seraphim: Book 1: The Demon Box.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Fantasy Realm
seraphim is the story of a black market antiquities collector who stumbles across a strange piece of parchment. when the parchment's ancient creator turns up to take it back, peter adams is plunged into a war of Angels and Demons.

Submitted: June 27, 2017

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Submitted: June 27, 2017








The Demon Box


Seraphim: An angelic being with six wings. They stand amongst the highest order of celestial beings and  act as the medium of communication between heaven and earth.

Part one: The Angelic sphere.

The sweet scent of frankincense filled the chamber, lacing the air as it drifted from four heavy gothic bronze braziers. The coals sitting in the basins of the braziers pulsed with a deep rich red glow casting dancing scarlet shadows around its curved walls.

The walls of the chamber were smooth and shiny, like polished marble. There were no visible doors or windows to the chamber; it was a complete sealed sphere. Just a dark swirling black and crimson pattern, heavily ingrained into the smooth walls were its only blemishes; perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the dark stains seemed to have a life of their own, swirling and running into one another morphing into different shapes, like oil on water. In the center of the floor there was a mosaic, a square with 2 intersecting triangles forming a five pointed star. In the center of the star sat a lone mahogany skinned naked figure, her legs crossed in deep meditation.

Shani Tarath, was as still as a statue carved from marble, her breathing was long, slow and controlled. Rivulets of sweat ran down her naked body from the humidity in the room, glistening in the crimson glow like liquid diamonds. Her hair was short cropped, snowy white and plastered to her head with perspiration. Her nose was small and delicate and slightly turned up at the end. Her lips were full and moist and pink. There were no sharp features about her face, it was smooth rounded, unblemished and very striking to behold.

Shani’s body was lithe and finely honed, her breasts were small and pert, a silver ring hung from her left nipple. Her body had become the canvas for a master tattooist, elegant swirls and spiraling patterns had been etched into her skin, yet the ink that had been needled under her skin gave off a strange eldritch glow. Greens, blues, warm yellow and fierce oranges adorned her body.

A golden sun glowed where her naval should have been, yet there was no indentation, just smooth mahogany skin and defined abdominal muscles rippling under the flesh. A second sun sat neatly between her breasts and a third sun on her forehead.

Shani’s back was covered in a pair of silver tattooed wings; every minute detail of the feathers had been etched meticulously on it.

In front of her, crossed on the floor were two curved scimitar blades, their craftsmanship was exquisite. The blades were three foot of razor sharp curved steel. Etched into the blades were stark hard edged symbols, which could have been some kind of arcane script, lost to the annals of time as we know it. The long handles had been bound in golden wire, and the pommels were adorned with precious multifaceted sapphires which radiated with their own inner light.

Reaching for the scimitars, Shani became a blur of movement as she rolled forward jumping to her feet in the blinking of an eye, the blades becoming silver streaks of whirling death as she swirled them around her body, performing some kind of intricate sword kata. Her eyes remained closed all of the time as she danced her web of spinning silver bladed death around the chamber, leaping and running up the smooth curved walls of the chamber.

Coming to a sudden stop, Shani stood balancing like a ballet dancer about to perform a pirouette. One scimitar blade was crossed high over her head, the other across her sleek wet stomach.

All around the room, the black stains on the walls began to swirl and run and coalesce high above her head at the top of the chamber. Shani’s senses were alive and tingling, like an electrical storm playing across the night sky. Flinging her arms wide she let out a cry that was not human, high pitched and screeching like an eagle in flight as the tattooed wings on her back suddenly shimmered and erupted and spread out across the chamber snowy white and ruffled.

The demons were trying to escape from their box prison; she could feel their malevolent thoughts even deep inside the sanctuary of her sphere.


Throwing her head back, Shani opened her eyes and stared at the swirling oily black maelstrom above her head, her eyes glowed golden and brilliant as she flapped her wings and vanished into the whirlpool.

It was time to go to work, to do what she had been created for; it was time to stop the demons before it was too late.


Part Two: The Academic.

 Peter Adams was an academic, a university lecturer in ancient history, specializing in archaic languages of the Middle East and biblical lands. He was a typical professor, he took little care in his appearance, as his attention was focused on more important things than fashion, his tweed suits with worn elbows was testament to that.

Pete sat at his desk a look of perplexity drawn across his bearded face. Rubbing his weary brown eyes he leaned back in his chair tearing his eyes away from the parchment he had been studying now for over sixteen hours. The parchment had been found sealed in a bronze jug covered in linier sigils in a dusty cave in the valley of Jezreel, just outside of the ancient site of Tel Megiddo; or so said his contact; an Antiquarian thief he had paid £25,000 for it.

