Infinite Testament (27 page)

April 3
^rd
. 33 AD.

The sun was out and the clouds were gone. It was an
unusually nice day. But the mood in the air suggested otherwise.
Moros stood alone on a rocky hill at Golgotha, the place of the skull.
Moros’s eyes were filled with tears he struggled to contain. Every tear
was veiled with fury. His body stiffened as he tried to compose his
rage. The light inside of him was rapidly dying. In its place,
darkness spread.

A voice from behind him said, “I’m sorry, Moros.”

Moros turned to see Elpis, whose face was anguished with
tears and looked broken. “This hasn’t been easy for any of us.”

“I’ve nothing to say to you,” Moros declared as he stormed
away.

Elpis ran after him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Moros, please!” Moros turned and violently shoved her. Elpis
helplessly fell onto the rocky ground. Moros looked down at her face was
filled with pain. Elpis and Moros loved each other more than they could
ever understand. But at this moment, Moros hated her. Elpis cracked
and struggled to conceal her heartbreak. Truthfully, the sight pained
Moros. The memories of their love, the time they spent together, the
feelings she allowed him to feel, were slipping away. Moros wanted
nothing more than to offer his hand, apologize, and hold her. To wrap his
hands around her. To tell her how much he loved her.

But he couldn’t.

As Moros stoically stared at her, Elpis began to sob.
She all but embraced the ground she was sprawled upon. “I love you,
Moros. I’m sorry.” Elpis reached into her outer tunic and pulled
something out. When she placed it on the ground at Moros’s feet, he could
clearly see what it was: the ELPIS box. The box he made for her long ago
stared back at him, reminding him of what used to be.

Elpis asked, “Do you remember?” Moros hid his inner
turmoil and remained complacent. She continued, “Please don’t give up,
Moros. I don’t want to lose you.”

Moros plucked the ELPIS box off the ground. He ran
his fingers over the letters. It had taken him a long time to make.
Back then, he was youthful, exuberant… and foolish. Moros unclipped the
box and opened it. Inside, there was nothing. “I see you’ve yet to
find a purpose for it.” Moros casually tossed the box in front of Elpis,
letting it crash to the ground.

Moros demanded, “Don’t follow me.” And walked away.

Moros slammed open the giant red doors to the Grand
Room.
Inside, the room was unbounded by four walls. An
image of an infinite palette of stars, planets, and galaxies filled the
room. The life-like model of the Universe floated around them like a hologram.
Looking out, the image seemed to extend forever. When Moros was first
permitted to enter the room, he dizzied at the oftentimes-swirling images
surrounding him. But as he became semi-used to it, the room proved to be
a fascinating place that took the committee on a tour of the cosmos.

His father, Michael, and the 11 other members of the
committee were sitting in tall chairs in the middle of the room, seemingly
ignoring the images around them and further ignoring Moros’s loud entrance.

Michael proclaimed, “Since Jesus’s death, the light on
Earth has been spreading at a rate we never imagined.”

Gabriel proudly declared, “He did it.”

Raphael said, “We finally pulled it off.” He turned
to Michael. “Is it time to start spreading life?”

The mood in the room was celebratory and full of
energy. Moros walked near them, sharing none of their feelings.

Michael happily nodded and smiled. “I believe it is
time. It is time to make the Universe as our ancestors lived it.
Hundreds of planets. All with light. All part of…”

“Father!” Moros yelled.

Michael and the 11 other archangels all turned their heads
to Moros’s intrusion. Moros scoured, “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

Moros stood calmly but breathed heavily. His anger
was apparent. “When you used me to make Jesus. Did you know from
the start he was going to die?”

Another archangel, a particularly muscular man, stood from
his chair. “How dare you interrupt our meeting!”

Moros fired, “Shut up, Ramiel!”

Michael held out his hand. “It is alright, Ramiel.
Let me have a few words with my son.” Michael turned to Gabriel, “Will
you change the room?”

The imagery in the room of space morphed to a blue sky
filled with clouds. The blue and white colors allowed the room to be more
illuminated and easily discernable. Michael, now more visible, approached
his son and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the
forum for this, Moros.”

