I'm The Devil - Chapter 267

Chapter 267: An Encounter With The Most High

“Enough bickering, will you?”

Cain’s voice cut through the air, sharp and authoritative, as he turned his stern gaze on the Nephilims. His frown deepened as he regarded them, the weight of centuries of experience behind his words. His posture was rigid, commanding respect as he spoke. The Nephilims, caught in their bickering, fell silent, their expressions momentarily chastened.

Celeste, usually calm and composed, shifted uncomfortably under Cain’s intense gaze. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something in her defense but thought better of it, biting back the retort that danced on the tip of her tongue. Aurelius clenched his jaw, his face twitching with frustration, but even he could not deny the truth in Cain’s words. Seraphina, still simmering with anger, crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her fingers digging into her skin as if to hold back her emotions. Her eyes narrowed, darting between Cain and the others, though the fire in her gaze had dimmed slightly.

Cain’s expression softened just a fraction as he saw that his words had struck a chord. His crimson eyes, still sharp and calculating, flicked over each of them with a look that bordered on pity. “Let this be a lesson,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less commanding. His frown relaxed slightly, but his tone carried the weight of finality. Without another word, he turned his back to them, his black coat billowing slightly as he began to walk away.

His progeny followed, each moving with a fluid grace that belied their predatory nature. Mabel, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, turned her head slightly, her steps light but purposeful as she cast a glance at Celeste. Her lips curled into a faint smile, soft but tinged with something enigmatic. “I hope we get to see each other another time, Celeste,” she said, her voice smooth, almost teasing, though there was a hidden weight behind the words. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes lingered on Celeste for a moment, as if she were already anticipating their next encounter.

Celeste’s face softened at Mabel’s words, though the tension in her shoulders remained. She gave a subtle nod, her eyes catching Mabel’s for the briefest of moments, and for a second, the weight of the encounter seemed to lift, replaced by a flicker of understanding between the two women.

The other vampires followed in Cain’s wake, their movements predatory yet silent, their faces a mask of calm, as if the oppressive atmosphere of Lucifer’s presence had not affected them at all. Each step they took was deliberate, their forms fading into the shadows with an eerie grace. There was no hesitation in their movements, only the quiet confidence of beings who had weathered countless storms and come out unscathed.

Cain himself walked with the assuredness of someone who had faced greater threats than most could comprehend. His broad shoulders remained squared, his steps neither hurried nor slow, but measured and precise, as if every moment was under his control. There was a regal quality to his departure, as if he commanded the very air around him.

As the last of the vampires disappeared into the distance, the Nephilims were left standing in a tense silence, the weight of their encounter settling heavily on their minds. Seraphina exhaled sharply, her hands uncurling from their tight grip. Aurelius let out a slow, frustrated breath, his eyes watching Cain’s retreating figure with a mixture of respect and irritation. Celeste, ever the diplomat, straightened her back, her mind already racing to find a way forward.

The threat of Lucifer loomed over them still, but for the moment, they were left with the echoes of Cain’s words, and the unsettling knowledge that they were not alone in their struggles.

Elsewhere

A man walked through the wilderness, the sun’s harsh light beating down on him. His face, weathered by years of tending sheep and wandering the desolate hills, was etched with lines of both age and wisdom. His steps were slow, deliberate, his sandals kicking up small clouds of dust with each stride. The staff in his hand, worn and smooth from years of use, tapped the rocky ground in rhythm with his walk. His thoughts were elsewhere, lost in the endless horizon of the desert, until something unusual caught his eye.

Ahead, there was a strange glow, flickering against the backdrop of the rugged landscape. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he drew closer to the source of the light. A fire—but not just any fire. There, before him, a bush blazed with golden flames, but curiously, the bush was not consumed. The fire danced and crackled, bright and wild, but the branches and leaves remained whole, untouched by the inferno.

His breath caught in his throat, and he took a step closer, his staff now forgotten in his grip as his eyes fixed on the miraculous sight. His heart beat faster, and a strange awe began to well up inside him. It was as if the very air around him thickened, charged with a presence he could not quite name.

“What is this?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile reality of the moment. His feet carried him closer, almost against his will, drawn irresistibly toward the flames that defied nature.

And then, from within the fire, a voice boomed, deep and resonant, shaking the very ground beneath him.

“MOSES, MOSES.”

The man froze, his breath hitching as he realized the enormity of what he was witnessing. The voice—the power behind it—was unlike anything he had ever known. He fell to his knees, trembling, his eyes wide with shock and fear. His name had been called—how did the voice know him?

“Here I am,” he stammered, his voice barely audible, the awe in his heart giving way to fear. He could feel his chest tighten, as if the very air around him had turned heavy with divine weight.

“DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER,” the voice commanded, firm and unwavering. “TAKE OFF YOUR SANDALS, FOR THE PLACE WHERE YOU ARE STANDING IS HOLY GROUND.”

The man, now revealed to be Moses, fumbled for a moment, his trembling hands reaching for the straps of his sandals. He quickly obeyed, pulling them off and setting them aside as he knelt in the dust. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing to comprehend what was happening. Who was speaking to him? What was this presence that made his very soul quake?

“I AM THE GOD OF YOUR FATHER,” the voice continued, the fire crackling and flaring with every word. “THE GOD OF ABRAHAM, THE GOD OF ISAAC, AND THE GOD OF JACOB.”

At these words, Moses’ face paled. He knew—he *knew*—who was speaking to him now. His hands flew to his face, covering it as he bowed even lower to the ground. He dared not look at the fire, dared not meet the gaze of the Almighty. The weight of divine presence was too much for him to bear.

“I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt,” the voice spoke again, gentler now, though no less powerful. “I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey…”

Moses listened, his face still buried in his hands, every word sinking deep into his heart. He could feel the weight of the responsibility that was slowly being placed upon him, and fear began to twist in his gut. He wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the dust beneath his feet. Surely, this task was not for him. Surely, he was not worthy.

“And now,” God continued, “THE CRY OF THE ISRAELITES HAS REACHED ME, AND I HAVE SEEN THE WAY THE EGYPTIANS ARE OPPRESSING THEM. SO NOW, GO. I AM SENDING YOU TO PHARAOH TO BRING MY PEOPLE, THE ISRAELITES, OUT OF EGYPT.”

Moses’ hands shook. He lifted his face just enough to speak, his voice filled with doubt and hesitation. “Who am I,” he whispered, his throat dry, “that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”

“MOSES,” God’s voice rang out again, more tender yet firm, “I WILL BE WITH YOU. AND THIS WILL BE THE SIGN TO YOU THAT IT IS I WHO HAVE SENT YOU: WHEN YOU HAVE BROUGHT THE PEOPLE OUT OF EGYPT, YOU WILL WORSHIP GOD ON THIS MOUNTAIN.”

Moses’ heart pounded in his chest, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. His lips parted again, hesitation clear in his eyes. “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?”

God’s voice thundered once more, each word a declaration of divine power and authority.

“I AM WHO I AM. THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE TO SAY TO THE ISRAELITES: ‘I AM HAS SENT ME TO YOU.'”

The words echoed in Moses’ ears, vibrating through his very soul. He slowly lowered his hands from his face, though his eyes remained lowered, still unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of the moment. There was no doubt now. He had been chosen by the God of his ancestors, chosen to stand before the most powerful ruler on earth, and lead his people to freedom.

God’s voice continued, outlining the plan, the challenges ahead, and the promise that lay on the other side. But Moses, even with the fire of the Almighty burning before him, could not shake the fear that gnawed at him. He felt weak, inadequate, utterly unprepared for the task.

“Lord,” he said, his voice wavering, “I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.”

The fire flickered, but God’s response was patient, though firm.

“WHO GAVE HUMAN BEINGS THEIR MOUTHS? WHO MAKES THEM DEAF OR MUTE? WHO GIVES THEM SIGHT OR MAKES THEM BLIND? IS IT NOT I, THE LORD? NOW GO; I WILL HELP YOU SPEAK AND WILL TEACH YOU WHAT TO SAY.”

Moses swallowed hard, still unsure, still filled with doubt. “Please, Lord,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper, “send someone else.”

There was a pause, a moment of silence so profound it felt as if the very earth had stopped. Then, God’s voice rang out again, now tinged with divine frustration.

“WHAT ABOUT YOUR BROTHER, AARON THE LEVITE? I KNOW HE CAN SPEAK WELL. HE IS ALREADY ON HIS WAY TO MEET YOU, AND HE WILL BE GLAD TO SEE YOU. YOU SHALL SPEAK TO HIM AND PUT WORDS IN HIS MOUTH; I WILL HELP BOTH OF YOU SPEAK AND WILL TEACH YOU WHAT TO DO. HE WILL SPEAK TO THE PEOPLE FOR YOU, AND IT WILL BE AS IF HE WERE YOUR MOUTH AND AS IF YOU WERE GOD TO HIM. BUT TAKE THIS STAFF IN YOUR HAND SO YOU CAN PERFORM THE SIGNS WITH IT.”

Moses, still trembling, nodded slowly. There was no more room for argument. The weight of the divine command settled over him, heavy but undeniable. He took a deep breath, his hand tightening around his staff. Though fear still clung to him, a new resolve began to stir within his heart.

He had been chosen.

And now, there was no turning back.