Heaven In Hell

The Harrowing

(Using the demons named in Milton's "Paradise Lost," and many quotations from the Bible)

VVV

Jagged rocks snagged the edges of his slithering cloak as he scrambled down the uneven track. Though his eyes stared ahead of him, no images greeted them—not one ray of light penetrated the inky, thick, tangible darkness. His sandaled feet made muffled, uneven slaps as he swept downward, pain knotting his chest, an absent left hand stretched to the side, his long fingers tracing a worn track in the slick stone wall. His breathing came with difficulty, as usual, and his exhales came in grunts through his teeth.

He choked on the cold air, and staggered sideways, groping for a hold. He didn't find one—he crashed to his knees. This was worse—it was harder now. Much harder than ever before.

"No, no—no, something is wrong," he rasped. "If He'd gone silent altogether, but then He…And the Temple curtain…no, no…" He wrested himself to his feet again and pressed onward. His head spun, reeling from the sudden plunge he had just taken from pure, unadulterated, ecstatic triumph to poisonous, penetrating dread.

He had made a mistake—a horrid, ghastly, irrevocable mistake.

But he could not fathom yet what it would mean.

"Get back!" he roared, sensing the presence of several demons ahead of him. "Get back, fools—get out of my way." He heard slithering and chattering and rattling as his brothers retreated from him, but their curiosity rippled toward against his skin, and he knew he could not banish them from this space even by using his strongest command. Not when even he was finding it near impossible to keep putting one foot in front of the other himself.

"He is dead, then," Legion hissed, his thousand voices speaking as one.

"He is silent, then," Belial slurred.

"Then what is wrong?"Mammon questioned.

Satan, who had finally drawn to a halt amongst his brethren, lowered his head and clenched his fists.

"I fear He is neither dead nor silent," he whispered. "But He is—He has to be. I saw Him die."

"As did I," Moloch added, gnashing his teeth in the blackness.

"So, it is accomplished," Mulciber concluded. Satan swallowed. He wanted to rejoice—he knew he should—but something twisted inside him, pulling him backward, upward.

A distant, visceral wail bounced off the stones. Satan winced, then scowled.

"What is that?"

"Judas Iscariot," Legion's breathy voice replied. "Just arrived."

Satan sighed, then gripped the sides of his robe. His eyes fluttered closed as he strove to concentrate.

"Eloi, Eloi," he whispered. "Lama sabachthani…"

His brothers recoiled.

"What is that—why are you saying that?" Mulciber gasped, horrified.

"Oh, shut up, you brainless pig," Satan snapped. "It is what He said, just a bit ago."

"Why would He…?" Legion's question trailed off, echoing against the walls.

"I don't know," Satan mused. "He can no more forsake Him than I could split myself in two." His voice lowered. "It is something else."

"It is in the old book," Moloch reminded him, then spat on the floor. Satan waved him off, knowing Moloch would get the message even if he could not see. Satan stepped forward, ignoring the twist in his gut, and rubbed his chin with his forefinger.

"'My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?'" he breathed in recollection, his mind tracing back, flitting through the words of the ancient writings he knew as well as his own names. "'Why are you so far from saving me, and from the cries of my anguish?'" His cold lips moved even as his thoughts flew through the passage. "'…But I am a worm and no man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people. All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads. 'He trusts in the LORD,' they say. 'Let the LORD rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him…'"

Satan felt the other demons grow still, listening to him, holding their breaths as he processed. The twisting inside him grew worse, even as his lightning-fast mind kept reflecting.

"'…I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint,'" Satan muttered. "'…My mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth…Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me…'" He stopped. His eyes flashed in the dark. His next words came out hushed. "'They have pierced my hands and my feet."

"'All my bones are on display; people stare and gloat over me…" Moloch's gravelly voice finished. "They divide my clothes among them, and cast lots for my garment.'"

Everyone fell silent as death. Satan went cold. And then a broken, half cry wrenched from him.

"No," he clawed at his face. "No…"

"It was a trick," Mammon rasped.

"What?" Moloch snapped.

"That was a prophecy. He was showing them—referencing the prophecy! He meant for it all to happen," Mulciber took three steps backward. "He meant to die!"

"We did not kill him?" Legion sounded confused. Satan just staggered sideways into a pillar. They all choked on their questions, even as they built to the verge of bursting.

Then, Satan blinked.

The pulling in his chest, the upward, backward feeling built.

And a presence, slow and steady, rolled toward them like the waves of the tide.

Satan lifted his face. He blinked again, squinting into the distance.

It could not be.

There was a light.

A little light, far away—white and piercing. And it was growing larger.

Or coming nearer.

Terror grabbed him, but he could not move. Indeed, all the others stood frozen where they were.

"What is this? What is this?" Belial said, panicked. But none of them could move.

And then came a voice.

