Humans believe that each and every one of them has a
guarding angel. Most of the time I wish I was a guarding
angel, for a young virgin, who regularly says her prayers
and dreams of a charming prince, or for a romantic poet, who
dreams of a young virgin. But not to be a Guard for those.
My name is Uriel. This story began in such ancient times,
that the mere amount of eons will drive any mortal mad.
Great fear nests in my ethereal heart; it tells me the story
is rolling toward its dreadful conclusion.

Did I exist before Time? I do not know. Matter starts to
exist when it becomes aware of itself. "I think, therefore,
I am", as a man put it. Was there God? Is there God? I do
not remember him. In the beginning it was as if all the
beautiful and chaotic Universe abruptly came to life, in
attempt to create layers and lumps of primal Existence. That
is the reason why, when you make an anagram from the Hebrew
word "yakum', which stands for "Universe", you get "kiyum" -
"Existence". Anyhow, imagine a giant mechanism, activated
for a complex process. At first, it must produce few wrong
cycles, before it stabilizes. Forgive me for using human
terms, but all the angels and most of the Archangels
(including me) are so close to the human nature. Unlike
those, who were produced at the first cycles.

Also, not all the mortals were humans. I beheld development
and vanishing of truly monstrous civilizations, who cared
not much about logic, or laws, or moral. Their Cyclopean
structures still stand erect on the wounded Earth, on
scorched Mars, on venomous Venus, on grim Saturn, on other
doomed planets. Their millennia were of untamed madness, a
revolt against the Creation, with endless nights of wild
dances and chants around gigantic fires, into which corpses
of prehistoric lizards were sacrificed. Faint traces of
these anti-human religions somehow penetrated into mankind,
and since its beginning people worship Dagon and Wendigo,
conduct orgies in the names of Pan and Nodens, propose their
sanity and freedom to Azathoth and Baal, to Itaqua and
Balon, to the very elements of destruction and darkness.
Those forbidden names! How can an eternal being (if that is
what they are) be named without the word "el" ("god")
within? We all carry "el" as an essential particle of us.
Raphael, Michael, Azazel. Uriel. Satan is an exception, but
then again, He always was.

The dreadful part of this is the nights, that become more
and more frequent, when demented worshippers address to me.
They are influenced by the craziest idea, that not only do I
guard their admired Old Ones, but I command them as well. I
wish! They perceive the Abyss of Perdition as an enormous
prison, and I am the jailer, appointed by the government of
Yahweh. Leave me alone, you filthy pagans! Yes, I am the
Warder, but no one can control my Prisoners.

And sincerely, I cannot comprehend what still keeps them
inside the Klippoth. Ancient prophecies? Kabalistic
incantations? Black hole-like extreme gravitation? They are
swarming here, cursing, denying the Universe, arousing shock
waves of distortion, consuming every sparkle of light that
happens to fall into their ever-transforming jaws. Zoo of
evil gods. Picture yourself at least one of them coming to
Earth. They simply do not care about human will, human
culture. Exorcism, A-bomb, negotiations - nothing will work
against their paws. Imagine Shubb-Nigurath's tentacles
embracing the world until its suffocation. Imagine
Nyarlathhotep, the messenger, the Black Pharaoh, revivifying
what mustn't breathe from Egyptian tombs. Imagine
Yog-Sothoth descending from a bleeding rupture in the
heavens, his fanatics set towns on fire, celebrating the end
in caves and at lakes till self-destruction. For that is
what they are all about, Self-Destruction.

I guard them. I am the Watcher, the Keeper amongst
Archangels. This is my duty. This is my everlasting
nightshift. I fear for humankind when the shift will be
over. Although I was strong enough to guard the demons, I
will not be strong enough to observe what the demons will do
to men. Therefore, I shall flee to the most remote star and
hide inside its burning shell. Because eventually they will
come for me. The Battles. The Battles I do remember. Legions
crushing legions; anything serves as a weapon: talons,
wings, comets, galaxies, energies. I recall once, at the era
of Eksarphia, the good Shofti-Nuu fought the Great...

Something moved inside the Abyss. Of course, they always
move down there, but this one moved somehow differently,
making a loud disharmonic noise. Did they give life - if you
can call it life - to yet another monstrosity? I hear it
approaching my post. Silence again. The unbearable silence,
like a web these spiders place around me. Who's there?!
What's there? Stop at once!

It's Hypnos. He rules the Realm of Dreams. Sly and wondrous
deity, he has access to minds developed enough to see dreams
and nightmares. This noise he makes... Can it be?... Is it
to awake one of the dreamers?

One was left outside, on Earth's surface, in his unspeakable
and diabolic form. You're well aware who it might be.
Fhtagn, indeed. Ruins of perished R'Lyeh-city are his bed.
While oceans conquer continents and vice versa, he dreams
visions and images so powerful, that they are beamed
worldwide, reaching faithful believers. Since the beginning
of times believers know: "They shall return". Cthulhu will
announce the Apocalyptic comeback. His call will be cosmic
wind, blowing out the Sun, seeding insanity and violence
among the mortals, dragging anything good and bright left in
Universe into colossal, strangling whirlpool.

Uriel's work will be over. Nephilim will finish their
imprisonment, and they step on the human world, they will
take no prisoners. Read the prophecies, see for yourself.
From Alhazred to Lovecraft, they all foretold the fate.

But what is wrong this time?! I feel Hypnos's snake-like,
freezing smile of triumph. I hear... ROAR! Like thousand
volcanoes erupting simultaneously, myriad ghouls screaming
in pleasure of rebirth, the atmosphere is smoking,
electrified. Cthulhu call for his brethren, my walls cannot
hold them any longer!

Is there any star out of the reach of the Old Ones?