Contest Winner: My Soul Shall Never Kneel

WARNING: CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE.

My Soul Shall Never Kneel by Maese Delta.

These words, that by such a spell weave the design you are going to witness, take for granted what the Gods have done, what humans have achieved with every gasp or breath, whether in victory or defeat. If you truly understand what the Ragnarök is, you know that even the Gods cannot escape it. In that day, all zest, fear and hatred will surpass the power of storms and volcanoes. Now, you have been granted a glimpse of such a day, so that when you face the end, you will never bend down.

Of the encounters between Christians and Vikings, there was one of great worth, for it bespoke the courage the Norsemen needed to refuse to bow down to the Christians. It was known in many a Norsemen tale that never a man, when at the threshold of death, felt remorse or anything that granted him a Christian death. Thus, there was one encounter which fuelled, as blood and fire to the berserkers, the strength they needed.

In the outskirts of a forest-sheltered village, a throng of Vikings made their last stand against Christian warriors. What was thought to be a raid ended up in a defence of a pagan temple, hidden somewhere in the forest. Under a blackening cloudy sky, these men debated who would be left devoid of merciful funeral rites.

Scornful or fearful words would echo through millennia about the strife of Christians and Vikings to defend their faith. When alive, men were bent on destroying that which they did not understand or deemed unwanted and worthless. When at the brink of death, men were desperate to hold on to the most meaningful things, often despised or ignored.

And thus, there were whispered fears of priests who, fleeing from Vikings, were wrapped in a golden ray, a salvation from God… only to end up smote by Oden. And there were also rumours of despicable traitors to the Aesir, who converted to Christianity, led the Christians to tear down pagan temples and convert the Norsemen.

The battle was supposed to take place at the outskirts of the forest, but the Christians were relentless on the chase, and they even shot down the mounts of the Vikings. Here and then, a hidden Christian warrior would spring out from the blackness and pierce a horse with a lance.

When three horses had been taken down, the Vikings’ rage started to wane.

–If only my mount was Sleipnir–said the chieftain–, I will outspeed these Christians.

–Our temple is nearby! –said a Viking– Thorold, We cannot lead them astray, they set this trap for us!

Suddenly, the bellows and shouts ceased. Many thought the invisible streams of time had frozen the world, for no sound could be heard, no blood was pumped to the heart. The Christians thought God will break through the clouds and wipe out the heathen, and the Vikings longed for Thor to smash vehemently the Christians.

Then, from the increasing crowd of Christian warriors, came along a tall man, mounting a horse. Clad as a priest and holding a large a cross as a staff, he boldly approached at the Vikings and defied them.

–The heathen fire you breathe will not avail you! –shouted the priest– Reject God while you linger in your untrue beliefs, and soon you will no longer belong to God’s Kingdom!

–You will not have us knelt down to the Cross!–replied Thorold– Take us down if so powerful you are, then! No prayer will shelter you from the Hammer of Thor!

A swift flash of steel was glimpsed by the Vikings, and the Christians only saw that a footsoldier of them had a protruding axe on his head. A victorious, hoarse cry was heard from the Vikings.

However, the Christian troop did not yield to fear and came forth, spears ahead.

–By the will of Aesir, then, we shall fight at the temple! Let us offer these warriors as war-field sacrifice! –said Thorold.

The Vikings who had lost their steeds, mounted those of their companions, and quickly thundered their way through the forest, onward to the temple.

During the chase, Thorold could not stop thinking about the odds: there was the chance of death to all his companions and a worthy coming to the Valhalla; on the other hand was the shameful fate that the Christians rescued and spared a Viking and converted him to Christianity.

–That will never happen! –he shouted as he rode through the forest, the shouts of the Christians ringing on his ears–I will not afford my kin to fall prey to such treason!

For long minutes the chase kept going, here and there arrows whooshed, the galloping noise increased the heartbeats as the Vikings longed to turn the Christians’ shouts into cries of pain. As desperate the situation was becoming, Thorold and his men could not find the temple, the darkness and the trees proved to be a bigger confusion than a massive battle.

But there ought to be a more desperate moment than the duel at the temple. When Thorold’s party came into a bunch of trees cutting off their way, with a hoarse cry he told his men to stand fast and face their foes. However, as the darkness yielded to the Moon’s sudden apparition in the cloudy sky, he found a way out.

However, such path was clearly near the spot from which the Christians were coming. Thorold knew a clash of riders was sure to happen.
Before any word was said, Thorold led his men towards the path. In just swift seconds, five horses clashed into each other. Christian and Viking alike rolled on the ground, spear and sword lying far from their hands.

The steeds’ whines echoed loud in the forest and a feeling of despair grew in the stragglers as their companies made their way to the temple.
Three horses galloped away, scared. A Christian and a Viking followed them, ignoring each other. Another pair lay on the ground, dead or alive, no one could tell, for they were under a horse trying to regain on its feet. Two Christians and a Viking remained still, fighting over a horse which was faithfully waiting for his Nordic rider to mount him. Over and over it licked his face but the Viking never moved.

