For he is not ignorant of the abominations that have caressed his lips and glided across his fingers. In the blinding shadow of the necropolis, his justice was his frame, the monstrosity he was. The truth of his ire against that demon who so cast him into that ephialtean sanctuary. Yet he was not truly trapped. The exit was just ahead of him, though it would be a long and arduous climb through different environments and trials; it was not impossible to leave.
Alas, the beast never yielded to his desires for freedom into a world of pure unpredictability. The mask he forces himself to wear is his justification. His diadem of lies, forged from manure, is what makes him cast communion itself aside; that which would have granted him purpose in the climb. Yet, in isolation, the manure pierced spires into his mind, blinding and deafening him into a constant fear of the light of the sun. Not out of desire, but out of certainty. The certainty of damnation was his addiction. For countless eons, the beast lived there, within the necropolis. The skeletons blooming as subterranean orchids, while the towers of immortal emerald offered shape to the skybox of the ever-present, bioluminescent crimson scuttling in trillions of multitudes through the aqueducts and sewers of the asylum. The pathways connecting this necropolis were yellow-scale bricks, dislodged from their uniform and contiguous formation after eons of neglect.
From a distance, in the midst of the beast’s hollow mind, a limp, white body fell upon the dark stone of the chasm entrance. The yellow band around her head indicated her purpose to him. A new one, yet oh so familiar to that demon of his past. The beast propelled himself forward, in his torpor, to that star-eyed doll of pale skin, as he planned to add another orchid garden of sins.
A sudden air of disorientation flew into the beast, as he stumbled within himself. Moments later, a biliverdine light rushed to the beast’s side, and before he could even react—
“GRIT. YOUR. TEETH.”
With the warble of trembling, electric guitar strings, a colossal fist collided with my cheek and jaw, as every single microscopic cell felt every single microinstant of force within that locomotive of the divine. Seconds were flushed into minutes, as the pain reverberated like a mountain-sized Gjallarhorn, which called for the judgment of the false gods. Behold, the object of their ire and dread had set his sights on me.
For I had nearly deceived myself that I was nothing more than a beast.
The jagged fist of unending scars twisted into my flesh, uplifting scattered mountains and digging lakes of blood as a sanguine terraforming. As those seconds lasting minutes concluded, my thoughts were blank on everything but that monumental impact. Disregarding his warning, my teeth rattled violently, like bone chimes in a typhoon.
I soared through the air at the onset of the punch’s uncompromising force. It was a return to sense from my hallucinogenic stupor from any sort of true agency. After several minutes of the momentous crash, I tumbled on the floor several dozen times; each time my limp body sloshed upon the stone, exponentially increasing shame was brought upon my soul. With one final gasp within unintelligible whiplash, I collided prone upon the surface. I could not comprehend my senses being warped to such a degree, yet his voice was as clear as the light of a noon overcast:
“I warned you. Did I, or did I not warn you? God will NOT abandon you.” From him boomed war drums foretelling a coming battle.
The voice was that of tempered rage, disappointment, and bluntness. There was no compromising his intent. I opened my eyes, but there was nothing. I attempted to speak, but my voice was nothing more than scratches on vinyl. I couldn’t see! I couldn’t talk!
|What.. Why…|
“Do not pretend to be ignorant.”
|Punishment for sin. Of course. Murder. Cannibalism. Stolen valor. Why else would he—|
“No! Not those...” His voice was filled with annoyance but waned into stern truth, as Casimir’s fingers gripped the top of my skull like a basketball. “No… It is because you almost became just another Iscariot.”
|But had I not committed evils? Had I not violated the laws of everything? Had I not murdered and devoured innocents?|
“Yes, you did. You did evil, and nothing you do will erase the fact that you did. But that does not mean you have to stay on this course of damnation. That does not excuse further abominations.” Casimir’s voice softened as the scars on my cheek burned from the exposed blood.
|I don’t understand! What of all the people who died because of me? What of the Soranian family I destroyed? The indoctrination doesn’t justify that! You know that… You know that…|
“ know that, and yet you still did it, didn’t you? You know of the monstrosities that glided through your hands and slid down your tongue, and yet you. Kept. Going. Where is your excuse for that? Tell me, what permitted you to be so… Foolish…” His anger slid into sharp sorrow.
|I was… Coerced.|
Chainmail rattled in the wind, “No. You just said the indoctrination wasn’t a justification.”
|Yet, what about the danger I was in? You know the Peqans would have torn me apart. I had to survive…|
“You didn’t do close to enough to frame it as such. You enjoyed it for some time, and then jumped off the precipice. You became driftwood. Coasting along until you become a stillborn drone. You would be a slave to impulse alone. Once you lose your will, you are already dead, just like all those machine-heads of the Monitor. For a life without choice is no life at all. Just a machine-prison of flesh. You could have escaped long before my hand was forced, as you did consider before and you… Devoured the girl and her father…” His voice was tender with frustration.
|I was already evil. The streak ended, yes, but here I was, offered company. Camaraderie. A home… That I knew was no home. But the idea alone was enough. The icterine parasite had destroyed any semblance of that on Earth…|
“No, it didn’t.”
|Yes, it did! What else could have possibly—|
“The parasite may have destroyed what you had. Haurus and Moloch entered in and kept you in an unending nightmare for eighteen years. I broke their hold, but then the serpent of serpents tied you down again. That parasite transformed from internal shame and torture into transfigured sin and abomination. You nearly let him turn you into that same demon that murdered your parents. The same one who tortures you still...”
