Järjejutt 'Minstrel's Song' (by Gilraen)

[Die]

16. The Realm inside this realm

I had done what they called space-shift before but never something even close to this.

I willed myself to go there, to follow the Riders wherever they were going. I had my eyes wide opened though I could have sworn I had shut them. I was sleeping, drifting and yet I was fully awake. I had halted from movement but I was not standing as marble, it was rather as if I was dozing off, getting drowsy. I felt something strange – not heat nor cold but something adversary to both. I was in motion. I knew it was both a shift in time and space.

The first thing I saw – and I could still swear I had my eyes closed – was starry sky. Well, not exactly sky but a great dark-blue blur filled with tiny spots of yellowish white light. As if I had been walking in heavens but nothing like it, really. I was seeing it and I was inside it. It was not like seeing myself as a counterpart would. It was something completely new, rather shocking.

And I knew I was alone wherever I was – the Riders had not followed me nor I them. I trust they had decided I could do with some time alone exploring this realm. I was quite thankful for this.

I had landed – if it were called ‘landing’ – in the middle of a forest. My feet had touched the ground that was almost solid, yet it left the impression of walking on something a bit softer, a carpet, or a woolen blanket. All these stars were still surrounding me. And great trees that looked as if they had been made of black marble bowed over me and I was walking, going somewhere though I knew I had no destination. I touched some trees with my fingertips and they sent an electric sensation through me, a vibrant blue that sparkled between the touched object and me. Then I realized I had stretched my fingers into the tree and for an instant, they had blended. I became fully aware of something I had only fancied about a long time ago – that we – the tree and I – were made of the same material. It was merely the proportion and purpose that divided us into different beings. I could have been the tree had I willed enough. And of course, the tree could have been me but I doubt it would have wanted.

By the time I had gone through these speculations I had exited the forest and was now walking on a meadow. The gathering of the trees seemed very black now and almost terrible, but so terribly beautiful. It was the beauty I would have called unearthly and in fact had every right to call thus. The starry sky was still everywhere I looked and when I observed it closer it became obvious that it was of the same matter as the trees and the moss and the grass. It was the same matter as me. This is why sky extended until it met land – it was the same matter and it had merely changed shape. It was very peculiar to walk on and inside this matter. But I loved this; the sensation of being touched something so impersonal and intelligent in itself.

Another fact I realized was that it was all blackish. This realm seemed to contain of every color possible and yet each bore a shade of black in it. And so the entire area appeared as some strange twilight zone. I could not have minded. Black was my favorite color. Black and red. All this was very beautiful to me. However, it had to bear some meaning – the lack of sun – and as I glanced into the heavens, I became aware of yet another detail – the complete absence of the Sun. Why, this surely had to mean something. Everything in here bore some purpose. This realm had been built. I just wondered who the architect was.

I could say I suddenly felt frightened. With my entire being, I felt something was perfectly wrong. The feeling started from inside my stomach and soon filled me. However, I decided to avoid it and keep going. I had come this far, I would not let myself shaken away by something I could neither see nor hear.

Everything was so beautiful and lively, though it was life of a different nature. It was a land of my dreams and memories. I understood that’s how it was meant to be – a land of everyone’s dreams and memories, was it not? All those that had been stolen of home had regained home in here. I understood the basic purpose of all this. And was filled with melancholy. For this world was unreal and so were its inhabitants. This realm was so detailed, so vivid and yet so fragile. It would take strong faith in its non-existence and it would cease. A lot of nothingness had been put together to create all this; and nothingness would eat it up one day. And I would witness it, wouldn’t I?

And I walked on and on and the Realm hummed inside of me – it had lyrics and a tune. Aye, it was a most beautiful song I had ever heard. I, too, began to sing it. I found my voice.

I lost any trace of time; I barely noticed the change of scenery for it was the very spirit of this land and its people that I felt in me. I became one with the universal idea.

Citizens of this realm spoke ancient tongues; they conversed through mind reading. Small settlings were scattered all around the landscape. I could easily walk upon a fire and a party enjoying them by the warmth discussing some philosophical matter. This is how it was – natural and easygoing and so terribly beautiful. I was meant to fall in love with it – and I did. However, I was scared – it was indeed a land of marvel and magick and this was familiar magick but it frightened me, it scared the hell out of me. This realm was not meant to be; and if things had not gone awfully wrong since the beginning, it would have never come to existence. This realm was born due to you and me. We were the architects. This was our machinery, it bore our crimes and guilt, it stood – a witness forever, it carried our love deep inside its womb.

It was my realm.

It was my Realm.

Asham ra, I whispered to it. Asham ra.

I bore one thought in me – I would find you. I would really find you. I had to. I could not bear another day without you. This land had you - I knew it did. I could sense it in the air, in the senses of beings that walked upon it. Songs the matter sang stirred about you.

Before I could realize I had taken into flight. And I flew the way I had never flown before. I did not flap my wings; I did not even have them. I had simply risen into air and I burst forth, carried towards my destination with almost unimaginable speed and ferocity. I was terrified of myself, suddenly. I had always known I had very strong and ancient powers, I had already used many of them; and each of them gave in to logic, one specie, or another. But a flight without wings – this was not alike my doing. It was your doing. But I was no Mother. I was Molock, He that seeks the Mother.

My bride, my bride.

I terrified those that saw me – a chaos black being with blood red scarf tied around his neck – your scarf, that you had used to bind my wounds when I lay in that cell deep inside the castle of you and the King; glittering white face and hands, almost colorless bluish eyes. I must have been one of the oldest ones they had ever met, perhaps absolutely the eldest. I was the Ancient One – I heard them murmur, whisper amongst themselves that an Ancient One has risen.

And they had stories about me. And they had stories about you. We were some kind of great romantic-tragic heroes. They had always known that one day I would come and claim you. They knew where you laid, of course they would tell. They would do anything to be what I was. Aye, they could do anything – and never be what I was, the lucky young innocent creatures. Do whatever thou wilt; just tell me where she is.

There was a well.

They drew back now and shielded their minds from me – or else I would have slain them – or perhaps I just threw them off my mind and neighborhood. They were young, fragile; I did not bear them in mind much. For I had found what I had come for.

Over all this time, I stood in a place whereat you laid. And there was a well. It would reach the sea and in the bottom…

I had never stopped the flight, I only had to see flicker of the well and already I burst down into the nameless deep.

I could feel the stones – cold, dark, slippery. Not after long, I reached water. And it was the strangest kind of water I had ever come in touch with. It was alive. Not alive as faeries would make it, or gods of water or magick but alive as if it had been a being, single and huge and enormously powerful. It had a slimish body and it was black – not the black of my robes or sky or anything else but the deepest darkest black I had ever seen or felt. It was black as eternity and chaos and all those things united.

[Die]

17. From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust – nay, but from nothingness to nothingness.

I knew I would have to be afraid of death. But I wasn’t – this water was so full of life and death had no part in it. Was I not immortal, after all? Had I not been granted eternal life, eternal sorrow, and a quest to wait? But I would not wait much longer. I would find you now and all my seeking would come to an end. Aye, if only I had you I would forgive the mankind, I would desert the Riders, and cast them right into nothingness and you would be the only one I ever come to need. This had to be. It was destined; it was doomed. No forever. Forever ends now.

Oh my love my love. Alele. Isabel. My wife my bride.

No death could hold me from you. To conquer all destruction, to suppress all malice, to endure all pain – I would. Only to have you. Only to have you. What would I care if the world lived or died if I only had you?

T’is been too long, Isabel, too long.

And I was made of the water and the water was made of me and there was no pain and there was no death. Just love. Oh, love sweet love! The feeling so forgotten like lore told in ancient times. And yet each syllable livid.

T’is been too long, Isabel.

But I have come and for you I shall forget all I have been and sworn to be. I shall no more be Molock if thou desire so; I shall be thine Molock, thine, thine only. I love you now and forever. There shall be no past; there shall be no future. There shall be no present but us, no time and space but us. Now and forever.

The crystal would be nothing to me; a glance would break it, a whisper would shatter it into molecules. A shining rain of crystal would fall into water and become one with it; a sub-water rain would be born and surround us and bless us and seal our marriage, aye, seal it forever.

Hark, sons and daughters of men! You are forgiven for your coffin is nothing to me. And you, old man that you doomed me to live forever, I pardon your jealousy and wrath for you loved her as I do; I forgive your deeds both done and to be done for I shall break your curse; I shall mock you and cherish you – for I shall live forever and I shall live with my wife Alele Ishran. And this is the name I no longer dread and this is the name I call. Rise, Alele, and come to me, for I have come to take you away. I have come to set you free, Alele Ishran! I have come to claim you, my bride! I have come to claim you, my wife!

…

Myths and lore spoke of my claim. But they would not say there were nothing and no one, no one and nothing to claim, oh no nothing at all.

And the crystal was empty.

And the crystal was oh so empty.

And the crystal was sealed, as it had been the day I died; and it was closed and locked, as it had been the day you became its prisoner. But now the prisoner had flown away and there was no feather to lead my way and it was terrible, terrible. I had come to meet you and met nothingness. I had come to take you away and it was nothingness that I took with me now. Mocked, mocked, and cursed I was. I longed to scream but no voice came out of me. I had lost it and lost my faith.

I realized something that stole my voice and my breath and each heartbeat. You had risen and not come to me. There was nothing that could have kept you from me but death. I forgot about all immortality and I saw death in all its horror. What if you had risen and thought me dead inside that mountain cell – for as good as dead I had been. You could do anything; you could surely take your life.

My bird had risen and my bird had not come to me. My bird was dead.

It was nothing like pain that I felt.

Instead of looking into your eyes of emerald green, I glanced into the deepest eyes of nothingness. Instead of becoming one with you, I now desired to become one with nothingness.

Existing, suddenly, seemed too much to me.

I had made the decision.

I SHALL DIE

There was no emotion; there was but will and I became the will. Rising upwards, I outstretched my hands and conjured all power and magick I had ever possessed and ever would possess. Fire spread from my arms and filled the water – and though it could not slay water it became mixed with it and I rose through liquid fire.

And it would not touch me; I felt no pain nor did my garments catch fire.

There was no well, where I came into touch with earth. And I rose through earth and set it into fire. And I rose and rose with no emotion but one wish and one will and no sensation but a silent tremor in me. The realm made a whirlpool around me and I was its heart and it was burning but I was not burning though the fire came from me. I was its source and I had none of it.

I saw trees caught by fire, leaves turning into ashes; tongues of flame crawling over meadows, caressing the surface, embracing grass with thin reddish fingers; campfires changing into great pyres.

Realm was dying. And I was watching it dying – the great immortal dying. And every being that walked this land died, too, and just how many died that day I know not. Finally, there was no place for me to be – I had destroyed my very surroundings.

I stood in the middle of nothingness – a killer of space and time, myself a great nothingness, immortal slayer of immortality that could die, myself an immortal that could not die.

I was swept into mortal world and I fell on the sand, my face buried into the desert. I was empty and I was weeping; my Riders stood nearby and peered intently at my desperation and the whole world mocked and laughed at me.

Then I stood and glanced at the lively valley I had wept the desert into; I looked at the world with eyes I had never had and I am absolutely incapable of describing what it looked like to me. And when I turned towards the Riders, I had the smile and the voice I had never had before and I could almost swear I startled them for a moment.

Now I know that you can have greatest happiness and greatest desperation and you can walk through them, unharmed. But if you walk through the valley of nothingness, you shall have nothing and be nothing and nothing will ever be the same again.

[Die]

18. Lullaby

Each end is a new beginning.

My Riders, witnessing what had befallen me and what I had become now took care of me. They wished me well – certainly not of love, hardly of friendship; but they needed me and they were willing to make sacrifices for this cause.

They mounted me on my horse and holding it from the reins took me with them, whilst I sat in the saddle, numb and ignorant to everything. It was no longer my willing.

