...The Destroyer of Worlds

Disclaimer: This chapter of "Prime" purposely discusses Christian theological ideas, and is, in no way, intended to question or influence the beliefs of the reader. It is meant to be a mechanism to advance the story's narrative.

The entire experience was disorienting for Claire, for the ground passed swiftly beneath her feet, but the place of light and dark didn’t really appear to get closer. Yet, at the same time, it kept getting larger and larger in her field of vision. Had there been anybody left alive back in the apartment, they, too, would have seen something disorienting. Claire’s body became a mix of ethereal shadow and light and began to turn corpuscular. In moments, where her body once slept, there was nothing but a residual imprint in reality.

Claire was now pure energy, pure spirit. What was her dream was now the only reality she would ever know. Without fully understanding how, she found herself in what she could only guess was a throne room. To her right was a white throne, simple and square, lit with darkness in an infinity of white. Upon the white marble throne sat a wizened old man dressed in black, full plate armor with a large, white collar underneath. His gray, scraggly locks fell to his neck, and his brown eyes were so sunken that he appeared to have nothing but empty eye sockets. His back was so hunched that the armor was the only thing holding him upright. A once generous, regal nose now looked like the beak of a crow, causing Claire to have to stifle a snicker.

To her left was a black obsidian throne, also simple and square, and it was lit with light in an infinity of darkness. The man that sat upon it looked much younger than his counterpart. Yet, in his black eyes there was an age that made him much older than the other. His look, though, was much more contemporary. Claire could see that the man once had a beard and mustache, but there was only soft, white skin. The man’s jet black hair fell to his shoulders and clashed with the pure white suit and red tie he wore. He also wore an expression of the utmost contempt.

To her surprise, Claire found that her rage, the thing that had been driving her for the last few weeks, was gone. She also realized, however, that she didn’t need it. She was not about to let the experiences of the last four months fizzle away and have her cower before these two. It was them that she was here for. “You must be Yahweh and Yehwah. Must I kill the two of you, as well?”

The dark-haired Yehwah turned up his nose and looked away from her, which prompted old Yahweh to speak first. “Nay, young lady, the process will begin shortly.” He spoke with a deeply British accent, but it sounded much older than the speech used by Gabriel. “I must say that I am flummoxed by you as a choice, and I wonder why you are here with both of us. My counterpart should have his own successor.”

Claire smiled devilishly at him. “I was to be only your successor, but the plan changed. I am here to succeed both of you.”

“Like hell you will!” screamed Yehwah, his words tinged with a bit of French, as though it was the mother tongue that he had not spoken in a very long time. “This cannot be allowed! No one person should have the power of Yehwah and Yahweh!”

“’Tis true? You’re here to succeed the both of us?” Yahweh creaked, his voice becoming breathy. “There is no precedent for this.”

Her contempt growing, Claire’s words became cynical. “It no longer concerns you, old man. I’m here to take your place and your life. His, too.”

Without understanding what she was doing, she stepped forward to get in between them, and it seemed that their thrones drew closer to her.

“I won’t allow it!” hissed Yehwah. “You aren’t even a woman of renown. Nobody knows who you are! You’ve done nothing of significance! You have no right to have all of the power. That’s not the way this is supposed to be!”

His words gave Claire a moment of pause. Was he right? Am I worthy of this? An inkling of doubt crept into her mind. She felt the innumerable souls of her others swirling within her. She knew their memories. She focused on Anne, the one she saw as the ‘perfect’ Claire. Anne was a realtor with a loving husband and two amazing boys. But she wasn’t a statesman, or a celebrity, or anybody that history would remember. She was woman of no consequence to the world. No, she wasn’t, thought Claire, defiant. She wasn’t significant to the world. But she was significant to those in her life. Then a verse from the Gospel of Luke came to her mind: “For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those that humble themselves will be exalted.”

Claire’s defiant expression held on as she looked at Yehwah, “I may not have have been significant to the world, but I was significant to those that mattered to me. Now I will matter to all of Creation and be thankful.”

“Perhaps you are what Creation needs,” Yahweh agreed. And he held out his hand to her.