For the remaining Christian soldiers it became a most unwanted struggle: the feeling of the fumbling hands reaching for the reins and the sheathed sword in the saddle, the indistinct growls and grunts and the desperate heartbeats. At last the Viking managed to draw the sword, but he was shoved away. Then, shortly he had fallen flat on the ground, he saw a flash of steel reflecting the waning moonlight… and complete blackness shrouded him.

The soldiers mounted the steed and followed their party, leaving behind a Viking with a cold sword stuck in his neck.
Meanwhile, as Thorold and his men were fleeing from his hunters, at last he glimpsed the temple. A pair of huge torches was lit at the entrance. At first he thought it a huge mistake, for it clearly showed the location to the Christians. But then, he grinned at made haste to reach the temple.

–There it is! Reach it and prepare to make the battleground our altar! –shouted Thorold.

As soon as they stopped before the gate. They dismounted and sent away their horses. In short time came the Christians. The sight of temple seemed to unnerve them, somehow.

–They have the advantage! Thorold, how can we overcome this? –asked a Viking, starting to feel the fear of defeat.

Thorold simply glared at him and motioned him to look at the fiery flames of the torches that guarded the temple’s entrance. At first he did not understand, but the rest of his warriors already did.

When the priest made way through his escort, he was quickly challenged by Thorold.

–Get down, tread the ground, priest! –said Thorold as he glanced at his foe–No matter how tall you or your mount are… you will never reach the heavenly kingdom you preach of endlessly.

–If you are so firm in your stand to fight to whatever end–replied the priest, his gaze facing Thorold’s–, then know this: When you look at your men slaughtered on the ground for their impious lives, ask yourself, are their faces those of men who go happily to the Valhalla? Or of men who will soon be devoured by worms?

What should have been expected as disquieting moment of silence, became the prelude to a disaster, not a series of hand-to-hand combats.

In that moment, the Vikings spotted some lights behind the trees. Thorold’s grin grew wider, but it quickly vanished as he saw the Christians recognized more allies for the incoming battle. Some of them were bearing torches, and others carried large sacks tied to the saddles.

The new soldiers did not show signs of slowing their speed, and they would surely charge head on against the Vikings. Thorold immediately call his men and entered the temple. Quickly they barricaded themselves.

Now the walls secluded them from the vengeful plots of the soldiers. Whatever warmth or peace the Vikings found in the temple, would not last for long.

It had not been many minutes till the priest came to the following resolution:

–Set ablaze this temple.

And thus the preparations began. The torches, the oil buckets, the conviction. They poured oil on the wall, and with the help of improvised ladders, they stained the ceiling. The intricate carvings of the temple, pride of the Norsemen did not appeal to the Christians. It all bespoke of foul demons and heathendom.

When the Christian warriors were about to set ablaze the pagan temple, one of those who stood along with others, felt a most disturbing chill running up his spine, and such cold would remain inside him for a long time. As the soldiers were pouring oil while others held the torches, the unsettled soldier kept staring and said:

–A deed so holy seems blasphemy for those who hold on to heathen creeds… Oh, God on high, what does future have in store for us?

Yet his words did not remain private, for a soldier did heed them. In that moment, the ominous feeling such words bore was shared by both men.

–So be it, heathen ones!–shouted the priest, his shape seeming larger than before– Prove to us as much as yourselves that you cannot endure the flames of Judgement Day!

The soldiers lit their torches, all at the same time, and then, cast them into the temple.

Arson. To the Christian warriors, the fire seemed as if a fell, burning demon suddenly appeared and wrapped the temple. Here and there, the crawling flames forebode the incoming bloodshed the Vikings were to suffer, should they still taunt their foes to combat.

That was the challenge. How to provoke them was the question. But flames would not wait patiently, nor the wrath of the Norsemen.

–Do not waver! –Thorold shouted– They will join us in this burning ordeal… what they don’t expect is that we shall release Surtur’s Fire!
Shortly those words had been pronounced, the ten Vikings yelled as loud as they could, while banging their swords and axes against their shields, stomping the ground. Outside, some of the soldiers jeered at the Vikings, thinking they have gone mad and were suffering greatly in the raging fire. The priest, however, scolded them:

–Your laughs are giving you wrong ideas! They are not being burned, they are chanting like wild beasts, longing to fight while they linger in what is just a glimpse of Hell.

–Should we care? –said a soldier staring at the priest– They cannot be redeemed. What could they possibly do to lure us into that temple?

–Look there! Torches behind the trees! –cried a soldier–Did we request more reinforcements?

Carefully, the soldier, atop his horse approached at the forest, along with other men. Before he could discern a whooshing sound, his sight revealed the world behind him, though upside down.

A shout alarmed the soldiers as they saw his companion hanging dead on the saddle, an arrow stuck in his face.