How could I tell what I had become? For there are NO words to describe the indescribable. Are there? Or must I find them? Is this what you want? My soul naked, raped for you. For sex without passion is rape. It is as simple as this.

Aye, the era of the Doom did begin. And my new philosophy was taught to mankind while I cared none of it, while I was not only the symbol but also the essence of it. There was no rhyme or reason in me. The only reason why I lived was that I was unable to die. I did not try again. I was convinced in my immortality. Aye, I would live and witness it all. But you were wrong, you terrible King! There is no one to wait for! NO ONE! You hear me? No one!

It is your doing, you took her away from me, and I swear if I ever meet you again I shall kill you. Because you are not immortal. I’m the only true immortal now that she is gone.

I shall come for you and kill you. That is my oath.

Aye, I became what I am known as – the demon, the pagan god, the terrible Molock that fed on newborn babies. It was my associates that set me upon that throne and my ignorance that held me there. I could not care less if everyone and everything around me died. Why should I? Let it die, let me at least watch death if I cannot die! Let me! Let the blood flow and blind me, let me soak in it so that I could not see life. Let them weep, let them cry, let them scream and die! DIE! Let it all burn into ashes inside me. I care none of the energy. I take none of it, yet it flows into me and through me, and I become the new source. I cannot die. I am death. For he is the only one that cannot die.

And I sang to them – to the babies that burned on the altars for me. I sang them lullabies whilst their throats were cut for me. I created terrible hymns. All I had ever known, all I felt now I poured into my music. It had words, terrible words. They tore souls naked; they rubbed flesh from bone. And I had a voice – voice that shattered glass, made stonewalls tremor and humans cry out in anguish. Their ears could not take it; it was too old, too powerful, and too damn real.

I would lay still and sing my hymns and just lay, lay motionless but the voice that carried me around the world into heart of natural and supernatural. Like once, in the old times when I could not wake up or stop screaming; now I could not rise and cease singing.

Neither the natural nor the supernatural could understand my songs. But there was something that enchanted them, possessed them. They began humming. And soon, they began singing. They had the words and the tune. And they added their own sounds and voices to the lyrics and music and rhythm. I could lay, sing, and hear my songs echo back to me from the hearts of world. It was a strange sensation.

They were singing my lullaby. I would just fall asleep and never wake up again. I would not have to sing. They were already singing for me. Everything I could have done was being done for me. I needed no one and no one needed me.

They were singing my lullaby.

Oh death, thou that art but a heartbeat away…

Cease my life, deliver me the rhyme, sing me the reason…

For I am wise and cannot bear mine eyes no more…

He that bears my burden, may he be death

I am life and resurrection

Bear my wings, bear my burden, bear my heart will and glory

Come to me and kill me! Come to me, royal children of King!

I am the demon! I am the death! I am Molock the Cursed One…

Be my redeemer.

Be my bride.

Be my salvation!

Be my assassin; be my death and thou shall be forgiven! Now and forever…

Give me my rhyme! Give me my reason! Redeem me and I swear thou shall be forgiven! My rhyme is thine rhyme and my reason thine own.

No death but thine…

I had a temple built around me and in its heart I would lay, sleep, and all that would wake me I would curse. Aye, who could wake me against my will? Who would dare to try?

[Die]

19. Mortal

I woke in the bosom of night and felt heavy stones all around me. I tried to stand, but stumbled and fell. The ground was moist of blood and it startled me. I kissed my fingertips and felt the taste of blood on my tongue. It was like nothing I had ever tasted before. It was liquid; it was both salty and sweet and the scent was bitter and nauseating. I touched my nose.

I screamed!

I tried to look around but I could not see much. It was too dark!

And I was mortal!

I had the fingers; I had the tongue and the nose. I had everything a mortal man would have. I was young and I had a strong mortal body.

Nevertheless, I still had my memory, my demon memory. And it told me there has to be a way out of this temple and I have to find it. Because I cannot afford to be locked in here forever. I no longer have a ‘for ever’. I am mortal. I age. I die.

I had no time and little will to find out how I had become mortal. The world was full on wonder and mockery; my transmutation could have been one.

However, my new body had set me a bunch of new limits. For example, when I tried to lift the stones and toss them aside to free my way to the stairway I realized that I was not strong enough. I just hurt my fingers and hands.

I knew there had to be another way to get out of here. And there was, but I was filled with fear to even think of such option. I was scared for my body, my life!

For there was this short tunnel filled with blazing fire lit and safeguarded by the priests of my temple. And simply – my only way out was through that fire. Could I do it?

As a demon, the element of fire was my ultimate death but fire in this amount would not have critically injured me. Hurt badly, aye, but never killed. However, what could it do to me now that I was mortal? Could it cause my death as it had caused the death of so many babies and even adults sacrificed to me, fed to the same fire? Could it injure me so badly that I would be unable to move once I am through and fall into hands of the cruel lustrous holy men? It was only little fire I tried to convince myself. And besides, what alternatives did I have – I could not possibly stay here. I would die in time. There was something I realized – I would starve to death.

As victims of the bloodthirsty demon-god Moloch had gone through fire thus now I had to pass through fire to obtain my mortal freedom.

I had my garments – my hooded black cloak and the scarf. They were as mortal as I was. They would make a small protection. In addition, I rolled in dirt and smeared myself with the blood on the ground. I was expecting the moist to diminish some of the heat.

I stared at the fire and I feared it. I suppose it goes natural for humans. However, I was a brave young man with the memory and perhaps even a will of an ancient demon.

I would go now. I will go now.

And I did. I was blinded by the brightness, deafened by the heat. The first moment when I crouched and crawled into the tunnel was not too bad; I did not feel anything but great shock and adrenaline rushing in me.

Then my garments caught fire. I wanted to stop and put out the fire but I realized the stupidity of this thought. And then I felt first pain. And then I felt just pain. Had I ever felt anything like this in my life? I doubt. I screamed, only to feel flames in my mouth and smoke in my throat. But I kept crawling. And then I was through. I fell to the solid stones, they were cold, and I screamed, coughed, moaned, and crawled. My brain was numb with the pain; I did not dare to open my eyes. But I was alive! My clothes were almost ashes around me but I was alive inside though badly injured.

Someone stepped into the room. I opened my eyes and saw a priest. Next thing I know I was up, every fiber of me a liquid fire and I went for him and took him down with me and bit through the skin of his neck – it was not easy to do but I managed, somehow. He rebelled with me and finally I broke his neck and drank his blood. Why, I am not sure. Perhaps I felt it was life, it was my first food – blood of another mortal, a man like me. I had suffered and I needed to regain my energy so I made his blood my own. He was my scapegoat. I tore the ashes of the cloak from my body. Then I took robes from the dead priest and put them on. The pain of burnt flesh was still almost unbearable. I was dizzy and afraid I could pass out. Still, blood of the priest had served me well – I was not as weak as before and surely not as hungry.

I walked the corridors, barely conscious of where I was going – away, out, out. Finally, light caught me, winter sun rested in the sky and I fell into deep white snow.

Snow saved me and almost killed me. White deep cloth of snow had covered me entirely thus veiled me from every peeking eye. But the cold! Had there not been the heat of sun that warmed even through thick mantel of snow, I would have probably frozen to death. I was lucky, really lucky, I understand that now – fire and snow, I should have died one death. But I did not. I lived.

I rose from the white and I did not think of being grateful that I had survived. In my mind, I was immortal; I was still Molock the Invincible.

I pulled the hood on and started walking. I was going downhill. I knew I would have to go downhill. The temple was carved into a mountain. The sun was falling down into holes in mountains and earth.

By dusk, I had reached a small settlement, one of the very first villages in neighborhood.

I was so tired I could cry but I kept going, laying one foot forth the other in dull pace.

People that caught a sight of me fled – natural, I paid no attention.

Several stones thrown at me brought me to my senses. However, what could they do to me?

Kill me. Aye, they could kill me. I hurried to get pass the village but there came another small rock, there a pebble. I was so exhausted I could barely think soberly. I wanted to lie down, just lay. I wanted some warm food and spicy wine for my burnt and frozen body.

I am mortal, I was thinking. But then why are they attacking me? What have I done? Am I not the image of their sacred and feared god?

I fell down by the well, too numb, too down to move my limbs. I looked into the water, it was cool, and I felt a desire to float in it.

Then I caught my reflection in the pool of water.

No, I was not an image of their god. I was an image of no god. I was a complete mess; I had never looked so terrible. My face was dark of ashes, mud, and blood. I had blisters all over me. Bits of skin were loose here and there. My hair was soaked in water and mud, ends of them heavily burnt. My feet were naked and so were my hands; scars all over them. I was grasping for breath, my chest heavily moving up and down, heart beating in my temples. I realized I was softly moaning. Moreover, the only robe I was wearing was still covered with blood of its first owner, wet and muddy.

Stones, again.

Die, you damnedest, thief of our children and women. We shall send you to meet your Lord Moloch!

What were they thinking I was?

A priest.

Priest of Moloch. My priest…

Don’t kill me, I cried out. Please! I’m not who you think I am!

Nay, I was thinking, I am not what you think I am - I am much worse. I am not a priest of Moloch to Whome Newborn Children Are Sacrificed. I am Moloch.

They would not believe me, no, of course not.

I was growing dizzy and for some reason, wished to vomit. This robe, it is not mine… I…killed its owner. I swear… Everything went green and black around me. Something bowed over me.

In the name of the Mother, I swear I am not a priest….

I went blank. Funny feeling.

After some time I felt a cool sensation on my lips. Water was so good. A moist cool hand lay on my forehead. So good, so kind. With some hesitation, I opened my eyes.

I was still lying where I had fallen by the well. However, there were no villains to throw stones at me but a man with fair hair and light skin was kneeling beside me, holding a wooden cup to my lips with cold water to drink. When he saw me coming around, he put the cup down and sternly looked into my face.

What do you know of the Mother?

I did not know how to react or what to say.

You swore by her. I ask you, stranger, what do you know of the Mother? Are you Her Acolyte?

I peered around me, hesitating.

They are gone. I have sent them away. I have told them I shall take care of you. It has been proven you are no priest, at least not of the god they fear and worship. I know you are not what we all thought you were. You want to know how?

It was as if he had been reading my thoughts. Well, perhaps he was.

You do not have his sign.

The sign…how do YOU know of it?

Seems that we both know more than we show, true? I was almost taken to be a priest myself. However, I managed to escape. Few dare even to try.

He looked at me, deeply in thoughts.

Who are you, stranger? Where do you come from and what businesses have you here?

I shook my head. Don’t ask me, please.

You are a runaway, he said. I reckon that. So am I. My name is Johann.

However, I heard more than he actually said – I heard the words he did not say but merely uttered in the back of his mind. In the future, I shall be called Johann the Enlightened one and I shall baptize people with the name of new god and savior of humanity.

Ahh, so you can do this, too, he muttered. You are full of extraordinary things, stranger. You have my name why don’t you give me yours.

Michael. This is what I said. And it was a sacrilege. My name is Michael.

Johann peered into my face and eyes so intently as if he would try to see the stones beneath me through my skull.

Michael, he repeated. Michael. Forgive me for doubting you. But you have come far and suffered much, you must be taken care of. You are welcome to my hut. You must come. I want to talk to you. I want you to tell me all you know of the Mother.

I want YOU to tell me of Michael.

He certainly had best manners, for he acted like there was nothing surprising in my request.

Very well, we shall talk, aye, indeed we shall. I shall dress your wounds and nurture you and we shall tell each other of the Allmother and the New Religion. Can you stand up?

I tried to, but fell swirling into his arms ready to catch me. And that strange fair-haired man once to be called John the Baptizer lifted me up and on his strong warm arms carried me away from all worries.

[Die]

20. John

Thus, I had become guest of Johann and temporary inhabitant of his little hut. I can still remember the room – a small fireplace, few rug mattresses, warm wooden blankets and a few scattered baskets and dishes. And of course, his quill and parchments. Loads of parchments covered with tiny handwriting. I never read them but I can suggest what they were about – John and how he saw Universe.

