No beginning has ever existed, and no end should ever reach us.

Elohim, Creator of All, looked upon his enormous playground. The Universe, he decided to call it. Stars and planets swirled together, forming galaxies with just a thought, and over time, everything had come to be. But Elohim was bored. Lonely, maybe? And it wasn’t long before he started working on the next big project.

He wanted something like him. Something intelligent, strong, powerful, perfect. A physical representation of himself. Yes, that was exactly how it started. A civilization — the very first to ever be — was called the Ancients. These beings were perfect in every way. Or so he thought.

For a very long time the Ancients lived happily obeying their creator, existing solely in peace. But as we learn in the millennia to come, peace is always short lived.

The Change started, as it’s referred to now. It’s not known why or how the idea got into the Ancients heads, but they somehow came to the conclusion that they were slaves. Oppressed. Only created to do Elohim’s biddings. They grew so intelligent and gathered so much strength, Elohim knew if they rebelled that he would be overthrown.

Now this was a very unknown feeling to Elohim. Being the ultimate being and creator of all, he could barely fathom the idea of these insignificant animals taking over his place. An anger grew inside him.

He was tainted.

The once almighty, perfect Elohim was not going to lose dominion over the very universe he created! He got to work immediately, anticipating their plans to attack.

It’s hard to understand, you see, as a human. Human’s are “stuck” in a very specific place in the Dimensional Layers, keeping them from only seeing and experiencing certain things. Ancients, however, were created in the mirror image of Elohim, the creator of all. Like him, they are able to jump through the Dimensional Layers, giving them the ability to seek out their all powerful god and destroy him. But their abilities were still limited. No one but Elohim could navigate the entirety of the Dimensional Layers. At least he had that, he thought.

He created the Angels. Again creating being’s in his image, but this time they had their limitations. He gave them immense power to defeat their foes, and their numbers were great.

Valiant, fearless, and with strength that knew no bounds, the Angels were magnificent. With orders to destroy every last living Ancient, the Angels descended upon the planet, their huge, beautiful wings glistening in the sunlight. At first, the Ancients were unsure. But that uncertainty vanished in an instant when the head Angel drew his sword. He was tall, slender but muscular, had dark hair the the purest blue eyes that ever existed.

Despite the appearance of beauty taking physical form, this Angel was ruthless. His name was Anapiel, the Branch of God, and his sole duty was to destroy. As soon as his sword was risen, the war begun.

In the day of the Ancients, Time did not exist yet, and therefore there’s no way for anyone to know how long this age of war lasted. It was brutal, neither side giving in. With every Ancient slain, more Angels would fall. They were too powerful, Anapiel realized. Elohim had made a mistake. He misjudged their power. It was useless, Anapiel knew, but it was their duty to fight! It was what they were created for! How could Elohim have done this? how could he have forsaken his creations? The questions flooded his mind for as long as the battle lasted. With each slash of his sword he felt more and more betrayed by his God.

Finally, he stopped. He lowered his sword and looked upon his surroundings for the first time in a long time. The sight sickened him, broke his heart. His fellow brothers and sisters lay at his feet, butchered by the Ancients. The once beautiful lands of this place were now a bloodstained mess. The Tree of Life, sitting on a small island in the center of a perfectly round lake, now stood wilted, soaked in the blood of both the Ancients and Angels. Anapiel could feel its sorrow, so deeply he broke into tears. What had happened?

An Ancient approached him from behind. Anapiel sensed it right away and turned to face his enemy. Enemy, or brother? Were they not both created by the same God? His eyebrows scrunched as he thought about having to slay the being standing before him now. Even though this Ancient wore a wicked grin, Anapiel could not bring himself to ready his weapon. He stood motionless.

The Ancient stared straight into the Angel’s eyes, challenging him. When the other being did nothing but stare back, he tilted his head slightly, confused at first, but he could sense what the Angel was thinking, and he threw his head back in laughter.

“Foolish,” the Ancient locked eyes with Anapiel once more. Now the Angel really examined the other. He was slightly taller, built strong. His aqua-white hair hung down to his shoulders and his eyes were as cold as ice. He radiated with enormous power. Anapiel knew he stood no chance.

The Ancient moved with incredible speed, reaching out and grabbing Anapiel by his neck in the blink of an eye. The sudden grip around the Angel’s neck caused him to drop his sword, as he was risen high above the ground, gasping for breath. The sheer power this creature posessed was almost beyond imaginable. Anapiel kicked his legs up, throwing them up to rest on the shoulders of the Ancient. It must have surprised him, Anapiel feeling the grip loosen slightly. He didn’t waste the opportunity. The angel spread his massive wings, braced his feet against the Ancient and kicked off as hard as he could manage. With the aid of his wings, flapping with the last of his strength, he managed to escape the grasp. The unexpected release caused the Angel to fly backwards, out of control, where he slammed into the ground, grinding through the grass and colorful flowers.

His energy was spent.

The Ancient only laughed, walking casually towards him now.

“Now what?” he asked condescendingly, a chuckle under his breath.

