Michael: Last Angel of Earth
Awakening

“AHHHHHH!” screamed Barjon. His cry echoed throughout the room. As his eyes darted everywhere, he realized he was not on Earth anymore. One would say that he was in a temple of some sort, a white chapel. Slowly getting up off the ground, he noticed he was not wearing any clothes except his pants. Looking around, he found an old monk robe on a nearby pew. Picking it up, he dressed and explored the rest of the temple. He discovered that the temple was much larger than it appeared wherever he was. However, he began to notice that there was none else inside. Then, he heard what seemed to be the sound of a tea kettle whistling in the kitchen. Following the direction of the noise, he entered the kitchen and found himself in the company of the only other person in this place, wherever he was.

“You’re in the wrong place,” said a voice. Barjon turned his head and saw a cloaked man by the kettle. He couldn’t see his face, but he saw the outline of a white beard that was neatly trimmed.

“So it seems,” replied Barjon. Taking a seat at the table, Barjon grabbed a cup as the older man piqued himself and Barjon a cup of tea. Blowing on his hot drink, Barjon took a sip of his drink. He let out a comforting sigh as the tea reminded him of his home back in Ireland.

“The tea is delicious. I can taste all the ingredients,” he said.

“The ingredients are not what gives the tea its flavor,” chuckled the old man.

“What do you mean?” inquired Barjon.

“Yes, the tea has all the necessary ingredients, but its strength comes from balance.” As the older man placed his drink down, Barjon saw the man’s arm and noticed a familiar tattoo.

“You’re an Angel?” asked Barjon.

“I am,” said the old man.

“Then you must know about the Tomb of Azrael, then? It is the key to help me set things right,” stated Barjon.

“Hmm, the first I’ve ever heard of it,” said the old man stroking his chin.

“I need to enter the temple. I need it to defeat the army of darkness,” exclaimed Barjon.

“What you need, you already have. Unfortunately, you seem to be letting it all go.”

“That’s fortune cookie nonsense! He knows where it is! He won’t tell you!” stated a familiar voice. Somehow, Barjon’s Shadow had followed him to this place. The Shadow sat right next to the former angel; his expression was twisted and angry.

“Please...you must tell me,” begged Barjon.

“That is something you must earn,” replied the old man

“EARRRRRRRN?! After EVERYTHING we’ve done, everything we’ve BEEN THROUGH?! The death, the loss, the suffering?! WHO ARE YOU TO DENY US WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS!?” yelled the Shadow. Before the Shadow could strike the man, he felt his armed pulled

“Enough,” said Barjon. His voice was sound and confident. He had grown tired of his Shadow. “We have lost our way because of you.”

“ME! I HAVE KEPT US ALIVE ALL THESE YEARS!! He’s the enemy here. He knows where it is!” yelled back the Shadow. The two glared back at one another.

“No...I’ve let you consume me for far too long,” stated Barjon.

“You are as weak as they say!” The Shadow punched Barjon in the face, knocking him off the table and onto the floor. Barjon wiped the blood from his nose and charged at him. The former angel and his Shadow wrestled with each other, but Barjon was on the losing end of the fight. The Shadow knew all of his tricks and attacks. He could not beat him in an open battle. Throwing the former angel across the room, Barjon coughed up blood and started back at his Shadow, who had grown in size, now towering over him. His appearance was that of a black tentacled monster with many heads.

“Give up! I am your dark side and possess all the power you wield. You cannot win!”

Barjon stood up and was about to fight his Shadow once more until he remembered something the man had said not too long ago. He then began remembering all the moments that led to this. All the vents that had shaped him. Lowering his hands, he then did something unexpected. He knelt.

“You are right. I cannot beat you because I have already won the battle. You lost,” he said softly.

“What!?” shouted back the Shadow.

“It is true; you are my inner demon. You were born from my hatred during my years of isolation and isolation. And during those years, you kept our past hidden. You represent all my anger and frustration, but now my hatred is gone. You no longer exist,” he said.

“You think you can get rid of me so easily?! I am more real than ever!” The Shadow readied a punch and was about to throw it at his kneeling enemy, only to vaporize it into dust. The Shadow gasped in fear.

“You have blinded us for years, but now I can see clearly. I no longer need you. NOW BEGONE!” yelled Barjon. Suddenly a flash of blinding light came over the Shadow. The purity of the light began to vaporize Barjon's darkness piece by piece Until he was nothing more than a head. Before his demise, he pleaded for his host to stop.

“YOU NEED MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” Barjon paid no attention to the shadows’ cries. Then, the Shadow was gone, truly gone. With the light fading away, Barjon released a heavy sigh of relief. Years of torment, anger, frustration, and negativity were gone. Tears began to fall down his cheeks, but these tears were joyous. He was now free from his darkness. Wiping his eyes, he got back up and returned to the table, where the older man was still drinking his tea.

“Now you are balanced,” smiled the old man.

“I am. Thank you,” replied Barjon. “I finally understand. What you said about me having all that I needed. It was balanced. I needed to be whole to access the temple?” The old said nothing, but Barjon swore he saw a smile underneath the hood.

“So what happens now?” asked the old man.

“For a long time, I have neglected my angelic duties and oath since that day. I thought I could make amends by hiding, but I was wrong. That is not Holiness. Holiness is in right action, courage for those who cannot defend themselves, and goodness. Those actions stem from our hearts and minds and what we decide to do daily to be a good man.”

“And what does your heart tell you?” the old man inquired.

“I need to put aside Barjon and become who I always was, Michael, the warrior.” The older man smiled and asked Michael to walk with him. They returned to the main hall, where the white doors were opened. The older man told him that if he walked through those doors, he would return to the world of the living.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Michael nodded his head.

“It is my sacred oath to protect humanity. You taught me that, Metatron.” The older man smiled and embraced his pupil in one final hug

“Then you are ready. Go save the world, Micheal.”

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