John was a remarkable man. He stands forth amongst all I have ever known. He was unique. There shall never be another John.

He was educated, a man of religion, a philosopher and much more, so much more. He had a huge heart. He loved them all. And he loved me.

I loved him, too. He did not only dress my wounds and nurture my body but he also dressed my soul and nurtured my spirit. We were more alike than one could have guessed. Just like me, he had lived many lives, or so he believed. Reincarnation he called it. And he remembered those lives. He had learned from them and the knowledge was never lost in him. That is why he was wiser and older than any other mortal was. In addition, I must say he was also wiser than most of the ‘gods’ and ‘demons’. He could also see and predict future – his own as well as of the nations.

He was not a happy man but he had peace of mind. He had suffered much – the wise, enlightened ones always do but never given in. He lived in solitude but he could have the world if only he wanted and that he knew well.

Yet, lately he had grown restless, he was seeking for a sign that his efforts are not in vain, that his philosophy and writings are not those of a lunatic.

He found me.

He needed me, loved me, and desired me with a passion of a scholar. I reminded him that he had been alone, for none had been able to understand him as well as I did. He was a humble man with a peculiar sense of pride but he had never felt equal with anyone but me. He could talk to me from his heart. Must have been a great relief and foundation to him.

We had become close friends very fast. We were friends already when we left the well.

And the conversations, the discussions, and debates we had sometimes until cockcrow. I learned so much from him.

The time of demon-gods would soon be over. World was sick of their blood thirst and the hopelessness preached. Darkness and evil had veiled skies for hundreds of years, now people of the world needed a bright beam of light and goodness. Once again, they were ready for it. But not yet, John told me. The time of Light is yet to come and children and grandchildren of the children of today shall see it and live by it. And Satan with all his demons shall be cast down from mountains to the holes of earth and banished to distant caves and deserts.

I asked him about Satan and was patiently explained of this new belief taught by angels and God Himself: that all the old gods, including Moloch, are the powers of evil and of Satans league, Satan being the greatest of demons and evil ones, an emperor over them. Some already believe in it, the belief spreads amongst nations, each day more, and more people begin to believe in it. And when the one and only God rises temples of the evil one shall be torn down and houses of God be build in stead; sacred places of Moloch and all the other ‘old gods’ shall be cleansed with the blood of priests and those evil and faithful to demons – mighty trees shall be cut down and trees of God planted in stead, joining the lands in one name and faith.

I could not argue him. I had seen it coming. In a way, I had been the reason why this was happening. I had given people a reason to rebel, thus setting loose the primal forces of human nature.

I knew there would have to be new gods but still, the idea of just one god seemed rather ridiculous. And Satan? I knew no Satan, unless I was one. However, it was clearly stated that Satan is not the same as Moloch.

I asked John if he believed in Satan. What he told me was that he is not sure. I could see he was trying, for the sake of his faith and philosophy.

I asked him, what this new god would be like and he said there would be two gods – the first one a god of vengeance to cleanse the earth from all old and the second a god of love.

So which one is your god, John? The first or the second?

They are the same god, he said. Just like a human holds within two sides – good and evil, darkness and light, so does this god – and his evil and darkness purifies the way to his wisdom and love.

Would it be possible that this god is already here, I asked.

It is.

Would it be possible, that Moloch is this god, for he, too, has purified the way, cleansed the path. Could it be that his evil is leading to good?

No, John replied firmly. Moloch is no god. He has done nothing but killed, most ruthlessly.

I felt like he had taken an iron thorn and stabbed me in my heart with it. Tears ran over my cheeks, salty water, like the sea.

Now John was worried. He wanted to know why I wept. Had he possibly said something that offended me gravely or saddened me so much that I had to sit and cry now? I tried to tell him it was nothing but he did not believe me. Then I decided I would tell him the truth and bade him to believe in what I was about to say. He promised he would.

Then you hark, and hark well, I said, holding on to his arms. What you are about to hear is no illusion of a madman or story of a poet. It is as true as that you and I sit here right now, breathe this air and converse with each other. There is a simple reason why your words grieved me and yet nothing is simple about me. The first day when you persuaded everyone that I am not a priest for I bear no sign you were perfectly right. And yet you were perfectly wrong for there was a much greater sign even your wisdom was unable detect. You might have wondered why I have never told you of the Allmother. Not because I know too little of her but because I knew her too well. Also, you might have suspected why it took me such hesitations to tell you my name. I assure you, that name was my one and only lie to you. Michael whose name I took is my twin brother. I am Molock.

I had said it. There was no way to take it back through any deceit or illusion.

Would he run from me now that he knew who I was? Would he cry and wail? Would he hate me? I could not have bear if he would have – I loved him. I was a fool in love with a mortal man. And I was as mortal as he was.

He reached towards me, took my head in his arms, and kissed my lips, tears glittering in his eyes.

Angel, he told me. My angel…

I startled. Nay, a demon. Molock.

He looked at me lovingly, his eyes ever so old and young. Your form is that of humans and your heart is that of angels.

You believe in that?

Yes, I believe in that.

Yet you called me ruthless killer just minutes ago.

So often, we misjudge those we do not know. There is a distinction between those we consider dear and those we do not. And you are forgiven.

You forgive me because you love me?

He kissed my forehead. Yes. And because you love me, too.

I reached out my hand and touched his fair hair. So soft, so sweet. I could not have done this while being immortal. I began to address my mortality as a gift. I embraced him to feel his body with mine, feel his heart running like a wild animal, so elegant, so beautifully shaped.

Make love to me, he whispered, his voice shaded green.

I shall, I whispered and embraced him.

No, he held me firm and looked at me with his blue eyes cool as icy mountain rivers. Make love to me up in the skies. I believe he pointed upwards. For a flicker I could see bright blue sky and rushing clouds as if there had been no roof above us. Make love to me as you did to her.

I cannot. John! Have you little idea what you are asking? I am not that supernatural being any more! I am a man like you and everybody else. I cannot do that.

Yes, you can.

I shook my head violently. I cannot. John, listen to me! I cannot do it! I cannot fly!

But can your soul fly, he asked me.

My soul… My soul? My dear, are you certain I possess one?

Yes, yes I am sure. You have always had it. Or else you would not love as you do nor feel pain as you have.

All right, let us say I have a soul. How will that help me fulfilling your request?

He looked at me, bewildered. You have never done it? You have never sent your soul out for some quest, to travel enormous distances, do you bidding and in proper time return to your body that meanwhile has laid stiff and silent as if in deep sleep?

I have. But I was …. I tried to capture just what I had been. I did not believe I was a demon. And I knew for sure I was no angel, either. Immortal – but that is no description of anyone. Ancient One? There were others, but I had always been different, something else, something more. …another being when I did all that. Humankind no longer possesses the tricks I once taught them.

Ah, but you are perfectly wrong, John said with sweetest tone. You see, there are those that can. Have you not seen me doing many things that you thought only you in your previous form and others still like you would be able to do? As surely, as I can command my soul to rise from this body and walk the earth unnoticed so can you. All you have to do is tell your soul to ascend into heavens taking me with you. I shall be ready; I shall be reaching out for you.

John was a marvel, a true miracle. I agreed. I would take him to ‘my world’ and there we would make love as beings both natural and supernatural while our bodies would lie on the floor, locked together in cool embrace.

[Die]

21. Dawn

I woke, still a bit dizzy from the flight. The sun was rising. John was dead. Sun was rising and he was dead. He had not made it through the night.

I had loved him. It was wrong and he died. That’s what they always do. They die. You love them and they die. They go away to some place you cannot follow. Each being has its own heaven, hell, purgatory, and afterlife.

But he had died happy. Did that matter? Did it? Was I less guilty because he had been happy? Because he had been content?

I burnt down the hut with his body inside it. I burnt it down with all his quills and parchments. I would not leave anything about him to the world. I was jealous.

I had killed him. I had, very frankly, loved him dead. If I had had the courage, I would have burnt myself along with him. But I was too weak. And I still could not believe that I could die. I did not believe my soul could die. I could not imagine anything worse than traveling the realms without any body, just a moaning spirit. Aye, I feared that.

But what was there for me? A mortal body I did not know how to use? This mortal life I had never asked for? This world I did not care about? Why?

All worthy die young.

And perhaps they must. Or else they become like me. It is better that they die than whither and lose everything. Those that go never suffer the loss. Pain belongs to the survivors. And the wounds never heal. There’s no one to mend them.

John… Where was his soul now? Where was his intelligence, his memories, all the experience he had gained throughout his many lives? Where was it? All gone? Tomorrow the world would not remember he had ever been. His words would become a myth and no one, no one but I would cry because he is no more.

True, he had believed that he would be born again. It was that I could not believe in it. Aye, and even if he did, he would not be the same man. He would not be my John. Not the John with his sweet voice that echoed in my head; his cool eyes that loved me, his strong warm arms that loved me.

Silly me! To love a mortal!

I walked out of that village. I was heading to big cities. You see, I had this plan of what I must and will do.

I wanted to suffer, feel physical pain. I wanted to taste humiliation, to choke of it. I desired to sink as low as one can. Perhaps I began to seek redemption.

I desired to be scorn, beaten, torn and raped. It would make my soul sing. And I would have a sense of liberty.

Oh silly me! To love a mortal…

[Die]

22. Big cities

Big cities are always alike. Big cities never change. They have the same dirt and dust, same swollen streets and squares, mansions and palaces for rich people, huts for poor and house atop a house for middle class. From time to time, it has seemed to me as if all cities contain the same people and so do all ages.

It was to the big cities that I had gone and now wondered. They became my teacher. What wondrous ways men have to destroy themselves, to cause innumerable sufferings upon their fellow mortals! I tasted of the bitter fruits and yet they were too sweet for my taste.

I was a stranger in these towns, a weird thing with a mass of black hair, shaded eyes, clad in simple white robe.

I discovered wine and its effects on a man such as me – they were not as strong as I had expected. I had a mind too clear, a will too strong. It held me upon waters when I desired to sink.

I wanted to tell them I was a criminal, thousand times a murderer but they did not believe me – because I was too beautiful for their eyes. Thus, I began to seek the one thing my looks could arise in them – lust. However, it was not the women whose passion I seek. It was the men. I was no longer a god – I was a whore.

I hid from those that looked kindly upon me, those that could have loved me and cared for me. It was lust, pure brutal sexual lust I hungered. When I first time gave in to a brute sailor I felt something I had never known before – mortal pain. It was … something I shall always remember, always. It made me feel alive. I wondered if dying would be the very essence of life…

Other human beings were so funny, simply amazing. They took me for my looks yet so many seek for my soul. Why, what would they do with it? And, did I have a soul now that I was a man? Did I? Or if, was it as rotten as anything else inside of me was.

Oh, how, why must I tell you anything? You never listen, do you? You run from me now as if you cared none of me. You have denied me and yet you love me. You see, we ARE the same – we ARE immortal in love. You can fly, Alele, and I wish that you did, but in me is your only nest as mine in you. I believe in that if it were the one and last thing I still believe in. I am your faith, Isabel and you are mine. I believe in you as long as you exist; I exist as long as you do. And you cannot deny me, though you can deny yourself.

Oh my love, cruel is fate. I have always been certain you get whatever you want. I just had the simple silly hope that I never rise to see the day when you no longer want me. Aye, you can crush my little hopes and my little faiths, but you shall not harm my love for you. I walked off your path the moment you told me so and I shall not come back. I shall not. You must come. You shall. Just like the first time. You must irresistibly call for me. And then I shall answer and you shall return to your nest.

I have the eternity. I shall wait. And some day, when you grow tired of mortal suns and moons and can no longer bear it …then say my name. Say Molock.