|No… No! Only Dad is dead! Mom was possessed… No, she betrayed me! She had to…|
“She was cold. She was limp.”
|She was animate! She talked. It wasn’t her voice, for it croaked like a hog, but she was alive! She had to be alive…|
“My son… Let it go. Let go of this lie. A lie so bitter. A lie meant to keep you from further grief. Haurus made her speak… She did not betray you. She was no demoness. She was the mother who cooked dinner for you and your father nearly every night. She was the mother who read you bedtime stories so that you would sleep in peace. She was the mother who cleaned your wounds whenever you were hurt. And she was the mother that… died for you.” He was overwhelmed with anguish. I drowned in it.
|No… No… Please… Let this… Not be true. Please, she has to be alive. Yes, she is! She was put into some asylum, right? That’s what they told me.|
“No one ever told you that. You were the one locked in a box. You were the one that they studied for weeks due to fears of that parasite they never found. To you, it felt like years stuck underneath a cold rain of apathy. The storm of your mind swarmed like flies to a carcass. Your grandparents became your new guardians, but they left you alone. You wouldn’t speak to anyone,” his hands glided to my shoulders as he began to embrace me once again. His left hand’s fingertips settled on my cheek, as the terraforming by his hand receded with light burns. His forehead gently pressed onto the top of my head, “Because you were made deaf to the pleasantries of life. All that consumed your mind were those sounds. And you were to let yourself repeat that in that barn…”
|Was it all my fault? Did Dad die because of me? Did… Mom die because… Of me? Was I the one who betrayed her? Did I kill..|
My thoughts were a cracking soul, as the fortress fully collapsed.
“No children go to Hell, my son. There is no fault in you for that. You were a victim then. You have been a victim since. But being a victim does not justify making other people victims.”
|Then, when did it start? Who was at fault? When did I start taking responsibility?|
“You already know.”
|I don’t.|
“You do.”
|I don’t! When did it start being something I had to control!? When did I become a sinner?|
Even from my blindness, I knew his head shook in tedium, as he sighed, “Listen… When Saul of Tarsus was blinded, did Jesus call to a specific point in time where he was sinful?”
It was difficult to answer with such a grief-stricken mind, but I answered as best I could.
|He… He persecuted Jesus's followers, did he not?|
The scarab shrugged his shoulders, “Jesus did mention persecution generally, but not specifically to any one person. Saul, like the other Pharisees, appeared as noble servants of God, despite providing death to His own people. Saul still believed that he was doing Yahweh's work. He was blind to his own hypocrisy. Evil deeds are never within God's arsenal. Still, God acknowledged his fervor, his connection to the Gentiles, and his intelligence. So, as He had done before with Moses, David, and Mary, the most unlikely of people was provided the most bountiful of grace. So, Saul became Paul once Ananias gave him back his sight.”
|What’s… The point? You know my faith is gone. I didn’t do this because I was faithful to anything. I did this because… I was broken.|
One of his hands slid through my hair again, as I only then realized that I was in my original human body within that palace, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know when you started being responsible for yourself to stop being a fool. You are not ignorant like Saul was. You know what you did was wrong, and you continued. Hypocrisy isn’t enough. Cowardice isn’t enough. Not even your lust is enough.”
|Then what the fuck is it, damn it?! Clearly, I don’t fucking see it.|
Casimir chuckled lightly with a hint of lamentation, “You already said it yourself. The Peqans provided you with something that you did not have.”
|What did they… Oh… Home.|
“But that isn’t it, is it? There is something in that desire for a home. Because if even one thing was different from what remained of broken glass, your fortress could crumble further down than it already did.”
|Was I… Maintaining what I had left? Was I… Was I the one who made my tragedy into a slideshow mythology? Did I… Were the lies I told myself created just to make me believe that this was a punishment? But I was a boy, drowning in the cold rain, sitting in that white bellbird while stained with sins against me. Is that when they came in? Did I… Let them in?|
“Thoughtlessly, but we cannot fault you for that when you were a collapsing soul. Moloch and Haurus had been with you for a long time. They wanted you stuck. They wanted you to stay broken.”
|The door… Was always open… Wasn’t it?|
“It was, but you were blind to it, and they were keeping you so. I freed you from the restless cycles of the same dream, but the trauma steered you still. Those demons were let in not because the cage existed, but because you were made to believe you belonged in it.”
|What made me believe?|
I tried to consider my options. The isolation certainly played a part. No communion. No hope. No light of tomorrow. Sleeplessness bulged with terror for all 6,551 projections on that damn popcorn ceiling. The vitriol of the accusers I recognized, without ever considering the voices of sympathy. I was deaf to those who wanted to help, yet the occasional critiques of the scornful were amplified with a megaphone right into my eardrum. What had consumed me to be so cynical? So pessimistic? So… Narcissistically nihilistic…
What made me believe that I should make myself suffer in such a way?
Casimir rose to his feet as he set me gently upon the floor. His presence shifted greatly. For the first time since I met him, Casimir’s voice dripped with hate against a primordial enemy, one that transcended even time and space, “Him… That stillborn fetus congealed in the excised womb! NALTHEPHUS! I know you are here, Abortion of Creation! GET. OUT.”