In that moment, from the forest came more Vikings, but their hoarse cries could not match that of the Vikings inside the temple, and the seemingly increasing roar of the arson. The Viking allies stood awed and quickly dropped their weapons. A few of them covered their eyes while others knelt down. Just one fled, terrified.

The temple was being destroyed by the flames. Atop the building, the burning crown sent goats of flame, while to the sky ascended tongues of fire as the temple kept blowing a cumulus of smoke.

–Behold, heathens! Now you share the horrible fate the Egyptians faced many years ago. Your deities have been defeated.

Those words rang loud in the Norsemen’s ears. At once they took their arms and headed towards the priest. With a sudden tremor, he spurred his steed and moved backwards. Even so, he cried:

–Make these heathens to share the same fate his kin! Soldiers, man the battering rams! Bring down the temple!

As the Vikings were about to reach the priest, an arrow brought down one of them, while some footsoldiers stopped the others. Then, from the rear of the Christian throng, thundered four horses, running as a couple. Between them, the men hung an improvised battering ram, a mere trunk recently cut down.

They succeeded at the clash. However, the Norsemen who faced the soldiers headed towards the riders, and before they attempted another charge to bring down the temple, a Viking wielded his sword, with such a mighty roar, that quickly he gazed his reward: the leg of a horse falling to the ground.

The other Viking threw himself under the other steed, and holding his blade with two hands, plunged it deep into its belly. He was overwhelmed by many sensations: the splash of hot blood and innards, the loud, painful whining and the bulk of the horse falling on him.

The priest sent more riders with battering rams to bring down the temple. A clash had been dealt. When they readied for the next, a Viking managed to hold on to the rider, and as the horse was driven mad, they headed right to the burning gate and fell inward.

Thorold and his men, who still refused to yield to fear, roared with renewed fervour, as they watched the soldier and the Viking fighting over the burning mount. However, they quickly caught fire too.

–There you have it, men! –he shouted–. While this flames are caresses to us, to them shall be the jaws of death! Forth!

But they couldn’t go further as a huge part of the ceiling fell to the floor. Soon would follow a huge mass of debris. Yet in those swift moments, Thorold glimpsed a few bold Christian warriors daring to hold them inside the temple, while some Norsemen tried to kill them.

A loud rumble was heard, and before Thorold thought (while a big grin was drawn in his face) that the Fenris wolf had come to succour them, a mass of debris was falling on them. Just one of his men, out of luck managed to jump backwards, and then, fled. Thorold felt someone held tight to him.

The feeling of being thrown to the ground, smelling the hot soil while the Christians stood there, watching, made him to build up whatever fervour he had. Before any flame could take his life away, he roared once more, and rose from the debris. Indeed, his blood was boiling, a burning sensation ran through his face. As soon as his eyes were fixed upon his enemies, he sprang out from the rubble and raised his sword.

Here a hand was chopped off, a chest was cut open and there head rolled to the ground. But the killing spree could not go on, for a sharp blow from a mallet hit him right in the chest. Then, he saw reddish shapes against the black sky, and he felt he was being stomped and struck hard with poles.

Thus it was how, bound like a beast, hands tied, he was tamed… or that was what the soldiers expected. Here and then he would need a beating to subdue him. However, there was something which unsettled them: just once he lay on the ground. During the next beatings, he hardly could be bent down or thrown to the floor, and he was not a tall, burly man.

It was a primitive but somehow, peaceful procession. The Norseman stood quite mute during the travel. Only the priest could endure his fiery gaze, while the soldiers felt unease as they approached at him. For an hour and a half they kept marching till they reached a village.

Thorold, somehow, recognized the place. Despite the outer wall being rebuilt over and over, he recognized it as the village that had been one of the favourite raiding targets for him and his men. Not only for gold or a good fight, but also their women. Another fact that fed his memory was in this village he had met good friends and worthy enemies.

But as he and his captors entered the village, he was shocked to see that the village, though inhabited by Norsemen, he could not avoid the sight of a church, as well as the crosses hanging by the neck of some men and women. This place had been converted to Christianity.

Thorold could not help but to sigh heavily.

No sign of blatant weakness had been shown by him, though there was a pulsating, unsettling sensation that was crawling around him. And Thorold knew the priest was aware of it, and sooner or later, he would address to him, openly stating about some ordeal or chastisement. Whatever his enemies had stored for him, Thorold did not mean to lower his gaze and head, much less to bow.

Before his mind became overwhelmed by depictions of tortures or exhausting hours of constant preaching by priests, the sight of a huge, crude-looking stone building brought him back to reality: A dungeon was revealed to his sight. Though there was hardly a person that could be scared or mad at him, it seemed long hours of solitude awaited for him. And thus, into a cold cell he was thrown.

