A bright, full moon glowed overhead as the wind and mist continued their spiral dance under the midnight rainbow. In the distance, next to the Angel Oak tree, tiny voices interrupted the stillness of Heaven. The Ark Angels were too excited to sleep. “Do you think Lord Michael is awake yet?” Zamuel asked Micah. Micah shrugged his shoulders. He looked down at the ground and wiggled his toes in the moist, dew-covered grass. “Maybe we should go and take a peek, just to be sure” suggested Twinkle. Micah shook his head and sighed. “Lord Michael said he would meet us here in the morning. We need to wait.”
He walked to the back of the Angel Oak tree where he could be alone. All he could think of was becoming a Light Warrior. Nothing else mattered, not even the angel ark.
Micah felt ashamed for thinking this way yet he could not deny the yearning in his heart. He looked at his wooden sword and ran his hand over the scratched and dented blade. He recalled the stories Lord Michael told them under the Angel Oak tree – faraway battles fought most bravely by the Legions of Light. Lord Michael was not only the mightiest Light Warrior in Heaven but also the greatest storyteller!
Micah memorized each story in detail and spent hours every day re-enacting the battles with his wooden sword. But tonight he could no longer hide his discontent. “It was okay when I was younger.” He looked at the sword in his hand. “But I’m three years older now and it seems so childish. No true Light Warrior carries a wooden sword much less practices with one.”
The Angel Oak listened quietly as Micah continued to think aloud, unaware that he stood next to the most ancient of all oak trees under the Great Central Sun. Not only was she the oldest Angel Oak in all of Heaven, but she possessed magical powers. Her greatest gift was her memory. She could retain everything seen, heard, thought and felt with exceptional accuracy, and stored them within packets of Adamantine Light. Only the purest and highest angelic frequencies could open them.
Over the years, she watched Micah with great interest. Her trunk would sustain a random whack or two from his sword as he practiced. Micah apologized to the Angel Oak and tried to keep a safe distance. But as hard as he tried, he could not stop his imagination from transforming his surroundings into the battlefields spoken of in Lord Michael’s stories. Micah saw himself fighting alongside the Legions of Light. Unfortunately for the Angel Oak, anything within striking range was fair game.
The Angel Oak understood this all too well. For eons, she observed and recorded multitudes of angelic lights practicing under her branches. Each one aspiring to become a Light Warrior. She was accustomed to occasional blows and grateful the practice swords were made of wood!
But Micah’s sadness touched her deeply. It reminded her of another little angel in Heaven’s history.
The Angel Oak called up that holographic memory: an angelic light that practiced here long ago who once dreamed as Micah does now. But this little one was younger and a bit pitiful! Frail, shy and horribly uncoordinated, he could barely lift the wooden sword from the ground. And when he did manage such a feat, the sword would fall haphazardly upon him, hitting him squarely on the head and knocking him down.
After numerous failed attempts, this angelic light would run to the Angel Oak and put his face against her trunk to hide his tears of golden liquid light. The Angel Oak would extend her strong branches downward to gently embrace him and wipe his tears with her soft, green leaves. ‘Definitely not light warrior material’ thought the Angel Oak. ‘Perhaps he is better suited as an angelic scribe or gardener’.
Still this little light would not be bound. He showed up every day to practice. The Angel Oak was impressed. “He may not be much but he does have the heart of a warrior.” With the Angel Oak’s guidance, he made a pillow from her leaves and secured it to his head with vines to soften the blows. As time went by, this little angel became stronger, taller and more confident. His moves were now smoother, quicker and very powerful. He was fearless yet golden of heart. The Angel Oak was so proud!
When he was initiated as a Light Warrior, he returned to the Angel Oak to ask what he could do to repay her kindness. The Angel Oak thought for a moment and said, “When you journey through the Universe, promise you will return and tell your tales under my branches. I would love to hear them since I am unable to move from this spot. Also, I would enjoy having the angelic children gathered beneath me to listen as well.” The Light Warrior laughed with abandoned delight and hugged the Angel Oak. “That is an easy promise to keep and something I shall take great pleasure in doing!”
Many years have passed since then and the warrior stayed true to his word. Who would have thought this frail and pitiful little angel would one day be known as Lord Michael, Leader of the Legions of Light?
Micah was not aware of Lord Michael’s humble beginnings. The Angel Oak never shared what she knew without the proper angelic frequency.
Not ready to join the other children just yet, Micah sat down on the grass. He leaned against the Angel Oak and placed his wooden sword across his lap. Micah could only imagine what a Light Warrior initiation was like. ‘A light warrior initiation’ he thought. He closed his eyes and slipped into a dream:
Legend says that when an initiate passes the tests of Virtues, Attributes and Qualities, he is taken to a crystal pyramid at the bottom of Heaven’s Lake Louise. This pyramid, as well as the lake, is guarded by a fierce water dragon. The door to the pyramid can only be opened by a specific galactic song which is sung by Lord Michael himself. Inside are three chambers:
The first chamber is called the Hall of Swords. Thousands of swords – each unique in color, shape and size – are stored there. They have been forged with the Creator’s Light Force. The initiate enters the doorway and sees a winding path before him. The swords line both sides of the path – suspended in midair, blades pointed upwards. The initiate begins to sing his personal galactic song as he walks down the path between the swords. If the initiate’s heart is pure and his song true, one of the swords will begin to glow a most brilliant light! The initiate must then take hold of the sword, bond with its energy and telepathically command it to tone. If he is successful, the sword will tone loudly the initiate’s galactic song! Initiate and sword become one force. The sword will serve no other Light Warrior and will only answer to its master’s galactic frequency.
