The Angelic Conflict (Extended Published Version)

Untitled Part 1

THE DEMON catches the smirk that almost touches the lips of Af. Af withdraws its dagger from what could be deciphered and depicted as the chest of Yazhêl, a warrior of light. The smile finally claims victory when Yazhêl falls back from the shock and curls up on the ground, groaning.

"The dicks are finally losing," Af says, still faintly smiling. "Look at them. Too weak to fight on." It eyes the weapon in its hand, a knife with a black, bare leather handgrip and quillons, made of Rage and sharpened by Animosity. Coruscating white dust cover the blade, which Af wipes off onto the garment that clothes its bottom. "I can tell that the only Prayers they have left in their ammunition are the ones meditated by the girl's late mother. Eighteen-year-old Prayers. Nothing more. If anyone's been praying for her, they have done so in sin for they are not being heard." Af chuckles. "Moreover, those shitheads don't know when El-Shädda will return."

El-Shädda, with its full wings1, the toughest in the squad of angels, has been temporarily called to other duties. Its absence, needless to say, favors the demons greatly.

Yet the demon— which the group of fallen calls their Corporal, their head— drawls in a rather loud manner, "You fool!"

Af scowls and marches towards the demon. "Who are you calling fool, Corporal?"

This captures the attention of the other demons that have been reposing; they straighten their backs and crane their necks towards the commotion.

Af in its anger pounces at the demon; it almost stabs the Corporal with the weapon in its hand. But instead of executing a puncture, Af gets its arm twisted and locked by the Corporal.

"Yes, we are fairly doing well manipulating our human's Negative Volition2 to its extent; but that is never enough to assure victory!" the Corporal hisses into Af's ears. "We can never be too careful! You know the Enemy has never played fair!" It promptly casts its inferior aside. The latter stumbles backwards, but quickly composes itself.

The Corporal then addresses everyone on its team. "We must act in haste and take advantage of this situation!" The demon stretches an arm towards the holy angels not far off. They look beaten. Degraded.

"Relax, Corporal!" says Goh, another demon. It lets out a laugh, richly deep and pleasing that if you were to hear it, you would think it the handsomest laugh you had ever heard. It approaches the fuming leader and stretches an arm over the nape of its neck, which the Corporal immediately shrugs off. "The only thing we can fear now is a direct intervention from the Enemy."

"Imbecile!" the demon spits. "This is why you are never promoted. And you!" its finger pointing at Af; "I am implicated with your stupidity!"

Not another word from them is heard as the Corporal approaches their human— a young lady seventeen years of age. The demon places itself beside the Consciousness of the girl in a deep sleep, and whispers into her hauntingly beautiful dreams: memories of her father, and even of her mother; and visions of fame, fortune, and power— of helping the poor and the needy— every little thing she has always hoped to have, to do, to become in life. And before the morning sunlight touches the girl's cheek, the demon continues to mutter things exactly as the Great Cherub, the Father of Lies, would.

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  1. Which are more of adornments than devices of transportation. Wings signify ranks. 

 2. Negative Volition is rebellion against and rejection of God's Word. It is the opposite of Positive Volition.