As the soldiers locked the gate, Thorold eavesdropped a little of the soldier’s hushed talk with the bold priest. Thorold expected at least that if he was to be put to the test with conversion, he would at least find leisure time scaring the priest they sent. However, the priest’s final words were not hushed, but loud and clear:

–If God, in his infinite wisdom and power, does indeed wishes this brutal heathen to be converted, I will see the way that fits him the best… Now, if the Lord does not wish to look upon him anymore, he will grant me the best chastisement, the true reward for the heathen’s impious life.

After that, the soldiers and the priest departed, leaving the Viking alone. Thorold, feeling drowsy now, did not think that some time for sleep was shameful. For an hour he slept peacefully, such calm, being the only one he could have at least before the trial.

Indeed, for if Thorold had not realized (or refused to) about the situation he was in, it was clear he was going to be in a trial, not only for his heathendom, but also for the constant and vicious raids he had waged, as his forebears had done before. Should there be a hope of victory, Thorold knew it was not going to be embodied in a miraculous arrival of a Viking host, blood-thirsty and well armed, or some direct intervention of the Gods.

No… That victory had to be embodied on him. Now the time had come for him to prove it.

But such a time had not come yet, though there was a glimpse of it. Someone was banging at the gate of the cell, and Thorold did not wake up. When the banging became louder, Thorold sprang up from the crude bedding and he stood still, eyes fixed upon his foe.

The bold priest was standing before him. Without the faintest trace of fear, he unlocked the gate and entered the cell. Then, he stood before Thorold. Suddenly, a voice echoed from the hallway:

–Make him know what his end will be, Alfred.

A long silence followed. In that moment, both foes were engaging in a mental battle. Their gazes never swaying, no sudden gasps or shivering.
Both the priest and the Viking depicted themselves in a battle, and Thorold, somehow, was amazed to see that his religious foe looked, indeed, like a bold warrior. Even so, though clad like a soldier, he was still a man of God, and such fervour would lead him to victory. Around them a battle was raging, here and there could be seen houses burning and men dying: they were in a raid.

Where the priest prayed, the Viking cursed. Where the priest lent a merciful hand, the Viking wielded an unkind blade. As for their henchmen, men at arms, if the tides of war led them to despair, they were capable of the bravest deeds, or the foulest felonies. Perhaps for Thorold and Alfred, such a dire fate was not meant for them. Their last battle had to be personal, yet witnessed by others. Great renown or shame would be carried away by the whispers and words of the crowd.

–You are aware of the ordeal–said Alfred–, or am I mistaken? All your shouts of rage and pain, all your gasps, and the blood you and your men had shed, will be reduced just to a single blink or sigh when you are vanquished at the end of the trial.

–You are bold, that I can recognize–replied Thorold–. But heed yourself well. Constantly blaming and uttering damnation or salvation for your enemies or allies. Beware of what you do, for if something else, beyond all your beliefs happens… in a long wait you will be doomed, and in death you will not be free.

Shortly the words had been pronounced, the priest turned back at him and locked the gate. He swiftly glared at the Viking and then departed.
A few while later, the priest appeared escorted by four tall, soldiers. They entered the cell and seized Thorold. Once they tied his hands, he was taken to the chamber where the trial would take place.

Even when he did not expect swords, axes or back-stabbings anymore, he felt the same thrill of the battle. The blaming shouts mingled with insults or fearful cries that longed for justice to be done upon him. Through the corridor Thorold was led, and soon he saw the broad space of the trial chamber. He was clearly going to be watched by a whole crowd, all expecting to rain accusations on him.

–There you have it, he is the monster, whose throng wielded merciless blades, which blood thirst never was sated! –a man of the crowd shouted as he watched the prisoner, and similar words echoed throughout the chamber.

–Bring forth the prisoner–said Alfred, never swaying his gaze from Thorold’s eyes.

The crowd was clearly shocked as Thorold was taken, at the sight of everyone. Even so, he did not expect to be shocked indeed… save for two things.

First, as some people of the crowd had not been seated, order was far from being restored. A man stumbled upon Thorold, and, shoving him away with derision, he was spat on his face. Thorold could not help but stare aghast at the man who had met: it was one of his former companions. Now he was a Christian.

A battle was being waged already: Thorold against the shock of such an encounter, of him against the shivering that threatened to took hold of him.

–I will just offer you this merciful opportunity once… bow down, and beg for mercy, repent and God might grant you his pardon. We shall all bear witness to that, and, instead of hurling insults, admiration and leniency you shall earn.

Thorold remained silent for a long time, unmoved by the leering of the law lords and the people.

–How insolent! How can you be so brute and ignorant? –asked one of the law lords.

–I will not share the fate of Olav Tryggvason! –replied Thorold– Of that you can be sure.

Here and there, people longed to hurl more insults and cry for Thorold’s immediate execution. However, they all felt threatened by the Viking.
Even when their eyes did not meet his, and even when he was not much of a burly man, they all felt something was keeping them mute, trembling, doubtful.