Yehwah fought with all of his might against the compulsion that Claire’s defiance invoked, but his hand extended anyway. Claire wasn’t sure if she was ready for this, but her die was cast. The last thing she heard was Yehwah, “Curse you for eternity.” Then she grabbed their hands and found herself in a silent cacophony of light and darkness.

On the outside, one would have observed Yahweh’s eyes flare to an impossibly bright yellow and Yehwah’s eyes flare to an equally bright red. Claire’s eyes, on the other hand, glowed purple. But as the moments ticked by, yellow and red began to dim and purple began to brighten, until the only light to be seen was purple.

On the inside, the story was much different. Claire was bathed in light and dark, she heard everything and nothing. She felt love and hate, joy and sadness, humor and anger, good and evil, chaos and order. The whole of Creation flooded her mind, her body, and her soul. It was exquisite and excruciating. She watched as the universe came into being. She watched as God became Yahweh and Yehwah. She saw the evolution of the universe, and the rise and fall of countless civilizations that were completely devoted to Yahweh and Yehwah. She watched as the Earth came into existence, a fiery cinder in the nascent solar system. As the planet cooled, life began, then watched it wax and wane over the eons. She felt the focus of Yahweh and Yehwah shift, putting the Earth at the forefront of their attention as mankind inherited it. She saw the birth of the human soul and the failure of the Creators to control them. She watched as the timelines split for the first time. All of human history unfolded in long ages and instantaneous moments. The birth and death of the Christ and the beginning of the human stewardships came and went. Claire heard all of their voices, their thoughts, and their memories. Millions at first, then they became billions, and eventually trillions. Every feeling, every emotion, fueled the intensity of the infinite maelstrom within her. She saw herself screaming and not making a sound. It was too much.

Claire felt her body fall to its knees. I can’t do this! The regret darkened the flow of the universe entering her and doubt once again began cracking her resolve. She felt the clash of chaos and order, and she heard the cries of pain and agony from the timelines. She couldn’t control it, she couldn’t even fathom it. I wasn’t meant to be God! I can hear the flowers screaming… The power threatened the very cohesion of her body.

She opened her eyes to the incredible calm of the ‘throne room’, the vertigo caused by the maelstrom inside of her made her feel like her head might explode. Claire couldn’t find the balance, and she knew that the universe itself was failing because of it. I have failed you all. Her thoughts went to her family, Eric’s family, Eric himself. Claire’s heart broke. She thought of Anne, and the twins. I’m sorry…

Then the storm inside of her suddenly calmed, the balance was achieved, and she felt a hand on each of her shoulders. The purple light of her eyes settled to a soft glow, then extinguished completely. Still gripping the hands of Yahweh and Yehwah, she saw that they looked mummified, as did the rest of them. In the next moment, the two men crumbled into piles of dust. Catching her breath, she sat back on her haunches and looked behind her. The hands belonged to Nathaniel and Gabriel. Silently, Claire got to her feet and turned to face them, her eyes wide.

“How?”

They smiled in unison before Nathaniel answered her, “It is our destiny, mother. You are the balance, and we are its tools.”

“Nathaniel is your gift, I am your strength,” said Gabriel. “He is the caretaker of light, I am the caretaker of darkness.”

Claire pulled them both into an embrace. She wanted to show them the love that they deserved, but she finally understood that she was no longer human. Human emotions were something she could no longer properly express. Something was missing.

Letting them go, she turned and saw before them a single throne, the mixture of light and dark making it appear as a double exposure. Claire took a deep breath and sat down. She had to begin making sense of what was happening and determining what she should do next. There was no telling how long she had been holding the hands of Yahweh and Yehwah, but she could feel the universe, all of the timelines, on the brink of disaster. Closing her eyes, Claire sent out a summons.

They stood before her, the angels and the demons. There was Michael and Uriel, and Lucifer and Azrael. All four of them stared at her, then they took a knee and said in unison, “Lord, we serve you humbly and dutifully.”

“Rise, gentlemen.” She continued when they were again standing. “The universe isn’t well. It’s time to fix it.”

Lucifer stepped forward and bowed his head. “Lord, we are too few with the loss of Gabriel and Belphegor. We must replenish our number.”

“Lucifer,” Claire said with a smile, “without you I would not be here. And you’re right, you are too few. I will replenish your numbers. Come and see.”

