity but still had an impasse to resolve. The renegade had not loosened the blade even a millimeter.

"Ablon... Many of us in the First Heaven sense the cosmic expansion of your aura, and for this reason we are here. We wish to offer you our assistance. I think we know where they took the Enchantress of En-Dor and whoever captured her," he spoke sincerely. "There is nothing to worry about. You can trust in me."

"I trust you, Aziel. But who is she?" he asked, indicating Sieme with a movement of the hand.

"This is..." The ishim was about to start speaking, but the angel woman interrupted him. Demonstrating courage, she slowly turned her body, facing the general. The sword was now threatening her throat. She took off her mirrored glasses and looked deeply into the gray eyes of her tormentor.

"I am Sieme, Master of the Mind, of the seraphim caste," she introduced herself. "We came to find you, general, not to judge you, but because we decided to follow you. We decided to follow in your footsteps. Like this, many of us believe in your ideal and are willing to die for it. I know that we seraphim are not as quick or as clever in the art of combat as you cherubs, but I offer my psychic abilities in defense of our cause," she said, lowering her head, looking away, and handing her fate into the hands of the warrior.

Seraphim are experts in politics and oratory. Aziel didn't believe Sieme was lying—on the contrary, he knew that she was fighting for the same cause as he was. He also didn't think she would be a spy or something. However, he supposed that the very respectful way in which she had conducted the speech had been a diplomatic maneuver to get out of that mess. The seraphim became more humble when put under the edge of the sword.

Ablon was perceptive and had learned, over years of being deceived, to read the truth in the physiognomy of others. He was a soldier and had to develop this skill to recognize his enemies. It was this, combined with the betrayals of the past, that had prevented him from making a pact with Lucifer. Resolved, he chose to believe Sieme's calculated words. He didn't have much sympathy for the seraphim, but the virtues of the caste were undeniable. If the celestial woman had subjugated herself to him, something that the seraphim do, it was because they believed in the legitimacy of the general.

"Very well, Sieme," said the renegade, lowering his sword. "I accept your help. Don't be scared with my attitude. You must understand that there are still many who would gladly do away with me, despite the turbulent situation."

"It's not surprising that he's so cautious," said Aziel, when the tense atmosphere eased.

"That's exactly why I'm still alive," added Ablon, now calm about the presence of the new celestials. There was no longer any need to confine his aura, and he once again released it. Sieme and Aziel fully captured the strong emanation coming from the general and understood that he was the only one who could have led the daring revolt that had made him famous. It was an intense force, engaging, inspiring, worthy of someone who had ascended to the highest cycle of power.

Ablon walked away and picked up some loose cloths from among the shelves. He started to wind up the Avenger Sacred in the fabric, trying to hide it. Aziel imagined he was preparing to leave the apartment.

Being sensitive, Sieme couldn't help but notice the nuances of the fabric.

"I feel the remnants of a terrible energy in this room. But I can't understand its nature exactly. And a strange, mysterious force."

"The Black Angel," clarified the renegade, while tying a rope around the fabric that hid the sword. "A creature of unknown origin who calls himself the Angel of the Bottomless Abyss," he added, firmly tying two knots at the ends of the volume, forming a handle to carry on his back. "He was here last night, together with two cherubs. It was whoever took the witch at the sounding of the First Trumpet," he returned to face the Sacred Flame. "Aziel, you said that you had information about the kidnapping."

"Yes."

"I want to know everything. But first let's leave this room. The sanctuary that was here was desecrated," he explained, as he walked to the door. "Follow me. I know a good place for breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Sieme whispered to Aziel, in her ignorance of worldly matters.

"It's a type of human eating ritual," indicated his mission partner.

"I understand," replied the celestial. She had only been to Haled very few times, and she knew almost nothing about it. about mortal customs. Fortunately, she was the Master of the Mind, and she would learn quickly.

A Stunning Revelation * The Civil War

Ablon guided Aziel and Sieme for six blocks, until the three arrived at one of the main avenues. The general took advantage of the walk to tell the Sacred Flame what had happened to him since the signs of the Apocalypse began, from the encounter with Orion to the kidnapping of Shamira.

Halfway there, the urban scenery transformed, and when the celestials least expected it, they found themselves leaving the neighborhood of townhouses and entering the modern area, with its glass skyscrapers and concrete. Baroque churches, protected by listing laws, were hidden in decadent corners, in the shadows of magnificent buildings. Dirt had blackened the facades of temples, and pollution had weakened their beams, leaving them practically ruined.

The movement and rush increased with the opening of commercial points. It was almost eight o'clock in the morning, and the temperature had risen five degrees. The sun was creeping towards the east, and now the fireball could be seen on top of buildings. Unfortunately for Sieme, the weather was becoming increasingly stuffy as they penetrated the labyrinth of buildings—where the air found it difficult to circulate. The excessive heat forced her to remove her parka and continue the journey wearing just a shirt. For her, a novice in bodily matters, the harsh tropical conditions were a hassle in itself.