–You are more afraid to voice loud your sentence than me to suffer it!
Before the priest could voice the order for Thorold’s execution, a loud bang was heard. A man had broken into the trial chamber. It was a herald, and his news were the second shock Thorold had:

–There is a God, indeed! We ought to be thankful, heed me all! I just returned from a battle I witnessed not far from here. Another Viking raid was to take place here, and this time they were along with their women and children… or that is what it seemed. But all those despicable heathens have been wiped out! They all roared the name of Thor, and all bore those hammer-shaped necklaces… how shameful! They remained true to deities of falsehood… and death was rewarded to them.

Thorold felt this time a stronger trembling. He almost wavered, falling to the ground, but he just coughed loud and spat at the ground. Closing his eyes, he refused to shed his only tears of sorrow: that Viking host was his, all of them wore Mjolnir pendants, and among them his family was, a lovely wife and two children.

In that moment, the priest said:

–It is done, then. Hearken the sentence… beheading.
In short time, the executioner appeared, like a children who had been promised a gift. He quickly sharpened his axe and told the soldier to lead the Viking to the platform where he was to lie.

Before any soldier reached Thorold, a man hurried towards him. Thorold grimaced as he thought of the man a Christian Norsemen. Then, he felt more alarmed as the man produced a dagger from one of his sleeves, and as soon as he approached at him, he cut the noose that bound the hands.

As the priest shouted Seize them both! A soldier was the first to achieve a kill: hurling his sword at the man, the blade pierced his back. Thorold, drawing quickly the sword, roared and glared at the priest. He charged head on to him, and though he’s well defended, to the Viking meant more thrill for the combat.

Thorold chopped off the hand of the nearest soldier, then he shoved away another and stomped in the head a third one. Before he held his sword high and then plunge it deep into his foe’s back, he was tackled by the executioner, a bigger man than he.

Many people gasped in shock as they watched the fight, and even more, the fact that Thorold could still bear the weight of the executioner. Thorold was still on his feet. Then, the Viking managed to turn around and throw his foe to the ground. He did not allow him to stand up again, for he had beheaded him quickly. As he raised his gaze, he found a stone wall. He was now surrounded.

–Such rage will not avail you! –cried Alfred, disturbed by the brawl.
The soldiers were somehow frightened to fight him, and even they forced some people from the crowd to help them. The priest, along with the other law lords, was trembling. However, he refused to fall prey to fear. Thus, he made his way towards Thorold. The Viking spotted him trying to grasp a sword from a hesitant soldier.

Thorold was alone, outnumbered. No path to escape was to be found, save one.

From the ten soldiers that had cornered him, one of them lunged at him, only to end up having his chest cut open. As he fell, another one brandished his blade, knocking away Thorold’s. Then, he quickly kicked him against the wall. Thorold was thrown to the wall, and though the blow had made him to look helpless, he only had a big grin on his face.

In that moment, Thorold’s head was cut off. At last his fate had been sealed.

For Thorold, the battle had at last finished. He had won. Soon he would be at the Golden Hall, to join the Einherjer and have constant feasts and battles under the auspice of Oden…

However, as his head rolled down the ground, the whole crowd stood motionless, and were shocked more than before. For the headless body remained unnaturally on its feet for long time. Then, it just gave one step and collapsed to the ground. But Alfred fell prey to panic as he saw the body, which position of legs and arms were not that of a dead man, but of one who was about to rise.

Contest Winner: “The Visitor”

The Visitor by Maria.

I met her first on a midwinter night. Staggering through the blowing snow, she struggled to keep the heavy load of wood secure on her back. She was a fool to go out alone. My voice roared on the wind, proclaiming her one. Still she stumbled on towards the village, until at last she could go no further. The crude sling slipped from her shoulders and from it tumbled the boughs she had gathered.

Defeated, she fell onto the snow. My voice softened to a whisper as she lay unmoving with holly boughs strewn around her. She would never make it home, I told her. The breath of winter had blurred her sight and her thought. The snow had stolen the warmth from her blood.

She need only come with me, I said to her. She told me that she would not.

I would take her to a place where there was no winter, I said, no cold. She ignored all that I offered her.

Her fingers clung to a single twig of holly and her mind saw only one thing: A tiny cottage where her mother lay dying by the empty hearth. She lay there for hours. Already it was night. Already the men from the village were searching for her. So powerful was her resolve that I could not sway her before they came to take her from me.

It was spring when I found her again, standing on a ledge above the lake. She told me of her home: the tiny cottage she had been raised in, the quiet village by the lake and its beloved villagers. She cursed and wept for these very men and women: those who had cared for her, and among whom she had cared for the sick and weak. She wished them dead: those who had spat on her and called her a witch. Even the one who had promised her his love and loyalty. He had stood by when the others set fire to her cottage. She had run so far in fear that the same would be done to her. She had nowhere to go. I was her only escape.

She steeled herself and stepped off the ledge, but could not help fighting me as she sank. Slowly the water quieted her feelings and made her body still. She welcomed me with relief then. Had that boy not followed her, she would have been mine.

