Realm of the Dead by Donovan Neal Page A

loss of thine free will, or three months to be destroyed before thy foes, overtaken by the sword of thy enemies, or three days the Withering throughout all the coasts of Heaven. Now, therefore, advise thyself, what word shall I bring to pass in judgment?"
    And Michael said unto the Lord, "I am in a great strait. Let me, I pray, fall into the hands of the Lord, for very great are thy mercies, but let me not fall into the hands of Satan, nor would I surrender the Host to be as the beasts of the field."
    The Lord nodded his head and replied, "The Chief Prince hath spoken, let the thing then be done."
    Immediately, a fog rose from the ground, from the exterior of the mountain of God into the burbs round about the Heavenly city. And the Shekinah that covered the whole of Heaven withdrew to cover naught but the mountain of God. And when the presence of the living God was withdrawn, a dense, greenish, noxious fog saturated the grounds of Heaven.
    And the people knew something was wrong, for El's warmth, light and presence could not be felt.  Panic slowly ensued, as the last time the environment of Heaven changed, war was not far behind.
    Iblis sat in his cell, and his mind grew darker with the retracting of the presence of the Lord.  He watched as the color in the very air muted with each passing second. Vibrant and multicolored walls slowly faded in luster and dulled in appearance until the prisoner of war sat quietly and frowned, for he understood what was happening better than most.
    The Withering had come.

Chapter Six
    “To boldly go…”
    Michael ordered his teams to assemble in the Hall of Annals.  At his summons, the two groups had come to be dispatched with their final orders.
    Argoth looked upon the projecting walls and noted the dense fog that hovered over the ground of Heaven.  Angels sought not to touch it because it reeked. The Virtues could be seen round about the mountain but extended no further, and the Seraphim cried out through the mist, HOLY! HOLY! HOLY!
    Michael walked into the Hall of Annals and the two assembled teams followed. He paused to view the projections of panic that overtook the people. Most huddled in their homes, not knowing what the fog was or why it rose from the ground.
    Argoth motioned to Michael and waved his hands to allow his leader to see the topography of the city of Heaven.
    "I have received a report from thy Grigori, Athamas. He says a judgment hath befallen us.  I pray El might have mercy upon the people as thou hast asked."
    Michael frowned, his face saddened. "We can but hope that these three days will move quickly and restoration will befall us.  As of now, there seems to be no ill effect that I can surmise."
    The two teams looked on, and Enoch released his own thoughts on the matter. "If God hath said it, then the thing is true. It shall surely come to pass. We must be on our way for I must be about my Lord's business.  Let us see that we are all about it as well."
    Gabriel, who stood behind him, nodded. "Agreed.  We can do nothing but see to that which is set before us; let us be about the task at hand."
    "Very well," said Argoth. The Chief of Eyes waved his hand and when he did, he spoke. "Reveal the Gates of Limbus, and let these see the Realm of Choices."
    Immediately, the room obeyed, and flashes of light gave way to greys and hues of smoke. A fog entered the Hall, and a rocky crag-face with a door materialized, and next to the door stood an angel armed with a sword. Like a Grigori, he floated, yet hovered with four wings.
    The weapon had a black hilt and belched forth a long, blue, flaming blade of white crystal steeped in fire.  The opaque guardian blocked the door's entryway, yet he faded between plumes of smoke showing two faces, each one facing opposite the other. One was white with black eyes, and the other black with white eyes. Each set of eyes stared, as though studying wonders afar off.
    Argoth then spoke, "Our brother, Janus, awaits you at the gates."
    Enoch