However, the unpleasant discoveries that the Master of the Mind made were compensated by new, much more interesting experiences.

Observing the mass of people that crossed her path all the time, Sieme realized how weak the psychic defenses of human beings were. The thoughts of mortals sprang from their minds like spring water, and she could hear them without any effort: The stock market fell 2.3% this week; My God, then things really turned into war; I have to take my kids to the game; I don't think the supervisor will be satisfied; The recipe calls for beaten egg. With that, in a few minutes, the intelligent seraphim had already accumulated a considerable amount of information about earthly behavior and was trying, in her mind, to organize and process all these ideas, and then uncover their real meanings.

They passed in front of a newsstand, and around it, there was an unusual crowd. Many, late for their appointments, were unable to proceed without first taking a look at the front page of hanging newspapers. The headlines of all of them, without exception, talked about the nuclear attack on Beijing the night before. World war had not yet been officially declared, but everyone believed it would be soon, with a bloody eastern response to the offensive that, supposedly, had departed from one of the Berlin League's military posts in the Pacific Ocean. The periodicals sensationalized warnings of the proximity of the "end of the world," while more moderate ones indicated that certain countries, the so-called neutral countries, such as Brazil, were outside the axis of conflict.

The main pages also showed interviews with scientists, who claimed that the destructive capacity of these new weapons was far superior to those that devastated Hiroshima and Nagasaki in World War II. A single missile, according to them, would be capable of annihilating an entire country.

The group—what the celestials called a "choir," meaning a group of three or more angels—walked another block and entered a small café, with a narrow and deep shape. From afar, Ablon smelled the scent of ebony, from which the furniture was carved. The renegade had discovered that place as soon as he arrived in Rio de Janeiro and quickly got used to it. It was calm, silent, and spent most of its time empty. The movement was greater at night and after lunch, when executives came to have a cup of tea or enjoy a portion of whiskey. The façade was old; it must have been over a hundred years old. When it opened, around 1900, it was a hat shop, then it started selling cigars, and eventually, it became a house that served coffee, drinks, and snacks. At the back of the bar, on the counter, a television with the volume turned down was broadcasting a football game.

The three sat at a table near the window, where they had an excellent view of the street and the city's metropolitan confusion. The Renegade Angel asked the waitress for a can of orange juice and waited for her to walk away, and only then did he begin the dialogue.

"So, where is she?" he asked.

"In the Fortress of Sion," Aziel replied. "An unknown angel took her to the inner chambers. From the description you gave me, it is, in fact, the Black Angel, the same one that invaded your apartment."

The Fortress of Sion, thought the general, intrigued by the coincidence.

"What is it?" asked the Sacred Flame, noticing the general's reverie.

Ablon came back to reality.

"The Fortress of Sion. That's where Lucifer wanted to send me when he presented his plan to me."

"And what did the Morning Star intend?" Aziel asked.

In response, Ablon reached into the pocket of his overcoat and took out a rustic, circular object, shaped in solid clay. It measured about ten centimeters in diameter and had the shape of a cross wrapped around it, like a ring. He placed the relic on the table.

"Do you recognize this artifact?"

"And the key to one of the dimensional passages in the Hall of Portals, located inside the Fortress of Sion," replied Aziel, sharply. "From the inscriptions, I would say that it opens a vortex for the domains of the Dark Archangel in the depths. Did Lucifer give this to you?"

"Yes."

"Very strange..."

"Why?"

"I can't imagine how he could have obtained this object. The Fortress of Sion is completely impenetrable to any demon."

"He may have been a traitor."

Aziel pondered for a second and then replied, with conviction:

"I don't believe that. Even if an angel were working for Lucifer, he would never be able to acquire this key. And of course, the Devil may have spies scattered throughout Sion, we ourselves have several. But entering the Hall of Portals means coming face to face with the archangel Michael."

"So the key could be fake?"

"It's possible, but I don't think so. I can feel the power of the artifact," said Aziel, sliding his index finger on the mystical runes that outlined the surface of the clay.

The two remained silent for a moment, trying out mental hypotheses that would help them shed some light on the mystery that was presented. Sieme was attentive to the dialogue but remained silent, reading the thoughts of people passing by on the street. I thought it would help her understand the world she was in, about which she knew almost nothing, better.

The meeting is starting; Not this one! I have a friend who lives in Beijing; Wow, what a night; I think I'm going to buy a lock for the car; Oh, he's wonderful!; They're going to throw a bomb at us...

"There's some piece of this puzzle that doesn't fit, Aziel," Ablon said, worried.

The Ishim merely agreed. He also couldn't think of anything that would clarify the situation.

The general returned the clay key to his overcoat pocket. Then, he turned his gaze to the Sacred Flame and resumed the conversation where he had left off.

"With or without the key, do you think you can help me save Shamira?"

"I am not. But maybe Gabriel can."

"Gabriel?" Ablon reacted, surprised. "Now it's my turn to find your words strange. Gabriel? He's an archangel! The archangels are our enemies."