Up he pulled her with his strong arms onto the land and away from my embrace. He revived her with his own breath. She gasped and struggled while he held her tight. As long as he lived, he promised, she would never be mine.

I saw her next in childbirth. The poor nurse could do nothing to ease her suffering. But she need not endure this, I whispered to her. Even through her screams and pains, she could hear me. Still she would not go willingly.

She was strong and fought me for half the night. Many times I asked her why she continued on. Each time her reply was different. For her mother, she had said, who had lived through this same pain. For her husband at war, she said, whose safety she prayed for. For his family, she said, that was gathered around her now. Her new family.

When her strength at last seemed to fade, I asked her again. Why did she still fight me? The cries of the newborn child reached her ears. For the child, she said. Its existence alone was strength enough to drive me away.

It was many years before she and I met for the last time. She watched me approach silently through her blind eyes. She had fought me and won many times. She had nothing to fear now. Just as before, she saw her mother in her mind, long buried, but always alive in memory. She remembered her husband, who had never returned, but who would never be lost to her. She thought of her daughter, who had died in childbirth, but who had brought a daugher of her own into the world. She held these treasured things close to her heart and together we left in peace.

The Girl Who Became an Elf

The Girl who Became an Elf

Alick Arden’s wife died suddenly one autumn day, when a cart loaded with timber and stones, without a shudder or a warning groan, crashed down on her head.

All his business was postponed at once. Nonetheless, the following days felt crowded, every moment full of confusion, noisy with the neighbours’ voices as they tramped through his house, offering solace and sympathies. He didn’t see much of his daughter Viora, and it worried him. Hopefully the neighbours would see to her. He was preoccupied just then, in all his shaken spirits, in writing the news to his wife’s sister Lucanna at the Gulf Port, his wife’s brother Gorton in the city of Coronalis and his own brother Imbert who lived less than five miles away.

Imbert and his wife Hebe came first, all tears and commiserations, and wrung his hands and hugged him. With them came Imbert’s son Jamus and his wife, a smart young woman called Eveline.

Alick expected Lucanna to arrive next, perhaps in some small carriage or convoy. She liked to flaunt the dues of her office as a clerk of the Crown’s Harbour. But the next to come was someone they had not expected, arriving on foot with a pack on his back.

Viora did not see him at once. She was lost in a tempest of despair. She had never felt so guilty, so horrendously guilty and ashamed and disgusted – so she hid. It was what she always did, whenever her mother had nagged or ordered her to do this or sit there or behave so. But she had never stayed hidden for long, for her mother might have worried. And, as much as she hated the fact, she would get hungry. She wished, one day, to be able to live on nothing more than mushrooms and wild chestnuts.

That evening, however, she was hiding in the crooked pine tree that grew by the back gate. She had wanted to run far away, but shame and sorrow had exhausted her. She had not been to meals for the last two days.
When she at last clambered down, she found herself face to face with the recently arrived stranger. She brushed down her skirts fiercely, her face flushing.

He was, to Viora’s eyes, the strangest young man she had ever seen. He was not very tall and was as thin as a reed, but his smallness had something fine and delicate about it, something akin to the grace of new buds or leaves. His hair was astonishingly light and long enough to fall against his shoulders, and his face was peculiarly angular, with pointed features and wide eyes that were, just then, revealing the same embarrassment she was feeling.

“I beg your pardon,” he stammered. “I – ah – you must be my cousin Viora.”

“Yes,” she said shyly, “I am.”

He cleared his throat. “My name is Amber. I came in place of your Uncle Gorton. He is not well.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Oh …” Some recollections were stirring in her mind, as well as a vague pulse of excitement. “My uncle the poet?”

Amber nodded stiffly. “Your father has been looking for you.”

“Of course,” she said, suddenly glad to run away from him. “Please excuse me!” And she fled, acutely conscious of the twigs and bits of bark sticking all over her dress and her hair that she had not put a brush to in days.

Viora found her father with Imbert and Jamus in the sitting room. She went to him at once and hugged him tightly.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, her tears breaking forth.

“There, there, dear,” he said, stroking her head. “I’ve scarcely seen you all this time. Where have you been? Goodness, but you’ve become thin with grief. You’d better come to supper with us now. You haven’t even met your uncle and aunt and cousins.” He handed her to Imbert and Jamus, and they grimly kissed one another.

“I met one,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I met Cousin Amber. Daddy, isn’t he – isn’t he the one who–”

“Yes, the elf. Half an elf, at least,” said Imbert. “Odd fellow. Don’t you mind him.”

Viora was dazed with wonder beneath her tears. Her cousin whose mother was an elf was there, with them, staying under their roof.

You were lucky or unlucky enough, depending on your superstition, to see two or three elves together out in the remote country these days. In the old books, they were described as always watching for a cradle-side window to be left open, waiting for the mother’s eyes to droop, salivating for the raw flesh of the innocent.
But other books talked of elves as people wise in the nature of everything that grew from the earth and all things of wind and weather. Viora liked best to read of the songs they sang as they bore their dead to their sacred sites. For elves, too, had a sense of the sacred. People like Uncle Imbert would never believe it.

