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JERUSALEM, ISRAEL - THE TEMPLE MOUNT - January 15, 2029 - 9:00 AM IST - Day 1 of the Tribulation
The sky over Jerusalem was clear—unnaturally clear for January. No clouds. No haze. Just a crystalline blue that made Rabbi Moshe Goldstein uneasy as he walked toward the Western Wall for morning prayers.
Something felt different. Wrong. Like the air itself was holding its breath.
He wasn't the only one who felt it. Hundreds of worshipers had gathered at the Wall, more than usual for a Tuesday morning. All of them sensing something. All of them waiting for—
Thunder.
Not from clouds. There were no clouds. The sound came from the sky itself, rolling across Jerusalem like a wave, shaking the ancient stones beneath their feet.
And then they appeared.
Two men.
Standing on the Temple Mount where no one had been a moment before. Just... there. As if they'd stepped through an invisible door from another dimension.
They wore sackcloth—rough, dark fabric that looked ancient, biblical. Their feet were bare. Their hair and beards were long, unkempt, wild. And their eyes—
Their eyes burned.
Not metaphorically. Actual fire seemed to dance in their irises, making it difficult to look at them directly.
The crowd fell silent.
One of the men raised his hand, and when he spoke, his voice carried supernaturally—not shouted, but heard clearly by everyone on the Temple Mount, in the streets below, throughout the Old City.
"REPENT!" the first witness declared. "For the kingdom of heaven is at hand! Three and a half years! That is all the time you have! One thousand two hundred and sixty days! And then the King returns!"
"The judgments are beginning!" the second witness proclaimed. "The seals have been opened! The scroll has been unrolled! The trumpets are about to sound! Repent and be sealed by the blood of the Lamb, or face the wrath of God!"
Someone in the crowd—a young man, angry, skeptical—picked up a stone and hurled it at them. "Madmen! Frauds! Get off the Temple Mount!"
The first witness turned his gaze on the stone-thrower.
Fire erupted from the witness's mouth.
Not a flamethrower. Not a trick. Actual fire, proceeding from his mouth like breath made flame, consuming the stone in midair and reducing it to ash before it could reach its target.
The crowd screamed and scattered. But the witnesses didn't move. They stood on the Temple Mount, immovable, terrible, holy.
"For one thousand two hundred and sixty days, we will stand here," the first witness said. "We will preach. We will prophesy. We will call this nation and all nations to repentance. And anyone who tries to harm us will be killed in the same manner they attempt to harm us."
The second witness raised his hands toward the sky. "The first trumpet is coming. Soon. Very soon. Fire from heaven will consume a third of the earth. And the world will say 'climate change.' But it is not climate. It is judgment. It is God. And He will not be mocked."
They fell silent, standing like statues on the Temple Mount, their eyes burning, their presence undeniable.
Moshe stood among the stunned crowd, his heart pounding. He pulled out his phone with trembling hands and searched for Revelation 11.
"And I will grant authority to my two witnesses, and they will prophesy for 1,260 days, clothed in sackcloth."
One thousand two hundred and sixty days. Exactly what they'd just said.
Three and a half years.
"It's starting," Moshe whispered. "The tribulation. It's actually starting."
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CNN INTERNATIONAL HEADQUARTERS, ATLANTA - January 15, 2029 - 3:47 AM EST
Anderson Cooper's phone erupted with notifications at 3:47 AM, dragging him from sleep. His producer's voice came through urgent and sharp: "Anderson, you need to see this. Now."
Twenty minutes later, he was in the studio in jeans and a t-shirt, no makeup, watching footage from Jerusalem on multiple monitors. Two men appearing out of nowhere on the Temple Mount. Fire from one's mouth. The supernatural voice. The biblical pronouncements.
"Are we sure this isn't CGI?" Anderson asked. "Deep fake? Some kind of viral marketing stunt?"
"We've had three independent video forensics teams analyze it," his producer said. "All from different angles. Street cameras. Tourist phones. News crews. All showing the same thing. No evidence of manipulation. No evidence of special effects. Anderson, as far as we can tell, this is real."
"Real," Anderson repeated. "Two men who can breathe fire and speak with voices that carry for miles are real."
"Yes."
Anderson rubbed his face, exhaustion and disbelief warring in his mind.