Peter had done the necessary tests to authenticate its age, they had come back positive, it was old, but beyond biblical old. The parchment was papyrus and positively identified as Egyptian in origin, the script however, was not hieroglyphs, cuneiform, demotic, ancient Greek, Aramaic  or even Hebrew, and to make matters even more puzzling, the ink was unidentifiable; it seemed to have some kind of strange luminescence about it.

 In the dull light of his study, the script almost jumped off the papyrus. And whereas the papyrus should have been in a very fragile state, it looked only slightly yellowed with the passing of time and was still easily handled, considering it was dated at circa 5000 B.C

Amongst all of this confusion, the papyrus was only a section ripped from a larger piece of parchment

The symbols on the papyrus, Peter had surmised were very similar to a modern day star chart, but had been decorated with interlocking circles and the same linier symbols that had decorated the bronze jug, which Peter took to be some kind of arcane zodiac, with the circles indicating the orbits of planets or constellations. In short it was an intricate and highly detailed chart of the heavens but with small orbiting spheres that did not exist on any modern day star chart; it was a true enigma and intrigued him no end.

It was the early hours of Sunday morning and Peter finally fell asleep at his desk amongst the piles of reference books where he had failed to identify the script on the papyrus.

The sound of something moving upstairs brought Peter back to consciousness. Rubbing his eyes he looked at his Rolex, it was 3.45 A.M. Peter’s heart skipped a beat as the sound of something scraping over the floor above his head reverberated down into his hidden study. Reaching for the papyrus to roll it up and put it in his safe, peter’s eyes widened with astonishment. He had studied the papyrus intricately and every detail of it had been resigned to his photographic memory.

Peter blinked and rubbed his eyes and stared at the papyrus. One of the spheres on the paper had moved Its position, which had been slightly to the left of an orbiting circle, had come to the forefront of the papyrus, the symbol which had been painted in the center of the sphere; a crescent moon pierced with a horizontal bar, seemed also to be  more radiant than before.

Peter felt his guts nervously tightening, something dark and unnerving was happening and he felt a cold sweat braking out all over his body.

Rolling up the parchment, he placed it in a plastic tube and moved over to the large safe in the corner of the room. Punching in the code he placed his thumb on the small scanner next to the number board. The safe clicked and the door broke open.

 Quickly putting the tube in the safe, Peter pulled out a nickel coated colt automatic pistol and took off the safety catch as he moved over to the foot of the stairs. Taking a deep breath he slowly made his way to the door at the top of the stairs.

Peter emerged from the hidden door in the back of a shoe closet; he stood holding his breath for a moment as he listened. All was quiet; perhaps he had just imagined the noises! Then suddenly his fingers tightened on the grip of the pistol as the sound of something scraping across the wooden floor in the study spurred him into action.

Moving swiftly, Peter ran across the hallway and burst into the study holding his pistol out in front of him. Spinning around he stood in the empty room, there was nothing to be seen except the silver light of the moon seeping in through the French windows. Reaching for the light switch, peter was just about to flick it on when the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.


Part Three: Uninvited guests.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw it, a thing of nightmare, a creation of an insane mind oozing from the shadows, its great mouth gaping wide revealing rows of twisted yellow teeth, its limbs were long and gangly not unlike an ape, yet its body was squat and spiny and its back was covered in porcupine like quills which rattled in warning like the tail of a rattle snake. Its head was more like a blister on its body where a dozen luminous green eyes shone unblinking as it loped toward him with a long thick pink tongue hanging from its bulldog-like maw.

Fighting the urge to scream and run, peter felt that to try and escape this living nightmare would be futile. Leveling his pistol he squeezed the trigger repeatedly, emptying the clip into the approaching slavering beast.

Round after round punched into the black spiny creature causing black oozing goo to erupt from the holes, yet the beast did not acknowledge the wounds or make the slightest sound of pain. It just kept coming at him and reaching out with its long gangly arms with wicked looking hooked claws.

Backing away, peter felt the cold of the wall against his back as the creature reared up opening its mouth. Its fetid breath filled the room with the stench of death as its horrible tongue lashed around its mouth dripping putrid thick saliva over his face.


Part Four: Enter the Seraphim

The French windows shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the room into the study.