[Die]

23. My queen, in life and death

Cities smelt of decay. And so did all the people. Old world was dying. All the horrid system I had helped to build and preserve was no more than a sand castle. A morning would rise when it would be swept away. People had grown restless, as if they had been waiting for something, someone. Also, they acted as if the end of the world was near. Their anxiety moved in me. I became a part of their apocalyptical desires and perils. I felt it – the great chaos that can only be followed by new order was at reach.

I had come to the cities to taste shame and doom, instead I had first surveyed and then studied my own mortality. I had gained much valuable knowledge about world, people, and myself.

I was a strange creature, a dark being with consistent melancholy but always studying, always on the road going somewhere – either physically or spiritually – and completely lacking the ability to give in. I had hope within me even if there was none.

Big cities told me many things. They also told me about you – the Queen of Heavens, the All-Mother. John had been right – there were those that remembered “things”, possessed some part of the ancient knowledge. Those that still believed that world had not always been such a wicked place full of inexplicable controversies.

I no longer had to kill men to drink from their knowledge. I could do other things. And my tools of self-destruction and redemption served me in unique ways. I could be brutally raped by some seadog and not be cast down in shame and pain. On the contrary, while he gave in to his lust and freed his mind in this most physical activity, I could capture his spirit and it would serve me as a guide, leading me through everything the man had ever seen, heard, touched, moved. I saw world as he had seen and mustered it. And I learned about exotic countries, ravishing storms that turned sea into a livid organ, a huge dragon, of every beggar he had given money, poet he had heard and slut he had slept with. I had never known there could be so many different things, so many different people. And they were no longer brutal or simple minded. I doubt they ever had been. I had gravely misjudged mankind. And another thing – I could no longer hate them. Had I ever, even in my most ferocious impulsive days really hated them? Or was I so angry because I loved them and thus their betrayal hurt me?

World has always been a funny place, has it not?

And those were big cities that led me to you; it was the men that had slept with me; it was the men that either fancied or mocked me. They all finally led towards one road – and that was a crooked road that led me to you.

I had never imagined you could be mortal and so close to me – not after I had terribly lost you two times. Suddenly we roamed the same city; you lived few blocks from the harbor. I caught your perfume, the scent of your skin. I felt the wind after it had touched the fabric of your robes and you hair. There was a tiny change in its substance. Nothing can ever be the same after you have touched it. Nothing and no one. This is your curse.

I also read you from the minds of those that had passed you by on the streets, carelessly taking a molecular or two of your aura with them. I knew I would find you. I knew that the closer I got the more I would be driven by the force that united us. There is a power which name or actual substance I have never known, but it binds us forever.

I did not run but walked a common pace. I got just a little dizzy of all the sensations and memories frolicking through my mind. Streets grew narrow and ash white; it was stones all over the place and bright blue heavens above. I guess the sun was shining; I have a memory of the rays coming down through half transparent white clouds. I was alone. There was no one else on the streets and I was almost convinced that the shops and houses were just as empty. It took me time to reach my destination. How much, I am unable to say. It was as if time had made a twist, stopped, or again, been spread as the pavement that I walked on. Time and space moved with me but it was not supernatural – it was perhaps the most natural thing that had ever happened with me, this walking.

Finally, I took a sharp corner – it had been always straight or just a bit curvy before – and there I was. The street was pretty wide compared to the all the rest. It was white, too – everything – stones beneath, walls of the houses. It was all clean, pure, and bright. There was this house with red and blue flowers on the windowsills. Windows had huge frames of some light wood. The door was painted green and stood half-open. Right beside the door, facing the street, sat an old woman on a pile of pillows and mattresses. Her white locks glistened in the sun, her body wrapped inside robes of blue and white, her eyes focused on some faraway spot.

I walked the street till my shadow fell over her and I stood before her, shading whatever it was she was looking at. I knew she had noticed me walking down the street and she did not look surprised at all. I stood and looked down at her; she gazed me with her emerald green eyes, that old being clad in her white hair, infinitely wise and magickal. She gave me one of those inexplicable smiles that belong to people innumerably older and experienced than others.

I had finally found you. And studying you closer I realized something – it was not as if you had been imprisoned inside an old woman’s body. That old being was you. It was your natural form and frame. You had born with it. You were sitting before me, naturally old and possessed absolutely no knowledge of me, of course. What was it that you saw in me? Another youngster? Or was it that my eyes were as old as your own? You had neither fear nor interest in me. Age has its natural defenses – one of them is complete innocent ignorance in the doings of world. Death comes so slowly, its touch can be noticed years and years before the actual passing away. Really old people are partially citizens of some other world, perhaps the one they are going after death. I could not know. I have never died a mortal death myself and those that have never tell – or if, they are mocked or blindly worshipped.

And then she spoke to me. Who are you, she asked.

I only had the words I had meant to say – I am Molock and I have come for you. However, they seemed so inappropriate, suddenly. A stranger. That is how I felt. She looked sternly into my eyes.

Where are you from?

A faraway place… I was confused and sad, for some reason.

What is he like – the God?

Oh why are you asking me this… Am I to lie? Or crush you obvious faith with my words?

I have no knowledge of him. I have never known a god.

You did not look sad, rather investigative, and thorough. So what does Satan look like?

I know no Satan either. There has been none such as long as I know.

I see, you said. There was no disappointment in your voice, rather as if I had confirmed some old faith of yours. What about angels? Or demons?

I shook my head. No. Unless we are.

You gave me an irking smile. You sure look an angel to me… I could swear you were flirting, you, the old wise crone were flirting with me!

As do you to me, I replied and bowed courtly.

Heaven? Hell? You went on.

Just names. No such places. Not that I know of. Why were you tormenting me with those questions, interrogating me in such fashion? Why?

Two emeralds locked into my eyes. What shall be after I die? What shall I be?

I wept bitter tears inside. For I had nothing to tell you. No great secrets to reveal. I knew nothing. There had been this cycle of rebirths, but what was there now? The world had grown so apart that I no longer had the answers. I could sense your passion, your hunger for knowledge, for all the “how’s” and “why’s”, but I had nothing to give you.

All I could see was your tiny figure before me – so fragile, so sweet, so warm, and alien.

I… don’t… know. The pain and anguish were audible.

Is there anything at all, after this life?

I sighed. I think there is. I’m just not sure what. I’m sorry…

You looked at me almost teasingly. Well, I am soon to find out, am I not? I guess I’ll die and then I’ll know, right? And that won’t be long.

I was forcing myself not to cry but my eyelids got heavy and bitter, I could no longer see clearly.

Don’t die… don’t leave me! Not here! Not alone! You cannot do this to me! Not again!

Don’t weep, Molock…

When the shock passed a little, I wanted to ask you but I didn’t. You no longer knew.

I’m old, you said as if to comfort me. I have no family; I’ve buried every last of them. I have no neighbors or acquaintances. I have paid my debts to the world a long time ago. For a long time now, I’ve been waiting for you. Now that you are here, I feel it is time. I am done with this world and this life. In vain and with foolish heart, I demanded of you the answers I am to obtain. I have lived my life – and that is a good eighty years – knowing not more than you do – it is time to move on now, time to cross the line.

It was all true that you said. But I could not accept it. I could not accept you leaving me. And I did not really believe in afterlife. There was a chance that death might release your origin, then again, I might lose you into the cycle of rebirth. And what if… What if there was nothing? If all mortals had, was this life and at the point of death all matter simply ceased existing, went back to the great primal chaos? I could not know, could I?

Then I had a brilliant idea. I’m going with you! I will hold tight to you and wherever you go, I go and what befalls you befalls me, too. And be it casting into nothingness, so be it. As long as it would be with you, I am content.

I told you of this. I told you I wanted to be with you. I could see you were a little upset.

‘It is not meant, lad, that we in such manner join our fates. I am old and you are young. I am of Earth and you are of Moon. It is not right. It is not fitting. Why would you want such a thing? I cannot, I must not take you with me.’

Forgive me, I said. For I bear no answers or knowledge that you seek. But I love you and I must join you. For should you leave me, the world becomes a desert and much worse than any death befalls me. There are issues I cannot reveal you now. But I swear here and now that I shall on the other side if you simply allow me to walk your path…’

Oh, what was I saying?! These were mere words, clad in fancy fashion! This had not been what I meant, oh no!

I knelt before you, on the verge of crying and softly spoke, looking into your emerald eyes, reaching for your luminescent fingers.

‘Please… I love you… And wherever you go I go…”

You closed your eyes and opening them again, a single tear flickered in them.

“So be it. But it is not you that comes with me but that I go with you. You must take us both away to the land you were born.”

THE LAND I WAS BORN?!! You knew! Did you actually know?! Had you tricked me from the start? It was all too weird to be true.

I kissed your hands, then your feet. “My queen…”

You chuckled. “Now-now. Treating me so courtly. As if I was your mother.”

I almost screamed; then buried my head in your lap to muffle my sweet and bitter agony. When I looked up, you were smiling. “Are you my lover?” you flirted.

I kissed your lips.

“Go!” you demanded. “Go inside and bring me the little bottle you see on the top shelf. Go!”

I did all in commanded fashion. I knew what I held in my hands the moment I touched it and my eyes bore a sight of it – death. Death that carries no scythe. Death that comes in small portions. Death that is as emerald as your eyes.

But it was not the death I saw in your eyes when I handed you the tiny bottle.

“Not the way angels die, is it?” you said bitterly and threw the potion aside. Stones drank the poison meant for me and thee. Did they die, I wonder… “Must be water or fire, water or fire. True?”

I nodded blindly.

“Here, my mate in death, my lover in life and death. You must gather me up and carry me inside. Then you must set the house in blaze and marry me in death.”

A pyre! A pyre! Not such death, my love, not such death! For I fear it! I. Fear. It. But if this were your desire, I shall grant it. And cloak you so you shall feel no pain.

Oh silly me, mortal me! What have I to cloak you with but my courage and love?

I put my arms around you, your head resting on my shoulder. So warm, so soft. So elf-like. I could not help but cry. But I did all that you bade me. Only that I would not let go of you. I was scared. I was so scared to lose you.

And the fire crept closer and closer. I bent over you, shielding you with my body, your hair loose, mine falling, flying, mingling with yours. Gold and ebony. Ebony and gold.

On the other shore, I whispered. But I did not believe it. All I believed I held in my arms.

Now kiss me, you whispered in my ear, your voice growing feeble.

I did. And I saw myself from above, a pale raven-haired mortal embracing a golden elf.

I felt the heat. And I cared none. I smelt the smoke. But I cared none. I love you, I said repeatedly. Asham ra, my beautiful faerie-queen.

We kissed and you said your lips attached to mine: Marry me. Just say it.

And I shall marry you, my Isabel. I kissed you and I cried. Kissed you and cried. I was dying and I had never been happier.

You kissed my eyelids. And I shall marry you, my Molock, my beautiful prince from the Land of December…

[Die]

24. Michael

I felt a supernatural presence. I was lying inside the ruins of my temple where once I had fallen asleep. For some time I simply laid in such slumber. Not knowing anything was sweet. I bore no responsibilities, yet. And I was dreaming, dreaming that the dream had been real. That you would lay beside me.

I was no longer mortal - I knew that. My shell had ceased in that fire. Aye, I had lost you, again.

You see, I believed it had been but a dream. I believed I had envisioned all this fuss about mortality. I HAD to believe in it in order to survive. Reality is nothing but a ruthless killer.

All I knew was that one day I had come to my senses and found myself back inside my tomb. But the rattling had ceased, the huge hive of priests, slaves and all else had died out. My temple was my tomb, indeed.

For ages I had lain, never rising from the stone plates, never opening my immortal eyes, hardly ever stirring a thought. There was nothing I wanted to know of the world. I wanted to sleep. But I could not. Something was uneasy. Restlessness scurried through me in surges. Though unwilling, I always received the main spirit of mortal world.

There was something or someONE, and that was seeking me. No, not actually seeking. I was easy to find and it knew perfectly well, where and in which condition I lay. It was lurking around my stone shelter, a remnant of blood and glory.