Moros stared ahead, avoiding eye contact with his
father. “You used me. You forced me to have a son and then stole
him away.”

“Now you know why you were never supposed to meet him,”
Michael said softly, trying to keep the conversation private from the
whispering archangels. “Look at me, Moros.”

“No, Father.”

Michael stepped back, staring at Moros. “So what
Elpis says is true. You have let the darkness swallow you.”

Moros stared straight ahead, absorbing the abstract
clouds. Michael sternly and somewhat threateningly said, “I know you are
not taking this well, but if you have any unwise thoughts of destroying the
people of Earth, I’ve already arranged it with The Most High to make sure you
never do anything to harm that planet. You were always a good boy,
Moros. We will help you. Elpis will help you. She loves
you. That’s all you need.”

Michael forced a smile but worried for his son. Moros
gazed ahead, looking like a statue. Whatever emotions he was feeling were
buried within. “Talk to me, son.”

Moros simply said, “I’ll find a way.”

Michael grew impatient. He pulled his son by the arm
and whispered, “No you won’t. Stop this nonsense. Jesus did what he
had to do. Now the Universe will be better off for it. There are
thousands of planets who will follow Earth’s lead. The light will shine
across the Universe. Just like it used to. All because of your
son. For that, you should be proud.

“If you so much as attempt to destroy Earth, The Most High
will strike you down.

“Now come join us.”

Moros turned his head and looked into his father’s
eyes. “It’s too late for me, Father.” Michael looked at his son in
shock. There was no light in his eyes. Instead, they were storming
with darkness. His eyes were pale. Black. Michael stepped
away, frightened by the son he no longer recognized.

Ramiel stood out of his chair. “Come, Michael!
We have business to take care of! There is no time for your screwed up
son!”

Moros shot a deathly stare at Ramiel. He never cared
much for Ramiel and his aggressive personality.

Michael yelled, “Ramiel, stop!” He knew of the danger
of the emotional state his son found himself in.

It was too late. Moros held out his hand and spread
his fingers. Ramiel’s body lifted into the air.

Michael demanded, “Put him down,
son
.” Moros
turned his head and heinously smiled at his father.

“No.”

Ramiel’s head violently twisted backwards. The bones
in his neck twisted like paper. Ramiel’s head plopped off his body, with
a pool of blood spewing from his torso.

The archangels leapt in astonishment at what
happened. The turn of events was so unbelievable, it took precious seconds
for them to comprehend what was going on. Ramiel’s body was still
floating. Moros whipped his hand aside and tossed Ramiel’s body away like
a useless doll.

Screams of horror resonated in the Grand Room.
Michael stumbled backwards, desperately wanting to believe that his eyes were
lying to him. Three archangels charged at Moros, holding out their hands
to attack him. But before they had the chance, Moros ran sideways,
through the clouds, and swiped his hand through the air. In an instant,
the three archangels were sliced horizontally in half.

Raphael and Gabriel knelt behind a cloud. They were
invisible to Moros. “This is why I never had kids,” Raphael remarked.

Gabriel snapped, “Now? You crack jokes even at a time
as this?”

“Come on, redhead. Make yourself useful. Throw
some planets at him.”

Gabriel smiled at Raphael. “I like the way you
think.”

The seven remaining archangels were holding out their
hands, attempting to attack Moros. But inexplicably, it wasn’t
working. They couldn’t hurt him; something was awry. Moros stood
his ground and brutally slaughtered the archangels, one by one, tearing off
their limbs and contorting them in cruel ways. As horrendous as his
actions were, Moros felt good.

Suddenly, the peaceful clear sky of the room
vanished. In its place launched a pitch-black array of stars and
planets. The galaxies swarmed toward Moros at thunderous speeds. It
was too dark for him to see. The planets and stars flew through him,
making him dizzy, just as they always had. And the speed at which they
flew made him sick.