Like a mighty eagle, she swooped into the room on snow-white wings. Her face shone with angelic radiance, her skin glowed as if on fire, the power of the sun gleamed in her golden eyes and the two steel scimitars in her hands became a blur of silver light as she leaped into the air.

The creature reacted accordingly to this new threat. The quills on its back shook and rattled, then like a hundred needle sharp darts the quills flew from its back at the sword wielding woman.

Her movements were too fast to follow with the naked eye; she became a crimson glowing streak as she deflected the hundreds of poisonous darts with her whirling scimitars. Landing directly behind the creature her blades ripped into it.

It did not stand a chance as her blades sliced through flesh bone and sinew, and in the blinking of an eye the creature was no more, its body parts were splashed up the walls, dripping from the ceiling and furniture.

Stepping back, the snow haired woman smiled a warm smile, that miraculously melted away all of peter’s fears and terror that had gripped his very soul.

Then lifting the scimitars above her head she brought the sapphire hilt stones together. There was a flash as blue fire shot from the crystals. The demon parts were vaporized removing any trace that the creature was ever there.

Falling to his knees, peter trembled at the feet of this magnificent ethereal woman; for he knew he was in the presence of something otherworldly, something powerful and devastating.

‘Wh… who are you?’ Peter finally found his voice in his very dry throat.

‘I am Shani Tarath,’ she replied in a voice that could have made him weep it was so beautiful to listen to.

‘What do you want?’ he replied as his eyes recognized the same hard edged symbols on her blades and tattooed into her naked flesh matching the ones of the papyrus.

‘I have come for my scroll!’ she said as she stepped forward, sheathed her blades and held out a hand helping Peter to his feet.

As his hand touched hers it was like an electrical current running through his body, suddenly images flashed before his eyes, images that could send a sane man to the brink of madness.

Stars, constellations, burning suns and rotating planets filled his view and amongst them flew white winged creatures like flocks of sea birds flames shooting from their eyes, lightning crackling from swords and spears and crossbows, it was an angelic army gathering on the outskirts of a small insignificant blue marble planet with one silver grey moon orbiting it.

The Seraphim were readying themselves for war and the battlefield, to Peter’s horror looked disturbingly like the Earth.

Peter staggered over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a hefty measure of bourbon whisky; he downed it in one gulp and immediately began pouring another with shaking hands.

‘What was that – thing?’’ peter asked in between sips of bourbon, his eyes roved over the majesty of this female vision that stood before him.

She wore a white breastplate that fitted her like a second skin, her midriff, however was bare, her olive skin glistened in the moonlight. She wore a silver fish scale skirt that reminded him of a 60s mini skirt, her legs were protected with silver greaves and silver toed white leather boots, she was a vision of Amazonian origins.

‘That was a Shedim!’ Shani replied as she moved around the room picking up books and flicking through their pages showing little interest.

Peter’s eyes followed her fluid movement, she was like a great cat, sinuous and sleek, yet with the power to rend and tear you apart in the blinking of an eye. And those tattoos on her skin had Peter fascinated.

‘A Shedim?’ Peter replied. ‘I am sorry, but my nerves are shot to bits. I have just been attacked by some – thing from my worst nightmares and now I have a winged tattooed woman in my study brandishing two bloody great swords!’

Shani, shook her head, rolled her eyes skyward and made a tutting noise as if in slight annoyance.

‘Look, I haven’t got the time to explain to you everything, and even if I did, I don’t think your primitive mind could grasp it anyway!’

Suddenly feeling insulted, Peter shouted, ‘primitive! I beg your pardon, Who are you?’ he demanded.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, Shani crossed her long smooth legs and leant back as she took a deep breath.

Peter took a swift dram of bourbon to steady his nerves.

‘I am Shani Tarath. I am Seraphim, and I am here to tidy up the mess you have made by removing the scroll from its rightful place and breaking the seal of Lemegeton, which has kept the Demons from entering this world.’

Peter felt his mind spinning as her words washed over him with their urgency.

‘You are telling me that you are an Angel? And… and that Shedim-thing was a demon?’

Shaking her head, shani stood up,

‘No, I am not an Angel, I am Seraphim and if that Thrall was a demon then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, because you would be dead. It is a familiar, it does the bidding of its Demon master and this one was after the parchment.’

‘Seraphim, Angels, they are the same thing?’ Peter shrugged his shoulders.  Religious mythology was not his forte he dealt with the facts of history not the mumblings of zealots and prophets.

Shaking her head, Shani put her hands on her waspish hips, ‘are a sparrow and an eagle the same thing?’ she said acidly.

‘No!’ peter replied pouring himself another drink.