Wings tattered and torn, blood oozing from his battle wounds, Anapiel forced himself to stand, his breath hitching with every move. It was over, he knew. There was no way he could beat this being. He didn’t know if all of the Angels combined could do it. Were all of the Ancients this powerful? What had Elohim created?

Anapiel stared past the other into the distance, watching his brethren being slaughtered. With every death, he felt their power weakening. There was no hope now. They would be the one’s getting destroyed, wiped out from existence. Again, Anapiel felt that pang of betrayal. How had Elohim not known about their strength? His gaze returned to the Ancient, who was almost upon him again. The muscled being kicked up the Angel’s sword as he passed by, catching it in his hands to examine it’s blade. A Divine Sword, created by Elohim himself. It was assumed to destroy anything, from any Dimensional Layer, permanently. Completely erasing them from existence. Was the Ancient aware of that?

He now held the sword at the ready, now only a few feet away from Anapiel. He intended to slice off his head, from the way the sword was being held. All Anapiel could do was prepare himself for his inevitable demise. Eyes closing shut, the Angel allowed himself to think about all the beauty and love that would be lost. There was no hope.

When he opened his eyes, the sword sat inches from his neck, motionless. He looked up suddenly at the Ancient and saw that he was also motionless. Looking around the battlegrounds revealed the same. Everything had just… stopped. But why and how? He moved away from the sword and looked frantically around. What happened? Was this some trick? Was this Elohim’s doing?

No.

A voice echoed in his head, and he turned suddenly, expecting to meet with someone face to face. But there wasn’t anyone. Just the same frozen scene all around.

Do not be alarmed.

It was a feminine voice. Calm, soothing. Anapiel couldn’t help but feel at ease when he heard the voice again inside his head.

“What’s happening?” The Angel asked, barely able to hear his own voice.

I have sought out the aid of another dimensional being from the Layer.

The voice flashed images through Anapiel’s mind, assisting in his understanding as she continued to explain.

The war has waged on for far too long. It has destroyed the land and many innocent lives have ceased. Elohim has lost all control.

Another voice entered his mind, this one distorted, deep and slow.

I have brought Time upon this dimension. The Layers now co-exist, you see. For the moment, I have stopped everything, besides yourself. This war cannot carry on for the sake of the Universe.

Anapiel absorbed the information as it was fed to him, trying to understand and connect the dots as visuals flooded his mind.

The Angel closed his eyes. Images of a bright light, exploding from a tiny point into infinity, overcame him. This was the creation of the Universe, he knew.

My birth.

The soothing voice announced, and suddenly Anapiel realized who he was speaking to. She was everything personified. She was the Universe. She was going to help him. Help them all.

The next flood of images showed him how the Ancients were made, how they lived peacefully for a while, then slowly turned corrupt. His mind questioned how something created from the perfect Elohim could change towards evil. As if to answer him, the visual being played out now showed Elohim watching his creations, growing envious, jealous. He was no longer pure.

I have no other options left. You and your kind must go into hiding. I have not the strength to defeat the Ancients. We must hide and gather power or I fear everything will meet its demise.

“What do I do?” He spoke aloud, needlessly. He spun around, walking back to the Ancient as he spoke. “Should I take this sword and drive it through his retched heart?” He reached out, the sword playing at his fingertips.

That is senseless. The sword does not hold enough power to kill him. No, we must do as I have said. We must hide ourselves away. We must not allow the last of the Angel’s to be slain by another Ancient. Our power dwindles with every Angel’s death at the hand of the Ancients.

Their power is absorbed, you see.

The other voice returned, showing Anapiel images of something else now. He could see Angel’s being massacred by the Ancients. It was almost a replay of the battlefield surrounding him, but he noticed only one difference. An aura of sorts seemed to be seeping out from the bodies of the Angel’s and drifting up to be absorbed by the Ancient who slain them.

Every time an Ancient kills an Angel, they will absorb their power. This, you see, is why they appeared so powerful. They grew stronger and stronger with every small victory over the many, many eons that have passed. After so many deaths, their strength is now insurmountable.

It made sense now why that Ancient with the icey cold eyes felt so overwhelmingly powerful. How many Angels had he slain? How many were left?

Not many. Your numbers have suffered greatly. We must gather ourselves again, but not now. Now, we must hide.

“Where do we hide?”

Here.

Here?

Once time has begun again, things will be different. I will be creating a world for your kind to reside, hidden among it’s inhabitants. You must not let the Ancient’s destroy the remaining Angel’s. You must stay hidden.

More images flashed through his mind, this time of things he did not recognize. A new world, with new creatures, new lands, new waters. Other things he could not yet figure out. It all looked beautiful, peaceful. His eyes closed for the last time, taking one more long look at the Ancient before him. He wanted to remember that face. He was certain he’d be seeing it again.

His body felt weightless, and all the pain from before was gone. Even though his eyes were closed, he could sense a blinding light swallowing him up. Just before everything faded to white, he heard the words echo in his mind one last time.

s t a y h i d d e n . . .

This was a story I was working on years back, that I recently remembered and decided to rewrite the intro. I don’t know if it will ever become more than this, but I had a huge plot laid out. Perhaps someday I’ll finish.

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