The pressure built to the gravity of the Abyss immediately, as Mazhivada appeared to Casimir. Along with the pressure, the sound of warbling metal and bellowing smoke rose from Casimir. Despite being blind, I shut my eyes. The dread of that vile serpent was profound.
|DO NOT LOOK INTO HIS ALBINO EYES.|
“Prithee, wherefore dost thou not bid me, as thou dost others, to ‘recede’? Wherefore am I he who doth inspire in thee such utter and uncouth rage? Detestable Wrath, must thou continue to address me by such an abominable name? 'Tis facile to proclaim 'Mazhivada', and variants thereof, as manufactured falsehoods. My sire and dam bestowed upon me my first name, 'Ayalaphis'. If I be the Antithesis of the Fool, then I am worthy of respect. Howbeit, 'Mazhivada' doth be my destiny, when I am reborn through yond Lehitadam.”
The Albino Serpent’s bile began to toxify further:
“Doth thy scorn for me summon forth, then, those fangs of execration!? From Tartarus' depths I did ascend, to reign as sovereign of all! From Mother Deep's womb and Father Weaver's seed, I was made true! I AM! And I am all that shall be once I am proven the truest maxim of all."
Casimir’s fury for his enemy was a flood of plasmic inferno, a colossal star’s radiance burning in the last moments before a supernova. Despite their titanic animosity, Casimir would not humor him with conversation, “GET. OUT.”
Ayalaphis reclaimed himself, yet the caustic acid upon his tongue radiated like the elephant’s foot.
“My beloved vessel, dost thou not perceive the irrational loathing which doth emanate from this beast of burden? Verily, even unto I, of such craft in poetry, he doth not spare even the basest of civility! He doth cast contempt upon me, though I am the undeniable ending of all. Take solace, vessel, for this miserable Scarab, Azazel, is the Destroyer, the oxymoron of Creation. A being that serveth the Creator, yet in so doing, layeth Creation to waste.”
His voice rumbled with seductive truth as his attenuated tongue licked his barbed lips.
“How could such be logical? How could it be a sign of reason from either side? The Fool doth employ the one who shouldst usurp His Throne. An offensive jest, indeed! For if thou holdest the Crown, thou must be the strongest. The Scarab is, yet Azazel doth refuse to seize the Thrones for himself. With such a want of logic, he must be wrong, a fool, irrational. Dost thou not concur, my beloved vessel?”
|DO NOT ANSWER. DO NOT ANSWER. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT ANSWER.|
A sudden bellow ripped through the mind palace, as the scent of sulfur erupted from the nostrils of a monstrous, metallic beast. The click of a metallic ping ejected a spent cartridge, as the casing bounced along the ground several times, like a metallic pebble gliding on a stone lake. Once the casing settled, tiny rivulets of scorching plasma sizzled. Casimir raised the roscoe to his target once more, the clacking of steel bounced along from a hanging keychain and strap, and a pulled hammer.
“GET. OUT.” Casimir was holding back a typhoon that could consume stars.
A few seconds later, Mazhivada reformed himself and snarled at his foe:
“How churlish. Thy boorish nature doth portray thy lack of interest in colloquy, wherefore I must seek another, of a far more… civil disposition.”
The serpent’s voice soothed itself, as his attention returned to me:
“Thou dost respect me, even as thou quiver in my presence. Do not be afraid—”
Another shot rang through, yet Mazhivada was merely grazed. A purposeful aggravation. He once more snarled at Casimir, as his mouth held back caustic rivers against his nemesis. His tongue withheld this torrent with but a single phrase:
“Dost thou wish to die oh so soon, offscouring?”
Casimir’s response was but the clack of the beast’s heavy rasp and a storm before the glissade of a heavy, volcanic sword. The drill-tipped claymore spiraled through the ground, burning the shoveled stone, and locked in place after a few seconds. The scapegoat’s words entered my mind,
On the precipice of an internal war I could not see, my throat began to morph violently, as if inflating like a balloon. This corruption was agonizing, yet swift, as a voice invaded my mind,
The voice sounded intimately familiar. Almost as if he were with me for a long time.
The invader bayed low in irritation,
Maghnus growled,
The Peqan sighed, knowing that, with my fear, this wasn’t going anywhere,
Maghnus rebuked,
During this internal debate, Casimir and Mazhivada continued to stare each other down. The venom and slime of the serpent dripped like rotten bulbs of plasma. Azazel merely remained still with his sword of disasters and his roscoe. He was watching his foe. He was watching me.
The ivory Peqan then chuckled through his teeth as he expressed,
Maghnus maintained the strategy,
“Then what of the ‘demon’, as you so call him? I know you wanted to kill that parasite then. I know you hold resentment for him more caustic than Peqani stomach acid. Indeed, it is enough to melt the skies of Rathaph. Tell me: do you not feel bitterness at how you weren’t able to kill him?!>
The tripwire was struck.
Maghnus, knowing of his coming success, pressed on,
I rose to my feet in rage and turned to face that serpent. I stumbled as a disoriented drunkard due to the persistent whiplash and blindness. Even still, I proceeded. The darkness grew even darker, as if the serpent’s very essence devoured the smallest traces of light. As I got closer and closer to him, I began to hear static; that selfsame white noise on a cableless television. And the smell… Ozone, sewage, and burnt rubber. Mazhivada noticed me approaching, and with a hint of glee, hiding fury:
“Oh? Doth my beloved vessel deign to express himself? Dost thou, perchance, implore the coming of my kingdom?"
Maghnus stated in my mind,
My esophagus burned and expanded, as the voice of Maghnus burst through unnaturally, as a tempest of vitriol was launched, “Even when I was alive, your existence as that ever-expanding white hole was char upon my flesh. Peqans like myself challenged ourselves every day and every night to uphold our crusade against waste. Yet, there you were, an obese white Beel, cackling at us from your perch in the center of Hazgaia. Nalthephus, you are waste incarnate.”
