Soul Matters Volume Six: Bondage Battleground
Chapter 10

Sanoy returned to the pavilion and spoke, “Yahweh comes.”

The sisters faced the curtain and genuflected. Phil and Becky did so as well, and Yahweh glided through the curtains and into the room. Phil put a hand on Becky’s shoulder to steady her against the more powerful presence of a mask of God.

Yahweh spoke, “The wives of Sammael kneel before me. Is it mockery, Lilith?”

“No, Lord Yahweh. We are truly free to kneel to whom we please. It pleases us to accept your lordship. And we have a favor to ask.”

Lilith laid out her strategy. Yahweh would provide a broad platform of Light above his compound. It would serve as a launch pad for the sisters and their entourage. The sisters would project a column of Light to the Void. It would be like a tunnel they would fly through to their destination. Once in the Void, they would be safe from Sammael and his horde.

“Sounds good,” Manuel said. “Let’s go.”

They hustled to the pavilion entrance and floated as a group above it. As they did so, Phil turned to Becky.

“If you bring your rooted self to mind, you can get out of here now. I have to go through Manuel’s patio to get back to my body, but you don’t.”

“No,” she said. “I’ll see this through. You might need me again.” She grinned at that idea and took Phil’s hand.

Yahweh spread open his arms and Light flowed out to become a solid floor of blinding radiance. The dark angels approaching them fled before its brilliance.

The four sisters joined hands and a tunnel of Light sprang from them like a searchlight lancing into the sky. They bunched together and shot up through the tube to the Void.

Phil once read a description of the Void as a place where the Light was so intense it couldn’t be seen; hence, it appeared black. It made no sense when he read it. It made little sense the few times he had been here. This time, though, it made sense. The utter stillness was a product of intensity. The deafening silence was a product of all voices harmonized into one. All colors he remembered blended as light became white, but blended as pigment became black. The dark of the Void was the lack of differentiation through the unity of all differences. This was the Whole welcoming the All, rather than the Whole refusing the All.

The four sisters had long served the Whole which reclaimed individuality; whereas, Sophia promoted each man and woman’s journey home to the All. And each who returned here did so fully conscious of the choice and exquisitely aware of their journeys.

Phil didn’t know what this reunion of the sisters with Sophia meant, but he did know he must hold a firm intention while in the Void. To be here without purpose destined the unfocused mind to wandering into madness.

He gripped Becky’s hand and said, “Single-point your mind on the reunion of Sophia and her sisters. Don’t let your mind wander.”

“Okay,” was her soft response.

They followed the sisters up the tube of Light.

Phil felt Sophia’s approach. It produced an aching, a longing in his belly. He steeled himself and brought his attention to the four sisters. Then Sophia enveloped them all.

The ache in his belly gave way to a feeling of profound fulfillment. He relaxed as he heard the tinkling sound of her laughter.

“My Shadow is in the Light. How can this be?” Her tinkling laughter followed the question as well.

Lilith’s muted voice answered, “En Sof spoke unto us, ‘Let there be Light.’ But we are both of the Dark, Sophia.”

“And we both are mothers of the Light. We are trapped in paradox, my sisters, but this is true for all created beings,” Sophia said. Then she demanded, “Why are you here?”

“To renew our kinship and remember our purpose.”

The tinkling laughter resumed as Sophia asked, “Shall we join together, then? Shall we dance as One through the possible futures? Shall we play as we did when we were children? Shall we recreate ourselves from our Wisdom? Is this your wish, Lilith?”

“Yes. It is time to stir the pot and remake the world.”

The shift was subtle. Sophia already held them in her embrace. Now it felt like she melted through their skin and became one with every cell of their beings. Phil lost his sense of individuality, but he maintained awareness of his unique existence. His lifeline blurred as his ego dissolved, and he caught sight of all he could become. Rather than one road driven by the momentum of his history, a plethora of paths opened to him. Habit abdicated, in that moment, to choice.

The next thing he knew, they were all standing on the grass surrounded by the ruling council of heaven — Manuel, Phil, the four sisters, and Becky. The stern faces of the Sarim glared, unblinking statues of bureaucratic condemnation.

The council hall was again filled to capacity. The audience was equally quiet and disapproving.

Manuel moved first and addressed Metatron, “Well, I think Phil completed his mission.”

“No doubt,” Metatron drawled. “The consequences of it are reverberating through the seven heavens and beyond.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” the archangel asked with some doubt in his voice.

“Depends on whom you ask, Manuel. The immediate question is: what do we do with the four sisters?”

Lilith faced Metatron, “Give us our own compound. We will continue to spawn demons. Mankind needs them just as all men need ha-satan. However, our relationship to mankind has changed. We will now delight in man’s successes. We challenge him so he may become stronger. We shall no longer feed on pain and man’s weaknesses. Am I clear, Metatron?”

“Perfectly. It shall be done.” Metatron slammed down his gavel.

Phil glanced to Irin. He was smiling and flashed Phil a thumbs up. The council members around him were not so glib. Most looked worried.

“Let’s get out of here,” Manuel muttered. He grabbed Phil and Becky, and they flew back to the patio. Once there, the angel said, “So far, so good. Go home and get some rest.”

Then he turned to Becky, “You’re a natural, kiddo. Keep practicing. You did good today, but don’t let it go to your head.”

They left the patio and returned to their bodies, lying side-by-side on top of Phil’s bed. Pam was in the kitchen cooking chicken soup. The first sound Phil heard was the clanging of pots and the smell of the soup.

“You okay?” he asked Becky who nodded. Phil bolted for the bathroom. He did need to go, but he was really hoping Becky and Pam would work things out between them while he hid in the bathroom.

He flushed the toilet after he heard them talking and joined them. Pam and Becky were sitting at the kitchen table, each with a mug of soup. Phil glanced out the back window. There was still light in the sky. The stovetop clock said it was 3pm.

Pam looked his way, “I took off from work early. I couldn’t concentrate. Too worried about both of you.”

“She’s sweet,” Becky told him.

Pam blushed and jumped up to pour Phil a mug. Since there were only two chairs, Phil leaned against the counter and tested the soup.

“Well, how did it go?” Pam insisted as she settled back into her chair.

Becky smiled and breathed, “What a rush. You know I did die. It was such a peaceful process. But that place you put me -- it’s what meat must feel like when it’s getting irradiated. Intense. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“You died?” Pam exclaimed.

“Yeah. But Phil won a wrestling match with a redheaded witch.”

Phil grinned at Pam’s shocked look. Her face registered a kaleidoscopic series of emotions as Becky related the events.

She finished with, “Then, about the time I was getting acclimated to the place, we came home.”

“That’s quite the story,” Pam said.

“Or shared hallucination,” Becky laughed. “I’m still not sure how I feel.”

“I’m glad it’s over,” Phil said, “and I agree with Manuel. You did exceptionally well.”

“Dying helped. I mean, if the worst has already happened, what’s there to be afraid of?”

They chatted on, debriefing each other; Pam asked pertinent questions, until all the soup was gone. Finally, Becky left. She and Phil bumped fists as a parting gesture, and Becky whispered, “I like her. See you at the beach.”

Pam cleaned up the kitchen and followed Phil to the compact living room. They sat together on the couch.

“She’s got spunk,” Pam offered.

“Yes, she does. I’m glad we both made it through.”

“Is it over?”

“No. There are still Job’s questions, and ha-satan is the one who must pose them. If anything, it will get worse.”