Aziel exchanged glances with Sieme, who finally joined the conversation. Until then, the two celestials had not stopped to think about how long the renegade had been on earth, and that there really was no way to know what was happening in heaven. For the first time, the Master of the Mind spoke:

"A lot has happened since you were confined to Haled, general." Aziel added:

"I think you are out of date with more than two thousand years of celestial history."

The cherub said nothing, just adjusted himself in his chair, waiting for the envoys to explain to him what so important would have happened in his absence. Aziel began:

"Shortly after the purge of the renegades, many of us were overcome by a strange feeling, a mixture of remorse and confusion. We wanted to be by your side, but we did nothing to stop Miguel from expelling them. And we also had no initiative to continue their fight. Maybe it was fear of the archangels, or simply the lack of cohesive leadership... I don't know for sure."

When he finished the sentence, the Ishim was interrupted. The waitress brought a can of orange juice and three cups. Sieme analyzed the container, not knowing how it worked or what it was for. Ablon opened it and served it to his friends, but Seraphim refused the yellow liquid, indifferent to the taste. When he realized they were alone, Aziel continued:

"Some made the wrong decision and joined Lucifer, hoping that the Archangel's rebellion would stop. Sombrio was a continuation of his own, but with more chances of success. Others, like me and Sieme, saw the Morning Star's true intentions and rejected him. Of course, many embraced the revolution out of sinister and diabolical desires. When the battle in the sky broke out, there were only two sides: either you were with Michael or with Lucifer. I preferred the Prince of Angels because, even though I recognize that he was a tyrant, I thought things could be worse if the rebels won."

Ablon drank some juice, without taking his eyes off Aziel.

"Lucifer fell, along with his allies," continued the Ishim. "With the victory over the rebels, Miguel grew stronger and began to isolate himself more and more in power. Of the five archangels who ruled paradise, now there were only four left: Gabriel, Uziel, Rafael, and the Prince of Angels himself. Of these, only Master Fire was a match for the dictator, but his lack of interest in celestial politics helped his brother climb the stairs to the throne. Without Lucifer to oppose him, the balance of forces in council collapsed."

"In view of this situation," intervened Sieme, "everything led to the belief that in a short time, Haled and its inhabitants would suffer new disasters."

"Yes," Ablon agreed, following the reasoning.

"Yes," Aziel resumed. "And that was what would happen in the long run. But then something occurred, something that would forever change the course of forces in heaven."

The warrior placed the glass on the table, interested. The Ishim continued with his words:

"About two thousand years ago, the hitherto passive Gabriel came into conflict with his brother. The disagreements were related to the fate of the Sacred Child. Miguel wanted to put an end to the boy, but Gabriel was opposed to the murder. The strife generated a permanent rift in the Seven Heavens. With this, the ideal of conjuration, sown by you and the renegades, gained new momentum. Archangel Gabriel left the Celestial Palace and requested exile in the Citadel of Fire. Of course, he had my full support. A fabulous and immense legion accompanied him. Everyone there yearned to overthrow the Prince of Angels and put an end to his reign of fear, both over the heavenly and earthly beings. They wished to end tyranny and safeguard mortals in Haled."

"Miguel never understood that humanity is part of divine creation," Ablon argued. "Hurting her means hurting a part of God."

"But even after paradise was the scene of two rebellions, Miguel did not give up. Your insistence dragged the two factions into a civil war. The Fourth Heaven turned into an infinite battlefield, where armies fought for more than a thousand years, on an equal footing. Every moment, one fortress fell and another was retaken. The troops were so level in terms of contingent and expertise that progress was negligible. The tyrant's forces failed to invade the First Heaven and besiege the Citadel of Fire, and our army was unable to ascend to the Fifth Heaven and attack the palace."

"But with the arrival of the Apocalypse, everything changes," said Sieme.

Aziel shook his head again, in an emotional affirmation.

"The Prince of Angels has moved his base of operations to the Fortress of Sion, on the ethereal plane, from where he hopes to begin Haled's domination when the fabric of reality falls. He and the angels who accompany him are already positioned around the bastille. But this enemy maneuver, ironically, was very conducive to us. Unlike the attacks in the Fourth Heaven, where the forces fought isolated, in the ethereal, the armies will be able to face each other until the end, fighting in the great Battle of Armageddon. And the winners will be given the prize of witnessing the awakening of the Most High."

The Renegade Angel's expression wrinkled. The issuance of the divine name threw upon him new concerns, bringing to light issues that were assumed to be of minor importance.

"What are you thinking, general?" asked Sieme, avoiding reading his thoughts.

"Only one thing Lucifer told me. For the Dark Archangel, Michael would be engineering a plan by which he would use the energy released in God's awakening to achieve his own divinity."

Aziel and Sieme looked at each other, showing absolute disbelief.

"This idea is absurd," protested the Ishim. "Do you really believe that traitor?"