The angels and demons turned on their heals and saw before them all of the timelines. A constant din reached their ears as the timelines progressed. The confusion and chaos were in every timeline, including the prime timeline. A wave of fear swept through them, it was just too much to repair.

This time it was Michael who spoke up, his voice wavered at what they saw. “Lord, we cannot fix this. There is not time to fix this.”

“You speak the truth, Michael. There is only one way, and only I am capable of making it happen. Come and see…”, her smile had never left her face. With the balance in check, thanks to Gabriel and Nathaniel, Claire could think much more clearly, and see the universe in all its infinite and infinitesimal glory. Then she closed her eyes.

The angels, the demons, and her sons looked on as one timeline after another began to disappear. With her power now balanced and under control, Claire had chosen to restart the timelines. She cried inwardly at the silencing of trillions human voices, but she thought it better to take their lives herself then to let the failing timelines take them and cause more pain and suffering. I once was Death, now I’m the Destroyer of Worlds. Once again, the universe was left with a singular timeline… the Prime Timeline.

* * *

Pastor Martin Sullivan sat at his desk, his notes from the previous day’s sermon spread out before him. The headbanger virus had taken a horrific toll on the world already, and it showed no signs of ebbing in the near future. Martin’s sermon had been from Revelation. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare his flock into believing the end of the world was near, but four million people had already succumbed to the pandemic, three-quarters of a million in the United States alone. You couldn’t turn on the news without hearing about or seeing horrific video of people who had smashed their heads in to rid themselves of the pain in their heads. He had already lost four of his patrons, and he had gained word that six more were sick. A lump in his throat formed knowing that most, if not all, of them wouldn’t be at his sermon next Sunday.

Is this the first Horseman? Is this the pestilence that ends mankind? Martin didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t leave his people without some sort of leadership. “And he went forth conquering, and to conquer.”

He was brought out of his reverie by a commotion outside his office. There were many loud voices that were only getting louder. He stood and stroked his beard, taking on the visage of Pastor Sullivan, and walked to the door. The hallway was reverberating with the angered voices, but he couldn’t understand any of what was being said.

People, people! Let’s settle down in the church! That is what Martin had wanted to say, but what came out of his mouth frightened him. “Clethu, clethu! Dormanti untollo kor na ontanta!”

What did I just say? He didn’t continue to speak, but instead listened to the screams of the others. Martin couldn’t understand a single word. Then he felt the vibrations. They shook him to his core and grew in intensity with every moment. He cried out in his mind, but his voice was absent. The world began to waver like a mirage. Then it ended.

Pastor Sullivan now stood in a spce that was both light and dark, and he could see several figures standing around him. He did his best to focus, which was difficult after what he had just experienced.

“Where am I?” he asked, almost startled that he could now understand what he was saying.

“Come forward, Martin,” came the command from the central figure of this group.

He focused on the voice and walked forward. The woman’s voice was familiar to him, and as he came closer to it, he understood why.

“Claire Hutchins?” His expression became mixed with joy and confusion. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, Martin, it is. But I am Claire no longer.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You will.” Claire placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke with a devotion Martin had never known a human possible of having. “You listen as well as you teach, Martin. And from this time, forward, you will be God’s embodiment of listening. You are God’s Listener and shall now be known as Samael. You are now the sentinel of nature’s order.”

Martin saw the truth of the universe in Claire’s words, and he realized that this was not the end of the world, but a new beginning for it.

“Lord,” he said to her and bowed his head. “I shall forever be your faithful servant.” Looking around him, he saw the other angels and smiled at them pleasantly. “Brothers.”

Being a pastor only a few minutes ago, he looked on that life as something that was so much smaller than what he now was. But he also knew, thanks to Claire, that it was also the most important part of who he was now. He was to never let that part of him fade.

“Lord,” he said. “We are still in need of one more servant, but there are now thousands of primes. What are we to do about those who are not chosen?”

“We will do nothing, Samael. The final angel has already been chosen, and most of the other primes will not realize who they are. As for the others…” and Claire smiled. “Well, it will make your purposes that much more interesting having Jumpers.”

And God summoned her final angel and said, “It is good…”

There's one more piece left to this story in the Epilogue:

God's Heart