I was last of the blood gods. Where the other nine were, I had no idea. I presume that they were playing it low, just for the time being.

Today, it had come in. It had torn down the building completely. However, it had been careful not to harm me.

It had come for me. It was standing beside me, looking, thinking, feeling, but carefully cloaking everything personal about it.

Well, I might as well call it a he, for I could have sworn it was male. He wanted me to open eyes. He wanted me to rise. He wanted to talk.

For some time I enjoyed my power over him. My blindness to the surrounding rendered him weak and vulnerable. While I slept, I was the master.

However, I grew curious – who could stand so still and silent yet possess such power within him. And so finally, it was curiosity that battled and won me. Once again, over centuries I opened my eyes. My body was still lying on the solid stone tablet.

There stood under stars a luminescent being – pale as ice, raven-haired, noble, silent, not ever stirring at my glance.

All I could do was whisper Michael. And he stood there and had me investigate him.

He was alive. He was beautiful. His hair was like mine – ebony and long. Mine were torn but his framed his oval white face like some rare hood of velvet. Wind was tangled in his hair and it seemed a living being, especially with him so still. His eyes were copies of mine and sad, utterly sad. Those eyes knew tears; they knew pain, but also great wisdom and self-control. His flesh was much more ethereal than mine was. He looked like an elf to me. But so much more beautiful. His garments and armory were marvelous, pieces of art. A fine long-sleeved white robe with a shade of blue here and there. Ah, and the armory! Never before had I seen such things – made of silver but woven as if of cobweb. It covered him from neck until knee. A few steps from him a gleaming sword was stuck into the earth. A sword of true magick and my dreams.

I cannot describe what I felt looking at him, seeing him alive. I knew I had given him birth, then killed him. I knew I loved him. He was my brother, my child, my angel.

Michael, I was telling him. My brother my angel. You are a wonder.

He never moved; I sensed no vibration of either thought or emotion.

Michael, is there a chance that you ever forgive me? For I love you here and there.

I wanted to embrace him, just hold him; feel another such as me locked to my heart.

He looked at me coldly and by his mind, spoke. I have no words for you. I have no tongue. I have come to tell: you are late, Molock.

He was so beautiful, so still and cold. And his only tongue and language his mind, but that mind a diamond.

You are my mother and father. I owe you this life. That is why I came to converse with you before I kill you. See, Molock, there are means to kill even our kind! Trust in me as I say I have come to kill you and I shall not fail.

You think this is personal. You are right and wrong. I do not deny we being brothers. And both of great evil we bear within. However, whereas you are tool of yourself, a tool of chaos and evil, I am a tool of justice and good. You serve yourself, I serve a greater cause. Yet I am no god but a Maker of One and True God. Upon your chaos, we shall build a new order. Your death is a sacrifice to us all.

You bore me! Now witness your son and brother!

You slayed me! Now witness, for the angel hath risen and come to kill the King of Demons!’

Is this what you think I am, I asked him bitterly.

A tiny flashing clouded his eyes. You have marked yourself, brother, and marked well.

So all the legends had been true. This was the new religion. And to deal off with me, Michael had created a God, a system, and clad himself in the wardrobe of an archangel of this New Good God.

So be it, he told me and drew his sword.

I had never seen a sword more beautiful. I had no idea what if was made of or how, but it was blue and glowing. Would it kill me?

Yes. He raised it, aiming at my heart. My eyes were sucked to his face. I wanted to take the look of his eyes along with me to the great chaos.

But he was crying, my sweet murderer, my executioner. And as he stood upon me with his hands raised, I saw that he had no wings; my angel was unable to fly.

Where are your wings, Michael? And why do you weep?

He gazed at me, dizzy, bewildered, and pair of white feathery wings sprout from his back. It was amazing. It was like a miracle.

Then he laid these words gently into my mind. It is said an angel must weep each time a demon dies.

I love you, I replied tenderly. And down came the blade, thundering, humming, and piercing me; it went right through me like a ray of sun slides through water. My eyes were wide opened as he pulled it out and fell swirling into my arms. I was falling and he was falling and I caught him, held on to him tight, as we were growing lighter and lighter.

I spoke to him in the ancient tongue. Why? You are dying? Dying with me?

It is said, he replied, that I must die each time you die, for we are joined in spirit and blood.

No pain, Michael.

No, no pain.

Something was pulling me. Something had attached its black slimy claws into my substance. Winds rose and formed a tunnel around us. I was scared. I fought to live. I wanted to live. I screamed and battled. But there was little I could do unless I let go of Michael. He must have been weaker than I. He was a barely unconscious heap in my arms, eyes wide opened but I doubt he saw anything.

I did not know where we were going. I knew no place but Earth. But Earth was gone, lost for us. I could not hold on to it.

This was my first “real death” and it was not beautiful or enlightening, nothing of the kind. It was confusing and uncomfortable. It taught me absolutely nothing. You see, it was no “spiritual lesson”. I had no idea what was actually happening. I drew no conclusions and made no suggestions. Everything happened simply because it did and because I could not withhold it.

[Die]

25. The Third World

I had been lying awake now for quite some time, trying to capture the essence of what I had come through. Was this death? If so, then why was I still alive? How could it be that I was still thinking, feeling? And if it was life then where was I? What was this place?

It was a desert, more than that, a wasteland. There were no clouds, no sun, or stars. There was no heaven I knew of but some strange twilight. And the essence of everything around me was extraordinary. It was no longer the fragile substance of Realm; and surely, this was no Realm. I was certain that if I tried to destroy it, the land would strike back. For it was strong and stubborn in its will to live. It was like I.

Michael’s head rested on my shoulder; he lay silent and his faerie-hair danced on the skin of my face. Soft, caressing, unearthly.

Heaven…hell, he kept repeating. Heaven… hell…

But this is no heaven or hell, Michael, I told him, but he already knew.

He rose. I rose. We looked down at ourselves. So strange. Then we looked at each other. Is this how ghosts look like? I could not know, for I have never seen a ghost with mortal eyes. I had always been aware that my substance differed from that of mortals and mortal world. But the body I had now differed so much from what I knew to be mine. Which being could possibly be created in such cell, a body so weak that an earthly wind would blow it apart, cease its existence. I could easily move my hand through my bones and flesh. This was rather frightening. You see, the fact that you could walk through me without feeling almost nothing does not mean as if I would not be solid. I am solid and still enough for the world I was born. Your world – before it changed so utterly that it became two worlds. But this was a third world and a third substance. I gasped. No air, of course, and no need for it, either. Well, at least this substance was accustomed to the weirs of this world.

Nevertheless, I still had my mind. And in all this frailty and madness, I loved it.

Ah, and so funny, we were still wearing our robes. And my wings, my beautiful wings. Marvelous!

Michael seek for his sword.

Such nonsense, I could not help but said. Why, we are already dead! You cannot kill me here. We cannot die double.

He smiled, the archangel. Perhaps we can’t. Perhaps we can.

You have no power here. Neither do I. This is a new world. New rules even you know nothing about. I told him more – that we should investigate this land; seek to understand it, gain information of its beauties and vices. And through all that come to realize what happened to us, where we are, and the most important – how to get back. There had to be a bridge between two worlds. Mutual death had carried us here. There had to be a way to return the process.

It was all weird – that I should be lost in a chaos and waste with the one person that mattered to me so much and that hated me so passionately.

And he was confused. He could not cope with the fact that we had ended up in the same place. I realized it was far beyond personal. He was worried about humankind. He believed in the system he had helped to build and now he saw craters within its walls. He believed in the strict separation of evil and good. The fact that he and I had died and ended up in the same place that was neither heaven nor hell confused and irritated him greatly.

How could people trust in the One Good God and follow his laws if it mattered none? How could they stay sure and lay their faith in Him and His Angels, when in the end it did not matter, whether they had walked the good or the evil path, worshipped the Lord and His Angels or paid tribute to Satan, his demons and the old pagan gods? If there was no division between Heaven and Hell and all ended up in one hole, then what did anything matter?

I followed the pattern of his thoughts and realized that faith was no blind crazed worshipping for him, neither a pure tool of vengeance. He believed in system built on common logic – a logic even I could not deny. He believed in rules, in questions and answers, in justice. I might have disagreed about the concept of philosophy, but I could not deny the beauty of logic, the simplicity of the basis of the system. This was, simply, that the good deeds are rewarded and the evil justly punished. All perfectly normal, all fair and just.

In extended version, it was a religion, God being the example and essence of Good – a set statue of all virtues for men to follow – whereas Satan was the essence of Evil, representing all vices. It was a system made very simple and very picturesque: be good, be, as God and angels and you shall be rewarded. Or be like Satan, like demons, and earn a punishment of God the Lord.

In final, souls of the good dead would go to Heaven, a place of bliss – and a possible rebirth? – whereas the wicked souls fell into Hell, the kingdom of everlasting Darkness and torment.

What troubled Michael gravely was that he and I had died but not gone one to Heaven the other to Hell but been “transported” to a place no one knew anything about. And thus good and evil, angel and demon differed none in fate. I wonder how many beliefs and illusions it shattered.

We roamed the wasteland and it seemed endless. Then perhaps, we were so lost that we went in circles. I could not tell - it was always the same unearthly greenish grey, sometimes with a turn to bluish here or there. Time was gone, dead as we. Idea of flying was too terrible. Besides, I frankly refused to believe we had the energy or the power.

We just kept walking until we could walk no more, until Michael was wasted and down and so was I. Then we stopped.

Michael despaired. He did not want me to hear but could not help it. He uttered something in strange language – a prayer of some sort. Finally, he cried for God. He summoned and begged God to come and save him, save us. Told him this was wrong, that is was against His will, and He should mend it.

I could not but admire his faith – both very child-like and mature. He simply believed in good, justice, and fair plays. He believed in rhyme and reason. Frankly, he believed in all I had ceased trusting.

But who was his God? This I wondered now. Who was this powerful deity to whome Michael sent his prayers and kneeled? What was He like? Who was he? And who was Satan? Who were the angels, the demons? Who, what were they? Was it some new race? But how could this be, for there was no Creator. And no Mother, either. No, it could not have been any new race. However, to think that some shape-shifters played supreme and made Michael bend his head was unthinkable, vile, repulsive.

They are the Ancient Ones and the Elders. The Ancient Ones gave birth to the Elders and the Elders gave birth to all else.

And God, Satan? Which are they?

Elders.

But you and I, we are not Elders, surely. Are we amongst the Ancient Ones? For I have been called thus, once.

Michael shook his head. No, we are not. We are something else. Whether older, I cannot say. But we might be the eldest alive. And nobody I know remembers anyone older than the Ancient Ones.

No Creator… I muttered.

And no Mother, Michael whispered. This is a new era, Molock, and you are late…

[Die]

26. Ka’li

I woke in yet another place and time. And lo, there stood upon me a woman of exquisite beauty, her garments green and black, her hair auburn, and eyes emerald. A golden crown shone on her head.

True queen, I whispered. Mother…

Cloudy sky ran through her eyes. For a moment, her body seemed to vanish and a pool of black crystalline water appear.

Not the Mother but Satan. Though, you can call me Ka’li.

I stood up. I was inside some old castle, but strange, for glimpses I could see much further than my view ever reached. I saw the skies, clouds dashing through violet ether, stars appearing and disappearing. Green meadow gave way to rocky mountains and deep valleys. Everything led to this castle and yet it seemed abandoned. And there was she, the Queen Ka’li, the strange Lady Satan, and I, prisoner of if none else then her mercy.

Where is Michael, I uttered, gazing at her noble figure, her pale face, and her bottomless eyes.

God has taken him. As I have taken you, Prince Molock. She caught a fiber of my thoughts and laughed the sound echoing from walls and heaven. I never would have brought you to hell. I brought you home. This is your Realm.

A strange slumber came over me, and unable, unwilling to resist, I fell to the floor. I reached and whispered for her, barely conscious.

I am your servant, Lady… She ran her hands down my eyes, my face.