Raphael and Gabriel snuck through the darkness toward the
giant red door. Moros screamed in rage, unable to see anything.
Raphael and Gabriel opened the door, allowing light from outside to flood into
the Grand Room. As they escaped, they slammed the door behind them,
concealing Moros inside. They ran through the hallway as the tall white
pillars and magnificent plant life flew past. People mingled around,
wondering why they were running so furiously. “Everyone get out!” Gabriel
yelled.

“Fire!” Raphael yelled.

“Fire?” Gabriel whispered.

“Yes. Everyone runs from fire… FIRE!!!”

“Shouldn’t we help the others?”

“There’s no helping them now,” Raphael said. “Moros
has lost his mind. We need to prepare for the future.”

“We need to get Moros off Raqiya!”

“How will we do that?”

Gabriel declared, “Elpis.”

Raphael and Gabriel sprinted away, with masses of panicked
crowds behind them.

Back in the Grand Room, Moros was on his knees and covered his
eyes with his hands. The stars flying past gave him a headache and
blurred vision he couldn’t handle. Luckily for him, the images vanished,
leaving him in a purely white room. The walls, the floor, everything was
complete white. Moros rose from his knees and was finally able to
see. What remained was a slaughterhouse. Seven archangels lay
slain. Some without heads, some without limbs, some without torsos.
The warm fresh blood flooded the floor, causing the white room to slightly
shade to pink.

Jegudiel, an old, whiting archangel knelt in the middle of
the room, holding the upper half of the slain body of another archangel.
Tears were abound on his face, horrified by what he was looking at. “My
son. My son is dead,” Jegudiel muttered. He looked at Moros with
great sorrow in his eyes. “Why would you do this?”

Moros, encapsulated by the darkness, responded, “The fate
of your son is nothing compared to the fate of
my
son. Now you
know what it feels like.” Moros held up his hand, casually flicked his
wrist, and Jegudiel’s head ripped from his body.

Moros took a deep breath. Everyone in the room was
dead, except for his father, Michael, whose eyes were wide with
disbelief. Michael pleaded, “Your son spent his life preaching about
love… preaching about peace. He willingly gave his life to save
humanity. We didn’t
force
him to die. He had a choice.
We all have a choice. And this is what you’ve chosen?”

He continued, “Jesus so strongly believed in humanity…
believed in life… that he died for it. The people on Earth were taught
what was important. And they
got
it. His apostles are
spreading his word across the world. We’ve done what we set out to
do. We can
expand
life across the Universe. We can live
peacefully.

“The light in you is gone, Moros. But I still have
faith in you.”

Moros snickered in disgust. “I’ll never be allowed in
Raqiya again.”

“I forgive you, Moros.”

Moros looked at what he had done. The bodies of eight
archangels were sprawled about like splattered red paint. “You say you’ve
made an arrangement with The Most High. To keep me from destroying
Earth. Well I made an arrangement too…. but it wasn’t with The Most
High…”

Michael gasped at the thought. “No, Moros. Tell
me it isn’t true.”

Moros’s stone-black eyes gazed into his father’s. “Do
you think I would be standing here if it wasn’t? The others tried their
best to stop me. They tried to kill me. But no one, nothing, can
hurt me. I am now
invincible
until my natural death.”

“Then you will be forced to watch Earth prosper until that
time.”

Moros held up the palm of his hand to his father.
Michael treaded back, prepared to face his end. Moros paused and switched
the position of his hand to a fingerpoint. “I will spare your life,
Father. But you will remember what you did.”

Moros pointed with his other hand. With both hands
pointing, he burned holes clear through Michael’s wrists. Michael
screamed in agony. Moros aimed downwards and did the same to his
feet.

“Now you bare the marks of my son. Goodbye, Father.”

Moros walked away from Elpis, who he had shoved to
the ground.
His legs strained as he climbed the steep, grassy
hill. Each step was strenuous. Moros used all of his effort and
finally reached the summit. Dozens of people loitered around in the gloomy
atmosphere. One woman in particular caught his attention. She was
hysterically crying and a man held her in his arms, attempting to comfort
her. The light inside her was extraordinarily bright. She must have
been the woman Gabriel told him about. She was the mother of his son,
Jesus.