Chapter One — Glory
There was war.
Everywhere the man turned, death prevailed. Comrade and foe alike lay broken across the blood-soaked earth. Cries of pain mingled with the clash of steel, while men fought and died beneath banners they called glorious.
Yet as Samson looked upon the battlefield, he saw no glory.
Only death.
"You dare get distracted during battle!?" a mighty warrior shouted with disdain.
Samson barely acknowledged him.
"Pointless," he muttered.
The warrior frowned. "What?"
Samson's eyes glazed over, flashing with a cold light as he surveyed the carnage around them.
"It's pointless. All this death—for what? For land that was never yours to begin with?"
Something stirred within him.
Conviction.
His gaze hardened as he finally came to a decision.
"If I do not end this war today, then my name is not Samson of Zorah—one of the twelve mighty Judges of Israel."
Golden light erupted around his body.
In an instant, Samson vanished.
He appeared directly before his foe.
The Philistine general's eyes widened.
"Warrior of Philistia," Samson said, his voice carrying above the chaos of battle, "today, the blood of you and your comrades will flow like a river and nourish these lands."
His fists tightened.
"For every death you have brought to our doorstep, I will repay it tenfold."
"W-Wait!"
Fear finally entered the heart of the Philistine general.
Too late.
Samson's aura surged.
His fist slammed into the warrior's solar plexus.
BOOM!
The general was launched backwards, his body tearing through the air before crashing into the earth twenty feet away.
"More!"
A guttural war cry escaped Samson's lips as blood splattered across his face.
He raised his eyes towards the heavens.
"Father, give me strength!"
As though Heaven itself had heard his plea, the golden aura surrounding Samson rose explosively.
The nearby soldiers stumbled backwards.
The earth beneath his feet cracked.
"It's over," Samson muttered.
He kicked off the ground.
His speed was unmatched.
Not a single soul upon that battlefield possessed the ability to follow his movements.
In less than a heartbeat, Samson arrived before the fallen general.
The warrior barely had enough time to raise his head.
"Meet your end."
Those were the final words the Philistine heard.
BOOOOOOM!
The battlefield fell silent.
Every sword stopped.
Every cry ceased.
Philistine and Israelite alike turned towards the thunderous noise.
Dust billowed high into the air.
Slowly, it cleared.
A massive crater had been carved into the earth.
At its centre stood a man with hair reaching his waist, bound into a single thick braid.
Golden light flickered around his body.
At his feet lay the lifeless corpse of the Philistine general.
Its head was nowhere to be seen.
For several breaths, nobody moved.
Thousands of soldiers simply stared.
Some with fear.
Others with awe.
And some with something dangerously close to worship.
Samson looked across the battlefield.
Men would sing of this day.
They would speak of his strength.
They would speak of his victory.
They would call it glorious.
But the glory had never belonged to him.
TWENTY YEARS PRIOR
Far beyond the sight of mortal men, within the heavenly court, an angel of the Lord lay prostrated before the throne of God.
His eyes dared not rise.
To meet the gaze of his Lord without first being commanded to do so would have been unthinkable to him.
The presence surrounding the throne was immeasurable. Had the Father willed it, the angel knew he would not have been able to bear even the smallest fraction of His unveiled presence.
"Rise."
A voice filled the heavenly court.
Pure.
Absolute.
A voice that could command the very fabric holding the cosmos together.
At once, every trace of apprehension vanished from the angel.
Love and reverence replaced it.
The angel slowly rose from the ground before finally lifting his head.
"Glory be to the Holy One!" he declared firmly, his chest raised and his hands held behind his back.
Before him sat a blinding white humanoid silhouette of incomprehensible scale, towering thousands of metres high upon His throne.
Light poured from Him like an endless ocean.
Above the throne flew four heavenly beings, each possessing six wings. With two they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew endlessly around the throne.
"Holy!"
"Glory!"
"Praise be unto Him!"
Their declarations never ceased.
The heavens themselves seemed to tremble with every proclamation.
" I have a task for you."
The Lord's voice brought the angel immediately to attention.
"Yes, my Lord!"
"There is a mortal couple living in Israel. For many years, they have been without a child."
The angel listened carefully.
"I have chosen them to bring forth Samson."
At the mention of the name, the heavenly court seemed almost to still.
"He shall become a mighty one of Israel. Through him, the shackles upon My people shall begin to break, and he shall stand against those who oppress them."
The angel bowed his head.
"Go to these mortals and tell them that they shall bear a child."
The voice of the Lord continued.
"The child shall be born a Nazarite. No razor shall touch his head. He shall drink no wine, nor shall he eat anything unclean."
The angel listened without moving.