"No, but I must recognize that there is some sense in your speech. Do you really think that Miguel will go unpunished in the eyes of the Creator on Judgment Day? No, without a doubt he will be the first to be convicted. Furthermore, Yahweh's return removes the archangel from the decision-making role. And it wasn't just the devil who raised this theory. An entity I spoke to proposed the same thing. Me too, I had a hard time accepting it, but if you think about it carefully, it's quite logical. I just can't understand why Orion or Lucifer didn't tell me about this, about the civil war and Gabriel's army. Surely the devil was up to something by keeping all this information from me."

"I imagine so," replied Aziel. "The Morning Star is always plotting something. You made the right decision not to enter into an alliance with him."

"I would never do that, one way or another. But if the battle will be between Miguel and Gabriel, what is Lucifer's participation in this war?"

"Judging by his vile nature, he will wait for the two armies to kill each other, and only then attempt an agreement with the victors, already weakened by the combat. We all know how the infernal hosts are warlike, but they are still not strong enough to face the angels stationed in the Fortress of Sion nor our legion commanded by the Master of Fire."

The Master of Fire — this was the main title held by the famous archangel Gabriel, thanks to his absolute power over heat and flames. The only one who could stand up to him in this domain was Lucifer, who, in addition to many masteries, was also an expert in the elemental art. In addition, Gabriel had other names, including The Messenger, Strength of God, Prince of Justice, and The Angel of Revelation. It was he who announced the coming of Christ. It was he who offered forgiveness to Cain. It was he who dictated the Quranic words to Muhammad. Unlike Miguel, Gabriel always worked in the earthly sphere.

Perhaps this made him, at a certain point, refuse his brother's brutal ideas — thought the renegade, and then he spontaneously remembered the other archangels, Uziel and Raphael. Where would they be?

"What happened to the other archangels?" asked Ablon, realizing that there was still no heard the whole story. "What was the position they took in this war?"

Aziel shook his head, this time indicating a negative.

"Rafael left the kingdom of angels long ago, disillusioned with the attitude of his brothers. Lost all desire to continue governing and gave up on everything and everyone, isolating himself in some unknown dimension. Uziel was at Miguel's side, leading the cherubim, until recently, but then, one day, his aura simply went out."

The First General took a deep breath. For a moment, he cursed his lack of knowledge. If he knew these things before, he would have the right answers at the opportune moments — like Lucifer had. But he couldn't blame himself. The truth, however fatalistic it was, was that, apart from the fluctuations of the fabric, there was no other way to get news from the spiritual world. The nuances of the membrane only carried faint traces of the events that took place on other planes.

Still worried about Shamira, he returned to the kidnapping issue:

"And this Black Angel, or Angel of the Bottomless Abyss, as he likes to be called? I couldn't identify your aura. He carried within him an energy unlike anything I had ever felt. What do they know about him?"

"As much as you, general," replied Sieme. "He serves only the Prince of Angels, and no one else. It is strong and powerful, cruel and merciless. Our spies reported that not even Miguel's lackeys know his true identity."

Ablon drank all the juice that remained in the glass at once. He realized that the football game, broadcast on TV earlier, was over, and now the patrons in the bar were watching the morning news.

Aziel and Sieme came to Haled to help the general, but he had the impression that it was not just because that was what was there. There was something more. They had been sent by an archangel, and, no matter how much they accepted Gabriel's redemption, it was hard to believe that the Master of Fire would be so selfless. He turned his gray eyes to the two celestials and summarized:

"You have an unparalleled legion of cherubs and a strong leader like Gabriel. What do they want from me?"

"Armageddon is the great battle," Aziel recognized. "The combat for which all the celestials have been waiting. You are the Renegade Angel, the one who first defied the enemy's orders, and therefore became a legend. The deeds of kindness and bravery perpetrated by the conjuration inspired many of us, even the Master of Fire himself."

"Gabriel doesn't intend to continue leading us for long," Sieme revealed. "Until then, the two armies fought evenly, but in Sion we will be the invaders, and they will defend their positions. They will have the advantage of being confined in their fortress. That's why we need you. If the last renegade angel can command our troops, if the icon of resistance himself raises the flag of freedom, then victory will be certain."

Seraphim are usually cold and controlled, but Ablon noticed a passionate glow in the last sentence of the angel woman. Surely there was immense admiration there, which the self-confident nature of his caste prevented her from demonstrating. When he was expelled from heaven, the warrior angel did not expect to become a myth. It was ironic to think about it, but it wasn't him who cultivated this reputation, but rather the archangel Michael, who ordered the hunt for the renegades. If at least one of them survived the persecution, as was the case of Ablon, they would become a martyr.

Aziel and Sieme remained quiet, anxiously awaiting the First General's response. The second that followed seemed like an eternity to them.

"This is the type of proposal that is made," said Ablon, decidedly, risking a slight smile with the corner of his mouth. "When, thousands of years ago, I decided to take revenge on Michael and confront him on the Day of Adjustment, after all, I didn't expect to do so with a legion under my command. But if that was how the situation presented, so much the better."

