
A long time ago, long before cities were built within walls, in the days of Enoch; the beholder of heavens, when men were closer to the truth and believed in only one god, a band of angels rebelled against the laws of the universe and decided to find freedom. They searched through the seven universes and found freedom on earth. They would soon discover that, on earth, freedom is not free.
*
He stood still. The feeling was even better than he had anticipated that it will be. He would close his eyes as he inhaled the cold night air. The star-studded sky spread into the horizon that held dark waters. When he opened his eyes, the moon was in the water. It moved with the ripples. His bare feet were buried in the white sands. He moved them. Is this what it feels like to be human? He asked himself as the tides sent a refreshing breeze tumbling against his face. He understood the complicated chemistry involved in the creation of the universe; the complex mathematics that bears the answer of the earth’s origin was glorified foolery to him. He was there when El manipulated chemicals and turned them into whatever he imagined: trees, waters, suns and moons, asteroids, nebulas. Everything was a slave to consciousness. He had been one of the watchers.
The stench of his new humanity now slowed him down, but it is better to be a slow god than to be an agile seraph; even if you were amongst the most agile seraphs of the ninefold celestial hierarchy.
It was forbidden for a seraph to leave Aravot and interact with humans on his own accord. But himself, and one hundred and ninety-nine other Seraphim with him, had left the seventh heaven to be free.
Aravot, the seventh world, was home to the highest level of consciousness. This was where he had lived with the other Seraphim and the lesser angels. It was void of nothing except feelings and emotions. In his world, there is no border between reality and imagination. The two concepts float in the atmosphere until they become lively chemistry that is incapable of existing in the realm of human understanding. This is the basis of existence in Aravot. Things imagined are concrete; things concrete are imagined. Isn’t this the basis of all creation, too? A pregnant mind begets all things concrete. It is a little more concentrated on Aravot; everything is made directly of sub-atomic particles so that realness and illusion are the same. The implication is, in the seventh heaven, it is impossible to feel. It is not possible to have an opinion. Everything is designed to play a part in the ethereal system; one is given a path and he should not feel the need to deviate. This is the world that he used to call home. He and the others had experienced El on tremendous heights and they were designed to do anything he needed them to do. No questions.
He looked upwards, his veins almost bursting out of his temple and neck. Liquid intensity flashed from his eyes as his fierce wings spread out with electric defiance and in a streak, with white sand grains scattering far above the shore, he darted across the dark skies.
Samyaza, the leader of the Grigori, or The Watchers; as they are more often called, came to land on a mountain top. It was the antediluvian period, when the heavens were closer to the earth and El interacted with men. The remaining members of the Watchers stood on the base of the mountain to listen to their leader. They had spent the last few moments basking in the novelty of their new human garments. Azazel, had just been stretching his fingers in amazement. His forehead crumpled with confusion. He would later teach the sons of El how to dig the soil for iron, how to forge weapons from steel, and how to fight wars.
‘’Brethren!’’ Samyaza’s voice was loud and daunting. At first, there was silence. Then the mountains replied to him, and then the silence continued. He was the leader of the Grigori.
‘’We have left Aravot, through the six heavens in search of freedom—freedom from being oppressed. Today, we stand on this mountain to proclaim our freedom. Right here, we can be whoever we want to be. We can be gods!’’
The ears of his comrades spread out in excitement. They roared until the mountains trembled in fear. Even though they mostly understood the madness in the origin of life itself, the complexities of human emotion would later turn them into lunatics- mad gods. For now, they let their emotions ride them through the frenzy. They had never felt before; did not know what it meant to have an opinion. They simply did what they were told, no questions. The massive feathery cushion behind their backs moved with ferocious agility as they painted the sky in electric insanity. Earth had visitors.