Sleep now, warrior, prince, poet, lover. Sleep and forget. And perhaps your dreams shall reveal you of hidden things, of mirrors and ancient lore.

I obeyed. I closed my eyes. I slept in her arms.

Oh and what dreams those were… More strange, more beautiful than the song of a blind nightingale. To the very beginning of times I traveled. I was happy and content, with no one and nothing.

And in the heart of chaos, there was an auburn haired girl who believed she could really make it work. She was beautiful. She was happy.

Times passed and things grew bigger and bigger, worlds were filled with everything. There were things to worry about, now; too much responsibility. It was no longer just about her, it was about everyone and everything. She was still beautiful, but no longer was she happy.

More and more gained on her, collided, and smeared her with layers of eternity until she became the very essence and root of everything. All things depended on her and she had to take care of them. Those things had lives of their own; they mingled and crowded her mind until she could no longer see herself, no longer see what she was apart from the First, the Beginner, and the Mother of All Life.

And I could see her, the little helpless girl, sitting on a throne like a heap of misery, crying, screaming from the top of her lungs; and nobody to hear her, no nobody at all. The world she had given birth had opened its mouth and chewed her; thoroughly chewed her until there were no juices left and then swallowed her.

And there was no justice and there was no freedom, not for her. She was rendered with little hope and little faith, to drink from a day as much as she could, and settle with it, never asking for more but always, endlessly craving.

But she is still beautiful, I whispered in my sleep.

I saw my brothers and myself created from a whim of wind, statue of rock, lump of ice, and fire of mountain. Nine of us there were; and each with a ring in index finger. Strange rings were those if you looked in them. They show us flickers and moods, pieces of this and that picture, fibers of thoughts. But if united, the nine show everything that was, is, and will be. Great power they withheld, yet they were but mirrors of truth. They were eyes, but those blind saw but endless night and those wicked but deceitful corruptive illusions. No creature but that of pure and uncorrupt soul would ever be able to gaze into one of the nine and see truth.

And thus, we, the Nine, were sent out to roam the Universe with a mission to study heart and soul of each living being, travel all era and realm – for as long as there were rings we could not die and become elements again. Thus, we set out with a sole purpose – were we ever to find a soul perfectly honest, pure of all vice, seeking truth and truth only, we must give that creature the ring, thus making him/her the bearer. With all rings in possession of their True Bearers – for we were but guardians and messengers – we must bring them to the Tenth.

Before setting out to fulfill the task, we were taken to the sea. And there, from the bottom through the waves rose a glittering throne carrying Her, that was called the Tenth. She bore a diadem that gazed through us, for it was an eye, red as blood, lava or sun as it sets in Southern Lands. As we kneeled before her, she blessed us and called us Her Guardians, Guardians of the Tenth.

There in my dream I witnessed the creation of the elven folk; how everything that was beautiful in forest, meadow or lake gave them birth. And just born, they had a mind of a child and a crone. How I loved them and how they loved everything and me. For many times I believed I was one of them. But as times passed and grew old, I saw them whither and suffer. No longer did they walk as Sun, but to ancient woods and mist they gathered, speaking and singing in tongue of their own. Too much did they care and too much did they suffer. From stars and Universe and Mother Earth they had read the future and if filled their spirit with melancholy.

Then I went to them and offered them the ring. I took it from my finger and placed it on the moss before them as they stood - stars of forest, pearls of the entire creation.

I wanted to give them hope and happiness. Many rings had my brothers given away and the union was at hand. Surely, Mother would cease their worry and instead of sad songs, they would chant hymns for Her.

Sweetly and firmly they stood around me; sweetly and firmly, they declined.

They did not want it.

I took it and cursed it. I cursed myself; I cursed the Beautiful People.

Yet again, I dreamed, and saw myself living in a dark cave with my brothers. Too alike and different had we been made. However, for quite long we returned from our roaming to sit by a fire and talk or simply watch how we had grown and changed. But too powerful, and soon, too old we were to bear one another. Thus, the number of those that returned to gathering ceased with adding time. Until, one day there was in our home but one brother and I; and then he went out to never return. Alone I sat in the dark cave, singing, chanting, memorizing.

Now my dreams became filled with dark clouds and blood. Again, I saw myself standing at the empty coffin; there I fought with Michael, casting him down into his rocky tomb; there more and more victims were laid on my altars; there I slept, there I sang, there I burnt with you.

Finally, it was but desert, Michael and I in that strange Realm between two realms. All this time I had known nothing of the ring, though I carried it invisibly in my index finger. But when the desert opened and God and Satan stood before us – I knew them for what they were that instant – I tore it away and threw it as far as I could, for the mouths of sand to swallow.

I woke and found myself sitting on throne beside a throne Ka’li sat. I was still heavily dozed, under the spell of those dreams she had sent me. There, in front of me in the dust on the floor lay the ring.

I stood and picked it up, but did not put it on. I did not want to put it on ever again.

The ring lying on my open palm I kneeled before her throne, offering it to her.

Take it, I said. You are worthy. You are the true bearer.

Most awkwardly did she smile upon me.

A godly gift for a Satan, she said mockingly. Had you given it to your brother Michael, God would have it now. Why not give it to him?

I did not want him to have it – as he would take it to his God, I said bitterly but firmly. And I do not consider Him worthy.

You spoke of things you are yet to understand, Ka’li replied. And so you declined God the ring you have worn, forgotten, for thousands of human years. And now you are offering it to me… She looked at me, rather concerned and trying to understand me thoroughly. Do you know what this means, Molock, Prince from the Land of December? Are you sure?

She sounded sad. So did I. I am.

Giving me the ring, you bind your fate with me, with the world and powers of darkness and evil. Lo, I am the Satan as he is the God. And you shall be my Prince, commander of my armies, as your brother is His.
Prince from the Land of December, King of Demons, Guardian of the Tenth, ARE YOU SURE?

I took her hand in mine and gently slid the ring to her index finger.

Yes, My Lady, I am.

[Die]

27. My God

My decision was rather based on philosophy than faith. The time I had spent in wasteland with Michael had given me reason to think of many things. Studying his religion, I was forced to study mine, as well. Finally, I decided, that although his faith was almost perfectly logical, I could not go by it. I could not believe in powers of good and good only. Besides, how could it possibly be entirely good to burn the temples and sacred woods of “blood gods”, if many suffered in it; how could it be entirely good to chase and attempt to kill me, if everything in me objected. If the will to destroy is evil, how can it be good to destroy in the name of good? Can evil be done in the name of good? If so, then good could also be done for the sake of evil. Everything and everyone serves a purpose and who is to judge, which is supreme? The only ethical choice I saw was deeply subjective and I intended to keep it thus.

However, I would have remained a lone ranger, if there had not been Ka’li. I joined her because I liked her; I trusted and respected her from the very beginning. And I never joined a Satan; I joined a fair and beautiful queen who now wore the ring of Nine and Ten.

Nevertheless, I was a tough case, as some would put it. I was endlessly asking questions; and I was asking her.

She had told me she was the Satan, God’s adversary, and her name was Ka’li. But I kept inquiring for her real form. It did not suffice to me that she was Satan. I wanted to know who she was, or at least, who she had been before she became the Satan.

Chuckling, she shook her head. I am who I am. Why must you know everything? Would you bear all the secrets of Universe upon you shoulders? Why should you see my true face? What if I have none but this one? Would it make you happy? Would it make you sad?

When I asked for her name then, she replied sternly. You should know better, Prince Molock. I was named as all was named, or perhaps I took what represented me best. Or perhaps I just liked it. All could be named and renamed. Call me what thou wilt! She did not seem to enjoy this subject, though she was mostly very willing to give in to my deep philosophical inquiries.

All right, I said. Grant me one thing and I shall leave you at ease. Show me the face of god as humans see Him. I need to see Him thus. I need to understand Him as I seek to understand you and my role in all this.

Alas, this was most strange request. However, it seemed to amuse Ka’li. With all your wickedness and wisdom you ask for such a childish thing, she answered. So be it – you shall see Him with mortal eyes, as if the two of you were but men and walked the same street, one coming from South, the other from North.

Come; walk with me to the lake. That eye of water shall be your eye of mortality, as you wished.

She took me by the hand and we ran downstairs like children. Not before did we stop but by the lake. Its water was dark violet and reflections of stars danced on its surface.

I kneeled and looked into the pool of calm water. I could no longer see through it, as if there had been no bottom. And soon, there was no reflection, either.

Drawn into the waters I gazed, dozing off. I had forgotten Ka’li behind me, stars above and earth beneath.

Then I saw it – the face of God. He was looking at me and his lips were moving. Molock. Molock. My inside burn. I wanted to scream and cry; I wanted to tear myself apart to release the hatred. I knew that hair, that pale oval face, those marvelous red lips, that proud chin and stubborn nose. Aye, I saw God! I knew God! I recognized Him! Creator, I whispered and spread my arms above the water. Gods of Fire rose and embraced the lake.

Ka’li touched my shoulder. I sprang to my feet, turned and almost aimed at her, but the flame froze in my palm. She was clad in white, tall and sad; she stood before me, her hair loose and torn. And she was crying.

Flames behind me died. We stood in darkness, bitter smell of smoke in the air.

I spoke no word, neither did she. I had never seen her thus as she had never seen me thus. The fire was not gone from me; it was just beneath the surface. For a youthful moment I had been passionate; now I was old and determined.

I put my arm around her waist as I led her back to the castle. Dark flame visible in my eyes and smile, I went to the armory and clad myself in warlike manner, choosing best of best.

It was black, different shades of black. It was black iron, the ancient handicraft of dwarves. It was beautiful.

Fully equipped I walked into the throne hall. I smiled bitterly but spoke no word; and bitterly did Ka’li smile as she looked down at me.

Ask of the lake, she said quietly. And you shall be given a sword. But hold on!
And with a careless move, she tied a red flowing scarf around my neck.

Fiercely, I grabbed her by the wrist. I serve you, My Lady, but not in such fashion! I dashed towards hallway, away from her, away from all.

You ignorant fool, she cried. It is your scarf!

[Die]

28. Cursed One

I had left the castle and Ka’li. I did not go back for a long time. Nevertheless, I did not travel far from her castle and the lake, the Mirror of God, as I called it ever since.

I felt betrayed, utterly confused. Reality had been twisted and I stood locked inside it. I had known mortals were full of fraud and deceit, but I had considered “my kind” better. We could do evil, but we would retain certain honesty about it. It had been like Michael that came to kill me and told me that he had come and why. You could kill and hate your enemies but still trust them whereas they could cause you innumerable suffering and still never betray you. All this had been altered in a whim of moment.

Was I to doubt everyone now? Yes, I was. Had Michael lied to me when he told me of his God, of him being an Elder? Could he not have known who his God was? Was he true but blind? Or was he lying to me, deceiving me in the bosom of death and slumber of nothingness? Was my angel filled with filth and decay?

And Ka’li… My Lady Satan, demonic goddess to whome I had deliberately given last of the rings – had she known and sealed her lips? Had she deceived me into obedience and service? Was she just a pretty painting of a horned beast?

How could they not know? This made no sense, no sense at all. They HAD to know. They HAD to lie.

How could I look at them now, the two that I loved? They had betrayed me from the start, they were unworthy of any respect or love, and yet I loved them with such passion. Love is a strange beast, would you not say? It has often seemed to me as if having a life of its own.

However, my war was not with them, not yet. My war was not with God. There was but one soldier whome I opposed in my glamorous armor and that was the King. My king, your king, the king of everyone and nothing. I could not think of him as God, the name burnt my throat and tasted like acid on my tongue. There were no gods. Not that I knew of. I had been fallen into deceit. There were no gods, it was still the old game, and I knew how to play it. He was still the King. And I was still Molock.