Aziel smiled and put his hand on his friend's shoulder, offering him unconditional support and swearing never again to abandon him. Sieme only made a gesture of approval, but his satisfaction was no less than that of the partner.

"However," pondered Ablon, "there is a catch. I can't dematerialize. How do you expect me to find Gabriel's troops camped on the ethereal plane?"

The Master of the Mind had the solution.

"We have become aware of a portal that you can pass through without having to cross the membrane. The passage will take us close to the place where the Messenger's army is preparing."

"A portal? Portals are very rare. Who did you get this information from?"

"With the archangel Gabriel himself," revealed Aziel.

The general calmed down. If he wanted to go headfirst into this war, he would have no other option than to trust Gabriel and his angels.

"And where is this mystical channel?"

"In a cave on the mountain of Horeb, in the Sinai desert."

The Sinai desert today belongs to Egypt, but is close to the Holy Land. When imagining that scenario millennia ago, Ablon remembered a passage from the biblical Exodus. He knew the scriptures well.

"The mountain of Horeb? This is where the Old Testament holds that the prophet Moses had his first revelation of God. It's understandable. Only Gabriel could know the location of this portal. He is the Angel of Revelation, which appeared to the Hebrew in the form of fire, next to the tree that was burning in flames. He warned Moses to take off his sandals and not go near the bush. If the prophet stepped on that sacred soil, he would be thrown into the mystical tunnel."

"Then we should leave immediately," proposed Sieme. "What is the fastest boat you have this way?"

"Let's try something a little quicker," suggested the general, amused by the innocence of the seraphim. She had no idea what a plane or even a car was, although she had seen some cars circulating on the streets.

Ablon and Aziel, who already knew modern resources better, did not attach importance to the anachronism of the Master of the Mind. They were more worried about how to get to the Holy Land, at such a time. Critical like that, when Haled was shaken by a global conflict. The Renegade Angel, who had already witnessed hundreds of human wars, knew that all types of movement became difficult in times like these. He calculated, from what he had seen in the newspapers, that the airports in the Arab countries would all be closed, so it was unfeasible to try to get to Egypt by plane. The most obvious option was to board a flight to Israel and, from Jerusalem, drive to the Sinai peninsula. He just hadn't thought yet how he would place the two angels, Aziel and Sieme, without passports or documents, inside an aircraft.

Jerusalem, the Holy City—the name sounded like a sad song in the general's mind. For years, he had dreamed of visiting that region that, in the past, had been the scene of such significant historical moments and grand. He imagined what it would be like to walk its walls, wander the Mount of Olives, and explore Jewish, Christian, and Muslim shrines. But Ablon was an exile. He never could approach the Sacred Land, a territory forbidden to every renegade angel. Jerusalem had always been surrounded by Miguel's agents, who extended their patrols from the Dead Sea to the Mediterranean line.

Crossing those borders was, for any enemy of the archangels, a suicidal act. Now, however, with the arrival of the Apocalypse, Miguel called all his soldiers to defend the Fortress of Sion, suspending patrols and placing these warriors on the front lines. For the first time, the city was unprotected, and the Renegade Angel could enter it without any problems.

"Sieme is right. We shouldn't waste any more time," the warrior agreed, looking over his shoulders and looking for the waitress. Upon seeing the girl, he signaled to end the service.

The three angels were about to get up when a terrible pain hit them. They didn't know where it came from, and before it, they were useless. It came in the form of a thunderous noise, a shrill echo that pierced and paralyzed them. The auditory scourge burned them from the inside, and Aziel, taken by the suffering, stumbled and fell. Sieme's head, which was the most sensitive of the three, threatened to explode. The Seraphim blacked out for a second, but soon returned to consciousness when the mystical hissing stopped.

Aziel, still disoriented, stood up. The people in the bar looked at him curiously, wondering why a young, healthy man had fainted so suddenly. The helpful waitress came to help him, and the Sacred Flame found that he, Ablon, and Sieme were the only ones affected by the sensation.

"Are you okay?" asked the waitress, supporting Aziel.

"Ah, yes... thank you, it was just a slight dizziness," said the Ishim, still bewildered.

"I'll get a glass of water," offered the girl, running to the bar.

"The Second Trumpet," the angels heard Ablon say, as they recovered. The renegade had already heard the hiss of the first one, so he wasn't that impressed.

"In the First Heaven, where we were, the breath wasn't as sharp," muttered Sieme.

"What we just felt was a permanent tear in the fabric," explained the general, putting some coins on the table. "Haled is completely permeated by this, and it is natural that the noise is stronger in the physical world. What you heard in First Heaven was just an echo of what happened here," he concluded, heading toward the exit. Aziel and Sieme followed him.

"The war of humans has just been declared. The world is being attacked," said the cherub. "We have to get to Jerusalem before the city turns to ashes."

"And how do you plan to travel to the Middle East?" asked Aziel. "I know some shortcuts in the astral plane, but you cannot dematerialize."