‘Well there you go then!’ Shani replied throwing her arms in the air.

‘You see, I told you your primitive brain wouldn’t understand.’

‘Would you stop saying that!’ peter barked angrily taking a deep breath he rubbed at his aching temples, then held out a glass, ‘would you like a drink?’

‘No, drinking is a sin!’ Shani replied stoically.

Finding himself laughing at the absurdity of the whole mad situation, Peter swore, ‘drinking a sin! Fuck me!’

‘Look, just give me my scroll and I will be gone,’ Shani’s voice floated menacingly on the air.

‘What do you mean the scroll is yours?’ Peter said as the bourbon he had consumed began to work, filling him with a new found confidence.

‘I drew it and placed it in the holy sepulcher, so I would say it was mine, wouldn’t you?’

Peter scoffed, ‘that scroll is at least seven thousand years old and Egyptian.’

‘Ten thousand years actually, and it’s not Egyptian, it’s Atlantean,’ Shani replied. ‘I know it is below us somewhere, I can feel it, so if you don’t want me to tear a hole in your floor to get it, you will show me where it is!’


Part Five: Revelations and Headaches

Peter had dedicated his life to learning the secrets and lost history of the Earth, and here in his home he had this woman, this Seraphim that held the keys to the ancient mysteries of the past, he was determined to glean as much knowledge from her as possible, he knew he just couldn’t let this being walk away without a bye or leave, his heart pounded, his temples throbbed as he tore his eyes away from her illustrious form.

Draining the last dregs of bourbon from his glass he turned toward the secret door leading to his cellar study and disappeared into the closet.

As Peter reappeared holding the Bronze jug, The Seraphim’s eyes glowed bathing him in their golden light.

Looking at her, Peter could not believe that this young and exceptionally beautiful woman was standing in his hallway. Her features were delicately striking, her complexion flawless, she was lithe and diminutive in stature. Peter couldn’t think of another woman who could compare to this Otherworldly beauty.

‘You said that the scroll was Atlantean?’ Peter said reluctant to relinquish his hold on the jug. ‘Just moments ago I would have said Atlantis was just a fantasy, a fable concocted by Plato, now, I’m not sure of anything anymore. These symbols on the jug and your tattoos are the same,’ Peter continued as he ran his fingers over the symbols etched into the bronze jug. ‘Are they Atlantean too?’

‘I do not have time for this,’ Shani sighed, ‘you could not comprehend the danger you have put this world in by removing the scroll from its resting place.’

‘Well excuse me for being an ignorant little mortal, but it didn’t exactly come with a warning sign did it!’ peter barked losing his temper.

‘And even if it did, I am sorry to tell you, Miss Seraphim, but there is no one left on this planet that can read or speak Atlantean!’

Shani’s eyes flashed bright and golden, the hallway lit up as though the sun had suddenly shone through the windows, Peter had to squint as the light pierced his eyes like hot needles.

‘You really are testing my patience,’ Shani warned as she reached for the lemegeton. ‘Besides, the symbols are not Atlantean, they are Enochian, the native language of my kind.’

‘Oh well, that’s OK then!’ Peter replied sarcastically.

Sighing, Shani took the Lemegeton,

‘Forgive me; I cannot expect you to understand the machinations of the universe.’

‘Try me?’ Peter butted in.

The seraphim shrugged and sat down on the steps.

‘I will simplify this as much as possible. The heavens are more complex than you could ever imagine with countless number of realities that run parallel to one another, and within these realities exist beings, creations and parasitic organisms that would drive you insane if you were to look upon their countenances. Every now and then these realities will bump and collide fusing together forming rifts and bridges. Atlantis was at the hub of one of these points. Closing this point of contact resulted in the destruction of that continent. Unfortunately before we closed the bridge, a number of Verhamkas, sorry, Demons as you call them, escaped. With the bridge destroyed we could not send them back,’

‘So what did you do?’ Peter asked the bewilderment on his face plain to see.

 ‘We hunted them down and imprisoned them.

‘How? Where did you imprison them?’ peter was transfixed by what he was learning from the seraphim, he could hardly believe his own ears.

‘I don’t have time for all of these questions, Peter I must return the Lemegeton to its rightful place,’ Shani replied, the urgency in her voice was final.

Peter knew she would not answer any more of his probing questions.

Peter felt himself reeling from all of this Demon talk and alternate realities, he suddenly felt very small and insignificant in the greater scheme of things.

 ‘Take me with you, let me help.’