He'd been raised by a mother who was a spiritual freethinker—someone who read widely, questioned everything, and never committed to any particular belief system. Part of that freethinking upbringing meant Anderson had been exposed to the Bible, but never seriously. It was just another ancient text among many, another collection of stories to be analyzed academically, not embraced as truth.
But now, sitting in the dim glow of his monitors, watching the world unravel in real time, something shifted.
A thought flickered through his consciousness—unbidden, unwelcome.
What if the technology boom of the last two centuries hadn't been progress but preparation?
He'd interviewed scholars over the years who spoke of ancient civilizations destroyed by flood—Atlantis, Lemuria, lost worlds swallowed by catastrophe. Legends dismissed as myth. But what if they weren't legends? What if historians were right about advanced pre-flood societies? What if patterns were repeating through history?
What if this was the third attempt at something humanity couldn't even comprehend?
The witnesses in Jerusalem were claiming exactly that. They spoke of kingdoms rising and falling, of Satan's repeated attempts to build his own empire in defiance of God. They spoke of a first rebellion before Adam, a second corruption before Noah's flood, and now—now—a third and final kingdom being prepared through technology, through AI, through the very progress Anderson had spent his career documenting.
He shook his head, trying to clear the thought.
But it wouldn't leave.
What if they're telling the truth?
He shook his head, pushing the thought away. Too much late-night theology. Too much exposure to his grandmother's Bible study lessons.
"Get me someone on climate science. Get me someone on religious studies. And get me someone from the Israeli government. We go live in thirty minutes."
He thought about the Bible app he'd opened yesterday. Matthew 24. The warnings about deception and false prophets. But these men weren't claiming to be prophets of peace—they were prophesying judgment.
Were they the real thing?
Or the most elaborate hoax in history?
Either way, this was the biggest story of his career.
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PORTLAND, OREGON - January 15, 2029 - 12:52 AM PST
Sarah Martinez's phone lit up on her nightstand, buzzing insistently. She grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Mom. At 1 AM.
"Mija, are you seeing this?"
"Seeing what? Mom, it's one in the morning—"
"Turn on the news. Any channel. Two prophets in Jerusalem. Fire from their mouths. They're saying the tribulation has started."
Sarah sat up, suddenly awake. "What?"
"Just turn it on. Please."
Sarah grabbed her laptop, pulled up CNN. And there it was—footage from the Temple Mount, two men in sackcloth, flames erupting from one's mouth, the stone turning to ash in midair.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
"They're saying 1,260 days," her mother continued, her voice trembling with excitement and fear. "Three and a half years. Until Jesus comes back. Mija, this is it. This is Revelation 11. The two witnesses. It's actually happening."
Sarah watched the footage replay. The men appearing out of nowhere. The supernatural voice. The impossible fire.
Five years ago, she'd walked away from church disgusted with religious hypocrisy. But she'd never stopped believing in God. Never stopped praying, even if she did it alone instead of in a building.
And now, watching these two witnesses, she felt something stir in her spirit. Something she'd been ignoring for five years.
This is real. This is actually happening.
"Mom, I—I need to think about this."
"Don't think too long, mija. They said 1,260 days. That's all the time we have."
After hanging up, Sarah sat in bed, laptop open, watching the footage over and over. The witnesses standing immovable. Their eyes burning with supernatural fire. Their message clear and terrible:
Repent. The judgments are coming. You have three and a half years.
She pulled up her dusty Bible app and searched for Revelation 11. Read it through twice. Then three times.
It matched. Perfectly.
Two witnesses. 1,260 days. Fire from their mouths. Standing before the God of the earth.
"Okay," she whispered to the empty room. "Okay. Maybe I need to take this seriously."
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GRACE COMMUNITY CHURCH, DALLAS - January 15, 2029 - 2:00 AM CST
Pastor Michael Reynolds's phone woke him at 2 AM. The senior elder, Tom, sounding panicked.
"Mike, have you seen the news from Jerusalem?"
"I was asleep, Tom. What's going on?"
"Two men appeared on the Temple Mount. Out of thin air. They're claiming to be biblical prophets. Saying the tribulation has started. Fire came out of one's mouth and destroyed a stone someone threw at them. Mike, it's all over the news. Every network. Everyone's talking about it."
Michael sat up, turned on his bedroom TV. Sure enough, CNN was showing the footage. His stomach dropped.