"We're boarding a flight to Israel today. I think I have an old passport in the rubble from my apartment. But there is no way to mask the identity of the two of you. I still don't know what to do."

"What is a passport?" asked Sieme.

"It's like a border card," Aziel clarified to his partner. "We need it to join other countries. Without this paper, we have no way of entering the Holy Land."

"Leave it to me," replied the Master of Mind. She had more efficient methods, but less ethical, to help them pass through police checkpoints. Ablon immediately accepted the invaluable assistance of the angel woman and blessed Gabriel for sending her on that mission. Certainly, the Master of Fire anticipated its usefulness. The help of a telepath was essential, but that would not be the only obstacle that they would need to overcome.

Ablon would travel to Jerusalem for the first time and felt butterflies in his stomach as he remembered the last time he had walked in those parts and how he was stopped when he reached the city gates, a long time ago. It was one of the few times he was forced to step back and turn his back on his goal.

Determined, he decided that this time he would enter Jerusalem and not turn back again.

For a second, the First General closed his eyes, and in a single instant, he remembered the one who was probably the most famous of his adventures.

FROM ROME TO JERUSALEM

Yellow River Valley, northern China, around 1 BC

Unseen danger

The journey had been long, but finally, there I was, in the East. At first, I had a hard time believing that I had gotten this far. I left Rome in 61 BC, shortly after Caesar, Crassus, and Pompey had established the triumvirate, and walked calmly toward the east, without worrying too much about where the roads would take me. I didn't intend to return to the Eternal City so soon, but some problems forced me, later, to change plans. On that hot July day, however, I had no idea how dangerous it would be. My journey to the Chinese provinces, then ruled by the Han dynasty, would be.

In 202 BC, a fierce civil war overthrew the Qin monarchs, and Gaozu, the first Han emperor, rose to power. With him, China experienced a new period of prosperity and expansion, achieving extensive territories to the south and on the Korean peninsula. Indifferent to these conflicts, the peasants led a peaceful life, and it was with these simple people that I had contact during almost the entire time I was treading those fertile plains.

After three days of walking, my initial objective had been completed — I had arrived, safe and sound, on the banks of the Yellow River. I saw the sun setting behind the mountains and thought it was a good time to take a break and wash my face. I stopped in front of a ten-meter cliff, the fall of which led to the bed of the river, responsible for supplying water to the entire region and irrigating the soil. But my idea was not to face that water tongue. I just wanted to follow the bank and head north, as far as the beautiful Wall of Zhao, a construction that years later became part of the extensive set of fortifications that gave rise to the Chinese Wall. From there, perhaps I would extend my trip to the Gobi desert, with its arid plains and uninhabited corners.

Night came, and the few peasants who continued to collect rice left the fields and returned home with huge baskets. I was alone, in the flooded area, and decided to look for a dry area where I could hang my wet clothes. Luckily, I soon found a rock, the top of which formed a flat surface. I threw on my boots first and then jumped onto the rock, feeling much better as I stepped on rough, hot ground. From up there, I had an excellent view of the entire esplanade, and I was amazed to see how wide it was, continuing south, beyond the river, into the heart of China. To the west, the land became more arid until the mountains became hills, and these became mountains, to line up, kilometers ahead, to the great Himalayan mountain range.

I closed my eyes and sank into deep meditation. Everything was in agreement: the weather, the night, the smell of wet earth, and even the regular echo of the river's ripples dragging against the slope.

The enemy attacks us when we least expect it. And of all my adversaries, the one next to me, facing me, would be the most unexpected of all.

Naturally, that summer night, I still didn't know it.

When the sun rose, I continued walking through the rice fields. To avoid attracting attention, I kept my face covered by a hood, but my large size gave me away. I was taller than the farmers and stronger than the warriors who patrolled those surroundings.

Crouched down, gathering grain, the farmers reminded me of automaton dwarves, created to perform only one function. They all dressed the same, in dark cotton clothes and wide straw hats, necessary to withstand a whole day working under the strong sun. Rarely did they take their hands out of the water, so it was difficult to observe their skin and faces.

With the exception of a few frightened looks and half a dozen swear words, the poor farmers had no interest in threatening me, so I didn't worry about them. The trip, therefore, progressed without problems, when, on one of those marching afternoons, while the rain fell thinly on the crops, my sense of danger activated. I jumped back, looking for the shadows of a tree, and there I stood in silence, prepared for any attack. But I didn't see anyone other than the workers who, far away, continued their work. Where was the adversary my intuition had warned me about?

There was nothing there—no presence, no ripple in the fabric of reality. I searched the plantation with my predator senses and, suspiciously, I observed the soul of each of the peasants. I didn't catch any psychic dissonance. They were human, mere mortals, not entities in physical shells.

I stayed under the tree for another half hour and, upon making sure that no angels or demons were circling the plantation, I returned to the trail. I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened.

My sense of danger had never failed.

