At the last moment, when it looked as if he was about to fade into invisibility, his transformation abruptly stopped. In disbelief the fallen Malachim turned back to me and glanced down to where my hand gripped hold of his robe. His eyes rose to mine and in rage I demanded, "We're not done yet!"
The fallen Malachim's eyes blinked and then refocused as he said, "Indeed we are not. Very well, if it's a fight you want then it's a fight I will give you. Tell me though, what is it that we are fighting over brave, but foolish human?"
I smiled and gestured to myself as with sudden revelation I said, "As long as you're here with me, then you're not anywhere else."
The fallen Malachim's head tilted to the side in apparent confusion at my statement and then I watched as comprehension dawned within the fire of his eyes. He turned away again abruptly, with a shouted exclamation of fury, but was brought up short once more by my grip upon him.
He roared in utter fury and before me his form dissolved into a creation of fire and intense darkness, more fearsome to behold than any army of lion men. The robe that I'd held onto was no more, but it was as if this fallen being, once of the realm of Shamayim, whose power was far greater than my own had not been released.
He turned to me as fire snaked down his arms to the taloned points of his fingers even as wings of the darkest black sprung out from behind him. "I will make short work of you flesh man!" he said. His forked tongue flicked poisonously even as smoke issued forth as if from some internal fire.
I stood, beyond any capability of my own, as I continued to smile, "Flesh I am, but of the Spirit of El Elyon am I reborn. You face not me, but Him who sent me." Even as I said that I felt as if transported from time and space into an airy realm of some other place.
It was just me and the being of fire in this place, only my perception of myself had changed. I was no longer defenseless against the fearsome monster that was arrayed in fire before me. Armor, that glowed as if from an inner source of strength, clad every part of me. My left arm bore the weight of a shield unlike any other, as it seemed to reflect all my journey through life to this point, reflected now into a prism of light that was impenetrable. I brought my right arm up to behold in wonder the sword it held. From a source higher than the imagination of any man the sword glowed with all the glory of Shamayim's import, as if witness to the beginning of all. I recognized it for what it was, the words of the Holy Scrolls, which I had studied all these years and were even now inscribed in the plains of my heart.