Shani Shook her head, ‘what possible help could you be to me? ‘

‘Peter knew she was right, he had shot that Thrall at point blank range with no effect, he realized how stupid his plea had been.

Shani stood up and walked toward the study gripping the lemegeton tightly. Turning toward Peter she smiled, ‘Good bye!’

Her skin glowed with an inner effervescence, her shoulders shook and her back erupted as her huge snowy white wings unfurled. with one great flap of her wings she disappeared into the night sky.

Peter looked on, his mouth dropping open in awe as the Seraphim disappeared into the clouds.

Peter looked about the dark quiet study. Who would believe him if he were to tell his story of Thralls and demons and seraphim? Shaking his head, he had trouble believing it himself.


Part Six: I don't think the house insurance covers this!

Laughing Peter walked over to the drinks cabinet and did what he did best, poured himself a  stiff bourbon. Lifting the glass to his thirsty lips, he was suddenly thrown to the floor as the ground beneath his feet quaked and trembled.

Looking on in terror Peter watched as the floorboards, creaked and bulged blistering outwards, and then with a violent splintering of wood the floor exploded as a cloud of noxious yellow sulphurous smoke spewed into the room

Staggering and tripping, Peter crawled through the shattered French windows into the garden, coughing and spluttering from the stinking yellow smoke seeping from the hole in the floor. Again the ground trembled, windows shattered, the chimney stack collapsed, its falling bricks almost clubbing him to death as he covered his head with his hands trying to dodge them as they fell all around him.

Suddenly peter was gripped from behind by strong iron hands, he screamed as his body was lifted from the ground. In the blinking of an eye he was a hundred feet above his picturesque country cottage watching in disbelief as the entire house shook as bricks and tiles clattered to the ground.

Looking around him wildly, Peter saw a pair of great white feathered wings flapping around him. The seraphim had him safely in her arms.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Peter yelled as his heart threatened to give out.

‘Shedim dozens of them, they are coming for the lemegeton.’

Peter winced as Shani let out an ear piercing cry that almost burst his eardrums, then he watched in disbelief as the seraphim unleashed the power of the sun from her golden eyes, as searing jets of purifying flame shot from them falling on his house and destroying it in a huge explosive conflagration.

Flapping her great wings, Shani looked up and began chanting in a tongue the Earth had not heard uttered in over ten thousand years, ‘Hrem-nin med taeld vok sus cusret.’

Above them a black swirling lightening cloud appeared. With one last effort, the Seraphim flapped her great wings driving her and Peter into its rolling mass where they disappeared leaving the remnants of the cottage below burning and crackling and collapsing in on itself destroying the Shedim inside.


Part Seven: The fiery pits of Hell.

Peter lurched forward, he felt sick, dizzy and nauseous.  As soon as he had entered that swirling cloudy maelstrom, he felt as though he were on the worlds’ most fiercest carnival ride, he couldn’t tell whether he was up or down. The crackling blue lightening had run across his body, every nerve and muscle had gone into spasm tightening into excruciating cramps, how he didn’t vomit he would never know. Then suddenly he felt as though he had been thrust through the windscreen of a car screeching to a crashing halt.

Peter coughed and gagged and his head threatened to explode, the intense heat of wherever he was and the rich red searing light almost burned his eyes from his sockets.

Peter Struggled to his feet, Shani’s firm grip grabbed him by the shoulder as he staggered forward.

‘Careful!’ her voice sounded urgent. ‘Do not move outside of my wingspan or else you will be incinerated!’

Peter rubbed his stinging eyes, his vision was blurred, he thought, then realized it was not his eyes that were at fault but a heat haze rising from somewhere far below. As the nausea settled, Peter gasped; he could not believe what he saw.

‘What the F…’, the words spilled from his slack jaw as he looked around.

They stood on a stone ledge, in what seemed to be a huge cavern, easily a mile across. The light and heat seemed to be radiating from far below, fierce and intense, Peter knew that if it were not for Shani he would instantly be turned into a blackened husk from the violence of the heat vapours rising from the bottom of this volcanic pit.

Carved into the walls of the fiery abyss were four immense statues of seraphim, which must have hundreds of feet tall, dwarfing the statue of Liberty, which he had visited on numerous occassions on his travels. The Seraphims arms, stretched out in front of them into the yawning red chasm. The craftsmanship of the statues was beyond compare to anything peter had ever seen before.

Every minute detail could be seen, every single strand of hair stood out on their heads.  At first he wasn’t even sure if they were statues, or real gigantic celestial beings that had been petrified by some unknown force.