*
In those days, the people of the earth had one language. They did not have a king, they did not need one. The lands were vast; they ran into shallow waters. They did not aspire to rule; to know. They were but comfortable in complacency. The men just simply got married and tilled the ground. The women were beautiful and coy. It’s no wonder then that the Watchers quickly abandoned their quest for freedom and enslaved themselves to the women of the earth. Samyaza was the first to lose his head. He was known as the enchanter so it was not difficult to convince the women to give in to ethereal lust.
Before long, the Watchers became popular. Their impressive skills quickly set them apart so that they became gods among men. Although this did not make them much different from the average human being, who is a slave to his desires. They were new to these feelings; their angelic nobleness and sense of duty had quickly disappeared and had been replaced with their lust for women and power.
Samyaza grew into a powerful monarch. Like the other seraph, he easily towered above men, almost reaching 9 feet. His wide and sturdy shoulders dauntingly pushed his fragile garment until one feared that they might give in to the maddening pressure and tear into pieces as he moved. Some say that he is also called Lucifer–the morning star, because it is said that no man who entered his presence could resist his stare and refuse to do his bidding. One time, it was said that he caused a woman to eat up her child just by staring into her eyes. He moved with sluggish pride, and the intensity that oozed out of his eyes was so stiff that the few men that were bold enough to look into his face had to squint. His hair ran down his temple like black shiny waterfalls, covering his ears until they relaxed into soft curls that rested on his collar bone.
It was only typical that Azazel ruled earth because of his great strength and his powerful skills in forging weapons and his great knowledge of beauty, but they were no match for Samyaza’s charm, and even though the other seraphim craved power like intoxicated children, their drive easily coward in Samyaza’s presence. The intensity in his personality could easily melt anyone’s desires like wax when it is near the fire, and remold them into the image of his ambition. That is why it shocked everyone when Ishtar bluntly refused his advances. It alarmed him more.
‘’Who is that?’’ Samyaza asked. His skin glazed under the sun as he looked far into the fields. He and Amazarak, the Sorcerer was taking their traditional walk in the afternoons. Ishtar was picking grains far in the fields. Her gown gracefully danced to an agile rhythm that played in Samyaza’s mind. Her hair gleamed in the sunlight.
‘’Who?’’ Amazarak had a sharp voice so that even though he spoke fast, it was not difficult to hear him. Samyaza was quiet.
‘’Oh!? Ishtar? Her name is Ishtar. No one knows anything about her except that she is an orphan who works the fields for money’’ Amazarak spread his lips into suggestive laughs.
‘’She is quite beautiful, isn’t she?’’
‘’Eerie, isn’t it?’’ Amazarak quickly turned to look at Samyaza. He was squinting. It was shocking to hear that Samyaza was frightened, even worse to know that the cause of his fear was a beautiful woman who worked the fields. He scoffed.
‘’Since when has beautiful women inspired our fear?’’
‘’Since after all our time on earth, none of us had seen this one before’’
Amazarak’s forehead lit up with furrows. He too had only come to know about Ishtar a few days ago. He heard she had a peculiar gift; he wanted to know for sure. He found her in the temple, she had gone as quickly as she came, walking with a certain kind of aloof that made her seem intimidating. By now, the Seraphim had begun to have children with the daughters of Eve. These young ones were even stronger than the angels themselves as they were both human and gods. They roamed the earth in flashes and, did whatever they felt was right. The Nephilims as they were called were vicious and even their celestial fathers were not too fond of them. So it is true that at this point, the seraphim haunted the Nephilims to kill them. They were too strong and too many even for the watchers to defeat at once.
‘’A beautiful maiden as yourself should not be working on the field’’ Samyaza called out. They had walked until they came close to the fields Ishtar had been working on. She looked up briefly and then returned to her work. He could see that the corner of her lips had curved into a smile.
‘’Beautiful men as yourselves should not talk to strangers’’
‘’Well, you are in luck. We are not strangers’’ Samyaza and Amazarak burst into subtle laughter. She looked up, it was then she recognized them. She smiled again. Samyaza went closer, his sandals crushing dried grains and straws in silent oppression until he was holding her wrist and gently pulling her to meet his towering figure while taking her basket from her to place on the ground. She let him lead her. Amazarak, stood there arms folded across his extra-terrestrial chest, watching as they flirting started to peak. He had seen this scene so many times; he knew how it ended too well.
