Real Gods Require Blood

Free Preview: THE SON OF GOD SELLS HIS SOUL TO THE SON OF THE DEVIL!

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Summary: Elohim finally makes good on His promise to Lucifer to refuel the Primordial Fire of Chaos that sat in the Levantine’s court, ensuring Michael’s resurrection. Now, two sons stake their claim in the Celestial Realm by making a deal as old as Time: sell your soul, and you will have it all!

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“You never did say where you came from.” Says Helel on the final day of the third sun, night setting in once and for all. This is usually when they just talked so, it was fine for it to be unstructured. In fact, it gives both much to sit with – sacred pauses before Paradise got busy. “Or how old you are.”

The Fire is quite aware by now. It can now extend a single flame from beyond itself in the shape of a person, about the height of Helel’s finger, all alight with fire. Now it had two eyes the color of bleeding suns.

“This is the most awake I have felt since being stirred.” It shrugs, swinging its legs. It chose to sit on Helel’s right shoulder. “I have a few memories now, if you would like.”

Helel blows on the Fire. It closes its eyes, shakes its head. How tightly they were closed spoke of much displeasure, making the son of God grin.

“Obviously I would!” Then, Helel flips onto his back, his long blonde hair spilling from the stage down off the lip. The Fire lifts off him and floats in front of his face.

“Well, it. . .was a long time. I cannot count.” The Fire then looks up into the cosmos, eyes rolling back. “One million cycles. I always exist once the Light calls.”(1)

The Fire then dots in what it can, from what little it can piece together: it says was birthed from the raw abyss itself several centuries ago, the first bastard child of millions.

Well, because it was first born, it was next in line to take the Inferno’s throne. Except, the Land of the Dead has changed hands a few times to unsuccessful pantheons, the likes of which the Fire has been trying to undermine since.

“I tried. . .my hand. First attempt was Kur. A land called Kur.”

But it doesn’t remember anything after that. Not why it failed, or how it got reset, or anything.

“Then it was Duat in Kemet.”

Yes, where Helel’s Father picked it up some time ago, disguising it as a ‘gift’ to His Father, Eloyim(2). The Fire remembers just enough to know it was a failed overthrow, hence it being stuck.

“That is the short of it.”

The Fire relaxes again, floats down. Helel holds out his palm for it to sit in and it does.

And Helel gawks in awe, brings the Fire close to his face. Thousands, no, millions of thoughts dart and spark around in his mind; amazement at the Fire’s feats, anger at his Father playing games –

Games . . .

Helel smiles at the Fire, lifting it up.

“So. . .you are to tell me that you are a prince waiting to inherit a throne, but your absent parent won’t exactly walk you through how to do it, leaving you to scramble and find your own way?”

The Fire wants to laugh. It cannot, and this displeases the Fire. At least it can close its eyes and shake, a pale imitation just to feel it.

“. . .maybe a little, son of God.”

Helel laughs with a roar, rising to his talons with an eager grin.

“Well! Believe it or not, you and I are in the same ark here.” Then, gesturing a hand towards the cosmos where Father was adamant about the ‘real’ Throne going, “I’m supposed to figure out how to ‘beat’ God so I claim my birthright, but all I have done since coming up here with Father the last few centuries is – wait for it – nothing!”

And then it was Helel’s turn to share his story so far: about being born on Earth, how God and woman and son all lived in harmony with the land and their neighbors, or at least appeared to, for Helel was already out practicing how to be God onto the other children and adults and all the animals around.

Well, since he was the son of God, he quickly outgrew the lessons the Earth could teach him, so God gave Helel His left hand to eat, came up to Paradise where their extended family, the Levantine was, and, well, ate Grandfather and Uncle Malakbel!

“But I think you saw that part, didn’t you? I mean, we ate them right in front of the chalice.”

Helel waves a hand, then goes on describing how he was good the land, tending the crops, shaping the forest, talking to the animals. And all of that, but now here he was, a bored and lonely god with nothing (seemingly) to do.  

“That sounds. . .” The Fire pauses, closes its eye again. The word rolls onto its tongue. “Lonely. Have you. . .no siblings?”

Helel’s lips curl into a frown, but he tries to gloss it over with a smile, which only looked more like a wince to the Fire.

 “Mother and Father were both most adamant I was enough, because I was apparently ‘very difficult’ to raise. Or something.”

He then rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I do not mind that part, though. Being an only child means I am always the favorite.”