"The strength I have prepared for him shall be great. But these commandments must not be treated lightly. Should his covenant be broken, that strength shall leave him."
"Yes, my Lord!" the angel answered. "I will deliver Your message exactly as You have commanded."
He bowed deeply.
"Go."
The angel wasted no time.
He turned and departed from the throne room.
Behind him, the titanic doors of the heavenly court slowly closed.
Yet even as he departed, the voices surrounding the throne continued without end.
"Glory be to the Holy One!"
ON EARTH
In the village of Zorah, a middle-aged woman wearing a brown headscarf stood beneath an apple tree, carefully filling a woven basket with ripe green fruit.
Her name was Lily.
A gentle smile rested on her face as she inspected another apple before placing it into the basket.
Ever since she had been a child, Lily had dreamed of starting a family.
Unfortunately, she and her husband, Manoah, had been unable to bear a child for many years.
Lily had been born and raised in the small village of Zorah, and it was there that she had eventually met Manoah.
Their love had been pure from the beginning.
Sometimes, she felt as though the heavens themselves had ordained their union.
But years had passed since their marriage, and no child had ever come.
For a long time, Lily had prayed.
Then she had cried.
Then she had prayed some more.
Eventually, she had simply learned to be grateful for the life the Lord had already given her.
She never cursed Him.
Never blamed Him.
The summer days passed slowly and the nights disappeared almost as quickly as they came, but Lily remained content beside the husband she loved.
Perhaps motherhood simply had not been written into her life.
And she had made peace with that.
"That should be enough apples for the week," Lily said with a satisfied smile.
She looked down at the basket.
A quiet excitement entered her expression.
Manoah loved apple desserts.
She could already imagine his face when she surprised him later.
"Lily of Zorah."
A flat, almost apathetic voice sounded behind her.
"AH!"
Lily jumped.
The basket slipped from her hands.
Apples scattered across the ground, several bruising as they struck the earth.
She spun around.
"The Lord has allowed you to bear a child."
Lily froze.
"W-Who are you?" she demanded, taking a step backwards. "What do you want?"
The stranger stood several metres away.
"The Lord has tasked me with delivering His message."
Lily stared at him.
"He has allowed you to bear a child."
Her breathing stopped.
The stranger continued.
"Your son shall become a mighty man of Israel. Through him, the Lord shall begin to free His people from the hand of the Philistines."
The angel finally stepped fully into view.
He wore a plain white robe, its hood hanging low enough to obscure much of his face.
Lily could not begin to process what she was hearing.
Silence stretched between them.
Her heart pounded.
Is he truly sent by the Lord?
She stared at the stranger.
If he isn't… what could he possibly want from me?
Then another thought struck her.
How does he know my name?
The questions rattled through Lily's mind while the angel patiently allowed her to gather herself.
Finally, she found the courage to speak.
"How do you expect me to believe you?" she asked quietly. "I have been without child for nearly a decade."
The angel tilted his head slightly.
"Have you not prayed for this day?"
Lily fell silent.
"Do you believe the Father has a time limit in which He must answer prayer?"
Her lips parted, but no words came.
"He heard your prayer before even the foundations of this world were laid."
A strange expression crossed Lily's face.
Something stirred deep within her spirit.
She could not explain it.
Could not understand it.
Yet somewhere within the very fabric of her being, she knew that the words being spoken to her were true.
Her eyes began to water.
"I…"
She swallowed.
"I think I believe you, sir."
"Good."
The angel stepped closer.
"Your child shall be born a Nazarite. No razor is to touch his hair. He must drink no wine, and during your pregnancy neither shall you. He must also refrain from anything the Lord has declared unclean."
Lily listened carefully.
"These commandments are strict. They must not be broken."
The angel's voice became heavier.
"For the Lord has prepared great strength for your son. If his covenant is broken, the power kept for him shall leave."
Lily instinctively placed a hand over her stomach.
There was nothing there yet.
Still, for some reason, tears began to fall down her cheeks.
"What… what will his name be?"
The angel looked upon her.
"Samson."
The name hung in the air.
"Samson…" Lily whispered.
"He shall become a mighty Judge of Israel. Through him, the Lord shall strike against the Philistines and begin bringing His people towards deliverance."
The angel turned to leave.
Then he stopped.
"One more thing, Lily of Zorah."
She looked up.
"One day, men will praise his strength. Enemies will fear his name. Songs may even be sung of his victories."
Lily listened silently.
"But teach your son this from the moment he is able to understand you."
The angel's hidden gaze seemed to settle directly upon her.
"Strength may belong to Samson."
"Victory may belong to Israel."
"But glory…"
For the first time, something resembling emotion entered the angel's voice.
"Glory belongs to God."