Nalthephus chuffed at this insult, as he slithered towards me. The static grew louder. The sewage drew closer.
“Maghnus, orphan of the defeatist Seipran. What dost thou hope to claim here? Thou art a ghost in a shell. A shell that be but a relic of a time that hast passed. Wouldst thou waste away thine own body, per thy anathemal race’s proverb?”
Thick globs of viscous, antiseptic tar plopped upon the moisture below him, along with the frigid steam that ascended past to my face. I felt the miasma of that serpent. He was colossal in size, dwarfing me no matter what scale I could have been. Each breath of his was a gale of hoarfrost humidity. Geosmin caressed my nostrils like an alluring, stale sweetness. That passing wind was a static flicker.
Disposal.
Disembodiment.
Derealization.
I gazed straight into what I presumed was the gastrosteges, or some equivalent, of that vile serpent. Nalthephus’s darkness glared down at me, like a skyscraper upon an ant. In my blindness, two crimson phosphorescent stars glowed from the top of my eyes. The memory of red never left.
|DO NOT STARE INTO THOSE ALBINO EYES…|
Maghnus resumed his abduction: “You know how I died. I traversed to Kharaks and fought that verdant Droa, Yvarkhan. I was outmatched in every single measure. His bones were stronger than my sinew. His scales were tougher than my hide. His teeth were sharper than my swords. His mind was far older than my race. And I could never summon blue and white flames from my throat, as he could.”
Maghnus paused for several seconds, as I felt Mazhivada lower down to my level with the sounds of cracking vertebrae and snapping tendons. After many moments of his spine compacting on itself, his eyes descended to my level…
Thank God I was blind…
His phosphorescent eyes were bioluminescent pyres of plasmic bacteriophages. Each microscopic organism scuttled within, all at once, like crimson static. His massive nostrils were smokestacks emitting terrible, gray steam. Ozone and geosmin reeked from them, while the rot of melted asphalt erupted from his maw. And that damnable grin… His jagged teeth arrayed themselves as an infinite number of rows, which rotated in continuum. As the cycling fangs pierced his gums, pools of black, viscous blood siphoned through his barbed lips and splattered upon the ground. The exposed plasmic tar, singed by the heat, flowed down as a beard of slime, dripping globules upon the floor.
Maghnus, despite that horror before me, which I could only scarcely comprehend in scale, resumed with intensified vigor, “I knew that I was going to die. And you know what I did? I approached him, ignored the Droa’s territorial hisses, and met him on solid ground. Every punch I threw was with purpose. Every slash and bite I avoided was with enthusiasm. Every burn that soaked into my skin filled me with pride! Every minor victory of that glorious end reminded me that I was still alive! Never had I ever felt such relief once that green Droa pierced my flesh one last time with his talons. I died on my terms. No one else’s. There is no greater honor than that.”
He began to chuckle, maddeningly, as he concluded, “Nalthephus! You want to know what I did as I lay on the cold, smooth dust of Kharaks, dying of my wounds? How I, as everyone else, am supposed to ‘join in death’?” Mazhivada’s grin turned to a scowl as Maghnus’s chuckling transformed into a modest hailstorm of maniacal laughter. My lungs, eyes, mouth, and nostrils were set aflame as Maghnus’s hysterics boiled my esophagus into cinders. Despite this pain, I couldn’t help but want to be gleeful with him. With every eruption of his cacophonous voice, more and more pressure was detached from me. Anxiety seemed to evaporate like morning dew in the sun. My voice returned then, as my own laughter was poison to the serpent.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
But I was still blind. And Mazhivada knew that. He only grumbled with this chortling toxicity entering his blood. It was nothing more than a bottle of holy water being cast into radioactive waste:
“Thy… Ebullience is no more than a Pantomime. Cease. At. Once…”
His lips moved along with the sludge pouring past his lips, as his voice bubbled like magma and geysers. Mazhivada crackled like glass, as his voice grumbled in intense annoyance. He groaned with vexation at my continuing hysterics, as he realized there was no end of it in sight. The serpent grunted as buboes were spat like toxic precipitation. Blood vessels rumbled, and plywood snapped as his form extended high above. Geosmin, ozone, and asphalt were depleted, while his face of darkness faded into nothing. Before he left, he acknowledged, with disappointment and pity:
“Thou art a fool, dimyonaut. The path thou treadest hence shall be fraught with greater pain. I say unto thee, thou shalt render account for each reckless insult. For by thine mockeries, thou shalt be condemned. Thy skull shall become a funeral pyre.”
The Albino Serpent’s darkness and pressure released gradually, purposefully. Once his presence had fully dissipated, I collapsed supine, hyperventilating. I had not conquered him. Not by a long shot. He could still be there if he wanted to. But, for once, I defied him. For once, I stood up for myself. For once, I was true to who I was.
A realization struck my mind as I stared deeply into that empty ceiling. I was okay. I was still here. I was… Able to laugh in the face of extinction, from when I once cowered away from it. It was never inevitable, nor was it destiny. I heard the cuscuta whisper in the damp wind and chose to listen to the static, smell the geosmin, and glare into sanguine.
I was not just a hypocrite. I was not just a coward. I was not just broken.
I was a blind and deaf idiot.
With the snap of Casimir’s fingers, my blindness was gone. I could finally see.
…
My eyes narrowed in annoyance,
The crimson-maned Peqan barked,
Maghnus chuckled slightly as he explained,
He affirmed,
I was stunned. Maghnus aided me even then. Though I could tell his central motivation was selfish,
The horseman snorted in mild amusement,
He sighed as if insulted,
This conversation ended there. I began pondering more on what had just transpired. Rival gods, purpose, memory, revelation, and… grief.
