The Ghosts of Elam

By Lloyd Michael Lohr

"The enemy that sowed them is the devil, the harvest is the end of the world and the reapers are the angels."

(Matthew 13:39)

The smell of war filled the air with base anticipation. Something stirred in the firmament with implications most profound.

Over humanity Dhrametheus stood watch. He was the Herald of Zeus, the first son of Gaea. He was relentless in his duties, an unwavering spirit in times of turmoil. He was there when Zeus and the new hierarchy exiled their Titan father, Chronos the Elder, from Mount Olympus. He was there when they conquered Atum Ra, Lord of the Sun and sent Egypt into slavery. He was there when Metatron, the Herald of Ahura Mazdah, the coupler of Persia, Sumer and the Indus through his loins, was brutally murdered by his enemies. He was the unyielding warrior of the gods...but even gods can die on a bad day.

"He is unaware of our presence. Not that it would matter much," Raphael said as he gazed through the fluid, obsidian fabric that made up the cusp of the firmament.

The firmament was a gateway to elsewhere, and that elsewhere was a multiple unknown, even to the gods. Zeus determined it to be a potential danger to the sanctity of the Olympian Dominion and therefore it must be guarded at all times. And on this day, another day of countless days, the sentinel stood watch. Unaware of the bloodthirsty eyes that gazed upon him, he stood erect and patriotic, for he was a proud warrior.

"Upon this soil, fed by the blood of countless dying gods, the seeds of a new genesis shall be sown. Upon these crimson stained fields shall a new realm be built. In a new image, of a new god, it will be so. For it was written that it would be those virgin souls, born in the dawning hour of the First Time, that would be the final prize in this war," The Shining One, Michael, said.

He was a Chaldean sun god, asked to serve the resurrected Titan king and help reestablish his throne. He was a potent warrior.

As the would-be invaders readied for conflict, the Greek gods seemed oblivious, soon they would be caught sleeping in the fire.

The Legions of Chronos however, were near a state of fervor. Their visions conjured forth a celestial field of carrion, fodder for the architect of a new spiritual kingdom. No one seemed to care about the consequences on the human spirit from the successive liquidations of immortal dynasties. No one seemed to give a damn about humanity's suffering. Over the centuries the Greek Pantheon proved, over and over again, to be the foremost implements of desolation upon humanity's will.

From the shadows of the firmament, whispers rose and regressed from dissonant tongues. War was soon at hand.

"Gabriel, I sense that Dhrametheus is rather anesthetized this day. It seems as if he has been smitten by love, how quaint," Michael said in a mocking tone.

"Lucifer, ready your legions. Gabriel, proceed to the right flank and take position," Michael commanded.

In the darkness of the void, winged, anthropomorphic beings, moved to the motion of shadowed aggression. Their determined stance represented their passion of belief and commitment to the cause. Their eyes, as a collective, gave off a radiant intensity only held in the heart of a warrior's soul or that of a psychopathic murderer.

"Michael my liege, our legions are prepared, the pathway has finally been revealed to us. The due season is now upon them," said Tobias the Messenger.

Michael stretched his sleek, sable wings outward in full span as he prepared for the impending slaughter. His eyes became narrow with the focused, concentrating gaze of a tactician. His mind became full of the things of war.

"Thank you Tobias, you may resume your rank."

Michael turned to face his fellow godslayers, "Lucifer, it is your call, if you wish to taste first blood, then so be it. Olympus slumbers from the festivities that surround their Bacchus celebration. They no longer have possession of the rationale. Even Aries, their pathetic god of war, is stumbling about in a drunken languor."

Lucifer, the Archangel of the Morning Star and former Canaanite harvest god, smiled a ruthless sneer at the opposition. He was invigorated at the thought of 'first-rights' bloodshed.

"How did they ever successfully banish our Lord and his Titan brethren?" Bethar asked.

An awkward silence followed. No warranted answer could be discovered.

"They had to see this day coming, yet they remain in a continual ambrosia-induced, oblivious orgy," Uriel replied as he gripped the hilt of his blade.

