"Pierce"

A squeal rings across the heavens. Bronze plumes spew forth from Archangel Michael as satan digs his claws into him. In Hebrew, the tongue of God the Father Himself, satan taunts the Taxiarch.

"Wherefore doest thou scream?" satan chortles, "Wherefore doest you bleed? Be you not taxiarch michael, prince himself of the heavenly host? Such frailty doth not a warrior befit!"

Michael feels a crack in his soul, brought out beside the silver ichor bleeding onto satan's claw. Nevertheless, Michael's fingers still cling to the sword which shattered the soul of baal peor. However loose his grip, Michael's dogma commands that he die by his sword.

"An almighty god wouldst not employ such disabled leaders!" the false prophet screeches to the masses gathered before him, "Behold thine deceiver, the Antichrist!"

Were Michael able to think, he might chuckle from the irony. Were he observing from outside, he might rebuke on the Lord's behalf. But instead, the pikes of his adversary drilling into his heart and spine mean there's no room for thought. Only the excruciating torment of his soul beginning to tear, and the lingering faith that God the Father would not forsake His Taxiarch.

May You intervene, Father, Michael begs, For the sake of Your kingdom, I beg for salvation!

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