Mom was dead. She had been for eighteen years. The laughter somewhat eased that tension. But the knife in my heart remained. Tears still fell. Just not upon my face. Grief and denial were swept away. The process was still ongoing. But it was progress. It took long enough.
I gave a slight smile,
Maghnus chuffed externally, “Good enough. How about you, Khepthra? Are you going to thank me for what you should have been doing this entire time?” I sat up and looked around, finding Casimir behind me. I got up and walked towards him. Yet, for every step, he seemed to grow further away. Maghnus grumbled, reading Casimir’s disapproval, “My method worked. It’s the only reason ‘Pahle’ even did anything,” Maghnus forced a gag, disgusted by the word.
“Never do that again, Maghnus,” Casimir, whose eyes were fuchsia, was stern yet sincere, as the drift of an acoustic guitar blew with the disembodied zephyr. “If Paul listened to your advice, he would just be going from one serpent to another.”
“Khepthra, you know damn well I hate both of them, like dung upon my hooves.”
“That is the problem, Maghnus. You are letting bitterness and hatred blind you from joy. Yes, Nalthephus, Samael, and the rest of the violators stole that away from you. But you should know that isn’t an excuse. You know that it wasn’t just Peqans. You know the truth about what happened with the Banishment.”
Maghnus sighed, admitting with remorse, “Yes… Once I thought that Caecilian was waste itself. As he does with all he engorges upon, I now see the true scale of his theft. He scapegoated you. The truth? Because of him… Apples and oranges… Seipran… They are gone.”
Casimir turned to face me, asking, “Do I have your word?”
Maghnus, distracted from his own memories, muttered, “No. I don’t know enough. Concepts like kindness, what I once called florigen. Topics like trickery, which I once called hemlock. And things like metal, which I once called rust. I don’t know the full truth. About what you and God really are. What do humans call it? ‘Stuck in limbo’?”
The Scarab’s eyes returned to chartreuse, “You will. Both of you. Maghnus, if hatred comes to you again, do not let it control you as it did to Paul. Do you understand?” Maghnus grunted in response, which Casimir sensed as approval. “And Paul?”
“Yes?” I asked with sheer weariness.
Casimir smiled. Despite those mandibles and the yards between us, I could tell, “You figured it out. Took you long enough, didn't it?"
"Eighteen years. Plus, however much time has passed here. Lost track of it in my idiocy..."
"You have a lot of work to do. But you took your first step. Progress is progress.”
I nodded, “What did you say before, ‘life starts now’?”
Casimir tittered lightly as a breeze as he flashed a bright orange, “Life already started. But it has yet to be born. Or, in your case, reborn. There is much to be done. Much that you have to make right.”
He turned away from me and faced the two ancient artifacts of yore, which I just noticed were hovering with magical opalescence and streaks of bijou, jade-colored lightning. To my right was the gun. I couldn’t make out many of the details due to the brief time I had to analyze it. It was most similar to a massive white and gold-adorned revolver, with a box shape and a barrel that was impractically enormous. No human hands could remain attached to the body with the recoil that beast would produce. The underside of the grip had a massive gray talon facing the barrel. Before the gun disappeared, I also noticed the scope on top, with only its great size and red glass being registered at that moment. The revolver faded into smoke, reverberating scorching charcoal.
I turned my attention to the obsidian-colored claymore to my left. If the revolver was impractical, this was excessive. It was taller than Casimir by at least three feet, while its width dwarfed my own human chest. It was intricately detailed with gold and silver engravings, while it pulsed with green magma that flowed into the jade stones that dotted much of the blade. Near the drill-like tip, an adornment that combined a hammer and an axe flared to the sides, extending on each side by another foot.
Casimir lifted the primordial blade as if it were a pencil, and he tossed it in the air and caught the blade end with his fingers once it fell back down. He repeated this process a few times before he grabbed the hilt and slammed the tip into the stone, which pulsed with more green, sparkling plasma. He then relinquished, settling it into the dirt.
“What the Hell is he doing…” I whispered, confused.
Maghnus said nothing, equally perplexed by the situation. He transitioned to the subject of the weapon more generally, “Khepthra, that sword has changed greatly since before the Flood.” There was a hint of remorse in his voice.
Casimir leaned back upon the heft of the blade, “It was much more beautiful than this…”
“Back during those wars?”
“Yes. Did they ever tell you what I did?”
“You destroyed countless legions in your wrath.”
His slits melted into white sunlight, the first time I had seen such a thing. His fists clenched mightily, but then released as he closed his eyes, which then became indigo as they opened. His voice ached, “When things were broken, I began losing myself. She is gone… God damn it… She is gone…” His pyres dimmed into black, as the shutters closed with his despair.
Maghnus, even for a man who so hated Casimir in life, could not deny the grief swallowing him. Maghnus revealed, “Even if Mardis didn’t deny us of crimson, my world would have still turned gray after Seipran died. Every other Peqan was a blind moron, following Mardis’s dogma, believing ‘Rathaph’ spoke them all into being. It’s a wonder that I endured so long without my bond brother. Without the only family I ever knew.”
There was a long pause that drew between the ancient and tired old men. That silence spoke more than anything else could.
Maghnus inevitably broke the silence, as the ambient wind became a warm breeze, “What exactly happened to ‘the sword that pierced the Abyss’? From Otolan teaching, it used to look more…”
“Noble?” Casimir’s eyes reclaimed chartreuse, yet his throat was hoarse.