But none of the travel accounts and natural studies had taught her as much as the poems of Gorton Sterne. Viora didn’t understand every line of them but still they told her everything of the elves’ beauty and remoteness. They filled her with daydreams that her mother did not care for. She said they made Viora idle and improper, and roundly berated her husband for giving her the book and her mad brother for writing such gibberish and heresies. Viora liked then to wonder what might have happened if, when she had been an infant, her mother had closed her eyes just for a moment – if an elf had come by to snatch her away. If her mother had only been a little less watchful, she might have known for sure.

The next day was a grim one. For some reason, Viora was hungrier than usual at breakfast and finished her bowl of porridge quite easily. When her mother had been alive and presiding over the table, she wouldn’t have taken more than two mouthfuls before fleeing. Now her mother was dead, and she was gorging herself. She felt heavy with wickedness.

That was the day Aunt Lucanna arrived.

“I have walked all the way from the post at the crossroads,” she declared tragically when they welcomed her. “And I did not even bring a servant to carry my things. Where is Viora? It is not the sort of day to leave the fires unlit. It’s so horribly dark. I won’t bear this darkness – oh my poor girl!”

Viora went dutifully to her tall, elegant aunt and received a hard little kiss and embrace. “Poor child!” she said to her. “How frail you are looking! Come, take me to where she is.”

She burst into tears at the sight of the body draped in white and flowers. “So sudden and cruel,” she sobbed. Aunt Hebe joined her and the two women clasped at each other pathetically.

Sitting at the top of the stairs with her head on her knees, Viora looked up when she heard Lucanna say, “Where is my brother? I want to see him. Where are the men?”

“The men have gone to see the priest about the burial,” said Eveline, sitting with her arm about Viora’s shoulders. “And Uncle Gorton hasn’t come. He has taken ill. Amber has come in his place.”

Lucanna was expressionless for a moment.

“Amber? The bastard?”

Hebe was distressed. “Don’t call him so. He is one of ours.”

Lucanna’s eyes were still streaming, but now they were shining with malice.

“He is one of his. One of his notions, one of his ridiculous, awful lusts and fancies. And he sent this instead of coming himself!”

Eveline stood up, annoyed. “Whatever you think he is, you’d better not make any fuss of it, because it’ll be an ill thing for Aunt Mil’s soul if her mourning is messed up with petty quarrels and hates.”

“And how will a thing with no proper human soul mourn her? He is not of our family, he is not of our heart. No, I will not see him, I will not stay in the same room as him!”

But for all her words, when the men returned, she greeted them all with sorrowful affection and gave a civil, if cold, nod to Amber, then did not look his way again.

The burial was the next day. When they returned home, they gathered around the sitting-room fire while dinner was prepared.

“How could such a thing have happened?” Lucanna was moaning. “Alick, tell me straight, tell me how such a thing could have happened. How did the cart break on top of her?”

“It was my fault,” Viora blurted out. “She was picking up my hood, because I’d dropped it on the road when I was going up to Town. The cart had stopped and she ducked under to pick up my hood – and – and–”

She could say no more. They were shaking their heads. They didn’t believe her.

“Oh come now, darling,” her father said, putting his arm about her. “You didn’t make the cart come down on her. You didn’t cause a thing. Not a single thing.”

Lucanna smiled sadly at her. “Is that why you’ve been so restless? You thought it was your fault? How silly of you! Hebe tells me you’ve been in such a state, running, hiding – hardly eating a thing. You’ve become frightfully thin.”

“I haven’t,” Viora cried. They didn’t understand her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and buried her face in her father’s shoulder.

Lucanna’s eyes then fell on Amber, who was sitting apart from them by the wall and reading. “I wonder that you can see the words on the page you read. You are sitting in shadow,” she said, her voice cutting. It made Viora flinch.

Amber looked up at her. “There is enough light for me to see by.”

“I am very grieved to hear that my brother is ill, now of all times,” Lucanna said almost accusingly. “Tell me, is he very ill?”

“His apothecary said he should recover easily and in good time if he rests.” Then he added, “He sends his love and regard.”

“Regard!” Lucanna sneered. “If he had regard for anyone but himself, you would never have been born.”

“For mercy’s sake,” Imbert grumbled, “don’t rile yourself now over something done more than twenty years ago.”

“I am not riled,” Lucanna said fervently. “It happens. I know it well. I have seen plenty of undesired consequences running about the streets in the Gulf Town. But when Gorton fancied he could call an elf his wife …” She fixed Amber with another glare. “Your speech is quite lucid. You must have had something of an education. Have you Assumed?”

“I have not.”

“You haven’t!” Lucanna’s voice went high in outrage. “How does your father think to make you a legitimate son if you do not Assume a true Stellorian soul?”

“Perhaps there are better kinds of souls,” Amber said quietly, in a way that sent a thrill through Viora.