"This has to be a hoax," he said. "Special effects. Some kind of—"
"They've analyzed the footage. Multiple sources. Different angles. It's not CGI, Mike. As far as anyone can tell, this actually happened."
Michael watched the replay. The men in sackcloth. The fire. The proclamation of 1,260 days.
His mind raced. He'd taught pre-tribulation rapture his entire ministry. The church would be taken before any tribulation started. Before any witnesses appeared. Before any judgments fell.
But if these were the actual two witnesses from Revelation 11, and they'd just appeared, and the church was still here—
Then he'd been teaching wrong.
For fifteen years.
"Tom, I need to study this. Research. Figure out what's really going on."
"What do we tell the congregation?"
Michael looked at the footage again. "Nothing. Not yet. Let's see how this plays out. Could still be a hoax. Could be some kind of deception. We don't panic. We don't make any theological changes until we have more information."
"Agreed."
After hanging up, Michael pulled out his Bible and turned to Revelation 11. Read it carefully. Then read Matthew 24. Then Daniel 9.
And slowly, uncomfortably, a possibility began to form in his mind.
What if the pre-trib rapture was wrong? What if the church was supposed to go through the tribulation? What if these witnesses were real, and the judgments were coming, and he'd been giving his congregation false hope that they'd escape it all?
He pushed the thought away. Too dangerous. Too destabilizing. His entire ministry was built on prosperity and pre-trib rapture. Changing that would—
Would what? Cost him his platform? His book sales? His reputation?
Or would it save souls?
He didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
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INFOWARS STUDIO, AUSTIN, TEXAS - January 15, 2029 - 2:17 AM CST
Alex Jones sat in his studio, watching the Jerusalem footage on multiple monitors, his mind racing at a thousand miles per hour.
He'd been broadcasting about global conspiracies for over twenty years. The New World Order. The globalist agenda. The elite's plan to reduce the population. The coming one-world government.
And he'd been right about most of it.
But this—this was different. This wasn't Bilderberg meetings or UN agendas. This was supernatural. Biblical. And it terrified him in a way that political conspiracies never had.
He went live at 2:17 AM because this couldn't wait.
"Folks, I don't know what to make of what we're seeing in Jerusalem," he said into the camera. "Two men appearing out of thin air. Fire from their mouths. Prophesying about judgments and trumpets. Now, I've been telling you for years about the globalist agenda, about their plan to use climate change as a weapon of control. And I believe that's still happening. Constantine is real. The one-world government push is real. But this—"
He paused, genuinely uncertain for one of the few times in his broadcasting career.
"This looks biblical. This looks like Revelation 11. The two witnesses who prophesy for 1,260 days. And if that's what this is—if we're actually in the end times—then everything I've been warning you about is about to get a whole lot worse. Because the Antichrist is coming. The mark of the beast is coming. The one-world government isn't just a conspiracy anymore—it's prophecy."
He pulled up his Bible—the one he kept on his desk for reference but rarely read devotionally.
"Revelation 11," he read. "Two witnesses. 1,260 days. Clothed in sackcloth. Fire from their mouths. If anyone tries to harm them, they're killed in the same manner. Folks, this matches. This actually matches what we're seeing."
Calls were flooding in. His audience—millions at this late hour—desperate for his take.
"Here's what I know," Alex continued. "I've talked about God. I've quoted the Bible. I've said I'm a Christian. But I don't know if I've ever really surrendered. I don't know if I've ever truly made Jesus Lord of my life, or if I've just used religion as another tool in my arsenal against the globalists."
His voice cracked slightly. "And if this really is the tribulation—if we really only have three and a half years—I need to get serious. Actually serious. Not just Christian in name. Not just somebody who believes in Jesus as a historical figure. But somebody who's actually surrendered. Actually saved. Actually sealed."
He looked directly into the camera. "I don't know if these two men are the real deal. But I'm going to be watching. Very closely. And if they start predicting specific judgments—if they say fire from heaven will burn a third of the earth, and then it happens—we'll know. We'll know this is real. We'll know God is real. And we'll know we're running out of time."
The phones lit up with calls. Alex took them one by one, trying to process what this meant, trying to reconcile his conspiracy theories with biblical prophecy, trying to figure out if he was ready for what might be coming.