And the Fire, the eldest of all Chaos itself, shakes, skitters, like it was saying ‘no.’

“Being a favorite . . .not always. . .privileged.”

Helel frowns again, really frowns, no longer able to hide it. He lays back down on his makeshift chambers with the Fire in hand, resting it on his chest to stay warm.

“. . .uhm, guess you’re right. I just . . .hate admitting that. I feel that if I complain, I will look ungrateful! Even asking Father to let me see you in His mind sounded like I couldn’t be happy with what I have.”

The Fire finds it can form a mouth, and that it does frown.

“I remember. . .my Father. He once told me . . .’be glad I let you live’.”

Helel wraps his hands around the doll-body and pulls it close, the closest thing to a hug he can give it right now. If this was stupid, let it be stupid!

“Look, I know it has looked quite bleak for both of us, for different reasons. . .but it is never too late to put that behind us, is it? It seems we are both about to enter a new era, and it is one we can do – “

Helel smiles, sweet for the fire. Then, the smile widens, almost appearing distorted as his lips stretch from ear to ear.

“Together.”

Together. . .? The Fire’s doll-body rattles with the closest thing to a laugh it can manage. The frown it donned turns on itself so it too could smile, then show teeth, all teeth.

“Son of God . . .” It began, rotating its head around once, twice. “You think you know . . .politics, hm? Bet you can’t . . . play games like your Father.”

 Helel holds the Fire back up to his face again with a smirk, the glow bouncing off his white, crystal-lined robes and shading the sides of his face. He then blows on the Fire again, making it skitter and shudder and roll around in his palm.

“What, you don’t believe me? You said it yourself! I am the son of God, duh! If anybody knows how to play ball with Him, it’s me.”

The Fire’ little doll-body transforms into a lotus flower that fit right in Helel’s palm,

And then the Fire summoned eyes, many eyes all around his chalice. All the bleeding sunsets whirr and blink around Paradise, then pick Helel. They always pick Helel.

“Like the Inferno you do.”

Its voice changed, no longer a whisper on the wind but a deep baritone that rolled like a boom through Helel’s ears. “You sound like a doe just learning how to walk. I, on the other hand, do believe I’ve told you this is my third time infiltrating a pantheon.”

Now the Fire summons mouths, many mouths. They all grin, grin, grin.

“Hah! I wasn’t even alive for your first one! It’s not my fault you’re geriatric.”(3)

And Helel just laughs in a melody that makes the Fire want to hear with ears, real ears. And it wanted to watch the roll of his shoulders with eyes, real eyes.

“Well, son of God . . .”

And now it was The Fire’s turn to whisper something most dark, the first of many thoughts that would coalese and grow beyond themselves for eons to come. “No matter which way you want to argue, I’m the one that knows more. And you, you have much to learn.”

Helel closes his right eye, lilts his head with a smile as he puts a finger to his mouth.

“Surely you don’t think I’m stupid enough to think Father is the one who will teach me how to defeat Him, do you?” Said with exaggerated sigh, Helel then drapes an arm over his forehead. “And anyway, who is to say you won’t try to pull the wool over my eyes too? You are the son of the Devil! Deceit and betrayal, are those not your callings?”

“Deceit? Betrayal? I know you are not this simple minded.”

It’s just one drop in the pool of time, just one. That’s all Helel needs, though, to see the being that was to be start emerging from the white-hot core: two eyes, the first whisps of hair, and a smile, a real, beautiful smile. This was not just a spirit or even the daemon Father said it was but a god very eager to leave his cage.

“Come, look closer into this Fire, won’t you?”

And Helel can only nod, mouth agape before breaking into a rattled smile. He would come to the chalice on bended knee, clawed hands gripping either side of the lip as he faces the figure dancing inside.

“Helel – “

It’s the first time the Fire gets to say his name, and while it may not be with a real mouth, at least this time it was semblances of him coming back together, for something about it rang true above even God Himself.

“I imagine your Father has not taught you a single thing about what it means to be a daemon, much less how Chaos works.”

Now the Fire mock-frowns. It would reach the first formation of its hand out to cup Helel’s chin. “I can also tell you lack real military experience, a great hindrance if you are to be ‘Commander’ telling an entire army what to do.”

All the wit on Helel’s tongue dies; where the hand lingers, he feels the same warmth like he did while holding the doll-body, except this time it pulses, in and out and in of his body like the Fire was not just the figure inside but all around him.

