The Angelic Conflict (Extended Published Version)

Untitled Part 25

THE ANGEL gives the report on the girl another perusal. It lies on its side on the lower level of a bunk bed, left hand holding the scroll, right hand in a sling, still injured from its last demonic encounter. From its last mission.

The angel sighs. It rolls the scroll close, and sits up, running its free hand over its face. It reflects upon the past few weeks since its meeting with an old friend.

"Fight back, you little prick!" the demon demanded. It pinned the angel to the ground, hacking off its breastplate and hurling away its machaira. "Fight back!"

Yet the angel would not retaliate. He remained impassive like a guilty criminal who will not deny its sin.

"I said fight back!" the Corporal said, gripping the front of the angel's upper garment. The demon punched the angel repeatedly, yet the latter took the blows in apathy.

The Corporal let go of the angel who in turn fell back to the ground. The demon unsheathed its sword of Pride and dug it into the angel's shoulder.

"Cease your pathetic sentiments!" The demon twisted the weapon so that the angel cried in pain. "I am no longer your friend, boy! I am your enemy! Fight!"

The angel's body remained motionless. The red fumed from its mouth and nose. It pants, relishing the pain so it had seemed.

Till it heard the echo that chanted:

Father, deliver us from the Evil One... send us your angels... send her your angels... all around her... on her front... on her back... to her left... to her right... above her... and beneath her... deliver her from the evil ones... in Yah'shua's mighty name... Amein... Amein... Amein...

The angel opened its eyes. Once it did, its whole body illuminated a white aura. Right there and then the demon's weapon gradually started to disintegrate into puffs of cream and silver— from the tip first, then up to the handle.

"No!" the demon hissed, staring at its empty hands. It let out a loud shriek of looming defeat.

The aura of the angel grew stronger and soon unleashed a powerful energy that tossed the demon away from the angel.

The angel spread forth its wings and carried itself into the air. It flew past the Corporal and the other demons, and charged its way towards the girl sprawled on the ground. What the angel was about to do required special permission— a rare grant since the Canon had been fully completed. It swept its hand over the girl and pulled her within its arms before the truck hit her.

It was a miracle.

Someone calls the angel's name and pushes it out of its reveries.

"What are you thinking about, boy?" Admiral 'Il'azar asks and takes a seat beside the angel.

The angel only smiles. It does not tell the admiral that it has been thinking of the girl. How since the accident, she has slowly started to respond to the Master. Her red aura had never been the same. It wavered, indistinguishably at first, soon remarkably fast. Till that day she was having lunch outside with her father. The angel witnessed the smoke rising from the girl. At first it was a thin wisp of pink, and then it flamed with white— up and through all the seven heavens. The girl conversed with her father and looked about the restaurant; but she was also praying.

Her soul then was washed with the Blood of the Lamb. No one and nothing could ever reverse the miracle, not even her or anything she does. She is now a royal daughter of the Master.

The angels in the universe sang their joyful songs.

"You have granted me dismissal today, sire," the angel says; "for which I am grateful. I miss playing my harp,"— the music that lulled King Shaul's troubled soul. "And I long for rest in Maon," a brief rest, for it is certain that it would be called to other missions again soon. Another soul has been won over, but the invisible warfare goes on. The trial in the Heavenly Courts still bears no outcome, and the test evidence will have to extend till the conclusion of human history.

"Yes," Admiral 'Il'azar answers.

Both of them observe the boy as he rides his motorcycle through the city roads, humming a sweet tune cheerily to himself despite the hot rays of the sun and the thick traffic.

O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There's light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!

"Sometimes," the angel whispers; "sometimes the sadness is still fresh. As if it were only yesterday when
our brothers turned away from the Master and chose a life of doom. Sometimes I can't help thinking about how we could all be joyfully living in peace right now."

"We must respect their decisions, boy." Admiral 'Il'azar sighs. "As our Master has. Have you realized that He could have just annihilated the Satan and its followers promptly after the Fall? Put an end to all these madness and chaos at once?"

"I do, sire," the angel watches the boy park his vehicle in front of a café. One hand holding his helmet, the other the strap of his bag, he struts towards the establishment and continues to hum:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

"Yet He has chosen to host a fair trial," the angel says; "to stand by His word and respect the Great Cherub's choice."

"Yes, boy."

The angel sadly smiles. "Instead our Master chose to love."