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LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA - January 15, 2029 - 12:30 AM PST
Dylan Chen scrolled through his phone, watching his social media feeds explode with the Jerusalem footage. His first instinct was to dismiss it—special effects, viral marketing, religious theater.
But the video forensics reports were piling up. Multiple independent analysts saying there was no evidence of manipulation.
He opened his recording app and started filming.
"Hey fam, Dylan here. I know you're all seeing the footage from Jerusalem. Two guys in robes saying the world's about to end. And I want to give you my take."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. His brand was built on spiritual-but-not-religious. On empowering people to be their own gods. On rejecting traditional religion.
"Here's the thing—even if this is real, even if these guys can somehow breathe fire, that doesn't mean you need to surrender your power. That doesn't mean you need to bow to some ancient deity. You are still the creator of your own reality. You still define your own truth. Don't let fear make you small."
He posted it. Watched the engagement numbers. Strong at first—his loyal followers agreeing, thanking him for the perspective.
But then the comments started turning.
"Dylan, what if they're right? What if we're actually in the end times?"
"Dude, fire from his mouth. FIRE. How do you explain that with positive psychology?"
"I've been following you for three years but this feels different. This feels real."
Dylan deleted the negative comments. Blocked the dissenting voices. Maintained his brand.
But alone in his Venice Beach apartment at 1 AM, watching the footage one more time, he felt something he hadn't felt in years.
Fear.
Not of death. Not of judgment. But fear that maybe, possibly, everything he'd built his life on was wrong.
He pushed the thought away. Opened his meditation app. Focused on his breath. Reminded himself that he was in control. That he created his reality. That no external force—not God, not prophets, not religion—could take that power from him.
But the fear lingered.
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UNITED NATIONS HEADQUARTERS, NEW YORK - January 15, 2029 - 10:00 AM EST
Marcus Aurelius Constantine stood before the UN Security Council, his perfect face showing just the right amount of concern mixed with confidence.
"Gentlemen, ladies," he began, his voice smooth and compelling, "I know you're all aware of the incident in Jerusalem this morning. Two individuals claiming to be biblical prophets, speaking about judgments and trumpets. It's gone viral. Every news network is covering it. And I'm here to give you the rational, scientific explanation before panic sets in."
The Russian ambassador leaned forward. "And what is that explanation, Director Constantine?"
"Mass hysteria combined with sophisticated holographic technology," Constantine said smoothly. "We believe this is the work of religious extremists attempting to derail the global climate accords. They know that if we successfully implement the carbon reduction treaties, if we consolidate authority under a single climate emergency framework, their apocalyptic narratives lose power. So they're staging theatrical events designed to make people believe we're in the biblical end times."
"The fire from the mouth," the Chinese ambassador said skeptically. "How do you explain that?"
"Chemical accelerants. Magnesium-based compounds. Street magic on a grand scale. My team is analyzing the footage, and we'll release a full debunking within 48 hours."
Constantine smiled. "The important thing is that we don't let religious hysteria distract us from the real crisis—climate change. We're facing catastrophic environmental collapse. And yes, we may see events in the coming months that people will try to interpret as biblical prophecy. But I assure you—it's all climate. It's all natural processes accelerated by human activity. And it's all manageable if we have the political will to implement the necessary controls."
The Israeli ambassador spoke quietly. "What if they're real? What if these are actually the two witnesses from Revelation 11?"
Constantine's smile never wavered. "Then we have nothing to worry about, Mr. Ambassador. Because if God is real and He's judging the world, then no human effort can stop it anyway. But if—as I believe—this is simply religious extremism exploiting natural disasters and advanced technology, then we have a responsibility to counter the narrative with science. With reason. With truth."
"What about the 1,260 days they mentioned?" the French ambassador asked. "Three and a half years. That's biblically specific."
"It's psychologically manipulative," Constantine corrected. "They know their audience. They know the symbolism. And they're using it to gain influence. But ladies and gentlemen, let me be clear: I will not allow religious extremism to undermine the progress we've made toward global cooperation. Whatever it takes—information management, media coordination, if necessary, direct intervention—I will ensure that rational governance prevails over superstitious panic."
The Security Council members looked at each other. Some skeptical. Some convinced. All of them feeling the pressure of public fear, the need for answers, the desire for someone strong enough to handle the crisis.