 For until this moment, he would have scoffed at such a delirious notion, but from what he had seen and witnessed over the last few hours, Peter was ready to believe in any possibility. But it was not even the incredible sight of these massive stone titans that held Peter’s awe, nor the huge bronze chains the statues held in their mighty grasp, that spanned across the crevasse, each link as thick as the trunk of the biggest redwood trees, but it was the titanic bronze box that the chains suspended in mid air over the center of the abyss.

The cube must have been as tall as a ten story building, its burnished bronze surface was covered in golden Enochian script, glowing and pulsing with its own inner light.

‘It is the Tetragrammaton,’ Shani said, ‘the demon box, I thought it would be easier to show you then to explain it.’

‘You mean to tell me that demons are inside that thing?’ Peter replied incredulously.

‘Yes, Peter, it is their prison. When we finally tracked them down we imprisoned them here, in the Tetragrammaton.’

‘Where is here?’ peter asked.

‘The center of the earth, Peter, what your people eventually named, Hell.’

Peter’s mind reeled from the impact of the Seraphim’s words, and Inside that monstrous box, were all of the demons of myth and legend, and he stood on the edge of Hell itself. It was all Peter could do to not scream, this was all getting too much for him, his brain was threatening a total meltdown, yet the excitement and the hunger to see more and know more was consuming him like the flames of a raging bushfire.

'Did you build this tetragrammaton?' Peter asked.

'No,' Shani replied. 'It was one of my brethren, Shamyaza and his cabal, they are the architects of Yahweh. It is their purpose to create these Demon boxes to imprison any Shedim that threatens this world or the people who inhabit it.'

Taking a step forward, Peter peered over the edge of the stone shelf into the heart of the earth. It was like a raging sun, as the molten mass bubbled throwing up huge fiery tendrils and the heat haze blasted upwards toward the demon box. Peter stepped back.

‘Suddenly the chains seemed to strain as the box jerked, the grinding of the huge metal chains, filled the chamber and had Peter clamping his hands over his ears from the deafening screeching sound.

‘We need to replace the seal, the Demons are testing the integrity of their prison, if they break out we will not be able to put them back in, the battle will take us to the surface, the earth will be turned into a scorched dead world, come step back from the edge.’

Peter turned and stared at Shani, his mind, his sanity was already hanging by a thread, but as he looked at shani, he could not believe the transformation she had undergone.  

Her skin glowed brighter than he had ever seen it, it was almost translucent, her eyes, golden and bright leaked hot gaseous vapors, and her tattoo markings had lifted from her body and were orbiting her lithe form like miniature satellites, glowing and pulsing with a celestial life of their own.

She truly was a creature of the stars, a thing born of the cosmos and her wings shone white, pure and brilliant as though they were made of neon. It was the effect of being in the center of the earth where the cauldron of bubbling creation pulsed and flowed below them, it was as if she were charging her energy, drawing succhour and nourishment from the creative forces that had formed the planets.


Taking her hand, Peter smiled and suddenly all of his fears, seemed to melt away, as if the mere act of touching her had purged away all of his fears, where he stood, where he was seemed insignificant and trivial, for he was in the presence of the seraphim and she would protect him and shield him from all harm, he felt his heart melting he could have wept for her beauty, her purity was almost too much to bear. Wrapping him in her soft velvety wings, she whispered in his ear

Ie-suren sylph seb  besk latar.


Part Eight: A visit to the Holy Land.

Suddenly the heat and light of the hell cavern vanished replaced by the cool night air graced Peter gasped at the sudden drop in temperature and immediately began to shiver. All was dark, inky blackness. He could not tell whether he had suddenly gone blind, then her body illuminated giving off a dim glow, her wings spread and the light intensified, her smile was like the breaking of the dawn. Peter looked around, they were in a cave, a natural creation, but the walls had been chiseled by human hands, or so Peter hoped they were human.

‘Where are we?’ Peter whispered, almost afraid to raise his voice in case it echoed around the cave, and who knew what demonic abominations lurked in the creeping shadows and cold dark corners of this place?

‘We are at the entrance to the holy sepulcher in the valley of Jezreel.’

Peter shook his head, ‘you sure get around!’ he joked as he wiped a film of sweat from his forehead.

‘I just have to replace the Lemegeton  back in the tabernacle and all will be as it was,’ Shani said smiling at Peter.

‘I do not understand, but how can a piece of parchment in a little bronze jug stop those demons from breaking out of that bloody great box?’