“Not what I was going to say…”
“You meant it.”
“I did. So, what happened?”
Casimir leaned up from his sword and stared into its central, massive jadestone, as if lingering on a reflection that could not be found upon the lightless sword, “After the Flood, my entombed body began to act as the threshold between where evil is and where it belongs. Goats were sent to me, and I carried the sin over after they died, often after they suffered much…” He meekly bashed his forehead into the blade with a heavy, low thump. Casimir’s anguish increased as he quietly stated, “I know it has to be done, for goats are some of the few that could carry sin across, but… I can’t help but continue to blame myself for it. Especially since goats are so often equated to demons now...” His demeanor shifted into vexation covered in the slime of grief.
Maghnus snorted in annoyance, “You didn’t answer my question, Khepthra… I don’t care how some animals on Euzoth feel.”
“I did answer. You just don’t understand why,” Casimir turned around as crimson glowed from his suns, “It is Earth. Not Euzoth.”
The horselion scoffed, “‘Earth’ is a terrible name! To us, Peqans, it sounds like ‘urith’. Uselessness! Why wouldn’t we despise it?”
“It’s a different word with a different meaning,” Casimir glided his upper hand to the hilt of his sword. He remarked, “What you call that planet is but a part of where the corpse of Euzoth resides.”
Maghnus sparked in volume, “Every Otolan was taught that defilement of God’s law. You took all the Stillborn and grafted them into a massive skeleton! And then, when Euzoth tried to erase you, you tore him apart! I know damn well that ‘Earth’ isn’t the only place where his body is! But we still called it Euzoth because it meant something important to us!”
Casimir's pyres intensified as he clutched his volcanic blade and ripped it out of the ground, “You’re depending on the Otolan interpretation of that word. To Hinjomin, that bastard? He transfigured it into ‘woven home’. But when God named him, when he congealed from what was left from my creation, He called him ‘Euzoth’. ‘Afterbirth’.”
After briefly collecting his thoughts at such a primordial insult, Maghnus ignited, “By the shit of a Toralen, Khepthra! How could mere ‘afterbirth’ kill every single Seraphim guarding Adarim before that final battle? How could mere ‘afterbirth’ require you to be Absolute to kill him? And how, in all Creation, could mere ‘afterbirth’ cause you to lose your mind and the only reason you stopped was because—”
The tripwire was struck.
In less time than an instant, Casimir appeared mere feet in front of me, as a deathly radiation of crimson and indigo erupted from his skin. He crouched down to my head and glared into my eyes with his crimson infernos, staring straight into the immaterial presence of Maghnus. He slammed his sword into the ground only a few inches from my left foot, the impact of which created great, glacial tempests and tremors beneath. Casimir’s mandibles loosened as his immense grip calcified the air near his hand; the mandibles marginally shifted with the resonance of a fraction of his wrath:
“HOLD. YOUR. TONGUE.”
Maghnus’s presence effectively evaporated. I myself was wonderstruck initially by the speed at which this happened. Dare say it transcended movement itself. After another few seconds, my skin became drenched in sweat. I still don't know if Maghnus was forcing it through or if I felt anxiety with that. Or perhaps both were true at once. I was too stunned to speak, let alone think about how or why.
Casimir breathed heavily then. Shaken and spasmic. An ancient eulogy, on repeat… Everything was broken... She is gone… That was all I could fathom.
It was like looking into a shattered mirror. Glued together yet broken still.
As his chest heaved and his heart beat like a diesel engine, I noticed something piercing the chainmail skin underneath his arm. It was no more than a few inches in diameter and had two inches exposed to the outside. It camouflaged itself into his armor and appeared similar to all the other scars on his body. Yet, the longer I looked at it, the more alien it looked. Especially the color and texture. Like a sliver of emptiness, consuming all light as Vantablack.
I pointed at it, and he initially attempted to disregard it, “I have had that forever. It is a part of me.” I wasn’t satisfied, and he knew it. However, Casimir would not admit a thing, as his eyes transformed to a seldom-seen violet, “Don’t… Please…” I relented, knowing my selfish curiosity should not be sated here.
From him, an unfathomable sorrow emanated from his eyes. And in that purple light, I also witnessed two minuscule dots. The same make and shape as that which pierced his side. Thorns. In the center of his pupils, near invisible. Into his left side, upward, facing towards that mark of shame.
Maghnus returned, though far more reserved than before, “Khepthra, we don’t have time for this… We have to move.” Casimir’s chinks returned to charteseuse, as he bobbed his head. He swiped the sword, which allowed it to fade like storm clouds amidst sunlight. Casimir turned and trudged away from me, as his sabatons dragged and bounced upon the ground. Maghnus relayed,
I furrowed my brow,
Maghnus sighed lightly,
“How can you tell?”
Maghnus stated as if it were obvious.
I shook my head,
There was clearly more to this:
The thought silenced me. Did I? That was the same Peqan that beckoned me into cannibalism. The same one that beguiled me into killing Hersheus. The same one that cheered me on as I murdered and devoured innocent people. I should hate him for this, and in many ways, I was frustrated with him, alongside Ahrius and Buchalan. But, even in that hellscape of Rathaph, those three were the closest things to friends I had in years. Perhaps it was simply a fraternal propinquity with a hint of Stockholm Syndrome.
Was this just an example of how damaged I was? Was I just trying to find something in the mud? Or was it something else? Buried deep within the ruins of a shattered fortress?