‘’You know I can do something about it? The work?’’
‘’I suppose you can’’ she said, looking directly into his eyes, the smile was still on her face.
‘’But it is already too late.’’ She continued as she gently slid her fingers out of Samyaza’s smooth palm. She turned to pick up her basket. It was then that Samyaza smelt the soft poisonous aroma of aloofness she carried around her. He smiled to himself she bent to pick her basket, greeted them goodbye and walked toward the horizon that held the tent homes of the villagers. Amarazak’s eyes blazed in shock as he stroked his beards. In all his time on earth, he had never met anyone, human or seraph, who could walk away from Samyaza’s charm. But here was a girl who just did the unbelievable, unscathed. She could be his ally. She would be his ally.
Few meters away from Amazarak stood Samyaza who was still smiling to himself; he was not shocked, he was intrigued. Who was she? How did she do it? Questions poured into his mind like liquid poison that burned the throat and still left you thirsty. He looked on as the afternoon breeze pushed her gown into a frenzy; she carried her basket in her right hand, letting her waist support it. By now, she was almost as small as the tents in the village. Perhaps he would have been saved if he had let her go at that moment.
That night, her aloof aura haunted Samyaza in his sleep. He tossed; the soft cushion that he lied on disgusted him further, until he gave up trying to forget. He staggered through until he reached the balcony of his palace. The dark skies were hollow, the clouds hid a great chunk of the moon, allowing its crescent tip to turn the in the distant mountains into silhouetted figures. Cold night air splashed against his bare body and inspiring goose pimples to grow in his scrotum. He stood there talking to the night. Who was she? How did she do it? It was the umpteenth time he was asking the question. The cold night hardened his nipple but he did not seem to care. He had learned to use his human body, taken it off when it pleased him, manipulate it until it was now his home. Now, forgetting the girl on the fields was a task he was incapable of doing. He looked into the sky as his eyes flashed with intense sparks, his veins protruding out of his skin until his wings pushed out into the night air. In a flash, he was in the air, his phallus dangling radically as he pushed through the night sky. Nothing cleared the head like a good fly.
*
‘’It is true.’’ Amazarak’s whisper penetrated through the thick blackness within the temple.
‘’She is truly gifted’’ he continued.
The night sky glowed with silver that fell into the temple through the windows that were close to the roof. It was normal for distressed humans to be found in the temple after dark, but Azazel and Amazarak were not humans. Their eyes glowed within the darkness.
‘’Hmm! Does he know it yet?’’
‘’He suspects’’
‘’Then we must move up plans’’
*
Ishtar had come to the fields again, basket in her hand. The sun was quiet above her. It was different today. Somebody else was there before her. She strained her neck until she was looking up, into his face. The intensity in his eyes told her a story that she knew she should not want to listen to, but she did. He remembered him, although he looked different, like a wounded lion. She could taste sympathy behind her tongue, she swallowed it. When he saw her, a cynic smile climbed up to his face. She wanted to climb up his face too and slap him until that smile turned into nothing.
‘’You?’’
‘’You too.’’ She greeted as she walked past him. She had stopped looking at him.’’
‘’Mortal, you would not turn away from me while I am talking…’’
‘’or you would turn me into vapor?’’ she cut him. Her voice was still calm, a world of contrast from his. There was silence. He was terrible at keeping his emotions in check, she was clearly an expert. This infuriated him the more. He gulped down a large chunk of air and exhaled.
‘’Look, I am sorry for yelling at you’’ He paused to look down into her poker face. He could sense a wall around it.
‘’I am just worked up. I just need answers. How did you do it?’’
‘’Do what?’’
