THE SECOND SEAL IS OPEN

FROM THE SACRED:

SECOND SEAL

“You will not win,” Michael said in anger and confidence.
“It is not about winning,” Mantrella said quietly. “There comes a time when all gods die.”
“Die?”
“Fine, Michael. There comes a time when all gods move on, evolve to whatever they evolve to. For humans, it is the same thing as death. Once removed from thought, the gods are dead,” Mantrella said.
“And you think that you can remove the Elohim from human memory?” Michael laughed in a tone that was ridicule, not humor.
“When the god seed is awakened, your gods will die, Michael.”
“Ah yes, your precious god seed,” Michael sneered.
The darkness was limitless in this no place. The only light that shone was the holographic like images of these ancient adversaries. Michael felt drained since the inception of Adam. His powers worked but it took considerable to maintain what was once second nature. He was feeling uncomfortably and he was determined to restore himself to his former glory. He would slay this dragon, Mantrella, once and for all and place himself on The Throne.
Deep inside he knew that his gods had left him to fend for himself. It was his choice just as it was Mantrella’s to stay and complete this evolutionary round. These were the only two that had any real choice. They were the only two who had received complete free will. Most of the others were followers and the three of the four caught glimpses of freedom, but were easily swayed. Mantrella’s dominions were earning there freedom by working and learning through the ages the lessons that befell humanity. Those stayed with Michael were as the sheep following the herdsman, nothing more since they would not partake of the experience.
To a degree, Michael still held to the wishful thought that he was not alone. If he worked hard enough, perhaps his former masters would return and he would be glorified by his diligence. Until that time, he would continue to function in their name and ensure that the lamps would remain lit should they return. It was all delusion, but one that he refused to admit.
Mantrella felt that is time was nearing an end. He too felt a decline in his powers with respect to his abilities to affect the material world. Like Michael, his powers on the spiritual plane remained essentially in tact, but his ability to move freely and alter the material plane was diminished. Scant few would notice the reduction in ability but what was important was that he noticed. He felt that The Great Cycle was coming to an end and that he was not certain of his future path or if he even had one. If his plans came to fruition, Michael was not the only force that would become obsolete.
Over the millennia he had enjoyed his bouts with Michael. And, while his efforts on behalf of humanity were immensely frustrating to the point of near failure, he finally felt that this time, The Magnum Opus would be accomplished. Time, however, was not on his side. He knew what Michael was doing with the vaccinations but he held out hope that Michael’s efforts would fall short of the hundredth monkey.
“The god seed of Cain has been released from its bondage. The Pharaoh has let his people go and they have crossed the sea of blood and brought their seed to the New Land. They have endured much, lives filled with confusion, dashed hopes, false promises, lies and myths, despair and anguish,” Mantrella said. “Their hour approaches and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
Michael burst into hysterical laughter. “You and your pitiful humanity,” Michael said. “Give them pain and suffering and they have always chosen the easy way out. They quickly turn on one another. ‘Crucify, crucify!’ they shout. Turn a blind eye, walk away, take him and not me is their motto. Give them a god with a little savvy and a lot of might and they follow it to the ends of their own insanity.”
“Because of the likes of you!” Mantrella yelled back. “You create demons and devils and false hopes of redemption. You build them mighty temples and give with one hand and slaughter with the other. You have kept them separate and ignorant and give just enough to raise false hopes. You destroy their prophets and burn their seers. If they question you put them to the rack and crush all semblance of free thought. You give them a doctrine of poverty and offer riches in your fantasy heaven. Kill in the name of god and your treasure shall be immeasurable. You divide them and thus conquer them and tell them they have no responsibility but to be good sheep and to follow your demented dictates. No more, Michael. Your time, my time is at an end here. There dreams shall become the new heaven and the new earth and they shall rise past both of us. Remember, it was you that bowed down!”
Mantrella knew that he should not have said that.
“Enough of your misplaced preaching! You may have over turned the tables in the temple once, but not this time. You are under obligation and in this matter you have no choice,” Michael said in triumph.
With those words spoken, the Second Seal, the Seal of the Moon, was torn asunder. The flow of the Sacred River reversed its flow. The Light on the Hill flickered and died. The Tower that had been crumbling was now being rebuilt. Michael was right, if one chose to open a Seal, the world of duality gave the other no choice. The world would now experience more war, and life in the sea would begin to die. The door opening on one side was a door closing on the other.
Mantrella hung his head in deep sadness. The growing feeling of helplessness was a foreign sensation that contradicted his deepest nature. He knew that the opening of the Seals was not as portrayed his Michael’s version of the revelation. But he also knew that humanity’s energy centers were now being blocked and without release, almost anything could happen.
“Oh, poor Mantrella,” Michael said in a mocking tone. “Our little truce is no more. Consider your little band of would be saviors fair game.”
“That will be your undoing,” Mantrella replied as a grin spread across his face. With that said, Mantrella’s image began to fade.
Not sure why Mantrella was smiling he shouted into the growing nothingness, “It is your doing, Mantrella. Their heads are on your shoulders.”
In response, all he heard was a dissipating laughter, like a train whistle that fades with its passing."

AND YOU WONDER WHY PIERS ANTHONY LOVES THE WAKING GOD TRILOGY?