Denisa surveyed the city she once called home; a place which had been heavily scarred by conflicts of old before the end began when the machine was awoken. Jerusalem was a shell of its former self, only the buildings upon the Temple Mount untouched by the disasters that had come in the twilight of man.
When the light had carried her here from her exile she found the place a pile of rubble. She never found out exactly what had happened while she was away, but she understood the P.L.O had been involved as they made a last-ditch effort to reclaim the capital they declared was willed to them by God.
Her followers told her of skirmishes with them that you could set your watch by; attacks beginning at first light and carrying on through the fall of darkness. The children of Israel had kept them at bay, using every implement they could lay their hands on as weapons to stave off their attackers.
She had been briefed about a pending assault when she arrived, but the fighters never came. No one could say exactly what had happened to them; they seemed to simply vanish from the Earth when God sent the one he called Mashiach back to his favorite sons.
Perhaps they had lost interest; given up the fight in realization of its futility... perhaps they had been wiped like a fungus from a counter-top from this plane of existence. It was hard to say; and it didn't really matter. The nights were quiet, now, and that was all that was important to the people.
With no looming threat, Israel set about rebuilding at the order of their appointed leader. Denisa didn't see much sense in putting brick to mortar when it seemed there was nothing worth living for any longer, but it kept the people occupied -- and was the order of God himself, as she understood it.
The voice from Heaven had been adamant; you must build Ezekiel's temple on the mount. The Mashiach didn't question the command, she simply directed that the Temple Scrolls be retrieved and the plans put to use in the construction of the building.
She had always been a fervent supporter of Zionistic ideals; but a devout follower of Judaism was something that she couldn't call herself with honesty. Denisa considered herself a level-headed person; one that respected others just as she hoped to be respected by them.
In sharp contrast to the beliefs of many around her, she could appreciate the wishes of the Muslim people... she could understand their contention regarding the construction of a temple where their own holy buildings stood. It only made sense to her; though their denial of the former existence of the First and Second temples was a mystery she couldn't comprehend. Why couldn't their peoples just agree to disagree while making access to the Mount universal?
Either way, it was what it was... a force beyond her reckoning had instructed her to do something, so she did it while making her best effort to see that the wishes of others were respected as well as possible.
She had the foundation of the temple laid as far away from the Al-Aqsa mosque as was possible, and she sealed the doors of the Dome Of The Rock to all but people of the Muslim faith - of which there currently were none among them. Had they simply showed up and asked to be allowed entrance to their sacred sites, she would have happily handed over the keys and set them on their way; assuming they were willing to accept the fact that the Third Temple would be built.
This wasn't feasible, though -- it never had been. If it were that simple, the Holy Land wouldn't have become the warzone that it had been for the whole of her life. She didn't understand why; but she knew it would likely never change.
For now, the temple remained unfinished. A greater challenge lie ahead; if the words of Jennings were at all true. The leader of post-apocalyptic Israel didn't doubt that they were, it seemed the Jewish people were constantly under siege; why should this day be any different?
The sky looked grim; overcast and foreboding, as it had been for quite some time. During the night a new star brightened the sky - the Rabbi's believed it was the light of God himself shining down upon them. The Christian priest who had visited informed them of its true nature.
It was the star of Bethlehem risen again to guide travelers to this place, though the intention was no longer to draw men who could be considered wise. The individuals closing on Israel this day were in search of a fight; and that's just what they would find.
As they had countless times before, her people prepared for battle. She listened as the Orthodox spoke the Amidah in Hebrew, the words as sharp as a razor in the context of the clash to come.
"Oh behold our affliction and wage our battle; redeem us speedily for the sake of Your Name, for You God are the mighty redeemer. Blessed are You Lord, Redeemer of Israel."
"Heal us, Oh Lord, and we will be healed; help us and we will be saved; for You are our praise. Grant complete cure and healing to all our wounds; for You, Almighty King, are a faithful and merciful healer. Blessed are You Lord, who heals the sick of His people Israel."
"Let there be no hope for informers, and may all the heretics and all the wicked instantly perish; may all the enemies of Your people be speedily extirpated; and may You swiftly uproot, break, crush and subdue the reign of wickedness speedily in our days. Blessed are You Lord, who crushes enemies and subdues the wicked."
Denisa broke off from the spectacle of the crowd gathered by the frame of Ezekiel's Temple and walked around the disputed Dome Of The Rock to enter her chambers, the Well of Souls. When she walked down the flight of steps that would lead her to her sanctuary, however, she was blinded by an incredible flash of light.
Shielding her eyes, the Mashiach stepped back into the daylight. The blinding wall of white flickered and flashed as something emerged from its brilliance -- something distinctly human.
The first figure clear of the glare was a large and strapping black man, a smaller white man wearing a large scare across his face following behind him. Denisa watched as a line of people walked towards her, chained together through their clenched hands.
They pressed forward despite her presence, moving by her as though she wasn't there until thousands had stepped through this rift in time and space and literally filled the whole of the Temple Mount when intermingled with those who prayed there already. No formal introduction was made, but it was clear that this was the Christian army promised to her by Cameron Jennings.
No greater sign of support could've come before her eyes; though she was told the army of Islam dwarfed them still in sheer numbers. If there was to be a hope of victory, this plan laid out by the preacher would have to stand for something.
Chapter 33