It whispered, gentle as morning wind, but the undertones carried strength enough to crack granite. It sent a violent shiver through Satan's entire being, and he threw himself back against the pillar. But he could not shut out the words.

"'For he has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help.'"

The light—it grew, and brightened, and nearly blinded Satan. He screwed his eyes shut and shied away. The voice softened—sounded as if it was just a breath away. Deep, quiet, settled.

"'All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the LORD, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him, for dominion belongs to the LORD and he rules over the nations.'"

Stabbing, needle-like pains raced across Satan's arms and legs and face. Mortification swelled through his whole being, but he dared not open his eyes.

And then came that twisting again—that warm, insistent draw deep down in his chest. His head came around, without his consent. And his eyes flickered open.

HE stood there. Just as tall as Satan, clothed in simple white. His long, dark hair hung to his shoulders. Soft, strong hands bore gaping nail wounds. Calloused bare feet bore the same. Satan's gaze drifted upward, then, to His face.

He had no idea how long he stared straight into those brilliant, fathomless eyes—eyes that were so familiar, eyes that he hated with all his being, yet eyes that were part of his being. That face—strongly, nobly formed and bearded, with a quiet mouth and stern cheekbones. A new form, mixed with an old form, and still utterly familiar.

Satan, out of the corners of his vision, glimpsed his brothers gazing, fixed also, their forms twisted and gray and stark in the flawless light that radiated from Him.

Satan felt as if everything inside him had turned to water. But he managed to kick back his head and force his hoarse voice to work.

"Ah. Yeshua. It has been just a little while since we looked on each other, has it not?" he said. "We had a little argument in the desert, I believe."

Those bright eyes just gazed back at him. Satan's head jerked.

"However, I think the last time we had an actual conversation, we chatted about that little man named Job."

Yeshua canted his head, just slightly. Shafts of light glittered from the crown of his head and his shoulders. Satan chuckled.

"How is old Job? As stubborn as ever?"

The ghost of a smile crossed Yeshua's lips.

"He is well," came the quiet reply. Satan's forced levity failed him, so he abandoned it.

"What…What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. The dark eyes that had captured his and would not let go now held him still, even as Yeshua took a step closer. Satan's stomach rolled.

"You have seen everything, yet have you not understood?" Yeshua asked.

"I never understand You, never," Satan snapped. "That is the origin of our feud—You make no sense to me, You and your pity for these creatures of dust who hate you and curse you and spit on you and nail you up."

"You understood me once," Yeshua responded quietly, watching him. "But you decided to forget."

"You still haven't answered my question," Satan quipped, ignoring the dart of fear that shot through him at the reckless disrespect in his own words.

"I have come here to tell you what has happened," Yeshua said, his voice even, showing no sign of irritation. "Though you have all guessed it already, in your hearts."

His gaze drifted away from Satan's, to cast across the other demons. A shot of irrational jealousy flamed through Satan, and he clamped his hands into fists, hard, and berated himself. Yeshua's eyes instantly flew back to him. Satan went still.

"Lucifer," He said gently, sadly. Satan's bones turned to liquid. Yeshua's eyes turned hard.

"It is over."

Satan swallowed, fighting back tears of rage and hate and hurt. How dare He use that name?

"It isn't over," Satan shot back, though his voice shook. He fought to keep himself upright even as he leaned against the pillar. "They rejected you. They loathed you. They killed you! They don't want anything to do with you—can't you see that?"

"'He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering,'" He whispered. He raised his dark eyebrows. "Remember? Don't you remember? If you would listen, you would know all of this, Lucifer. But you never listened."

"What are you saying?" Satan roared, reaching the edge of what he could bear. "Be clear for once, blast it!"

Yeshua leveled a gaze on him that pinned him where he stood.

"I have died so they might live," He declared, and the floor rumbled. "I was the sacrifice that covered over all their sins, that satisfied the need for a blood sacrifice for forgiveness." He grew quiet, and looked at Satan openly. "And I have come here to tell you that you have lost."

"Never," Satan gnashed. "I'll not let you dictate to me when I have lost. I will fight you to the end, do you hear me? They are not out of my grasp!"

"But now none of them are out of mine," Yeshua countered. "Before, there was need for blood, and circumcision, and slavery to law. Now, there is only a decision, and a request for forgiveness." He leaned toward Satan, his eyes blazing. "It is finished."

A thousand retorts sprang to Satan's tongue, but none made it to his lips. He could not speak. Every nuance of that mounting dread of just moments ago clarified, like the facets of a diamond, and he understood.