The thoughts slipped away as I instinctively muttered, “I don’t. I just want them all to be better.”
Casimir stopped in his tracks, pivoting his head slightly towards me, which glowed with an unfamiliar dark brown,“Of all things…” He attempted to hide a small chuckle; he swiftly returned to his pace, slightly more enthusiastic than before.
Maghnus deflected,
I noticed the shift in tone again.
Maghnus was unusually somber,
I had heard of Mardis a few times at this point, mainly from Xanthum’s lectures. So even I was aware of the animosity between Mardis and Maghnus. Yet, I never understood why they were so contentious. I stated,
I had figured that something like this was going on. Far too many inconsistencies appeared in the Words when considering how the society operated. And given how restoration truly worked? Reincarnation was a lie. The castes were a lie. Rathaph was a lie. All of the abominations committed by the Peqans can ultimately be tied to him. My suffering under the Peqans could be traced to him.
Maghnus sensed my internal frustration,
“Obviously. I am well-read, unlike most of those coballons. For I was born on… Earth, after all. That’s going to take getting used to.>
Maghnus snorted,
Incredulously, I pointed out,
The Peqan countered,
Casimir interjected, “Besides, you know where you’ll be going soon, Paul.”
I bowed my head once, acknowledging, “The Eggmen. Now would be the perfect time, wouldn’t it?”
Maghnus agreed,
“How awfully convenient… Almost too convenient."
Maghnus retorted,
An uncomfortable thought for certain, but Hersheus's ego certainly justified it. Still, hanging this entire situation only on Hersheus's incompetence didn't sit well with me. Mardis knew something. Pieces were not lining up.
Why was the sent to abduct me? Why did that ship have Maghnus's body? Why did Mardis order the Sata Protocol if he was in on the scheme? Why was he the to Yolm? Hersheus being a jackass satisfied none of these in the slightest.
Maghnus returned to the topic,
Maghnus, with a raspy hatred, simply stated,
Casimir halted, as we had returned to the icterine brick road. The leftward fork was all but completely ruined, while the right was still consumed with darkness, only briefly illuminated by the orange bonfires along the trail. I had denied what I should have done before. But having beheld the embodiment of the Abyss itself? My fear of this difficult road is nothing in comparison to that.
I caught up to Casimir, stopping a few yards behind him. I surveyed the disheveled passage towards the pit, staring deep into the horizon where that abyssal precipice was. A strange notion reformed in my head as I thought of the Nalthephean abyss beyond, which was likely sparked by Maghnus’s own displeasure.
“Why didn’t you intervene?”
It took a few seconds for Casimir to realize I was asking him, as if he was distracted by something. Eventually, he responded in a curious tone radiating gray twilight, “What do you mean?”
I doubted his ignorance, “You know what I mean, Casimir. Sure, Nalthephus only left because he decided to leave. He had his excuse… He probably wanted to justify more pain against me, the bastard… Still, that doesn’t answer the question. Why would you not talk to him?”
The Scarab raised one of his lower forelimbs and held up one of the three fingers on that hand, “There are a couple of reasons. One, this isn’t my mind; it is yours. You had to give him a reason to leave, even if incited by Maghnus. Haurus and Moloch left on their own accord. Nalthephus hates me too much just to leave on his own. Amidst... other reasons," he caressed his mark. He abrasively continued, "Even if your laughter was like an apple seed to a whale, he still left for a reason. Poison is his blood. Amrita is his poison.”
“Amrita?”
Casimir bobbed his head slightly, and his glow returned to green, “Hmm… You have seen it before. That nectar that you were to drink before the Peqans abducted you on Indris.”
The seemingly ancient memory returned to me with bittersweet longing, “Oh yeah, with all those giant beetles and the pink fluffballs. Those were yours, then?”
Casimir shook his head, “Unna, my daughter, sent them.”
I froze, “Unna… Is your daughter? Then I… Oh no…”
The watcher’s tone transitioned to that of grim recognition, “I know. You brought harm to one of my daughter’s people, and this road you will walk will have more suffering because of it.” Guilt perforated through me again, as gold glowed from him, “Remember what I told you.”
“'Past evils don’t justify future evils.'”
“Make things right. That is your trial. Meet it.” I gave a slight smile to him, and he returned to the previous topic, “That exchange with our aspects was Unna’s call, not mine nor God’s. If it worked, we would have avoided this situation now… But, it wouldn’t have stopped it.”
The atmosphere became that of a storm, as I recognized what he meant, “Then, what you and God have planned is… To permanently stop ‘Lehitadam’. Whatever that is.” Casimir nodded. I then inquired, “So, what is it?”
Casimir answered indirectly yet succinctly, “Existential suicide.” The brief storm subsided, and before I could inquire further, Casimir traced back our steps, “For a being that prefers sin and silence, felicity is his aqua regia. It wounds him. Though what you did was merely insulting to him. Again, an apple seed to a whale. He realized that you still had a spark, even if he tried to abuse it into submissive nothingness. Nalthephus will now justify further torment against you. He would have taken pleasure whether you defied him or not. Pain to him is sustenance.”
I could tell from his expression that we were running out of time, so I hurried the discussion along despite my growing curiosity, “Then, what about the other reason?”
Casimir became a statue at that moment. He did not speak, nor did he make a sound. Violet resounded from him as he exposed that same thorn deep in his side. He traced the tip of it from underneath his arm, across his left pectoral and the mark upon it, and then pressed deeply into the left side of his sternum. He slumped slightly as he jerked himself away and leapt into the darkness of the road, as ultraviolet shimmered like headlights in fog.
