The Demonic Virtue

By Knial Piper II

This book is more than a story, more than a fable, and more than a book. This is the tale of all tales. Call it a myth, but it is respected all the same. This is the journey of Atopher, without which none would be. The Creator, the Christ, the Antichrist, Archangels, Demons, Judgment Day and more are included within these pages. The stories of other holy books are written herein, but a true accounting and dual perspective is provided. All events inked on these pages are historic and all characters are real beings. From ancient civilization to space travel, embark with the fallen angel as he bears witness to it all! Let the words herein take hold of you. Read in the light, but beware: where there is light . . . there is also darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984586162

Book preview

THE

DEMONIC

VIRTUE

KNIAL PIPER II

Copyright © 2020 by Knial Piper II.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/29/2020

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

I   Creation

The Descent

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

The Mountain

8

9

10

The Cave

11

12

13

The Serpent

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

Man

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

II   Chaos

The Desert

1

2

3

4

Paradise

5

6

7

8

Sodom

9

10

11

12

Hell

13

Ancient Egypt

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

III   Order

Long Lost Brother

1

2

3

4

5

The Death of Angels

6

7

8

9

Rome

10

11

12

13

14

Jesus

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

The Dark Ages

28

29

30

The Western Frontier

31

32

33

The Bullet Catch Trick

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

IV   Destruction

Revolution

1

2

3

4

The Antichrist

5

6

7

8

9

The Apocalypse

10

11

12

13

Defeat

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

In Pursuit of Light

21

22

23

Fin

Epilouge

1

To my family, friends, and fans.

You are all one in the same.

Thank you.

Without darkness, there is no light.

I

CREATION

The deadliest foe to virtue would be complete self-knowledge.

– F.H. Bradley, Aphorisms.

THE DESCENT

1

Atopher spread his wings and frowned as he gazed down over the clouds. They lay gently in the light as harmonious chords swept forth upon the breeze. Small rivers ran wild under the cool wind.

What is so miraculous about clouds? he asked himself. The other angels were laughing in the silver streams of Heaven. Feregy tossed some water up onto Damballa who smiled and covered his face with his hands.

Come play in the river with us, Atopher! Gabriel implored gleefully from the shore. Atopher only stared at them. His eyes squinted to cast a dashing stare on their bodies.

Fools, he muttered.

He scowled, and with one sturdy flap of his feathered appendages he took flight over the foolish angels. He followed the stream to the end of the cloud’s side, chasing the metallic stream of water falling into a pool below. The water had collected in a crevice of the supporting cloud and reflected the light in many magnificent splendors. Atopher found the reflections of light troubling and burdensome to his eyes. It nearly blinded him. Annoyed and distraught, he landed softly into the plush cloud, and knelt beside the pool.

Atopher stared into the liquid. He saw his own reflection. He looked into the eyes staring back at him. They looked black and empty. As he gazed at the pond, a second figure appeared over his shoulder. It was a fellow angel named Janel.

Janel was beautiful and golden-haired like Atopher. His skin radiated a bright golden aura. Brilliance and exuberance graced his every movement. His brows caved at the sides to display his compassion for the kneeling angel before him.

Atopher, what do you see in your reflection? Janel asked carrying the same concern laced now with genuine curiosity. Janel laid a gentle hand to Atopher’s shoulder. The touch relaxed him. His wings fell asleep against his back.

I see myself. The moment passed with no movements from either angel. Atopher’s eyes hardened their stare.

You see love, Janel confirmed.

No. I only see myself, Atopher responded blankly. The water remained unmoved.

Janel’s hand slid off Atopher’s naked shoulder and fell limp at his side. Janel looked at his empty palm and shed a tear for his brethren. He wept for this brother angel. A deep feeling that was foreign to him came in waves.

What is the point of all of this? Atopher questioned, still staring at his own reflection. He dipped his hand into the pond. Slowly one finger followed another until his entire hand was submerged in the pool. The ripples spread and distorted his image. He lifted his hand and cradled the silver liquid. He watched a few drops run loose of his cusp to return below. Atopher opened his hearty fingers and lifted his palm upward. The water slipped forth. It escaped his palm by way of several mini-falls through his fingers. The ripples multiplied and the yellow Light From Yonder lost its place in the ruffled waters of Heaven.

What do you mean, Atopher?

Why are we here? He asked, as if he had repeated himself with no desire to do so. He glanced back angrily at the puzzled angel standing behind him.

We are here because The Creator loves us, Janel’s words were slowed by apparent confusion.

I want to leave, Atopher said. The startled reaction to come from Janel would be gladly welcomed.

You do not know what you are saying Atopher. Janel was expectantly shocked. Shivers ran cold up his spine.

I know I am not happy. Atopher rose from his knees and shot his wings out, nearly striking Janel in the face. His stance was proud, and his being shouted dominance. Dominating the cloud. Dominating the air. Dominating the thoughts of the other sheep angels. He stepped around Janel and peered over the cloud’s ledge. He saw only more clouds, streams, and foolish angels. Nothing ever changed.

Was this all it would ever be? Was there more? Where was he? Where did this come from? Was there more? He felt the trumpets of his heart ring forth to his rising chest. A growth was rooting itself in his being. Desire bloomed. It felt liberatingly different.

What is down there… beyond? he asked expecting no answer that would squash his ambitious energy.

There is only Paradise. You worry me, Atopher. Janel responded meekly.

You have never wondered if Paradise ends? Atopher asked as his chest and wings lowered. His gaze became soft and he invited a debate. Janel delivered nothing of the sort.

Janel tried to place his hand back on Atopher, but Atopher jerked his shoulder forward and started away from Janel with disgust. He once more left the angel in his happy misery.

The idea of existing with such creatures sickened him. He did not desire compassion. He did not care for kind words. He absolutely despised the weak gestures made to try and console him. He was tired of being controlled. Atopher thought once more of power and adventure. His body grew warm, and the sensation brought his lips to a grin. The Light From Yonder cast a shadow onto the cloud as he stood tall, spreading his wings once more. He looked to The Light and challenged it.

I want to leave! Atopher shouted up toward The Light From Yonder.

That was the first time Heaven’s domain had heard such words. Janel watched Atopher drop his wings once more. His head sunk into the shadows crawling across his face. Atopher frowned as he gazed down upon the clouds below.

2

On the second rung of Heaven, Atopher tried to look up, but his own halo blinded him. Frustrated and feeling rejected for his lonely mutiny, he gritted his teeth. These feelings were punishment. Why was despair allowed in a place of perfection? He took a deep breath as he moved his focus to fleeing.

He stood for a long moment waiting for The Creator to stop him. That moment never came. Atopher closed his mighty wings and fell from the cloud. Locks of blonde hair waved over his neck and intertwined with the white feathers of his wings. He embraced the descent. Coolness engulfed him to his core.

He pointed his feet and forced his hands to his sides. Cloud after cloud, his speed increased. Every white, puffy mass and shimmering stream that lay in his way, he pierced like a speeding bullet. Pleasure brought itself forth by way of excitement. His tension was released. The feeling of relief developed alongside the rush of escape that shot through his nerves and into his blood. Angelic rebellion was the greatest pleasure he had ever experienced. He smiled as his brows caved inward. His eyes forced themselves shut.

A single feather ripped loose and floated away. Atopher relaxed his head and gently opened his eyes. There was a distinct feeling around his skin. He felt a familiar coolness that brought a new kind of uncertainty. He felt eerily misplaced in The Light From Yonder. The clouds were growing dark and the echoes of laughter were fading. The sounds of crashing waterfalls grew near. He was uncertain of what experience would unfold before him next. This fear both enlightened and troubled him.

Small beads of sweat collected on his golden-white skin and raced to his toes. Finally, he pierced Heaven’s veil through a ceiling of clouds hovering over a gigantic ocean. It smelled of dew in the early hours. The air was pleasantly chilled.

He could now see the ceiling of darkness above him, penetrated by narrow beams of light. Below him a vast ocean awaited, absorbing the waterfalls. He flapped his wings to parachute his fall and inverted himself above the water’s surface. The momentum suddenly stopped, but his presence released tides into the body of water.

The sea itself was dark. The ocean was littered with metallic splotches of colored oily film. He dipped a toe into the ocean only to immediately withdraw it. The water was sharp and freezing to his touch.

Curiosity beset him as he lowered his head to the water. Hovering horizontally on the water’s surface he saw no reflection, only a deep metallic black. He raised himself once more and noticed a mist dancing slowly across the water. It thickened in the distance. He was drawn into the uncertain density. Atopher followed toward whatever it was. The fog engulfed him.

He felt strong but lost. Lost in the haze, yet he continued on until the fog began to dissipate. Expecting to see more water as he emerged from the curtain of mist, he found only a tired shore. Gentle tides met the long sandy beach, which stretched into the distant desert.

He lowered his levitation and walked upon the grains of sand. It was cool and crept up between his toes. This was new. This was exciting. He knelt to press his palms into the sand. How wonderful this felt. How strange. He pulled his hands from the sand. In doing so, he witnessed what appeared to be a creature before him.

Upon the shore, not far off, lay a withered angel. Atopher approached the being. Standing over the sleeping angel, he noted how ill the angel was. It shook subtly and its shivers were received only as stale energy upon Atopher. The poor creature was without feathers upon its wings. Only a dry, webbed, black skin connected the wing’s cartilage extensions. Further examination revealed his graying skin was flaking off into ash upon the beach.

Atopher knelt in the sand once more. Looking down at the creature in the sand, he reached out a hand. His compassion brought him back to thoughts of Janel.

Brother, my name is Atopher. Are you okay? His voice was calm as he consoled the thing on the beach.

Before his hand reached out to touch the grey stranger, the shivering angel burst to life. He sprung up and back onto his behind. Atopher, being shocked, stood up quickly. The creature gasped for air, while digging his fingers into the sand. Both angels were frightened by one another.

Atopher attempted once more to confront and console the stranger. Yet upon his approach, the angel scurried backwards as his featherless wings dragged through the sand.

What happened to you? Atopher asked.

A short moment passed where no words cut the tension. After studying one another, the withered angel dashed toward the ocean. Just as his hands reached the water, Atopher managed to grasp the angel’s ankle with a deep reflexive lunge.

He wrapped his hand around the leathery skin and tightened his grip. The creature immediately turned toward him and revealed a layer of sharp teeth, empty eyes, and an evil hiss. Out of fear Atopher released his hand and the stranger disappeared into the dark water.

He gazed a moment at the ashes clinging to his palm. He dropped his hand to look at the shore where the sick angel submerged. A short while passed and the angel never returned. Only ripples in the water remained.

3

Atopher walked from the shore into the distant desert. Across the soft sand, he passed many miles, dunes, and thoughts. Am I still in Heaven? he would ask himself every few miles. Where does Heaven end? No one was around to hear him mutter to himself.

As he walked and pondered, he saw a large object, deeper into the desert haze. It had become very humid and the heat rose from the desert sands like a light steam from the ground.

As Atopher grew closer, so did the clear image of a gigantic rock wall, towering over everything. Heat turned cool. He could soon see the great massivity of the wall as he stood before it. He felt the chills of the cold uncomfortably envelope him. The same coolness rested in the sand below his feet, in the shadow of the wall.

The object that cast this shadow was made of solid rock. Atopher stood where the wall met the sand. He marveled at its size and dark radiance. He placed a single hand upon the wall. He could see no end to the wall in any direction. Its height and its length appeared infinite. Above him he could see a single storm cloud rubbing itself against the towering structure above.

This must be it… Where Heaven ends. He spoke under his own breath. Glory flooded his mind.

He pressed his hand firmly against the wall. He felt nothing. Nothing happened. He pressed both hands against the stone. Still nothing happened. He pressed his full weight into the wall. His feet sunk into the sand and still the wall did not move. Becoming frustrated by his ill-fated attempts to move the unmovable, he looked into the giant cloud above.

He flew upwards. The further he ascended, the further away the dark cloud removed itself from his grasp. He resisted that uplifting anger to push further. To his left and right, he traveled, hoping to find a crack or weak point in the wall. Instead of discovery, he grew tired after the wall refused to budge. Everywhere he flew and ventured the rock was consistently solid, immovable, and impenetrable.

Eventually he let his wings rest. He sat in the sand with his back against the wall. Staring out across the dunes, the sand shimmered in the light of the two sun beams now escaping the storm clouds overhead.

He stretched his arms across his knees and dropped his head into the crux of his arms as the cloud began to brush waves of itself against the stone. He buried his eyes, as he fell asleep. Angels do not dream, but in this moment Atopher did.

4

Atopher awoke to the sound of heavy thunder. His sleep was followed by the quick embrace of sudden alertness. His feet pushed into the sand and his hands sunk into the indentions of the rock wall. His wings flexed between his back and the stone, struggling to find space. His eyes shot skyward to watch the clouds fill with electricity. It was a marvelous illumination of intensity and power.

ATOPHER, a voice rang out.

He relaxed his brace; he knew who hailed him.

WHAT HAS BROUGHT YOU HERE? The voice shook the wall behind him. The sand shifted below his feet from the intensity of the vibrations.

Atopher would not be intimidated. He refused it. He stood in pride and struck forth his chest as he opened his wings to stretch them wide. While steadying his stance in the grains of sand, he tilted his head towards the sky.

Let me leave! He demanded. He felt inferior, but relentlessly fought against it.

MY SON, YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU SAY, the voice thundered.

Then let me find out on my own. He yelled confidently as he pounded his chest. Thud. Thud. Once more he stood his ground and without hesitation sneered at the clouds above.

The storm waged on, and in its magnificent bouts of thunder and lightning the ground shook. Lighting once again lit up the sky as a single stenciled bolt of lightning struck the wall. The heat from the strike melted the sand near his feet and stole the promise in Atopher’s stance. From the bolt’s impact came a rumbling and a large ferocious crack shot down through the stone. When the fracture met the sand, they exploded in all directions. Atopher raised his arms to shield his eyes from the bits of desert granules.

SO BE IT! LEAVE THIS KINGDOM! demanded the voice.

The ground continued to shake as the wall split in two. Then, like two massive ships parting from one another, the wall began to separate, leaving tumbling sand sinking in on itself at its foot. A narrow passageway opened form between the rock.

Atopher was startled that the moment of clarity was before him. The gap was filled with complete darkness. The darkness scared him. He dared not show weakness in the moment. Atopher proceeded into the passage with his chin held sternly forward and his eyes fixed on the darkness. Solid step after solid step, the light began to fade. He did not look back as the blackness engulfed him.

In the passageway between the stone, there was no light penetrating inward and no sand spilling forth. nothing existed but Atopher. Behind him, in the storm, the rock wall closed shut. Not even a fracture in the wall remained.

5

On the other side of the wall there was emptiness. His halo had grown dim; too dim to see what stood before his lonesome being. He used his wings to lift himself off his feet. Just as he took to hovering, he discovered the ground under his feet had likewise disappeared. He flew further into the deepness.

As he floated, he found that his halo had begun to die. Eventually the light extinguished. The darkness had won. He became a bit panicked at the predicament and flew forward in honest flight. In his shock, he thought, surely, he would come upon something soon.

Eventually he did feel something; like small pricks and pops surrounding him. All around him he felt bits and particles; strange energies. The energy pushed and pulled upon him ever so slightly. The experience made him disoriented. He looked behind his flight and could see nothing. He felt the same nothing within himself.

Ultimately a small white spark appeared. Here was something. Maybe something he could hold onto; something familiar. He dashed toward the speck in a hurried flight. As it grew closer he smelled a stained stench which had never before graced his nostrils. It was far from pleasant. An energy of some magnus power swept past his skin, like a quick wind. Before he reached the light, it multiplied into several specks, and then instantly into millions. All at once a strange force pulled him toward the light, only to once more throw him forth in a burst of indescribable brilliance. He had no ability to resist its grasp on him.

As the power took hold of him, changes in his reality formed. Segments of moments suddenly became like illusions, and then something else. He recognized the passing of time and the reality of spatial dimensions. Before he could bind his thoughts to the experience, the energy force released yet another burst. This second explosion was so powerful it ripped the wings from his back and sent him tumbling violently into space and time.

Tossed amongst the beams of light, energy, and sharp particles, the energy took vicious forms. Violent rays burned his outsides. Wild gravity pressed and pulled his extremities. He witnessed colored gases grow wide. In momentary lapses of time, they grew so grand they appeared endless. Their grandeur reminded him of the wall. Yet, just as soon as they were grandiose, they also ripped apart and tore open to form solid matter. Rocks rolled themselves into larger matter. In twirling clouds of vibrant light, the rocks crumbled and collided with one another. Ferociously, these chunks of matter struck the vulnerable ragdoll of an angel.

The collisions brought forth heat. They began to melt into one another. A single molten rock caught a pull on his being and sucked onto him. Another large mass smashed into the molten rock, sandwiching the angel in between. He nearly melted away between the energized masses. He attempted to reach forth and scream as he sunk into the newly formed rock coffin, but the pain of burning was so unbearable he failed to draw a single breath.

Atopher was not well-experienced to such sensations as those called painful. Paradise had no such things, but he was far from there. His rotting skin and burning hair filled his nostrils with another unpleasant stink. He felt a deep darkness within him as he fell unconscious.

Feeling useless, he stopped resisting the shell forming around his body. The chaos consumed and paralyzed Atopher. Struggle was hopeless. He truly was powerless. He refused to admit this, but it was so. As he slipped into a coma, he let out a sigh and closed his eyelids. He could not help, but physically surrender. Frustration, and fear filled the rock cocoon.

6

The darkness swung and swirled around breaking waves of light. The spherical prison of the lone angel rolled with these waves. Carried across the engulfing black ocean by the effectual energy, his destination was unknown, for the path of travel was non-existent.

Alone in the rock after many ages, the young angel stirred. His consciousness returned for the first time. Two hard eyes worked their lids open to meet the blackness. He felt for his halo that once sat above his head. It was still missing. There was only blackness. It was not the same black nothingness he had experienced before. This was a darkness that was truly black. He could see its vibrant color. It felt amazingly significant. It felt warm.

The aches and pains burned his joints. He forced his arms out into the crumbling stone. He stretched his knees to the same result. He had enough room to move, but not enough to be freed. Confined to the prison he snarled and recalled the incident of the white spark. He pondered the crack in the wall. And he hated The Creator.

He rubbed the ashes from his face and looked about the cavern. There was a burning glow keeping him company. Above his head sat a single red dot. It was a hot ember. Atopher could not move his hand to touch it. The warmth was coming from this small ember. He looked down at his cramped being and blew a sigh of anguish. At his breath the ember reacted. Looking curiously at the dot, he prepared for it to explode as the white speck had. After a moment he gathered a breath and blew on the ember again. It sparkled again, morphing yellow to orange. Then it cooled back to red. He did this several times, and the ember grew larger with each breath. After enough breath he managed to turn that small dot into a ceiling of fire.

The rock was crumbling into smaller embers that fell and scarred his skin. He felt the weakness in his prison’s walls and thought of forcing his hands into the painful mess. So he reached up from his coffin and plunged both hands into the soft molten rock. Immediately a pain like no other shot through every fiber of his being. He screamed as he ripped the ceiling apart. The embers fell on his buried face. Blindly, he pushed mercilessly through the pain and through the fire.

The ensuing events left his beautiful visions of control and power over circumstances in ashes. Wingless and swollen, he emerged from his fiery grave. He pulled his body to the surface and across many more burning coals. Ash rained from the sky and smoke filled the air. Every breath he took burned and enraged revolt in his lungs.

He rolled into a pile of ash and wept. A volcanic burst in the distance shook the molten floor below him. Hopeless, helpless, and so utterly alone he laid on his back in the filth and fire. He burned as he watched the skies turn black.

At first the smoke was low and grey, but now it had risen into a thick black sheet that blotted out his vision. It sealed the rock planet. As the sky set fire and the smoke blanketed the space above, Atopher fell uncomfortably asleep in a bed of rising embers.

