Rise Of The Nephilim

Malachi placed the palm of his hand over the crest branded on the concrete wall:a winged pattern marked with waves of blue light.

The wall opened to reveal an entry.

Malachi and Zeda placed themselves on either side of Maxine with their arms wrapped around her. They claimed to be supporting her, but Maxine felt weighed down by heavy steel, felt her body pulled down to the depths of the sea, where life itself was dark, empty, and cold, warming only the evils of humanity.

They walked through the opening. The ground transitioned from smooth concrete, made by Human hands, to rough stone texture.

The opening had begun to close behind them. And the weighted sound of rock sliding on top of rock reflected the end of an old life and the beginning of a new one. It sent a cold gnawing feeling through Maxine’s bones. Though, she wasn’t sure of why she felt fear.

Maxine looked over a suspended platform from behind iron railings and saw a place like no other.

The shadow reappeared, flying in circles above what looked like a city. A dark city of caves, illuminated by dull, flickering lights, luminous flora of purple, green, white, and blue, and waves of shimmer reflecting from a body of water on its horizon. It had no sun or moon or skies. Only the rough, raw surfaces, with peaks of rocks extending downward and dark spaces, recessed between them.

The shadow flew over Maxine, Zeda, and Malachi still by her side. They looked up.

Malachi smiled.

“Father,” he said.

Maxine stared at the creature, her hair fluttering in front of her face in some hidden breeze.

She heard his voice in her mind. “Welcome, my child. You have come home.”

She felt his hands on her face—cold, rough, yet welcoming—caressing her, soothing her, though she could not see them.

“We have been waiting a long time for you. You are among the last of my children to enter our great city:Babylonia. Look around. This is your home now.”

She looked out at the vast cavern before her. “Why am I here?” she asked, finally able to allow the words to leave her trembling lips.

The flying shadow descended, landing in front of her. His wings spanned wide before disappearing behind his back. He wore white and was tall, thin, and old. His hair was solid white, and his eyes were gray, cold, and glowing.

He turned his back toward her to look out at his city’s horizon.

“You are here because you heard my words and heeded my call.”

He stood silently as images of the war to come flashed through his mind.

“Today is your birthday, my daughter; let us celebrate.”

“Yea, a party!” Zeda squealed.

With his hands behind his back, Āmand smiled, the strain clear on his face.

“Are you not my daughter?” he asked Maxine.

She stared into his eyes as she searched for words lost in the fog of uncertainty.

Āmand cupped her face with his hands. “Are you not my daughter?”

Maxine smiled at last. “Yes, Father,” she said. “And I will serve you well.”

“Good.”

Confident that he had strengthened the block on her mind, he then turned his attention to Zeda, who looked on with enthusiasm.

“Why don’t you take your new sister and introduce her to the others. I will make the arrangements for our feast tonight.”

“Yes, Father,” Zeda said, delight flushing her face. “Come, Sarai!” She pulled on Maxine’s hand. “This place is so cool! You’ll love it! Trust me!”

Āmand waited for the two girls to descend the steep stairs, their feet clanging on metal grates, Zeda talking without bothering to take a breath.

“Prepare the demonstrations tonight for our feast,” he ordered.

Malachi stood almost at attention, “Yes, Father. I will not disappoint you.”

“I’m sure you won’t.”

Malachi heeded his words, for he remembered the fate that Yosai, his brother, had suffered. One of Āmand’s favorites, Yosai had met his death by Imp, Āmand’s punishment for disobedience and disappointment. “Yes, Father. I will make you proud to call me Son.”

“Good.”

Āmand extended his wings and once again took flight above his domain; there, he resided as the Supreme Leader of the Fallen, Lord Dominance of Babylon. He was Supreme Leader of the Ascensions—a secret cabal made up of the four surviving Fallen Angels, one-hundred, power-hungry Humans, who’d sold their souls in exchange for power and wealth, once the world had fallen, as well as hundreds of loyalists, including spies and farmers who’d supplied the underground world with fruit, meat, grains, and other provisions, packed in crates, and sent down conveyor belts from secluded areas of their farms, once every month, to Epochs, who’d then loaded the Lasers.

He was the watcher of his universe, hidden in the shadows of a storm cloud.