He knew me, he must have and I was certain he did; and so he had sent my brother to kill me. However, I asked myself, had he also sent him to lie to me? A question irked in me – if Michael knew the true face of his God, how could he serve Him? The proud angelic one, pure as snow and ice – how could he possibly give in to this magician, master of false laws and illusive armies, this wrinkled baboon clad in godly robes?

Ahh, but this was my king I was speaking of! I could hate him, despise him, seek to destroy him, but he would still be my king. And would I slay him remain one.

Alas, he was my king, indeed, but never my Lord, and never my God. I have never during all my existence, known any God completely worthy of the title.

I gave myself a promise – that I would wage no war against either Michael or Ka’li. All they had done I would leave be. However, would they interfere with my matters with the King I would treat them no better than enemies. I gave them but one choice – they were to remain neutral. I did not ask them to join me. This was a private war, I made no allies… if only…I smiled bitterly at the mere thought of it – to summon my Riders of Doom and set upon the actor-God.

There was a reason to my sworn war with the King and it was not about old hatred, not about revenge or anything of the sort. All this was nothing to me.

Alas! But he had done something I could not forgive him. He had done something with you. The crystal had been empty, the spell broken. I had met you again in mortality. Aye, it had been no dream. He had known I would survive his sentence of solitude and imprisonment. He had known I would become more than your guardian, an eternal weeper. I believe he had never slept an hour but always watched me, surveyed me, sleeplessly. And as he felt himself growing stronger, possessing powers he had perhaps never even dreamed of, he must have known the same was happening to me.

Oh, he was a wise man, my king – a man of great power and passion. His eyes saw all before it appeared. He was a seer and a crone. And surely, nobody understood mankind better than he did, for they were his children, in a way. Although he had not created them, he had much designed them by his likings.

I had the questions, he had the answers – or so I believed. He owed me. For he had sworn and later forsaken his promises. Whatever happened to you and how, he must know. At least some of it must be his doing. And he must know where you are. If I win this was he shall tell me. It was as simple as this.

I put aside most of my feelings, as I took my return to the castle. What good would it do if she were to know every depth of my reasons? She was the Satan and I was the Commander of Her Armies. I had started a war against the God. What more reasoning must it take?

She looked somber, alien. My behavior, my absence had hurt her. But she was a proud, powerful, beautiful one. She wore her sadness as a crown. I could not help but fall in love with her, again.

I bowed before her throne. And although I wanted to remain calm and stern, I begged her forgiveness. A thought was all it took and she ran to me in girlish manner, put her arms around my neck.

I’m so glad you are back, Molock, she said with a happy smile.

I am back, Ka’li, I nodded agreeably, and in war with God. Where will you stand – amongst my allies or my enemies?

She was thrown back as if my words had indeed stricken her. You fool, you fool, she wept, green eyes peering at me with accusation and, what seemed, fright. I have loved you from the start, you fool of fools. I saved your life when it depended upon God’s mercy and there was none. I listened to your endless ravings about the Mother. I made you my prime, my best; I loved you with both godly and demonic passion, and now you come to ask me whether I am on your side?

She was furious now. And I realized how very powerful she was, but also, how very young. I realized something she had tried to cloak from me – that she was God’s minion, for he had made her. He had made her what she was and he ruled over her. I read her mind as I had done with mortals and other beings so often. And what thrilled and surprised me was that he truly was her Maker. She was the Satan. That was all she was. There was no mystery, no secrets she could tell me. However, the simplicity was not all to it.

Although made, and made obedient, she possessed a rebellious spirit, fit and tuned for God’s adversary. She had not wanted to be what she was and thus she sought for rebellion. She would not rule in Hell, she despised that place. And using one of her many natural gifts, she simply walked out of there and found herself a better place, more to her liking. It was God’s mistake that he had not been able to create Satan so hideous and corrupt that it would never hunger for beauty. Instead of serving in Hell, she now reigned in the Realm. Most of her duties as the Satan she had passed over to those that saw it fit to dwell in darkness and gaunt void.

So you would have my stories, Ka’li said unto me. And the stories of God and the world. And all for what – to place them before her feet should you ever find her. She laughed bitterly. Is that your sole purpose, Prince Molock?!

I told her nothing. How could I ever make someone as young as she to understand those were not mere stories? Their faerie-tales were the threads of my thoughts, their myths my arteries and blood. I needed the stories and aye, I would gather them from the entire world and write them down. I wasn’t doing it just for you; I was doing it for me, as well.

Take me to Hell.

She bit her lip. No!

If you love me, take me there. It was wrong and terrible to insist this but I had no choice and suddenly, I cared little of her.

Yes, love you! Hate you! I shall hurl you there, you ignorant fool, so you may know why I fled there! She rose to the air upon me. Go serve the Devil; he shall make a better use! Never come back to me. For I dismiss you of your duties! I cast you out! I curse you!

Her words were more than just words. She had aimed her full wrath at me, thrown at me the sacred ring, but all this I could endure, though it almost crushed me on the solid black floor. But her words that condemned me and cursed me… I had never actually come to confront a real spell, far less a curse. I had never even believed such things existed. I had uttered many curses during my long life, but I had believed in the power of those words only as much as I followed them with actions. They’d been promises, not weapons. This was unfamiliar magick to me.

I felt I would die; this young one, my beautiful Lady-Satan would kill me. I could say her curse was laid on me. And it went into me. It was no physical pain, but one tremendously worse. Rays of chaos disrupted my entire substance. There came the desolation, the chilly solitude. I went limp and I was falling. Once again, I lay upon the crystal coffin and peered into your livid stone cold emerald eyes. Everything I had felt inside my rocky tomb caught a hold of me. And the pain never ceased but only rose, tearing at each old wound.

Finally, I could bear no more and I screamed. I cried for help and was told there is none and that I am cursed now, cursed forever. That I am Molock the Cursed One, now.

Only then came the soothing embrace of darkness and, childlike and worn, I praised it as my savior.

[Die]

29. Hell

After Ka’li had cast me out of her castle and Realm, I lay long in cold and dark, a mountain beneath me, a mountain above. My body felt broken and cold, so utterly tired. I wanted to cease.

I heard whispering, an echo of a chorus. I opened my eyes. It was still darker than night but for my eyes quite visible. The air was purple-bluish of black. I was lying on some solid floor, facing it, my limbs spread, wings covering me.

Then I heard it again – keen whispering, tantalizing humanlike voices. I raised my head, listening, seeking for the source. And I was startled. For not only were the voices humanlike, but it was human languages they spoke. The sound was inaudible for common ears, but very sharp and clear for my “supernatural” hearing.

Bedazzled, I rose. And then I saw them! A crowd of white, half-transparent, half-luminescent beings. Some where in the shape of men and women, some had taken a form that could be described as “demonic”, quite some were losing any form whatsoever.

I did not have to ask what they were. I knew. They let me know they were souls, human souls. Those that still remembered told me their names and tried to speak to me. Some prayed – prayed to me, some cried out for me to save them.

There was every nation, every race, every class and age.

Souls! Human souls! So this was the truth! This was the new system! Human souls captured, imprisoned far from any chance of rebirth of becoming one with Mother Nature. And these here, had they been considered evil? Who had chosen them, what kind of authority had judged them, what law and reason divided them from the “righteous”?

But I knew whose doing it was – it was Gods doing.

This flock around me wanted to be anywhere but here. They wanted to be in Paradise of this new religion. (New for me, not so very new to them, any more.) But I realized something their minds dismissed – there was very little difference between Paradise and Hell. What could Paradise be more than a Hell with God’s presence? And what was this God? A being no better than humans, playing the all-virtuous deity. Heaven and Hell were but prisons. And it seemed to me that Hell, at least, was an honest one. This place fancied no hopes of bliss or glory or heavenly wisdom. It was as meaningless as it appeared.

Everything in me rebelled against such order. I had once loved mankind and in some way, I still marveled them. My times of trying to make world into a petrified asylum were over.

The King had committed and outrageous deed. He had defiled all law and made himself the one and only. How could anyone see and endure it?

I could see why Ka’li had fled, but I could not understand how could she live and bear that such places existed. And Michael, the Archangel, Michael… my beautiful faerie with logic and love, how could he trust in this godless God? He saw it right; could he not see it was wrong?!

However, I had not asked to be taken to Hell in vain. I had come to seek answers and just perhaps, allies.

I wanted to know who ruled this place. I asked.

My voice frightened them, even the strongest and most human-formed drew back. They tried to cover their ears – oh, how curious that they still possessed their mortal reflexes!

I tried to read their minds and then I just stood and laughed. What mind could they have? These were not spirits but souls!

I called out for the governors of this place, telling them who I was – Molock, Molock the Cursed One – and why I had come. Just how I had come I did not know. Maybe Satan’s curse is sufficient to deliver anyone into Hell…

Reply was fast and tremendous, entering my mind, speaking an ancient tongueless language.

Everyone around me cried out and fled in panic.

I felt the dark winds; ruffle of winged horses as they appeared, hooves barely touching any surface. And mounted, sat nine hooded figures in full armor, with their black helms gleaming, iron gloves covering fingers that held reins, strange symbols covering breastplates. In half-circle, they came to halt around me.

Riders of the Doom, I whispered in mortal tongue.

Their mocking laughter burst forth. So human, they appeared to say.

I merely stood and gazed them. Little had changed since I saw them last. Could have been that they had grown deeper in person, but then again they seemed even more united.

But there was one that was perhaps a little older, a little wiser, and surely much more alike to him than to others. They had him for their leader. They were as one mind and spirit as always, but he seemed commander of that mind and spirit. He was the face. Naturally, he could not have gone against their code, but he never would have. He was the essence. They called him Devil. He called himself Prince of Darkness. They called themselves Princes of Hell.

I should have known. Perhaps I had. It made a perfect sense. Nobody was fit for this task better than Nine. They serve the same purpose as Hell. It was never chaos, you see. They were Princes and Guardians of ancient anarchy.

I had never known their cause or reason why they were as they did. I had never cared. I had used them as my tool – if it had not been the contrary – and now God was doing the same – and they let him because they well liked it.

Would they also like why I had sought them? would they serve God and me? Would they go against Him? Could I use them, again?

No, not this time, the one called Devil told me. He spoke, audibly. This felt very wrong. Words turn petty when a mindbender speaks. And far more, it was one of human languages, Semitic.

No, they would not serve me, not this time. I have come to seek their aid, thus I am to serve them. I am to swear allegiance to him, the Devil, His Princes and the Legions of Darkness, the evil spirits and demons.

His voice was hollow; words came harshly over his lips, piercing the air. Why was he doing this, if he knew I followed his thoughts as easily as my own? If not… I could not help but chuckled. This was his fancy! He liked it! He wanted to be more human than others were! He envied humans!

I let him know this and witnessed his swift attempt to close his mind from others as I had. Just perhaps he succeeded, for I noticed no respond to his embarrassment I had caused.

I spoke strictly unto him and him only. If I swear your allegiance, will you weigh my war with God?

Aye, he would. I knew this was exactly to their liking. They never held any side but their own, whatever that was, and whether it existed at all. To serve God and on his command be evil, be the opposers (little had this to do with God’s will, though) and in the meantime, betray him and begin the greatest assault, wreaking havoc and spreading anarchy. They loved it, if they loved anything at all.

But was it my liking? Fact – I needed them. I could not fight this war alone – GOD was not alone, he would never face me fair and solo. He had allies and powerful ones, my brother as his prime. I could scarcely guess of his others. He had his army, if I wanted to defeat him – and nothing less than his complete destruction and desolation was of my intentions – I would have to collect mine, as well.

Here and now, I was offered all the forces of Darkness, all evil found – and the seekers had been best, surely. It was all almost for free – only, I was to bend my head and serve someone else but myself. I had never done such a thing. I had offered myself to Ka’li of love, of respect. My relationship with the Nine had nothing to do with respect. I did not even like them.

I had been as they, but no longer. They were evil to me, now, whereas I was… was I any better? You tell me. I am unable to judge.