The initiate is then led to a second chamber called the Hall of Codes. Here attendants dress the warrior in fine robes made from prisms of light. His armor and helmet of pure platinum shines brightly. On the front of his breastplate is a large ancient symbol, etched with Light. The sword, forged in titanium, is then placed into a platinum sheath and anchored firmly to his side.
The initiate is finally escorted to the third chamber called the Hall of Covenants. Lord Michael and his Legions of Light await in full regalia. In the center of the chamber and flush with the floor is a large, round, royal blue sapphire crystal. The same ancient symbol that appears on the warrior’s breastplate is also etched into the sapphire.
The initiate stands upon the sapphire and thrusts his sword deeply into the middle of the crystal. Placing both hands on the sword’s hilt, the initiate kneels before Lord Michael and bows his head.
The Legions of Light position themselves in concentric circles around them. The Light Warriors on the inner circle place the tips of their swords on the perimeter of the sapphire crystal. The warriors on the outer circles place the tips of their swords upon the heads of the Light Warriors in front of them.
Lord Michael raises his Sword of Truth upward. Lightning bolts from inside the crystal pyramid capstone strikes its tip. An intense electric blue light now emanates from the Sword of Truth. Lord Michael places the tip of his sword upon the handle of the initiate’s sword and completes the circuit. The electric blue light flows through the Flower of Light and ignites each concentric circle therein. Lord Michael commands the Light Warrior to stand and raise his sword. The Legions of Light raise their swords along with Lord Michael. In unison they tone the sacred Sound of the Archangels.
The new warrior is ready to join the Legions of Light. A great ceremony is held to welcome him.
A gentle nudge wakes Micah from his dream. As he opens his eyes, he is startled to see Lord Michael sitting beside him.
“Nice sword!” Lord Michael says with a grin. “I can tell from the marks in the wood that you practice a lot.” Micah turned away. “It’s not the same” he said sadly. “It’s just a wooden sword. It will never be a real sword like what the Light Warriors carry.” Micah could no longer hold back his tears. His discouragement showed plainly and he felt ashamed to be crying in front of Lord Michael, the greatest Light Warrior of all.
Lord Michael placed his arm around Micah and hugged him tightly. “I think it’s time for a story,” he said softly in Micah’s ear. “Would you like to hear it?” Micah nodded then buried his tear-streaked face into Lord Michael’s chest:
“Once upon a time – long, long ago, there was this little angelic light, much younger than you, who wanted to be a Light Warrior. But he was awkward in every way imaginable. No one believed he could do it. Each day he practiced right on this very spot. Others would pass by to watch his feeble attempts to lift the wooden sword off the ground only to have it fall on his head. Quite pathetic! At times his head hurt so badly, he would cry into the trunk of the Angel Oak tree. But he did not stop for he knew he wanted to be a Light Warrior more than anything else in all of Heaven. As the years went by, he improved steadily. At last, he was ready to become a Light Warrior with the Legions of Light. Not surprisingly, the first piece of armor he was given was a helmet!”
Lord Michael could feel Micah laughing softly. He gently raised his chin and looked into his teary eyes. “That awkward little angel was me. Like you, I also became disenchanted with my wooden sword more times than I care to remember! I’m going to share with you something I discovered during my Light Warrior initiation that will give you encouragement. But you must promise not to tell anyone for this is a secret only revealed to Light Warriors. Can you do that?” Micah gave an eager nod.
Lord Michael removed his Sword of Truth from its golden sheath and held it up in front of them. It was brilliant, exquisite and powerful! It toned a deep, ancient sound – a sound Micah never heard before. All his attention was now focused on the sword. “Now, let me show you what it looked like before my Light Warrior initiation.” With a wave of his hand, the Sword of Truth transformed into a small, wooden sword with scratches and dents in the blade! Micah gasped! “It looks like mine! But how can that be?”
Lord Michael smiled. “It wasn’t until my initiation that I realized how important this simple, wooden sword was. You see, it was evolving and growing right along with me. When the time was right, it transformed into the light sword you see now. When I sang my galactic song on the day of my initiation in the Hall of Swords, it was there waiting for me.” Lord Michael gave another wave of his hand and the wooden sword turned back into the Sword of Truth.
Micah’s heart was filled with so much joy that he felt it would burst! He looked upon his wooden sword with astonishment. ‘I’m actually holding my future Light Warrior sword.’ He hugged Lord Michael and promised he would not share this secret with anyone.
They stood up and Lord Michael stretched his mighty arms towards the sky. The first hints of daylight were now cresting over the horizon. “So, young Micah, shall we have sword practice before joining the others?”
Micah looked lovingly at his wooden sword then placed it gently against the Angel Oak tree. “No” he replied with a big smile. “I think we have an angel ark to build.”
And so the journey continues…