"We fed to the gates of desolation the petty gods of Babylon, Phoenicia and Assyria, yet they still pay us no attention and for that they will perish! In the slowest, and most painful of manners they will die," Gabriel said as he interjected himself into the conversation.

Soon the time was at hand, the Archangel Michael raised his sword, the signal to the multitude of angelic legions was given and swiftly desolation followed. Lucifer was first through the firmament veil. He appeared behind Dhrametheus. A silent, piercing thrust to the spinal column rendered the guardian impotent. Lucifer wrenched his head backwards, thus exposing his ever so vulnerable jugular. He whispered into Dhrametheus's ear the envenom that would one day attempt to permeate the souls of all mortal creatures with corruption.

"Can you sense your finality? Feel my poison take your breath and embrace death. Blood of the supposed undying tastes sweet to the vanquisher. Just like the luscious honey drip collected from the virgin May Queen."

His hand did not waiver, his blade did not falter. Lucifer threw the fallen warrior to the ground and mocked him as he lay dying.

"Must you flail about like a goatsucker whose bill has been broken by the leopard. Your true Father sends you his love, he awaits you with closed palms, my liege."

Next for Lucifer would be the daunting task of removing the Lord of the Underworld, Hades.

"At last, at last," Lucifer thought, "I will have found someone of unbridled competition, someone who shares my taste for blood and war. Let the legend of this struggle spring forth from the silver-tongued mouths of bardic troupes for many, many ages to come."

Hades was tired. He was tired of the wars, tired of death and tired of the burden of immortality. He saw this as a real opportunity to gain his freedom and cut loose from those chains that bind.

Hades anticipated his encounter with the horned angel, he dropped his defenses, thus making him vulnerable to a death blow. Lucifer interpreted theng as a sudden, brief breakdown of concentration, and struck with barbarous carnality.

"Conquest complete adversary. All that was of your possession is now mine." Lucifer said as he gazed into the ebbing eyes of Hades.

Hades glared at him for a moment in silence as blood filled his lungs. With his last remaining ounces of strength, he issued forth a malevolent hex of a most profane nature.

"My cursed misery is now your destiny, rejoice in the shadow of my fate and feel the pain of true isolation. Know that now you will have the opportunity to stand firm against the continual onslaughts from Tiamat of the Bitter Ocean and Lilith of the burning desert wind. For they are your problems now, proud one. So bold of wit and tongue as you should have no problem quelling the wolf pack, now should you."

Hades then pierced Lucifer in the ribs with a blighted thorn of despair, taken from a black rose, grown on the Isle of Everlastingness. It was a slight blow, barely breaking the flesh. He felt only the sensation of a barbed prick on his left side. A single drop of angelic blood welled to the surface of the puncture. Lucifer ignored it at first. But in time the echo of Hades' words grew louder with each passing epoch.

All that was before the 'angelic host' fell to the wide swath of a blooded-blade. All around them wailed the lamentations of the dead and the dying. Their conquest was complete.

The stage was set, once Mount Olympus fell, Chronos the Elder, the first born, once again became 'Lord of the Vast, Heavenly Dominion' known as the Al-Jehovah Ben-Akahal. The reformation of the heavens was now complete. Seven-tenths of the mortal world fell in prayer to the new dominion, as human kings conquered in their name.

Soon too, Lucifer was crowned the conquering Prince of Sheol by his compatriots, war angels draped in blood, one and all. The Crown of Bones was in their possession. But as they celebrated victory the heavens began to rumble in uneasiness from their boisterous tumult.

"Thy lord, Chronos, God of Gods is again, One. The power only to One," so cried a chorus of blood-soaked angels. But a far more terrible war was soon to come.

Soon would be born the Angel of Wither and soon would come the Goddess of Entropy. Midnight would arrive in the Fertile Crescent of the Elohim not with a whisper but with a bone-chilling lament. For on one cold, bleak morning, it began to rain black tears in Heaven.

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