And then it happened. I lowered my head and said I would. There, it was signed, the pact with Devil. No blood needed, my body and soul would do as fine!

And all for thee, Mother!

[Die]

30. This is a story of great changes and great war, a battle of anarchy, and a quest for one answer.

What was it that I had joined? What was it that I was doing?

How little I understood or everything that was going on. But I learned, aye, I learned fast.

This was an era of names and words and new stories.

First thing I was forced to learn was that world was no longer one. I had lived side by side with all races once, but this was no longer so.

Many worlds, many realms had been made. I would like to say that my Realm was the biggest, the most important, but I cannot. I cannot even now claim having visited each and every one of them.

I am trying to make some order in all I am about to tell, but it is very difficult. Everything links to everything.

I say one word and echo multiplies it into thousand.

The world that now belonged mainly to humans had been the first and only.

No longer.

Human beings had been the latest creation.

No longer.

All beings had inhabited the same realm.

No longer.

There had been law and justice.

NO LONGER.

In few days, I met more different creatures than I had known my whole life. Where had they come from? Who had made them? Frankly, I still do not know. The King might be responsible for a few new races, but certainly not all. They were beautiful, fascinating, terrible, lovely. Each race, each being with a code, a system, a world, a task, and mainly, also a language.

I also learned that basically very few lived in ‘human world’ nowadays. The elven folk did, but they were already a lost nation. They were like I, or worse.

Realm, the only place I have ever called the Realm and home, was inhabited mostly by spirits and demons – or, should I say, Ancient Ones and Elders and the young ones – or, should I say, shape shifters.

It was all names and titles and blah blah blah. But it was still pretty.

There was a race of most excellent mind readers – or powerful males and females. Almost humanlike of their appearance, clad in light robes, they lived on a plain where time was special. And it was special because they could control it. They were Masters of Time and Mind.

In their servitude lived another race. When I first saw them, I supposed they were humans. They weren’t though. They lacked the ‘earth-bound’ bodies and were far less intelligent than humans were. Lifetime expanded by Masters, they were the babysitters, soldiers and servants to them. In return, the Masters looked after them because I doubt they could have survived on their own – they were simple minded, always arguing amongst themselves and so absent of reality that they could have forgotten eating, and breathing. Nevertheless, they seemed a happy lot fully pleased with their role of servitude and, what seemed enslavement.

In Realm, there was an increasing number of ‘demons’ and ‘spirits’. I shall call them thus, too, for I have grown used to by now and they hardly remind me of the primal shape shifters – though they’ll always have this superb ability of their ancestors.

I reckoned demons were a lot older than spirits. They were also more powerful, intelligent, wiser, stronger, but also malevolent and evil. I suppose there were those amongst demons that belonged to the First Ones, as those of my age were called now. But mostly, all of the demons were much younger than I.

Spirits were the newborns, though not always. I met quite some of the age of demons, but refusing to give up their status for a higher ‘rank’.

This is how it was – in certain state of age, power and wisdom a spirit became a demon.

As far as I have ever investigated this process, I have found no other alter but that of name. Simply, since a certain age a spirit is renamed a demon and when he acknowledges it, becomes one.

How spirits came to be, I did not know but they certainly did because their lot was always a growing one. They were young and bright and funny. But a great number of them were also malevolent, wicked, and possessive.

Aye, possessing. This was something new to me. I trust this skill had continued where mind control left off. And this is how they did it – taking advantage of the simple fact that their bodies were of different substance than humans, they somehow attached themselves into mortals and took over their mind and substance, making it their own. Some became true masters, leaving the mortal with no will of its own. Some just played around from time to time. Some did it to do good, some to do evil.

The evil ones were the danger and disgrace. Their folly could lead to madness or death of the native body i.e. mortal.

I could see what it was – not only the wish to control – a simple mind-bending would have done it, but a desire to have a mortal body – a body of most solid matter – one that eats ‘real food’, drinks ‘real liquids’, makes ‘real love’ and dies a ‘real death’.

A big part of me understood this desire. I remembered my ‘dream’ well – what it meant to be mortal, to be human. It just might be that human race is the most perfected thing ever come to be.

I would have given much to go back, to feel once again the sensation of common touch, sweet voice that does not shatter glass, the scent of world in my mouth and nostrils, a beat of heart in my chest.

I knew what it was worth and yet – I would not have done it as they did. I had been more or less accidentally given a body and I had been mortal, and aye, I DID long to be one – as I always have and always will – but I would not have stolen a body!

This was outrageous!

But to enter someone’s body to bring ill and trick the person into stupefying illusions or either God or Satan – or any other perfect fata morgana – was more that simply outrageous.

It was foul.

You see my love – I have always stood a chance to use possession and become mortal thus – or at least the closest thing to it. But I would not – I would not do it. I cannot do it. My only cases of possessing someone have been totally accidental or mere cries of despair. But of will and skill – I have not done it and I never will.

I am not like them!

I am not a demon I wanted to say. But who am I then? Have I ever known? Born of the elements, guardian of the Tenth and bearer of the ring of Truth. This tells me nothing for it tells them nothing. They don’t know my stories they don’t understand me. They never have and never will. I am too old for everybody. What binds could I have with mankind if I am older than their gods are? What understanding can I find amongst any creatures if I shall outlive them all? What land may I call home if I was here before lands were made? What redemption may I find or mercy beg unless from you?

But alas, I must go on telling my story. I don’t think I have a choice.

I had to realize something – human beings no longer saw us. They no longer heard us, spoke to us, nor understood us.

They spoke to God but they did not know the tongue of God; they summoned demons and made up some fancy words that meant nothing in any language.

I was told that I must ‘take a shape’ and make myself either visible or invisible when I walk on Earth.

I did not understand what they told me or why.

But then I walked the streets and cities of men. I saw them and their blank faces that looked through me as if I was irrelevant. I felt their bodies when they walked through me as if I was irrelevant. I caught one of them in a dark starlit alley and made myself visible, commanding that I would be seen by him.

And when he looked at me and his eyes fixed inside my eyes and his heart ceased beating I had seen what he saw, I had seen what I was and what I appeared to him.

Oh the mockery of fate that I ever lived to see the day when my eyes would kill.

But I did not return, I did not hide my face in some abandoned dusty hole of Hell.

I reined my winged horse through the cities of men and over the fields. All that saw me fell on their knees, their eyes forever blind to the lights of their world, their soul lost in me.

I slaughtered men and mocked God, I called to him to come down and defend his creation, punish my heresy, revenge them, slay me.

But mortals died and God was silent and passive as if there had been no God. Was he afraid?

I called for Michael, but my angel had locked his mind from me and would not listen or move to my beckoning.

Hell was not too happy with me either. Instead of weighing my war, I ran amok; instead of granting Hell more souls I sent those I killed to the wasteland, which was neither Heaven nor Hell.

The Riders, the Princes of Hell tried to command me, but all in vain. Their pretty and fierce commander the Devil tried to speak to me, remind me what I had promised, but I would not listen.

I was mad and I knew it. And from day to day, I challenged God to come and fight me, set his army against mine, wage my war with him.

All I wanted was one answer from him. And would he give it to me I would be pleased and let peace rule Earth. I would kiss my brother; shake hands with the Almighty God Himself, if only it be given to me.

One morning I woke and knew it had begun.

I, too, had slept, dreamt, laid in sweet forgetfulness. Perhaps it was the morning air that told me if had begun, or perhaps the tumult inside of me.

Or perchance it was my brother Michael, standing upon me with all his shining armor, his sword sheathed, speaking unto me in his silent manner that the war has begun.

And then I saw it. I saw more than the archangel towering over me. I was still lying in the grass, now I extended my limbs; I grabbed a hold of Earth herself and saw it all.

First, it was a rattling, a mist, and fire, Hell perhaps. Then humans, shocked and thrown back in terror.

But then I cried out in rage as I saw the battlefield in Realm, MY REALM, and all the beauty and fairness trampled, cast down in blood and mud. Young ones slain, forests in a mist of fire.

And the castle, the white fair castle surrounded by black dust and a fiery phantom-mist.

The next moment I was there. How I had done it I knew not but my soul was hurt and body torn of the sudden swift in time and space.

I ran upstairs, through the mist that embraced me, yet hurt me not, Michael behind me, worried, perhaps, for my sanity. Had I taken him with me, slipped through my mind?

I ran, almost flew towards the throne hall. I halted when I reached it.

She was dead. My Ka’li, my beautiful lady-Satan. They had murdered her. When Michael arrived, I was sitting on the throne, holding her soulless shell in my arms.

He had no words but I had a few. Look what your god hath done, I spoke unto him. He knew how dear I held her and here she lays murdered.

It is a war, he said solemnly, but something about him spoke of hesitation. What do you expect? She was evil, she needed to be slain.

Evil?! I stood up and stepped in the middle of the hall, bold and mocking. I am evil, if she were evil, and thousand times more. Why doesn’t he have me slain? Or will he, sending out his archangel, my brother, a puppet to this child slayer?!

I have not come to kill you, was Michael’s response, but to guide you.

No Michael, I said, and my eyes sparkled. You lie, my angel, my innocent child of death. You are bound to seek my end as I am bound to love you and slay you. You know what I am thinking. Why don’t we end it – here and now!

He drew his sword. But he was worried. He seek for my sword but there was none but the one in the bottom of the Mirror of God.

What a picture it was as we stood there, facing each other. Two winged creatures, raven-haired, tall, appearing as ancient noblemen, one with a pair of white, the other of black wings. Angel, wearing celestial chain mail, clutching a magnificent sword. Demon, unarmed, coldly looking at his opponent, wearing only a dark hooded shroud.

Unarmed, he whispered. I smiled and for a second unveiled him one source of my magick, which was dark bottomless chaos.

I had never fought one of my kind, never one whome I loved and hated in perfect unison.

Then he aimed his blade at me and my magick gave a proper response.

How am I to describe this battle, perhaps the greatest I have ever had and certainly the first. I could say one thing: I knew no limits to my power beside those my mind had set and I freed it. As to Michael then he was a warrior worthy of me.

It was no battle of swords; it was like nothing and everything. A test of speed, and minds. Time and space raced around us whence we stood still, captured in each other’s mind.

I knew I had to end this, I had to kill him or be killed by him, but I did not know how. We were immortal and invincible. Yet, they say if there is a will there is a way.

Often beside us fought the armies of Hell with the armies of Heaven. All beauty was being destroyed, all fresh and fair dried in the heat of battle.

Time mattered no more. Nor did space.

And then I knew. I had found a way. Or at least a chance worth taking. I stood unarmed, calling for Michael to kill me. He knew what it meant. We both did. But we did not have a choice.

I felt the sword as it went through my heart. Pain? Aye, there was pain. Terrible, yet almost sweet. For a moment, I thought I saw your eyes. Emerald green inside ghostly pale.

Then the whirlwind. And desert. But this time it was not the end, merely another beginning.

I knew no mercy as I looked upon my brother lying almost unconscious before me. I was weak, too, and with a hunger rising.

I took the celestial sword his fingers had let loose. I slashed his wrists, and then I made deep cuts to his chest, his armory breaking into shreds.

I felt his pain as if it had been my body and flesh. In a way, t’was.

He opened his eyes, unable to move, barely able to utter a thought.

He was dying. I realized this was the end. We would die and become one with nothingness.

And there shall be no you and there shall be no me.

His energy fled from his body. Sand ate it, hungrily screaming for more.

I had yet some power left so I slashed my arms from wrist to elbow, oh yes, the way you had once fed me, my love.

I fell down on the sand and through, deeper and deeper.

Someone caught me, someone strong and powerful, full of life and energy. Someone rather confused and seemingly sad.

Arthur, I uttered. My king my lord. If she be not here, where is she?

Two eyes of ice turned on me, their owner embracing my soul and the remnants of my cell. Then he locked his glance into my mind and spoke these words: I know not.

I closed my eyes. (If I still had them.) I cried. Immortal night took over. I slept in God’s arms.