Prologue

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Divine Apocalypse:
The beginning of the end
- Angels born as men and bestowed with the powers of Gods.

To understand the convoluted meaning of life, the minds of men created erratic myths, most of which are lies. Details twisted from mystical events made into epics of tedious quibbling. Demons and ghosts thought to be Gods, fairies and muses being disassociated, trolls being mistaken for creatures such as werewolves—all deteriorated by the hands of time and the foolish perspective of man. To understand the meaning of life truly, however, one must begin by always remembering: All myths have a seed of truth.
Reincarnation is proven by Collective Memory. No matter what form we have, we understand the same notions. Despite the incarnation of species, our bodies know when and what to eat, know what to fear, when to protect our territories and automatically we know what we are attracted to and how to satisfy these attractions and desires. As we realize our instincts, our imaginations are reminded of pivotal celestial events. Basic imprinted concepts corner the edge of our psyches and manifest as various religions and creeds, different at first glance, but often share the same characters under different names, with similar underlining messages and exact themes.
In science, like faith, there is more of the unknown, than we are ever going to ultimately understand but fundamentally everything is connected. Collective Memory is something unexplainable, proven in history and still everyday by worldwide leaps in science, art and discovery! It is a telepathic link we all share when the world spontaneously changes. It’s like we as a people can only learn something when something omnipotent decides that we are worthy. Yet we are egotistical beings and rather than unify, accept, understand and grow, we categorize, separate and judge. This is our ultimate defeat.
The New Year was the end of an ancient calendar and the spark of a new celestial war. A pact formed 2000 years ago, now broken by the new cycle, between good and evil sides had now reached its stature of limitations. After the forces of good won a war over the ownership of this world, the arms of evil were obligated to sign a treaty; a treaty that stated the earth would belong to good for 2000 years. Under a loophole, evil was still allowed on the earth and was very able to express itself. With the birth of Jesus Christ, a new eon began and 2000 years later, the earth fell into an unbiased zone, awaiting the winner of the new war to take rule.