7

Once more, many ages passed. The angel’s body began to harden under the soot and ash. The small rock that once imprisoned him found solace around another white spark that guided its orbit. This spark was more steadily burning and growing. The chaos continued in pattern as the weary traveler rested.

His sleep was long and deep. Upon awakening, his desperate yawn was cut short by the inhalation of smoke. A coughing fit ensued. As he began to move about, his skin ripped open and bled as his movements stretched the dried skin apart. Never had such unpleasantness been his to beget. There had never been fire or ash in Heaven.

Why would The Creator allow such agony? He asked himself. Was this punishment for leaving the kingdom? Atopher was angry yet accepting, for while this existence was wretched, it was certainly not Heaven. He had asked for something more than what he had, and this certainly was something.

The skin of his eyelids ripped open during his flood of thoughts. His eyes were bombarded with light. Beams of light carved themselves into his stare. He groaned and tried to cover his eyes, but the pain prevented this movement. A tear fell from his eye to the embers below.

The soles of his feet had developed calloused skin to shield the fire from eating them alive. Fire and heat scorched the land before him. All was aflame and the sky still rained fire. He rose from his bed of blood, ash, and smoldering embers. He looked up to see his halo had not returned. Depression overtook him and he grew angrier.

The once golden skin was swollen, bruised, burned, and red. He looked continually toward the sky. For a moment he wept, then tears poured from his eyes to evaporate before they could leave his face. The desire inside him brought him up to gather his anger and stare righteously at the burning sky. The fire now felt as though it were inside him.

Finally, he shouted, What is this! Punishment for freedom? Punishment for desire?

He waited for a reply that would never come. Only silence.

The distorted creature now dropped his chin to his chest in defeat. It was the powerlessness he had to accept. In utter and complete defeat, he dropped his hands and let go of all ambition he had once held up against The Creator and The Light From Yonder. The resentment boiled inside him. It burned his throat and he felt it was ready to escape like a great ball of fire. As though the entire existence of his being was crawling out from inside him, he let it go. he let everything go.

He exhaled his anger and a fury of cold air rushed forth from his mouth. His breath froze the land. The fire was extinguished by it. The volcanoes died under a layer of frost. It was not long after this, frost blanketed the land. The smoke cleared from the sky and heavy clouds took its place. From these clouds came snow. A strange concept, snow was to the tired angel. It had all happened so fast. He was not completely sure what exactly had occurred.

This weather was all new to Atopher. Seasons did not occur in Heaven, for Heaven was free of change. While the falling snow felt refreshing, the driving blizzard quickly brought him to desperate despair. The wind was his enemy and the blanketed floor was far greater than a mere annoyance.

After several days, the freezing temperatures nearly drove him insane. Wishing for death to come but finding no end in sight he retreated from the land, only to find much of the same. It was funny to him, how the fire he once cursed was a memory he now invited to his reality. He now sought shelter in the same warmth he had just escaped, but it would not return. Returning to Heaven would never be an option for the stubborn angel.

The snow rose in layers, up to the swollen burns on his thighs. Movement became difficult as his knees and energy folded all at once. He stared angrily at the clouds delivering the snow. They reminded him of Heaven. He knelt under the driving snowflakes as he raised a frozen hand to the sky.

What is so miraculous about clouds? He muttered.

He could no longer continue. The loneliness inside him was growing as the physical pain pushed him down. He finally fell face first into the snow. Breath turned to ice on his lips. His eye lashes froze together, thus sealing his eyes shut. The snow buried his body as time wore on.

Nature stood still beneath the starlight. Years passed, then decades, then centuries. After all this time, the snow melted, and the planet filled with water. His body remained through it all, as did his desire to remain free from The Creator. Such was the heart of the angel, that no matter the pain and agony that this world brought, he would carry on, and do so with dignity.

His body remained in the now forming oceans. The motionless corpse floated across the waves. He opened his eyes, but his body was too drained of energy to move. He just relaxed in the water and felt its pull. Gentle and soothing, he let the water take him where it might. He enjoyed the pleasantness of the waves and