The Third Heaven : Apocalypse of Kings Read online

  The Third Heaven

  Apocalypse of Kings

  by

  Donovan M. Neal

  © 2019 Donovan M. Neal

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email below:

  [email protected]

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  Orders by U.S. trade bookstores and wholesalers. Please contact Lightning Source: Tel: (615) 213-5815; fax: (615) 213-4725 or visit https://www.lightningsource.com/.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 978-0-9894805-8-1 (Print Version)

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to those who dare to dream and see it through to completion. May your imagination ever lead you to new realms.

  Scriptures

  2 Cor 12:2

  I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) such an one caught up to the third heaven.

  Matt 24:22

  Except those days should be shortened, there should no flesh be saved.

  Philippians 2:11

  And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

  Revelation 20:10

  And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever.

  Acknowledgments

  To the Lord Jesus Christ, who loves me.

  To the Pastor of Labor of Love Church, Charles Hawthorne, who nurtured my pre-existing love of the Bible.

  To my children: Candace, Christopher and Alexander–you can do great things!

  To the authors, comic books artists and authors, comic books artists, and writers who have come before, and who unknowingly have breathed on the embers of my imagination.

  I finally want to thank my Beta Readers but especially Karen Dobrowolski.

  To my wife Nettie, who cheered me on when I had nothing and said, “Wow!” after reading the prologue of my first novel.

  And to one of the hero's who helped me to fund my audio-book. Mr. and Mrs. James and Heather Vantress. Thank you for your wonderful investment in my writing ministry.

  May God truly bless you all.

  Preface

  Dearly Beloved,

  Well, here we are. The end of the Third Heaven series. If you have traveled with me this far, you already know my doctrinal disclaimer. I present no prescriptive attempt to state that future events will happen as depicted in these pages. Please do not assume any prophetic proclamation nor personal treatise of what I personally believe. I will be the first to profess that I see through a glass darkly.

  Know I laud no dogma to my reader save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I present no truth save that Jesus Christ is the risen Lord, and at that name all must one day bow. The story while Christian (because it contains a Christian worldview and promotes the Gospel of Jesus Christ) is just a continuation of this authors fictional story, and creative license has been taken to the extreme to make the story primarily an entertaining read while still attempting to adhere to the foundational tent pole truths of scripture regarding the person of Christ and his ultimate victory.

  This book was difficult to write. I have looked painstakingly over the time-line presented in the books of Revelation and have done my best to “shoehorn” this story to fit within a pre-tribulation view of Revelation. However, know from the outset I have failed in that endeavor and I do not mean this story to convey events in a chronologically exact depiction as they might appear in the book of Revelation. Nor does the story contain all the events or personalities as depicted in the book of Revelation. I did this to maintain a consistent story world, and to keep the book at a readable level, and thus this is not an attempt to make the Scriptures themselves state something or depict something they do not. I have done my best to place again “tent-poles” within the work congruent with what I think most of what Protestant Christianity’s views of biblical end-times scenario believe would happen. These tent poles would include Christ’s second coming, the devil’s ultimate defeat, an Anti-Christ, a battle of Armageddon, and eternal judgment. But the reader should know in advance that all congruence ends there. So to minimize disappointment I suggest you take the story as it is. And not as a litmus test on how closely it matches your understanding of Biblical text. It is simply not a story that is attempting to do that. So I warn you in advance if you do you will have difficulty enjoying the story that is.

  I have mixed feelings as I write what is my last preface for this series. I am cognizant that “to everything there is a season,” and reluctantly realize that the season of this series; with this fourth and final book must now come to a close. I hope that over the course of these four novels I have not just entertained you, but caused you to wonder at the majesty of God’s love for the world. His power and wisdom, and to realize that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses who cheer those who pursue the cause of Christ.

  Thus allow me to end in this novel with the ever familiar disclaimer I started several years ago. This is a story based on Biblical texts to create a tale of wonder. Consider this a work of Biblical fan fiction and I ask for the final time you approach the novel in that light and witness the powerful demonstrations of God’s mercy, love and severity. I ask that you resist the urge to niggle the absence of every detail and or conformity with scripture you think may be incongruent, and I promise that if you do: you will see the greater lessons resident in the story itself that are scriptural. And perhaps the lessons resident for us today on how we should govern ourselves considering the impending return of the Lord.

  In my audacity, humanness, frailty and humility I’ve tried to tackle in this fictional series what I believe is the most epic tale the world has ever seen: God’s loving kindness to reconcile all things to Himself. To restore fallen humanity and Creation to its purpose. To tell the story of two brothers who have found themselves on opposite sides of fealty to God.