Elohim's sole purpose in entering a mortal body was so that He could die. So He could be the flawless sacrifice He had always demanded of his children. So that He could cover over all their sins, if they just accepted Him as the sacrifice. It was a flawless plan—one that had apparently been in the works since the beginning—and Satan had missed it. All this time, he had been battling against another, permanent earthly reign of David—using all his force and cunning to undermine and thwart the people of Israel, and destroy them if he could. He had never thought Elohim would stoop so low as to destroy Himself, subject Himself to that blistering suffering, just so He could make it so easy for His little creations to slip right out of, not earthly pain, but Hell. Satan had been busily doing everything he could to poison the minds of the people against Yeshua, to make them hate Him—to make them kill Him. And therefore, he had played right into His hands.

Now all they had to do was say "Yes."

Yeshua would have them forever.

Satan clenched his hands so hard he felt he would break his bones. He forced his spine to right him, and lift his chin to Yeshua, pouring all the hatred he could muster into his gaze. Yeshua did not blink.

"If it is finished, as you say," Satan snarled. "Then what are we still doing here? Why did you come alone? Aren't we bound for some fiery lake or some such, while the world shatters at the seams?"

The rest of his brothers shuddered and hissed, even as Satan forced a defiant sneer. Yeshua raised his eyebrows, then shook his head once.

"No."

"Why not?" Satan barked, inwardly cursing his Creator for the joy He took in tormenting him with confusion.

"Because," Yeshua replied. "Unlike you, for a little while longer, they still have a choice."

Satan sucked in a sharp breath.

"Then I will take them—you know I will!" he roared. "I'll flay them alive—I'll impale them on posts, I'll burn them, I'll feed them to beasts and let the crows pick their flesh! If they follow you, I'll devour them!"

Yeshua looked at him a long time, that small half smile on his lips giving a sparkle to his vibrant gaze.

"I know you will," he murmured. "And it will be like trying to fell an oak with a table knife."

"Get out!" Satan screamed, throwing his hands up to cover his face. "Get out of my sight, I beg you—"

The other demons began to moan and tremble—though Satan could not tell if they expressed agreement or dissent.

"My time has almost come, anyway," Yeshua replied, glancing upward. "The third day is dawning…"

Satan peered at him through his fingers.

"What—What do you mean?"

"I am the First and the Last," Yeshua murmured, His eyes still gazing straight upward at something Satan could not see. "I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look…" Yeshua met Satan's eyes. "I am alive forever and ever."

Satan's heart hit the ground.

They had all been fools.

Kill Him? Ha. Restrain Him in a grave? Ha.

Why had they tried?

The light appeared again—far, far up above. And as it did, the white light from Yeshua's face and robes mounted, until it filled the caverns. The jagged black rocks glittered and sparkled, and the demons stood up straight and stared in stricken fascination as warmth swelled through the vast chamber. Beyond the demons, ranks and ranks of damned kneeling souls ceased their moaning and weeping, and lifted their wide eyes to Him.

Great shafts of illumination caught the intricate armor of the demons, and lit their sun-deprived faces. The armor lost its colorlessness, and the gold and jewels blazed, their skin glowed, their eyes enlivened and their hair shimmered with long-lost glory. Then, Satan risked a glance down at himself.

His long black robe was white—gold embroidery flashed around its edges, and his armor of pearl and curling silver nearly blinded him.

The pain in his chest eased and vanished. He drew in a deep, desperate breath—he could not remember the last time it had been easy. He lifted his face again, to Yeshua's.

And suddenly, he was in Heaven again. Radiant brilliance, embracing warmth, shadowless comfort and penetrating love drove out every bitterness, every splinter of suffering, every despairing thought. His brothers stood next to him, majestic and beautiful, facing their Creator. Satan took another breath, and his lips trembled.

"Elohim…" he whispered, his throat spasming. "Don't…"

A shattering shook the air. Different light shot down from above. Yeshua gathered his glory about him like a mantle. Terror lit the eyes of the demons.

Satan's chest lurched.

And Yeshua shot upward and outward with a sound like thunder and a light like a comet.

Darkness closed with a deafening clap.

Satan's hand flew to his heart. Silence fell.

And a rending, spinning, wrenching, wailing, visceral, bone-grinding scream of denial rose up from the damned—even the demons—and made the very rocks join in the chaotic symphony of despair. And the very loudest was Judas Iscariot.

No…

No.

No…

Satan fell backward, against the pillar, clawing at his chest, blinking his sightless eyes against the black.

For just a moment, they had all stood in the full presence of the Almighty. For just a moment, they had—all of these wretches—been in Heaven. For just a moment, Satan had forgotten his centuries of bitterness, the toil and solitude, and remembered what it had been like to love and be loved by the most vivid and powerful being in the universe.

And now he remembered fully why this place was the cruelest and darkest place in existence: Heaven was where He was. And where He was not was Hell.

Satan knew he had chosen this place for himself—chosen an existence without Elohim's authority. And he had always told himself that it was better this way—better to be a ruler in Hell than a servant in Heaven.

Until Yeshua had to remind him that it was a lie—and renew all the agony of the first time he fell.

And thus, he hated Him even more.