Page 61 of Metatron

Metatron wasn’t as sure. Given the ease Lucifer/ Elyon moved between the two kingdoms unknown and unseen, he could easily imagine some kind of long-range beaming system. “He must have killed Gaaya before his departure.” Because he had not heard of her being aboard any of the refuge ships they’d managed to contact. It could be she’d found a way to blend in. Or more likely she never made it off Hell.

“Poor thing.” Francesca’s lips turned down.

“The mother isn’t dead,” Zilla announced.

Metatron frowned. “How can you know?”

“Because the mother cannot die, for, if she does, all life dies with her.”

Then where was she? And did it matter? Heaven was on a collision course with Earth. What Metatron didn’t expect? How split the world would be on blowing up Heaven, even though its path would slam it into Earth.

Metatron tried to get people to listen, to no avail.

“Not sure why you’re worried. You said Heaven isn’t armed,” President Jane’s remark.

“But the devil is dangerous!” he’d insisted.

“You got away,” she’d pointed out.

His own choir also had their own ideas on the matter.

“We just need to convince the angels to remove their HALOS and we will render him impotent,” Aziel’s suggestion.

If they would listen. He had his doubts seeing as how even the pope refused to endorse any action other than a peaceful meeting, and when Metatron tried to explain Heaven wasn’t the oasis he expected, the pope called him Judas.

Metatron grew tired of fighting. He’d tried to warn, and when no one would listen, he chose to spend his days loving Francesca and planning for the worst. He’d already spoken with Zilla about evacuating as many as possible if they couldn’t stop Heaven from slamming into Earth. He left it up to the cantorii to choose her own passengers, so long as it included Francesca. He, though, wouldn’t be part of the group.

The choir that remained had chosen to embark on one last mission. One of atonement and hopefully a chance for survival for everyone else.

Given their objective—stop Heaven even if it had to be destroyed—they brought as many explosives as they could aboard Shard, the scout ship that had begun looking more gray than black since it left Hell. It had also chosen himself a name. Shard, because he claimed to be a piece of something bigger.

When it came to their desperate mission, Shard had volunteered to help so that Zilla could remain behind as the last line of defense.

None of the angels told anyone of their plan. They simply left and turned off all comms. It killed Metatron to not say goodbye to Francesca. But he knew if he told her, she’d try and stop him or, worse, insist on coming. Aziel had done the same with Lilith, just like Elija left behind Cindy-lu. Even Munna and Eoch had found special partners since their arrival on Earth, but they also departed without a word. This was their last chance. They all stood to lose if this failed.

And it would. A handful of angels against Elyon’s remaining army and citizens? In the best-case scenario, Metatron would manage to convince those on Heaven that God and the Devil were one and the same and have them cast off their HALOs. In the worse? They died and Heaven destroyed Earth.

Shard took them there swiftly, Heaven so close even the people on Earth could see it with their telescopes. But there wasn’t any panic this time. Apparently, knowing Heaven neared filled them with hope.

“The redemption is nigh.”

“Pray for God’s forgiveness that you might enter his kingdom.”

The humans were convinced of many things, their mortality not being one of them. They thought God had come to save them.

Shard didn’t encounter any kind of warning or resistance as it neared Heaven. The impeccable kingdom with its perfect lines and patterned surface lacked any kind of chaos—or signs of life.

During their approach, Metatron scanned as much as he could, even called out on a few communication channels. No one replied. Ruse or something more sinister? He feared the latter.

The oasis where they docked arks, cantoriis, and skiffs was the emptiest he’d ever seen. Not a single vessel remained, and Shard could not detect any signals of them anywhere in the vicinity.

“There is something severely wrong here.” Aziel stated the obvious.

“Stick close,” Metatron warned.

They kept their steps stealthy, and still their arrival echoed too loud. Heaven had never been so quiet. No singing on high. No cherubs flitting through clouds. The streets of white marble empty of citizens.

They entered homes and businesses at random, finding nothing, no bodies, no signs of violence. It was as if everyone had just up and left.

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