A Blaze in the Northern Sky

by Ian Krueger

Where the roots of the world meet the eyes of the saints, and the immortal lightning of existence crackles across the boiling incense-dark clouds

Here, I stand, my naked feet atop this pillar of bleeding granite-rock, my head flung back, eyes affixed to the sky. And I see, I see. I see the angels fall like meteors upon the surface of a soot-reeking earth, their bodies streaking molten across the sky and impacting with thunderous volcanic fury, judgement rising like a cinder and justice like billowing smoke.

But I am not watching for these.

I see the Seraphim tear forth from their mighty liquid-amethyst slip-gates, their warbling unmouthed voices ringing like hammer-blows as they declare Euclidean judgement upon the world, singular unblinking eyes burning amidst a whirling storm of steel and circuitry. I see the Cherubim, bearing down beneath a sea of shimmering salt-glass, and the Leviathan, writhing as he is struck by ten thousand blazing spears of glory.

I see a world in smoke. I hear the teeth-gnashing rage of the dark ones mixed with the cries of the saints, and the streets running red with blood. I see the innocent, dead, the pure, thrown to the gutter, the murderer, quaking with fear.

But I am not watching for these.

I stand. Rain is hissing down. It is a sweet rain, but it burns. With incense. With salt, with justice and glory. The sky is pitch-black. There is a single, distant thunder-boom. A tear trickles down my cheek and then, I know—

A single shaft of pure white light splits the sky. The clouds are divided as if by sword, the darkness flies back, the blaze tearing its way from the east, to the west, to the north, south, inescapable, undeniable. And across the world, I hear a cry of rage, of terror, of indescribable anguish. They see the light, the permanent, stabbing, blinding, eternal pain. But I see a man. A terrible, gel-eyed man of burning righteousness, the nations quaking beneath his feet, a double-edged sword coming from his mouth, and He looks at me with love.

Then He falls as lightning, and justice is swiftly done.

Ian Krueger is a young author from Minnesota who loves God, metal, sword-fighting and space marines. He also loves weightlifting, but his relationship with Jesus Christ is by far the most wonderful thing in his life.

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