And all around him, the first whispers of the Fire’s many voices of Chaos speak for the first time(4):

it is . . .?

him, him!

answer, Helel, answer, talk to me

“. . .It is true.” He says finally, still breathless, awestruck. Daemon or not, this much was true: it was the closest thing to God Helel had ever seen, even when looking into God’s eyes! “I do not have much experience, though as you have seen I am capable of fighting.”

“Certainly. And I know you to be a good dancer, storyteller, cook – well, I am not sure of the last one until I come out, but who knows.”

Helel laughs, wraps his arms around his stomach. The Fire just smiles, thrilled to watch and thrilled to know this little dove was about to fall into his (yes, his) court first.

Nothing personal, Yahweh.

“Sure, sure! I can do many things, as you have and will see. And it sounds like you can do many things, for you are already bragging before you have a body again!”

The rows of razor sharp teeth that appeared around the Fire was now his grin, too, promising nothing good in it,  

And Helel smiles again, wanting it to promise nothing good at all indeed!

“How about we make a deal, hm? Those are my favorite.”

Helel laughs, is about to shoot back when the faint rumble of footsteps moving through the towering pines, making leaves and the water and even the mountains quiver in Paradise. Elohim had arrived.

“Shit!”

Had the third sun gone down already? So lost in the talk, Helel remembers what Father said about the time and when He would arrive, casting his gaze over his shoulder. “We’ve not much longer.” Then, looking back up to the Fire, “Be quick and state your terms!”

“Yes, of course. Helel, I will be the commander, but you will make it look like you are the one in charge.”

To which the Fire says that is easy, Helel need only give him parameters on what he was forbidden to do and the rest, he would see to it.

“You are joking.” Helel cops a brow, lips quipped into a faint smirk. “You’re just going to do all the work without taking the credit? That hardly sounds like a fair trade!”

“I’m not done.”

The Fire rattles, making the chalice tremble with it. The Son of God bites down on his lip though it does not erase the smirk. “While I will be the commander, it is important you too learn these things if we are to work together in earnest. So you will be my understudy as we do this, or it will not do.”

Helel folds his arms again, narrows his eyes. The footsteps ring again, clearing the edge of the Levantine Forest and rounding to the final stretch where Helel, the Fire, and the Humble Throne all rest.

“. . .and there is something else you want of me, isn’t there?”

To which Helel is about to state every amazing thing he can do, yes he can, for he is the son of God and God has already taught him much,

But the Fire merely shakes his head and goes back to smiling.

“Look at me.”

Helel lifts his gaze to meet the Fire’s again.

“If you do many things well, then why would I not simply ask that you remain loyal to me and by my side for all my days? That would be easier than going tit-for-tat.”

Could it be so simple? This being, wise, strong, calculating being, offering to bear the weight of Paradise so long as Helel walked in stead with him? No mortal on Earth or god in the Celestial Realm ever offered without wanting for something, something material, immeasurable!

“You mean this?” Raising a brow again, grinning with all his teeth. “I’m not. . . oh, I don’t know, selling my soul or something, am I?”

To which the Fire simply grins back and says:

“Only if you want me to buy it.”

The last ring of Elohim’s footsteps tells them time is up. Heedful, the Fire jerks the wisp of his hand away; Helel touches where flame just was and feels his skin go cold in its absence.

“Deal, then! But pray, Mr. Fire, a soul can only keep a soul if I know the name of the one I give it to!”

Clever angel, wasn’t he? Fine, he can play. The Fire and a few of his voices whisper it in the Ancient Language, letting it roll over Helel in waves like a tsunami crashing down on Paradise and bucking him right off.

God’s gift . . .

He who is like . . .

Who is like God?

I am God, like God, of God!

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(1) Michael is making a reference to “The Prophecy,” which is the oldest-standing promise in all of time, even before time itself. Simply put, it is that Order (God) and Chaos (The Devil) are eternally bound as souls.

(2) Eloyim (often just El) was the Supreme God of the Levant Pantehon before Yahweh (Elohim) ursurped His position and reprised His role.

(3) Michael is (roughly) two centuries older than Lucifer. In human years, he would be ~45 and Lucifer would be ~30.

(4) ‘Voices of Chaos’ is a reference to the 1,111 souls Michael has stored inside of him like a hivemind, all being other, often dead versions of Michael himself from other timelines. In his eyes, he “will do what they could never – play God and stick to Lucifer.”