"Nathanael the Most Pure"

So the days went by, until a week later I left the valley and saw a line of brown stones, which blocked the passage to the north. It was not a natural formation, but a fortification erected by man. It was the first image that, from a distance, an outsider had of the Great Wall of Zhao. Little by little, the pennants, flags, and war animals and soldiers lined up on guard.

Leaving the valley, the climate and terrain became drier, and the vegetation became more sparse. On that bumpy soil, it would take me two more days to reach the stone colossus, but, as I was in no rush, when night arrived, I made another one of my long stops to enjoy the sky.

As I fixed my attention on the starry sky, I put my hand inside my pocket and felt, among the silver coins, for the face of the dictator Sulla in high relief. Almost immediately, my memories transported me back to Eternal City. Rome was not the kind of place for a renegade angel. Bureaucracy took over the State. Living in the midst of civilization required having documents, records and papers that I did not have. I could afford to have. But I must admit that I had a good time in the capital of the world. During the last years of the Republic, Shamira, after a long trip to Asia, arrived in the City of Seven Hills. She fell in love with the urban effervescence and decided to buy a comfortable house close to the Capitoline Hill. Mages are often fascinated by knowledge, and Rome was the point where all information converged. It wasn't long before, as I walked along the sidewalks, I felt the sweet smell of her skin. It was on a freezing day in 62 BC that, by chance, we met at the banks of the Tiber. I hadn't seen her in two hundred years, and we had a lot to tell each other. We relaxed in the sun, in the atrium of the Roman house, and the morning, afternoon and night of that urban winter ran away, filled with stories of demons, wizards, spirits, and angels. One of these stories, and it is worth saying, most impressively, illustrated an event that had frightened wizards around the world: the assassination of Drakali-Thoth, who until then was the greatest of necromancers and had been the main instructor of Shamira. No one knew who committed the crime, but there was speculation that his death was linked to the murder of other sorcerer masters.

A year later, in the fall of '61, I thought it would be prudent to leave the city — I couldn't forget that I continued to be hunted.

I had closed my eyes when imagining those happy days and left the constellations for later.

It was then that, in the darkness of the night, amidst the dots of light, a star began to shine brightly, with majestic intensity. From the extreme altitude, the star began to descend, and the sky was flooded with its golden glow. It wasn't a falling star, it wasn't a wandering meteor, or even a speck of cosmic dust. The splendor that I contemplated was an angel, an entity that descended to earth. And why? Its fire made it clear that it was an ofanim.

Of all the castes of angels, the Ophanim are the purest. They are dedicated to protecting mortals and guiding them to salvation. They often act in the spiritual world, keeping men away from the harassment of demons and evil spirits. Often, they form avatars and, disguised as ordinary people, come to the physical plane to help the needy, the poor, and those who are unhappy with themselves. They love human beings like no one else and repudiate the massacres perpetrated by the archangels. Their deities mainly focus on skills of healing, physical or mental. They are also skilled at manipulating particles of light, which allows them to make their own bodies shine.

Upon realizing which caste the celestial visitor belonged to, I was filled with passion. Your simple presence inspired courage and, calmly, I watched the living star suppress its brightness as it descended towards me. Even dazzled, I could now distinguish its shapes, but not the features that made up its face. I certainly knew him, but it was still impossible to say who he was. He flew gracefully, with the aid of a pair of wings.

At the end of its downward trajectory, the ofanim landed, collecting its feathers. The light, once dazzling, faded and finally came down to a single brilliant pulse, concentrated in the heart.

"Peace, my friend! I beg you not to fear, for I do not come as judge or executioner," announced one male voice, which sounded like an infinite melody. "I'm looking for Ablon, the First General, and not the renegade angel that the agents of shame insist on persecuting."

Listening, the timbre sounded familiar, but my mind was still confused.

"If you don't wish me harm, then come closer so I can see your face."

The angel came closer and, in the light of his beating heart, I recognized the countenance of Nathanael, a celestial who bore the nickname of The Most Pure. He had long golden hair, and his eyes were like copper parts. Nathanael and I had been great friends. Even belonging to a caste of peaceful nature, he had the courage of a lion, and the story of his deeds was crowned with glories.

I knew that, even though he was an angel and had just come down from heaven, Nathanael would never lift just one finger against me. The friendship I had for him was as strong as the one I felt for Orion and Aziel. Upon noticing my expression of contentment, the ofanim opened his arms and we hugged each other tightly. In addition to the happiness of finding a companion again, the emanations of his aura transmitted harmony and trust.

"Nathanael, my good Nathanael. What good winds bring you, old friend?"

He smiled briefly, but soon resumed his serious expression, indicating, by his gaze, that the situation was critical.

"I retraced his trail from the City of Seven Hills and fortunately found him in time. You are difficult to find, general."

The serious tone used by The Most Pure left me apprehensive. I had rarely seen him so serious.

"Then I suppose what you have to tell me is very important."