Shani shook her head, ‘because something does not look powerful or important doesn’t mean it is not, Peter, that is a failing in your kind, you think because this is small that it is insignificant?’ she said holding up the Lemegeton.

‘This is just one of many such items that have been placed around your world. The sigils and drawings on the parchment are powerful words, words that can create or destroy entire worlds if uttered out loud. They can also be used to bind and imprison the fiercest and most powerful beings in the universe.’

Peter shook his head, he just had difficulty grasping the concept and believing it.

Shani could see the confusion in his face. ‘The universe, Peter is criss- crossed with threads of power that bind and hold the fabric of the universe together. And where these threads intersect one another, great forces can be harnessed. Here in this valley inside this cave can be found one of these intersections. The sigils on the parchment draw its energy from this, and because it is linked to its other parts then it becomes whole and binding.  By removing a part of the whole, then a weak spot is created.  And in time this weak spot can be manipulated and weakened enough for the demons to escape. That is why the Shedim are trying to take possession of this Lemegeton, so that it cannot be replaced, and in time, their masters will break out of their prison.’

‘I am really having trouble grasping all that you are telling me!’

‘Shani nodded, ‘it matters little whether you understand or not, it just is.’

‘But why didn’t these shedim just come in here and take the jug for themselves?’ peter asked.

‘Because the tabernacle is protected with powerful wards they could not break, to enter the tabernacle would be instant death for them.


Inside the cave of the tetragrammaton, the Shedim were busy at work like a stream of worker ants they crawled across the huge bronze chains and swarmed over the surface of the cube, avoiding the Enochian wards at all costs that pulsed on its surface, for to cross over one was to be blasted into oblivion. They had found a weak spot on the box; the thoughts of their master echoed in their malevolent minds guiding them to where they busily ripped and tore at the metal prison with their poisonous acidic claws. Slowly and surely the bronze darkened and turned green and began to flake.


Part Nine: The Tabernacle

‘How much further?’ Peter asked as he followed several paces behind the seraphim as her glowing brilliant inner-light danced around the cavern walls like the beams reflecting from a multifaceted gemstone.

‘Not long now.’ She responded and for the first time, peter noticed a slight tinge of relief in her voice, smiling to himself, he found it strangely comforting that a being of her kind could actually feel emotions like a mere mortal. He had begun to think that to one as powerful as her, primitive emotions would be an alien concept; perhaps she was more human than he had previously thought.

‘You know, I have been meaning to ask…’ Peter began but was cut short as the ground trembled beneath his feet. With a feeling of dread Peter’s eyes darted around the cavern as a thin film of dust was shook from its ceiling

The Seraphim stopped in her tracks and drew her curved scimitar blades. The stark sharp edged Enochian script engraved along the blades length pulsed with a sunset red glow. Shani’s wings curled around her like a suit of protective armour.

Then they came, oozing from the darkness they called sanctuary. Shedim, dozens of them with spiny flesh and multi limbs and beady unblinking eyes, they scurried over the walls and ceiling and leaped and jumped down the tunnel clacking their heels together as they approached.

Shani was a blur of movement as she sprang into action, her scimitars sang their song of steel bladed death, slicing and hacking into black stinking flesh, gore and thick sticky ichor splashed the tunnel walls as the demonic thralls fell to her whirling blades.

Poisonous quills clattered off the walls as the thralls unleashed their own arsenal of attack.

Peter cowered in a corner his heart threatened to burst and his head was spinning as shadowy figures leaped into the air only to be cut down by the seraphim’s unrelenting and unforgiving blades.

Peter felt useless as the seraphim hacked and slashed her way through the demonic horde that had just kept coming; this was an army of demon-kind, making their last concerted effort to stop the Lemegeton from being replaced back in the tabernacle.

A scraping from above suddenly alerted Peter of the impending danger he was in, as he looked up into the grimacing multi eyed face of a Shedim as it slithered down the cavern wall toward him like a bloated garden slug. Peter cried out and leaped back.

Shani turned, saw the thrall and threw one of her scimitars, the blade whizzed across the tunnel humming as it rotated end over end. With a thud it skewered the thrall to the cavern wall. The beast writhed and shivered then fell silent.

Peter swallowing hard reached out, and with all of his strength pulled the scimitar free. The thrall slumped to the ground in a thick gelatinous heap at his feet. Peter whirled around just in time to see a spider-thing swing from the roof and attach itself to the Seraphim’s back its long spiny legs wrapping around Shani’s diminutive figure.