  It is my hope that those within the body of Christ who read this: will see this body of work for what it is. One believing author’s frail and imaginative attempt to use fiction to tell what is to him, the most compelling story ever revealed to mankind.

  I have grown to love these characters, this story—this world. So it is bittersweet I bid you adieu for now. Farewell until the Lord allows us to meet again in the pages of another book.

  Ever grateful to the Lord Jesus for his mercies, grace, and love,

  Donovan M. Neal

  CONTENTS

  Scriptures

  Acknowledgements

  Preface

  Chapter One: Anno Domini

  Chapter Two: Chess and Angels

  Chapter Three: The Wrath of God

  Chapter Four: The Drums of War

  Chapter Five: Family Squabbles

  Chapter Six:Peace in Our Time

  Chapter Seven:The Taken

  Chapter Eight:Tribulations and Woe

  Chapter Nine: Abominations and Destroyers

  Chapter T
en: A Rise to Power

  Chapter Eleven :The Fall of Domino's

  Chapter Twelve: When Evil Returns Home

  Chapter Thirteen: To Spew the Undead

  Chapter Fourteen: Riders of Sheol and Death

  Chapter Fifteen: The Return of the King

  Thank You

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Anno Domini

  High atop the mountain of God, Argoth stood alone upon the roof of the Hall of Annals. He stared at the star-filled sky and watched from his lonely perch, his people as they roamed throughout the cosmos. Like past High Priests of Israel, he sanctum’d alone. Privy to see what few in creation could behold. A realm unseen even to the sight of angels. A realm populated by beings, who without eyes dutifully recorded all that ensued around them. Each documenting the deeds of all beings that a record may one day be delivered to God.

  Argoth eyed the tome El had commissioned so long ago. A volume that was finite in its pages. Pages that were added as each Grigori penned all that they witnessed. A tome that would one day be opened and read back to the hearers: an objective chronicle of the acts of all things. Argoth shuddered knowing that many would not desire to see their works rehearsed before the eyes of God and the Host. For the Chief of Eyes understood that one day the works of all beings would be revealed. And on that day the great prophecy would be fulfilled: that there was nothing hidden that would not be made known. Nothing concealed that would not be unveiled. A prophecy—and a warning El had given when creation was young.

  Argoth walked towards the altar that he had made to commemorate his becoming Chief of Eyes. He reached the five foot pedestal where his physical eyes laid in hovering memorial of his oath towards God. His plucked eyes stared back at him. Floating reminders suspended in front of him as he himself hovered in their presence. Here the prince of all Grigori recalled his appointment by God to be the head of his people.

  Few, knew the cost one must pay to see with the eyes of God—to be Sephiroth. Or the unspoken pain he regularly suffered: the mild ache that nestled behind the glowing slits that were his eyes. And the perpetual irritating gnawing from knowing that some would die, and others would live. His created mind was increasingly expanded in ever painful new limits, in an attempt to comprehend the smallest jot of what El beheld. To be privy to see how all possibilities must end, was a daunting task and the weight of such knowledge assailed him continuously. It was a consuming thing that would drive anyone not graced by God mad. So, Argoth frequently sequestered himself from his brethren: secluded himself that he might “close” his eyes, and for a moment; unburden himself. To no more feign his unspoken pain before his relatives. A pain he dutifully endured that he might behold but a fraction of what the Almighty sees.

  The migraines were steady and the throbbing, often intolerable. Severed optical nerves, behind still existent eyelids; still fired in attempts to see with the eyes of flesh. Nerves once connected to floating eyes set atop a pedestal. Yet, Argoth tolerated the gnawing ache and endured the scars from his plucked eyes: eyes that he knew would never heal. One day he would not need this sight. For, as El had promised, all would be revealed. His eyes would then be restored, no longer held in constant captivity to the will of God for him to see what all Grigori see. For the burning and itching reminded him of the constant offense God’s holiness endured from man’s disobedience. Yea, Argoth’s eyes saw what few could see — Creation’s continued decay: save for the preservative effect of Christ’s blood and resurrection. Only the Sephiroth could see Creation’s groaning. The canker she endured due to Adam’s sin.

  The Chief of Eyes floated before his memorial: his place where he would see if God would show him the moments beyond the present into the future; here, he would enter the Trance.

  He crossed his legs, each foot placed on its opposing thigh. He slowed his breathing and expanded his chest to inhale Heaven’s air. Silently he opened his mind to not just see the present but enter the realm of God’s allowed possibilities.

  The stars slowly faded, followed by the vision of his people into black, and all that remained was the movement of galaxies and mirrors of universes reflected back at him.

  Deeper he moved into a meditative state and quieted himself to attune further to the mind of God. To quicken himself to the presence of the Almighty. He who filled all things, past present and future.