"Perhaps there has never been anything of such importance, and probably there will never be again," said Nathanael, in an epic manner. "If it weren't like that, I wouldn't fly from the West to reach you. But even though my journey has been arduous, I need to keep it brief. I am taking a huge risk. No one must know that I have come into your presence. However, our friendship is lasting, and I thought you should know what's going on."

Evidently, there was a tremendous risk in Nathanael coming to meet me. After all, I was a criminal, and no one wished to be an accomplice to a fugitive.

The Most Pure One stared deeply at me with his copper eyes, preparing to utter the message that he had worked so hard to bring.

"To the west, in the Land of Canaan, the archangel Gabriel prophesied the coming of a holy child," he announced.

"A holy child?" I still hadn't realized the gravity of the fact. "What is he? Some kind of holy?"

"And much more than that, general. This child could change the destiny of humanity. And in this soul, we are placing all our hope. Without it, human civilization would soon fall into disgrace."

What promised figure would that be? What would be the extent of his power?

"I don't understand, Nathanael. How can I help you?"

"The archangel Michael longs for the corruption of humanity. He wants to see hatred grow in the hearts of men, so that he can justify his own massacres. So we know he will try to kill the child. Some angels, like me, came together to protect the Savior's life and give him the chance to spread his message to the world. We are still few, but we are growing in number. I don't know if I'm right in my judgment, but I thought this would be the opportunity for you to resume your fight. I know one legion that would follow you."

Nathanael's words, and the way he spoke, made me understand that the arrival of that sacred child would affect not only human history, but also the balance of forces in heaven. If the ofanim had come to me, then there were certainly other angels willing to take up arms to defend the legitimacy of the Enlightened One. But by nature, I was cautious, and I let the comment slip:

"How can I be sure that this is not a trap set by the archangels to gather and capture the renegades? Perhaps they induced you to come to me."

If I had known at the time the enormity of the event that was about to come, it would not have been so pretentious. But threats of betrayal kept populating my mind. It was something inevitable, a scar life had left by Lucifer's falsehood.

"I know well the insight of the archangels, Ablon, and I can assure you that no one sent me here. I came alone. Furthermore, I saw the mother and the enlightened child in her womb. If you had seen them too, you would understand what I'm talking about. Unfortunately, there is no way to put this kind of feeling into words. You must prove it for yourself. That's why I think you should go to the Holy Land. I wouldn't lie to you, my friend. Do you believe me?"

And of course, he did. Of course, he believed him. Who else could you believe if you distrusted someone, whose main mission was, in a distant time, to invalidate the arguments of the Prince of Angels and try to avoid the flood? I confess that I felt ashamed that, even for a moment, I had questioned the Purest's intentions.

"I believe in you, Nathanael."

He allowed himself a smile, and in that moment, I saw him for what he really was: a happy, confident angel, a charitable man, who now carried a tremendous burden on his shoulders, a responsibility that, supposedly, all celestials should take over.

"Then," resumed The Most Pure One, "you must leave for Canaan as quickly as possible. The boy will be born on the winter solstice."

"And what about Miguel's sentries who search the spiritual world? I know there are cherubs standing guard on the astral plane, throughout the region. Do you know any way to avoid them?"

"As long as the Savior lives, heavenly interests will all be focused on him. The agents of Miguel will try to exterminate him, and we will do everything to defend him. This does not mean that patrols will be suspended, but the presence of the Enlightened One in the Holy Land will cause an uproar. You will be able to take advantage of this distraction to reach the gates of Jerusalem. We still don't know for sure where the boy will be born, but we are concentrating our forces in the Sacred City. Travel like a common man and walk in the shadows whenever possible."

"But this way, it will take me years to reach the Middle East. As a renegade, I never ventured beyond the Dead Sea, and I don't know the routes that cross that area," I argued, saying that the Purest had a solution. Honestly, I didn't see any way to travel more than eight thousand kilometers in six months.

Fortunately, the ofanim had already thought about that.

"I will fly high, above the stars, towards Palestine. Follow my light and you will find the way."

Travel under the stars. It was what I did best. I knew how to guide myself through them and, if I could count on the help of my own star who could tell me the coordinates, I would reach Canaan in record time. I calculated, however, that even if I took the right shortcuts and didn't stop overnight, it would be impossible to reach my goal before December.

"Even guided by you, I can't guarantee that I'll be there for the birth. However, I assure you that I will always walk watching the sky. I won't let him out of my sight."

"Your sense of commitment is enviable, my friend. Yes, I understand. But avoid delays. As any being of flesh and blood, one day the Savior will die. We must not allow this to happen before he completes his work," he declared, proudly, and concluded:

"We're counting on you. We need the First General."

I just nodded, slowly shaking my head. I respected the silence and saw the Most Pure walk away. The golden hair and copper eyes were fused with the growing light of the heart, which expanded into a towering beam, transforming night into day. Within seconds, his entire body had turned into an immense flash, which rose to the heavens and took place among the stars. It remained there, as the brightest of all celestial bodies, and when it reached maximum altitude, it began its trajectory to the west.

I needed to keep up with him. Immediately.