A screech filled the cavern like the cry of a dozen eagles as shani writhed about trying to dislodge the filthy creature. Peter gritting his teeth ran forward screaming and gripping the scimitar in sweating hands. Swinging the blade, he struck the creature in the back opening a vicious wound into its jet black hide, a thick red liquid bubbled out of it as things, peter took as its innards streamed out of it, the creature relinquished its hold on Shani, who straightened up and ran forward as three thralls burst into the light emanating from her.

Ahead to the left was a small opening in the wall. Peter could make out the worn carved symbols above it; it was the inner sanctum he was sure, Shani was maneuvering her way around trying to put herself between it and the thralls.

Peter ran to Shani’s side passing her blade back to her, and as he did, part of her feathered armour unfurled as she shouted,

‘Peter, Take the Lemegeton, place it back in the tabernacle, quickly!’

Peter reached into the feathery folds of her wings and gripped the bronze jug, pulling it to his chest he ran for the opening. Suddenly pain like a thousand bee stings exploded across his back, crying out, Peter heard the clack of the poisonous quills that had missed him bouncing off the walls.

A fire burned inside of him as the demon poison went to work on his body. His vision blurred his brain screamed and his body became a temple of pure pain.

Passing through the entrance to the inner sanctum, peter crashed to the floor as his body went into spasm. Letting out a cry he crawled forward toward a small niche in the far wall, every movement was agony, he felt as though his blood had turned to liquid fire, he knew he had only minutes left, before the poison killed him, crying out in grim determination he raised himself up, the ground wavered beneath his feet his head span around alarmingly, he reached out holding the Lemegeton up, the bronze jug felt as though it was made of lead his arms cried out in their agony, blood seeped from his eyes staining his vision crimson.

Peter fell forward and as he did so the Lemegeton slipped from his hands, landed in the small niche and rattled around threatening to fall from its perch, then settled in its rightful place. Peter crumpled in a heap, his breathing was rough and haggard his body burned as though he were being consumed by the licking flames of hell-fire itself.

In the tunnel the thralls hissed and gurgled. They had failed in their task, it was useless throwing themselves on the Seraphim’s blades for a lost cause, their time would come again they knew, they backed away slithering back into the shadows from whence they had come.

Shani Tarath stood in the tunnel, every muscle in her body was tense, her figure was quivering as she held the blades out, and then after a moment’s pause she took a deep breath and ran through the opening into the inner sanctum. Sheathing her blades, she ran over to where Peter lay crumpled on the floor.

‘The Lemegeton has been returned, Peter!’ shani’s voice echoed around the small chamber.

Peter managed a small smile, his body burned, his brain ached, he was dying and he knew it.

Kneeling beside him, the Seraphim cradled him in her arms as her wings spread out around him like a comforting blanket, and as they did, the pain ceased, his body became numb and all of his fears were washed from him.

‘There is no need to be afraid!’ Shani said her soothing voice was like an orchestra of the most beautiful music he had ever heard.

‘I am not afraid, any more, you are here.’ Peter sighed.

Raising a hand, Shani wiped the blood tears from his face,

‘This is not the end, Peter I will guide you, I will walk by your side. I will show you wonders’ you could never have imagined.’

‘I … would… like… that!’ Peter struggled with the words.

Stroking his face, Shani smiled, ‘ Shh… sleep my friend.'

 Reaching out, peter took her hand in his and gently squeezed it, and then slowly his hand fell away as his body fell limp in the seraphim’s arms.

Her wings curled around Peter’s form as they pulsed with a brilliant silver light, throwing back her head, Shani Tarath let out a painful cry as her eyes blazed with golden brilliance. The tabernacle shook and trembled from the power of her voice as her body and that of Peter vaporized and vanished.

In the cavern of the Tetragrammaton  a jet of black steam hissed from a small crack in the surface of the box, then the Shedim were suddenly falling back as four sigils etched into its surface sent out pulses of killing resonating sound, yaaahhweeeeeh…

The Shedim tried to run but were vaporized instantly as the sound wave, hit them.

Outside above the ruins of Tel Megiddo a cloud of black locusts swarmed and from the heart of the swarm ancient eyes stared down upon the earth, rage welled up and a crack of lightening struck the earth. Abbadon was free, his fury was immeasurable his dark influence would be far reaching, the Earth would burn in the fires he would call forth, he would wield his mighty ebon bladed sword and split the world in twain and suck out its very core, for he was Abaddon the destroyer, the bringer of death and his sword was called, Armageddon.


Note: The Seraphim will return in, The Armageddon files.



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