  His physical eyes which floated on the pedestal opened, and their pupils widened and each eye raced left and right. Each blinked to clear the gloss of the angelic realm narrowing their focus of attention and straining to see a generation ahead into the future. Eyes that were allowed to follow the path of all futures that El had ordained should exist.

  The Shekinah began to emanate over the angel and a crackle of electricity arced over him. Slowly a cloud lowered from Heaven’s sky—singing.

  “Will you croon today Argoth?” said the living cloud.

  Argoth replied, “Yea, great Nebula. For the sight of the Lord, do I seek.”

  The white vapor formed a mouth of froth that moved and replied, “But thine eyes are nigh thee Grigori… with what song do you bring this day that thou may see and strum to the hymn of God?”

  Argoth then pretended to grope the surrounding air; struggling in a feigned attempt to search for his eyes that floated but an arm's reach before him.

  “I am but a worm who grovels to see the light. An envoy blind who beckons that he might see. You who croon, you cover the home of God. If El bids me worthy, open the fog of the future I pray thee; that if El permits: I might see what lies beyond the shroud of Time.”

  The cloud then lifted over Argoth and spoke.

  “Beware to seek the sight of God Grigori…croon the future at your own risk. But El hast approved thy sight. Therefore, behold the things that will come.”

  The living cloud then moved into Argoth’s mouth. The color of his plucked eyes changed from yellow to a purplish hue. His body violently jerked back and he was lifted into the air with his arms extended.

  Hovering on his back: he was now captive in the Trance. And his mind's eye beheld the future.

  And he saw a dragon standing on the shore of the sea, and a beast coming out of the sea. And the beast had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name. The beast resembled a leopard, but had feet like those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion. And the dragon was terrible and gave the beast his power, his throne and great authority. And Argoth beheld that one of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed.

  Argoth continued in his gaze mesmerized as the whole world was filled with wonder and followed after the beast. Adamson worshiped the dragon because he had been given authority to the beast, and they also worshiped the beast and asked, “Who is like the beast? Who can wage war against it?”

  Astonished, Argoth watched as the beast mouthed proud words and blasphemies and exercised authority for forty-two months. Relentlessly it opened its mouth to blaspheme God, and to slander His name and His dwelling place and those who live in Heaven. The Chief of Eyes contorted in convulsing spasms as he watched as power was given to wage war against God’s holy people and to conquer them. And it was given authority over every tribe, people, language and nation. And in Argoth’s horror seemingly all inhabitants of the earth worshiped the beast.

  Argoth shook his head in anguish and disbelief jerking in the air. He attempted to stop the marching visions that assaulted his eyes. But he was in the trance, and like a puppet; his will was momentarily not his own, as visions paraded before him unabated. His eyes were now in sync to the Almighty’s. Eyes that saw what God saw. Eyes that knew what he witnessed were an inevitability; that God. El—would allow Satan to see his lust come to fruition: the worship of the Dragon throughout the Earth.

  Argoth violently coughed hacking up puffs of smoke as the living cloud dislodged from his lungs through his mouth and nostrils and floated away and sung but
one word:

  “Woe.”

  And when the cloud removed itself from Argoth’s body, the Grigori fell, face-first to the ground wheezing and grasping for air.

  His translucent robes were filled with stars and his inkhorn and stylus hovered in elliptical orbits around him. With each pass, his stylus dipped itself into the floating ink-horn which surrounded him and wrote out all that the Lord had granted him to see in his vision.

  “Please El, please El no! Are we undone?” He wailed his lament into the starry sky. “Is there no stopping the march of Lucifer’s sin? Is there no other way?”

  Yet naught but the blowing of wind and silence echoed in reply.

  A knock rapped on the tower roof’s door and Argoth was startled: awaken from his meditations to El. The Chief of Eyes then wiped his teary face, rose to his feet, and brushed himself of dust and the sweat that beaded from his brow.

  “You may come up Jerahmeel.”

  The head of house Harrada opened the door to the roof of the mountain of God and gazed upon his angelic brother, climbed up the stairs and walked towards him. Jerahmeel stared at his brother. His eyes intent in a study of Argoth’s face. For a brief moment he saw the golden book of El. A crimson ribbon was draped over the book like a seal and the tome began to fade from his view. Jerahmeel watched as it vanished back into the realm beyond his own sight.

  The angel recalled the day when Argoth had eyes like them all, and then the next they were gone: plucked out by God’s own hand. He glanced at the hovering eyes that remained atop the roof of the mountain of God; never sure what to make of the spectacle. Jerahmeel alone, did Argoth allow to visit this level of the Hall of Annals. Jerahmeel alone knew of Argoth’s continuous pain. And he kept his brother’s confidence, as requested.