Prologue
Bright and lit streets were swarming with hundreds of people pending for the New Year. The night was a correspondent’s dream, as people flocked the streets hoping to get a glimpse of the traditional dropping of the ball in Time’s Square. Fanatics dressed in glasses, hats, and other headwear expressing their theories of the oncoming year. The entire audience shuddered, and reporters alerted their cameramen as electronic numbers appeared on the vast screen. Together the crowd chanted, “Ten!” The huge silver ball began to plummet down its pole. “Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” The screen flashed the number one as the sphere reached its end. “Happy New Year!” they shouted in unison, throwing their hats and liberating hugs and kisses to perfect strangers. Confetti poured from the sky and they welcomed it with cheers and signs of affection.
Dana’s brown eyes teared as she took hold of the scene that unfolded before her. On her knees, she was last in line. There were 3 other girls to the left of her and 3 other men that stood beside them. The first man drove a chill down Dana’s spine as he took a step forward, lugging his gagged woman behind him. Dressed in an ivory robe, his hair was shoulder length and white, his lips were thin and his nose was long and bony. The girl looked as young as Dana, just about 15, and her large blue eyes were red in strain of crying. “I am Odium, I bring a virgin from the North.”
Dana didn’t understand a word of English, but her brown ears still listened between whimpers.
Throwing her polished blonde hair backward, a spectator advanced. Eyes like blue enchanted diamonds atop rosy cheeks and perfectly painted lips. She wore a pink sweater above a white shirt and a blue cardigan tied around her shoulders. Giselle shined a flawless grin as she daintily crossed the floor. Opening Odium’s hand, she placed a golden cross in it, moving it upside down.
“Over this death I do prophecy that families with the strongest holds shall loathe and kill one another under the sway of the Horseman of Strife!” With that, he raised the cross high above his own head, and then brought it down into the neck of the virgin. The pain was so great she was voiceless. Dropping the girl he opened his mouth revealing short sharp teeth. He let a droplet of blood fall from the cross onto his tongue.
“With my wounds, I sacrifice my body to the root.” Odium ran the sharp edges of the already bloody cross on his left wrist. He passed the weapon to the fallen angel, Giselle, and she passed it to the Hallowed One, who licked the cross clean.
Odium lifted his hood and placed his palms together before him. An image of a thick-faced demon appeared, its skin was milk white and bald, two blackened strips were strung across the cheeks of it, under gray eyes and above small pointed teeth. As the face faded, a huge bubble lined with a white light appeared before him. Out of it stepped a white horse and on its back rested a long bow with long-stem arrows at its side.
The man in a red hood took a step forward out of the line, lugging a Spanish woman at his side. His wild red hair matched his dangerous red eyes, “ I am Bellum, I bring a virgin from the West!”
Giselle handed him the cross.
Bellum held the cross over the tan-skinned woman beside him. She struggled until the strip of cloth around her mouth ripped and she screamed. The sound pushed pins in Dana’s soul and she refused to watch. “Over this death I do prophecy that hot blood will run through the veins of all that live and neighbor will turn upon neighbor under the sway of the Horseman of War!” The woman continued to cry and scream in Spanish as Bellum shoved the golden cross into her neck. As her eyes bulged, Bellum lifted the cross above his head and drank the few drops of blood that fell. “With my wound I sacrifice my body to the root.” Like Odium, Bellum slit his left wrist with the cross then passed it on to the Hallowed One for his blood to be drunk. Bellum put on his red hood and placed his hands palm-to-palm before him. A waving image appeared over Bellum’s face; the skin of this demon was red. A huge, rapidly wiggling opening appeared before him. Out from it stepped a red horse and on its back was a large Roman sword.
The third man dressed in black took a single step forward, tugging an Asian girl behind him, “A quart of wheat for a day's wages, and three quarts of barley for a day's wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!” Dana’s eyes widened. She didn’t understand English but she knew he said something different from the others. Smugly, the man continued. “I am Fames, I bring a virgin from the East.” He was handed the cross. “Over this death, I do prophesy that mothers shall smile at the deaths of their children. For there will be not a grain of wheat to bud, nor a tree that will bear a single fruit under the sway of the Horseman of Famine.” He drove the golden cross into the neck of the Asian female.
As she died, Fames slit his own wrists, declaiming, “With my wound, I sacrifice my body to the root.” He handed the cross to the blonde woman and she passed it on to the Hallowed One. Fames placed his black hood over his head and placed his hands palm-to-palm before him. The shimmering image of a black-skinned demon with dark eyes and even darker strips painted over his cheeks appeared above Fames’ face. As it faded, a bubbled lined in black became visible and out of it stepped a black horse bearing an unbalanced weighing scale made of pearl and marble.
Dana’s heart dropped in her chest as she realized she was last in line. Her huge brown eyes looked up to the man dressed in a pale yellow that was only slightly darker than his unhealthy skin. This man was slender, and his sickly yellow eyes bulged out of his head. He took a step forward and dragged Dana behind him. She was unsure there were any tears left in her. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. “I am Mors. I bring a virgin from the South.” Dana squealed in total horror as he was passed the upside down cross.
“Over this death, I do prophecy that death shall be the outcome of the others. Neither man, woman, nor child or beast shall escape under the sway of the Horseman of Death.” Dana knew what came next. Her bound hands grabbed at her yellow African dress as if to distract the inevitable. She had given up all hope. She knew she was going to die. Closing her eyes, she began to recite an old prayer her mother once taught her, before she felt the sharp edge of the cross jab into her neck.
Her eyes dislodged and her mouth gaped open as pain trickled through her body. The corners of her eyesight began to fade as she felt her life slipping away. Mors lifted the cross and let her blood drop into his mouth. “With my wound, I sacrifice my body to the root.” He slit his wrists and passed on the cross. Placing the hood over his head, he moved his palms into a praying position as the image of a muscular-faced demon appeared over him. The demon’s face faded and a new bubble lined with yellow revealed itself. Out of it stepped a sickly pale horse and on its back stood a thin smaller Roman sword.
“The positions you have just taken should not be engaged frivolously…” the Hallowed One spoke. “It is a vow that extends your physical existence and destruction. Your jobs must be completed…As they shall be ensured by my blessings and the celestial exalt of my touch.” Each of the Horsemen touched the right sides of their necks as they could feel a hot thumb being pressed upon them, leaving the mark of a black horseshoe-like symbol tattooed forever on their necks.
“May the Four Horsemen bring us through the light and into the darkness! The two thousand years of morality has ended! Now it’s our turn,” the Hallowed One recited joyfully as the men mounted their horses. A homely slave walked about the room passing out glasses of red liquid. The Hallowed One lifted his glass and continued to speak. “Now we will get drunk off the blood of saints! Let these four thrive!” In the order of which they presented, the Horsemen exited the room upon their horses in a clap of thunder.
“Come!” they yelled as they departed.




La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End