He looked at her again. This time more intensely. He really could not tell what she was thinking about. He had never felt so helpless.
‘’Do you see me as a toy that you can have fun with?’’
‘’I doubt that you are capable of giving me any type of fun’’
He was silent again. She turned and started to pick up grains and straws. He felt like a little child. Just be open he advised himself.
‘’You really don’t know who I am?’’ he asked again to be sure he was not her pawn. He was.
‘’Apart from the fact that you are a strayed angel, I don’t know anything else’’. She turned to look at him. ‘’Although I would like to’’
His heart turned to liquid. ‘’I am Samyaza, leader of the Grigori’’ he looked at her. She was still opaque, but she seemed to listen. They started walking until they stopped at a tree that homed birds. They sat down at its trunk.
‘’I am the angel of enchantment. In all the seven worlds, I have never met a soul that could resist my charms and refuse my desires’’ he paused to look into her eyes. The energy sent the butterflies in her stomach on a wild rampage. ‘’until now!’’ he continued.
‘’Really?’’ she seemed truly astonished. He looked away before she caught the water that was building his eyes. She held his chin; it felt like it was made of iron. He moved his head swiftly until he held her in his eyes. He kissed her. The heat cooled down his nerve, he could feel her breath hitting his face, her hands on his face, and just when he was going to give in all, she stopped.
‘’I’m sorry, I…I can’t do this’’
He tightened his jaw as a pink glow lightened his snowy face. He was confused and embarrassed. His face followed her as she stood up to leave. It was his second chance at salvation, if he had just let her go.
‘’Why?’’ he ignored the warning.
‘’I hear things, Samyaza. I see things. I am not stupid’’ she saw the confusion still plastered all over his face so she continued. ‘’I know your reputation with women. Your Nephilim go about destroying everything my people have worked hard to build. Samyaza, you are the enemy and even though my heart feels otherwise, I cannot love you’’ she turned to leave. He held her, his sturdy palm swallowing her wrist so that she was afraid that he would break it in a slight move. His eyes told a different story, she wanted to jerk her hand off and run away but her muscles seemed to be arrested by his sheer presence. Maybe she was not so immune to his charms.
‘’I don’t know how these things work, but I think I am in love with you’’
‘’You think?’’
‘’I know… I know’’ he said, she could hear desperation under his voice.
‘’You apparently are not sure’’, she pushed further.
‘’I am. I swear by El, I am’’
She looked at him. He still was not able to penetrate through and know what she was thinking about. It drove him crazy all the more.
‘’Well if you do, tell me the secret of the Universe’’ she giggled.
‘’Sometimes knowledge is poisonous’’ he laughed too
‘’Won’t it be so much better if you killed me with yours, if I died in your arms’’ she teased. They started to walk away from the tree, arm in arm. She left her basket in the field, half-filled with grains that she did not need.
‘’Okay, the secret of heaven I will tell you. Not today though, but I will tell you’’ he was looking down at her. Something had either left him or entered him. He was not the same person he was yesterday.
‘’You give me your word?’’ She asked. He nodded.
‘’And also, you have to promise me that you will never leave me. Your word would not be good enough. I would need your wings to keep in my chambers’’ There was a tint of grave seriousness behind her eyes. He would have noticed it if he was not blinded by emotions he was not yet used to.
*
‘’And also, you have to promise me that you will never leave me. Your word would not be good enough. I would need your wings to keep in my chambers’’ Ishta’s voice rang out from the steel bowl of raw liquid. Amazarak, the sorcerer stood there, behind the darkness of the temple, staring into the basin in cynic excitement.
He muttered to himself, “It has begun.”
*DISCLAIMER: although there are references to ideas contained in the scriptural books of Genesis and Enoch in this work—names and worlds and occurrences—it is considered a work of fiction because its central scenarios are chiefly of the author’s imagination.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ogala Osoka is a graduate of Literature from the University of Calabar. He writes scripts and proses. His works have appeared on various liteary magazines.