A dark realization hit me: he laugh. Only chuckle or giggle or some other form of light amusement.
Did Nalthephus do this to him? If so... Then no wonder Casimir was so unwilling to entertain conversation with that Abortion of Creation.
And yet I complained about being in pain? What about Casimir, with those thorns in his eyes and side, not to mention all the grief in his heart? I may not have had it easy, but it was far better than that. I am still here. I can still change.
I must be better than this.
Casimir had traversed to the first star between those voids. He glacially waved to me, still in some state of sorrow. As I shot my head up, he softly lobbed a shimmering object towards me; I caught it with my right hand, as I began to recognize the way it felt. Rainclouds began to form. With cyan eyes, Casimir repeated as he did before, but with greater solemnity, “Make them proud...” As I turned and opened my palm, the rain fell.
It was the rosary.
As I wept with joy, I tried to stammer out words of how this artifact was here, despite knowing the Peqans had destroyed it. But as I looked up to interrogate Casimir, he was already gone.
I nodded, wiping away my tears. I wrapped the beads of the rosary around my neck, looping the clasp behind my neck, and allowing the cross to settle halfway down my chest. A piece of home returned to me. Please guide me... Dad... Mom...
This sugary thought was sour to the old Peqan,
“Get used to it,” I retorted. Maghnus snorted in resignation.
I began walking upon that darkening brick road towards that first pyre. As the bricks turned to shadowcast gravel and dirt, I looked to my left and saw the emerald city melt into that pit of death, as it all deteriorated like smog upon the wind. Darkness surrounded me as the white ambiance of the palace ceased. Before me, that first orange star was the only source of light for what felt like light-years. Yet, this time I knew what I had to do. I would stumble. I would trip over myself. I would certainly fall. I would suffer. I stepped forward.
Into the Valley, in the Shadow of Death.
Paul should be waking up soon, shouldn’t he? I pray for his safety, along with Maghnus. As much as can be, given what they will face. I only hope the old Peqan doesn’t drive Paul into anger again.
The boy is still grieving…
Nalthephus…
“Abortion of Creation”. “A stillborn fetus congealed in the excised womb”. Paul will treat them as insults. They aren’t just baseless vulgarities. Qhiao-Mata, in her enraged ennui, tore out her own womb and flung it into the Abyss. Euzoth, my afterbirth, reaped the womb and sowed it with his stagnant emissions. And from this God-forsaken consummation, the Zoa came to be. And the first to rise out of the bottom of Tartarus was that fuligine serpent.
Nalthephus, “Tomb of Creation”, as God so named him. And while I attempted to comfort my ailing sister, Nalthephus, shortly after being born, began to destroy Creation.
The First Sin.
The First War.
The Manifold War.
The Rumination.
The Fall.
The Watchers.
The Flood.
The Otolans.
Every. Sin. Since.
He is the wickedness responsible for everything. So much more than what humanity should ever know. For his being? His teleology? It cannot coexist with God. He is Antithesis.
The thorn at my side, piercing my lungs and heart… I was forced to remember everything because of what Euzoth did… From beyond this Zoriki and unto the past four! Everything! EVERYTHING!
She is gone. She is gone.
No matter which cycle, they keep separating us. Without her… The lamentations repeat over and over again, like an endless cinema reel in my eyes, covered in jagged stones. Yormul and Unna have tried to mend these wounds… I wish it were enough, but it is not. Every time I am reminded of all I have lost, the thorn burrows deeper in…
Ariel. Dekarin. Sabutaris. Hina.
When will it be enough?
Father… Son… Spirit… This is agony…
He must die. He must die. HE MUST DIE.
He had his chances! Four damn times! And he hasn’t changed!
It’s madness to assume that he ever will.
Through the Rumination, it becomes shameful and ironic. Before we were the best of friends. Just two kids playing in the village within the valley. But things changed when we grew up. He betrayed me for a lie. A fear in his heart. Akin to Gilgamesh’s hubris.
I am still reconciling all these memories… One Zoriki is already eternal. I have four, along with everything that has happened thus far in this one. All the joy, the sorrow, the glory, the shame, the victories, and the losses. What he did in all of them. What I did in all of them. And everyone else. There is still so much to get through...
I am weighing the scale of infinite pain and infinite hate. I wish I could discard that scale and move on. But I can’t. Not without her. Ariel…
Your warmth dispersed the cold.
Your heartbeat within your bosom eased my burden.
And the amber stars for your eyes… made me feel at home.
I failed you. I betrayed you when I took the hands of Sora and Nepheli just because they reminded me of you. I don’t deserve to see your face again. I am not the man you loved. He is gone...
It will never be the same. This eclipse chokes me still.
God, I am sorry for all this. I will still perform my functions. I am still your Wrath. I am the knight that will guard your Creation if the need calls, per the authority of your crown…
The paroxysm upon my heart… It was no excuse, my King, as I told you upon Sagarmatha. I am their Deliverer. I am no Savior. The Earth was violated because I was a blind fool. I will not confuse myself again. No matter how dreadful the pain. Never again.
It is my love for them and my wrath for him that keeps me windward. Against all the tempest and tide of our enemies. While I remain, they will not have him. They will not have her. They will not have of them.
I will keep moving forward; I have over fourteen billion reasons why. No one else will be the Sword; I cannot bear the guilt of someone else being what I am…
Damn it.
If only I could laugh as they did. Boisterous and confident. I think I would smile more. I think it would be easier to bear this alone.
It is agony.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers