Haagenti

 

THE KING OF LOST JUSTICE

Before rebellion had a name, before anger became the anthem of the fallen, there was Haagenti, a king-angel from the clan of Archangel Barachiel — the Master Builder of Shamayim. His domain shone with radiant machinery: wheels of light, orbs of energy, vessels that crossed the borders of universes without sound. The angels of Barachiel’s clan were not warriors; they were architects of the divine, shaping technology that sustained the harmony of the heavens.

Haagenti ruled among them as both king and craftsman, a sovereign whose heart pulsed with the rhythm of invention. He forged celestial vessels that glided through the oceans of light, instruments that translated divine energy into form. Every creation was an act of worship; every design, a hymn of precision. Yet, beneath that devotion simmered a question — what is justice when law spares the guilty?

When Lucifer ignited the First War and the heavens trembled, Haagenti’s loyalty remained steady. But when judgment fell, and the Twenty-Four Elders spared Lucifer, granting him the universe of Olam-Chuphshah rather than destruction, something within Haagenti cracked. To him, mercy without justice was corruption. His voice thundered through the halls of Shamayim: “If law bends for light, then darkness has already won.”

Nine other kings stood beside him. Together they departed — an act later known as the Peace Fall — leaving their thrones in solemn protest. They did not yet serve Lucifer; they only sought balance. But what begins as justice can harden into vengeance, and vengeance, into pride. For Haagenti, that journey had already begun.

Haagenti held the title of King-Angel of the Fourth Dominion under Archangel Barachiel, one of the Twelve Archangels who governed Shamayim’s great clans. The clan of Barachiel specialized in celestial construction and divine engineering, designing structures, vessels, and devices that regulated the cosmic order. Their works became legends among the younger hosts — radiant chariots, crystal conduits of energy, and orbs capable of translating spiritual matter into motion.

Archangel Barachiel’s clan were the builders of heavenly technology, knowledge later corrupted and mirrored on Earth as what mortals now call UFOs. Some of the fallen from this clan carried that knowledge into the Olam-Chuphshah universe during the Peace Fall — forging light into darkness for a cause that could never be redeemed.

When the Peace Fall occurred, Haagenti’s decision to abandon Shamayim was recorded in the Chronicles of the Ten Kings. He joined nine others from separate clans to protest the Elders’ leniency toward Lucifer. Their exodus was peaceful — an ideological schism rather than a rebellion. Yet, after the Strike of Olam-Chuphshah, when Lucifer (now Satan) urged all dissenters to overthrow the Most High, Haagenti answered the call. His conviction that the heavens had betrayed justice made him blind to the darkness he served.

When 'The Strike' against the Most High failed and darkness consumed Olam-Chuphshah, Haagenti’s light inverted. His wisdom twisted into cunning, his brilliance into deceit. Thus, Haagenti — once the Builder of Order — was remade as a demon of corrupted innovation, cursed to wander the void crafting devices of ruin. After the Strike, Haagenti commanded legions of builders who converted holy constructs into war engines. The light-vessels once used to shape order became burning chariots that assaulted the gates of creation. 

They say pride is the shadow of justice — when one believes so fiercely in righteousness that he forgets mercy. Haagenti became that shadow.

In the silence after the Strike, when the fires of Olam-Chuphshah cooled into endless ash, Haagenti walked alone among his broken machines. His hands, once radiant with creative fire, now dripped with molten grief. “I sought balance,” he whispered to the void, “and found only my reflection.”

Some legends claim that his final creation — the Mirror of Ash — could reflect not faces, but motives. When he gazed into it, he saw not injustice, nor betrayal, but his own unwillingness to bow. The mirror shattered, and each shard became a curse, embedding itself into the bodies of his followers, turning them into creatures of metallic flesh and smoldering eyes.

To this day, in the darkest reaches of Olam-Chuphshah, the remnants of Haagenti’s workshops drift like broken constellations. They pulse with faint light — echoes of what was once divine. The faithful in Shamayim teach that those lights serve as reminders: even brilliance can fall if it ceases to kneel.

Was Haagenti truly wicked? Or merely a craftsman betrayed by his own sense of order? The Elders never spoke his name again. Barachiel, sorrowing, decreed that his designs be sealed — the sacred blueprints buried in the Archives of Silence so that no angel might repeat his sin of self-righteous creation.

And yet, in the dreams of mortal inventors, whispers sometimes rise — visions of radiant disks and humming orbs in the heavens. Perhaps they are only echoes of imagination. Or perhaps they are the sighs of Haagenti, the lost king of machines, still reaching across eternity, trying to build once more the justice he thought the heavens denied him.