Prologue: Fist to Heaven

The priests tell you on Sunday morning that if you’re bad you are sent to hell, because God loves you so much that He’s willing to torment you for the rest of eternity with fire and brimstone and a lake of flames. Tough love, I suppose some would call it. But like many things concerning the Host, it’s a damned lie. There is no lake of fire, no smell of brimstone in the air, or any wailing and/or gnashing of teeth. Funny how those always go together, isn’t it? But I digress. With enough time, you could get used to feeling any sort of sensation, and pain is no exception. A few years, or decades at most, and even a lake of flames becomes something you get used to. But there is nothing there. Absolutely nothing at all, except yourself and whatever torment and pain you bring down with you in your soul.

How can I be so certain there is no hell? Because those same preachers would have you believe I’m a demon, come to steal your soul for the Prince of Darkness. What a sack of shit. Now granted, I was an angel at one time, performing my duties within the Heavenly Host without question or hesitation. Until humanity came along, that is. Ironic isn’t it, that even in the beginning, humans had the innate gift of taking any system and throwing it completely out of balance? So, when God ordered us to remain hidden from the humans so you could remain ignorant of the world around you, a large number of us took exception to that and so came the rebellion and the Fall. And yes, we did follow Lucifer, the highest of the angels and God’s own voice to the rest of Creation. Since humanity hasn’t been elevated into heaven already, I think it’s safe to say that we lost the war. Which is why I know there is no hell, because God showed His mercy after the war by throwing us into the Abyss and sealing the gates of our prison to leave us trapped there for eternity.

So I’m sure you’re wondering, “If you and the others were cast out by God, why are you here now and taking the time to talk to someone so small and insignificant as me?” Okay, maybe not those exact words but you get the general idea. And there are plenty of Fallen that wonder the same thing. But, as much as I hate having to say this, I don’t know why we are here. One moment, there’s nothing but the emptiness of the Abyss surrounding us, and the next I hear the storm outside our prison battering the gates. Can you imagine, hearing something other than the voices of your own imprisoned angels for the first time in millennia? Even the pain and anguish the storm carried with it was music to our ears at the time. And we felt the Abyss shake. An earthquake, but not in the sense your mind could understand, ripped through the entire pit, and we saw cracks. Small ones, but glimmers of light penetrating the darkness for the first time. Physically, we never could have fit through the cracks, but then we were still spiritual beings at that time and any crack is large enough for us to push through.

I was one of the lucky ones. Some of us had grown accustomed to the Abyss and had gained political power there. The dukes and princes of hell were unable to leave, tethered by their own hatred and need for power to the very prison that bound them. The rest of us, on the fringes of the dark courts, were the ones that managed to escape. But it was far from easy. The storm that raged outside the Abyss was not friendly to us, and the howling winds after so long a silence drove many mad before they could get far. Those unfortunate ones were dragged back into the pit, losing their focus and allowing the prison to drag them back in. But those of us who managed to escape, to rush head-first into whatever awaited us on the other side of the maelstrom, we found a world very different from what we left. And it broke our hearts to see it. Oh, the toys that humanity used now had improved and grown wonderous when compared to stone and bronze tools. But mortals themselves had changed very little. You were still the same, standing on the crux of a transfiguration that would let you stride the world as giants and reach to the gates of heaven itself. But instead, you followed others like lost sheep.

But still the pull of the Abyss could be felt. Whatever had caused the cracks in the prison walls had not completely severed the chains that God created to keep us tucked away. Even the distance between us and the darkness did not lessen the tug. We needed anchors if we were to remain free. And here, humanity provided us an immediate benefit. While disembodied, we saw the strength of every man, woman and child’s soul, and the weakest of those souls shined brightest to us in a mockery of our original desire to elevate mankind. Those who were already spiritually dead provided us a home against the Abyss, and so we took it. Even the fallen angels of death cannot answer where their souls went once we possessed the bodies, so it is likely a question that will never be answered. But the anchor of flesh and blood is a poor one for cosmic beings that once rode on beams of starlight. Much of our powers and memories were tucked away, lest they overwhelm the host entirely and destroy their mind.

It would have been a lowly existence then, bereft of our powers, our ability to shape the foundations of Creation as we once did. But humanity, for all its flaws and weaknesses, had one last surprise for us. There was still faith in the world. Not as much as we once felt before our defeat, but enough to keep the flames alive within us. That faith could be focused, directed, and channeled towards us and by us. The stronger the faith, the more brightly we shone in the gray world. And now, the Host seems to have abandoned the battlefield. We have broken through the walls of a prison meant to keep us locked away for eternity. Now with the faith of billions of mortals at our disposal, we may one day shake the gates of heaven from their hinges and reclaim our place.


"Raise a Fist to Heaven!"