"All in favor of granting Director Constantine additional authority to manage public communications during this crisis?" the Secretary-General called.
The vote was unanimous.
Constantine smiled. Phase One was complete. The infrastructure for information control was now in place.
And when the first trumpet sounded—when fire actually fell from heaven—he'd be ready with his explanation. Ready to spin it. Ready to use it to consolidate even more power.
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THE TWO WITNESSES - TEMPLE MOUNT, JERUSALEM - January 15, 2029 - 6:00 PM IST
As the sun set over Jerusalem—the first sunset of the tribulation—the two witnesses remained standing where they'd appeared that morning. Immovable. Untouchable. Their eyes still burning with holy fire.
Thousands had gathered throughout the day. Some to mock. Some to worship. Some to test whether the fire from their mouths was real.
It was. Three people had tried to attack them. Three people were now ash.
Rabbi Moshe Goldstein stood at the edge of the crowd, watching, praying, trying to understand.
"Are you the two witnesses from Revelation 11?" he called out.
The first witness turned his gaze on Moshe. "We are. Sent by the Lord God Almighty to prophesy for 1,260 days. To call Israel and the nations to repentance. To seal those who will listen. And to warn about the judgments that are coming."
"When does the first trumpet sound?" someone in the crowd asked.
"Soon," the second witness said. "Within two months. Fire from heaven will consume a third of the earth's forests. And the world will call it climate change. They will blame human activity. They will look to their scientists and politicians for salvation. But it is not climate. It is judgment. It is God. And there is no salvation except in the blood of the Lamb."
"How do we get sealed?" Moshe asked, his voice shaking.
"Believe in Jesus Christ as Lord," the first witness said. "Confess Him with your mouth. Trust in His blood for salvation. Surrender your life to Him. That is all. That is everything. Those who do this—those who are genuinely saved—will be sealed by the Holy Spirit. And when the judgments fall, they will be protected. Not from all suffering. But from God's wrath."
"And those who don't?" someone asked.
The second witness's voice was heavy with sorrow. "They will face the trumpets. The mark of the beast. The bowls of wrath. And ultimately, the lake of fire. The second death. Complete annihilation. Body and soul destroyed. Gone forever."
Many false teachers have told you that believers will be 'raptured' before tribulation, and those left behind will have seven years to decide. This is a lie. There is no second chance after Christ returns. Matthew 25 is clear: when the Son of Man comes, the sheep are separated from the goats immediately. Those who belong to Him are gathered. Those who don't are cast into judgment. There is no gap. No grace period. No second opportunity.
This tribulation—these 1,260 days—IS the final opportunity. When we finish our testimony, when the seventh trumpet sounds, when Christ appears in glory—it is done. Sealed or unsealed. Saved or damned. There are no more chances."
"But there's still time," the first witness said, his voice carrying across the Temple Mount, across Jerusalem, across the world through every camera pointed at them. "One thousand two hundred and sixty days. Three and a half years. That is how long we will prophesy. That is how long the door of grace remains open. That is how long humanity has to repent, to be sealed, to choose Jesus over the Antichrist who is rising even now."
The witnesses fell silent, standing like sentinels on the Temple Mount as night fell over Jerusalem.
Day 1 of 1,260.
The tribulation had begun.
And the world would never be the same.
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"And I will grant authority to my two witnesses, and they will prophesy for 1,260 days, clothed in sackcloth. These are the two olive trees and the two lampstands that stand before the Lord of the earth. And if anyone would harm them, fire pours from their mouth and consumes their foes. If anyone would harm them, this is how he is doomed to be killed. They have the power to shut the sky, that no rain may fall during the days of their prophesying, and they have power over the waters to turn them into blood and to strike the earth with every kind of plague, as often as they desire." (Revelation 11:3-6, ESV)
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ACROSS THE GLOBE, PEOPLE REACTED.
SOME BELIEVED.
SOME DISMISSED.
SOME MOCKED.
SOME FEARED.
BUT ALL OF THEM KNEW:
SOMETHING HAD CHANGED.
THE WITNESSES HAD COME.
AND THE COUNTDOWN HAD STARTED.
1,260 DAYS UNTIL THE EIGHTH DAY.
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END OF CHAPTER ONE
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[To be continued in Chapter Two: "The First Trumpet - Fire from Heaven"]
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