“And with no proper soul, what will you do these twenty-one days? Mock us from your dark corner?”

“Lucanna!” said Alick. “Please!”

An uncomfortable silence followed, in which Lucanna’s face streamed with angry tears. Amber closed his book. “My father has often advised me to Assume a human soul,” he said. “I have not acted on that advice – yet. It is for my father that I came here. Do you wish me to leave?”

“No!” Viora shouted. Amber glanced at her, and when their eyes met, her heart leapt high.

Imbert turned to Amber, his brows settling low. “And would you have come all the way here just to stir us into a pother and then leave? Alick, are you going to tell him to stay, or not?”

“Stay?” Lucanna exclaimed. “You want him to stay?”

“Yes, he’ll stay. We’ll not waylay Sister Mil’s soul with any more of this ruckus. He will stay here all the twenty-one days and pay the right respects of a nephew, soul or no soul.”

“For the proper form of it,” Hebe said before Lucanna could speak again. “It couldn’t be proper to send him away, not now, not when he’s already been to the burial!”

“Don’t you agree, Alick?” Imbert boomed.

“Yes, I agree!” Alick dropped his face into his hand.

There was a faint flush in Amber’s cheeks, but otherwise he did not look troubled in the least.

Alick stood up suddenly. “I have heard enough for now. Viora, come with me.”

Reluctantly, Viora left the room holding her father’s arm. She turned for one last glance at Amber, the slight, straight figure beyond the firelight, unmoved by all their agitation.

Viora’s mother had been a faithful follower of Stelloria, keeping her soul good and unburdened by sin, so of course she would be reborn one day. But elves had nothing the Church would call a soul, and lived and died only once. Viora had never pitied them for it. She thought there was something terrible yet sweet about such a fleeting, fading existence. She had been taught well of the sacredness of the circle of human immortality, but there had always been in her some tiny shoot of unholy joy in the elves’ way, the straight way without repentance and renewal.

But there and then, with her mother gone so suddenly by her own wickedness, she ached to think of such a death. Amber’s father had written of elven death and love. She had felt it and seen it so clearly in his poems: the handsome traveller meeting his sylvan love deep in the forest, and reaching his arms after her as she fled where he could not follow.

There was a tear sliding down Viora’s cheek as she thought of it then. She thought of all the times she had run away from her mother’s yelling. However far she had longed to go, she had always come home. Her very soul’s virtue pulled her back. What was more, there had always been the hope of her mother’s forgiving embrace when she returned.

The twenty-one days of mourning began the next day. As part of the observance, at breakfast they were served only milk whey, hard wafers and dried fruit. Viora, however, was given her usual porridge and rolls.

“You’re too young for mourning, dear,” Aunt Hebe said, “and you are not strong of body.”

“I am sixteen,” Viora said violently, “and I am not weak. I won’t eat this. I want to mourn my mother properly!”

When Aunt Hebe took away her porridge she felt a dim sense of shame mingled with triumph. Her mother had always harried her to eat more than she wanted to.

However, prayers, darkness and silence turned out to be duller than she could have imagined. Everyone was so wretched it made her wish whole-heartedly that she had never decided to join them.

Amber mourned with them as correctly as could be wished for, silent while the sermons were read, and reciting prayers unfalteringly with them. If his prayers were sincere, Lucanna did not believe it, and always had a red-eyed glare for him when they gathered together in the afternoons. No-one saw him in the mornings.
Viora glanced at him often while they listened to Uncle Imbert reading the Sermons on the Journey of Death. He listened with attention that seemed polite enough, but Viora was sure there was something wild and mocking behind that blank politeness. If she could only look into his eyes again, she knew she would see it.

On the fourth day Viora decided she could tolerate it no longer. After breakfast, she went back to her room, took off her dress and slipped into the lady’s tunic and tights her mother had forbidden her to wear after she had turned fifteen. They did not fit as well as they had before, hanging huge and loose around her waist and legs. Carefully, she snuck from her room and into the garret. Luckily, someone had left the shutter open, or else she would have surely tripped in the dark and broken her bones.

She peered out the window. It didn’t look a very far a leap down to the roof of the wash-house. She had seen the cat make this very leap without harm. But light as she was, she was no cat. She swung her leg over the sill, feeling dizzy.

And then a voice from above said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Amber was crouched along the edge of the eaves above her.

“Oh!” Viora said when she recovered her breath. “I – I thought I’d jump.”

Amber stared at her for a moment, then reached his arm down to her. With a little pulling on his part and stretching upward on hers, Viora managed to haul herself up beside him.

“You didn’t mean you were going to kill yourself?” Amber asked her.

“No!” Viora was shocked. “I only wanted to escape.”

“Oh. Good.” He paused. “Because you couldn’t kill yourself from this height unless you went head-first, which you didn’t seem to be doing.”

“Oh.” Her spirits sank a little.

Now she was alone with Amber for the first time, not counting when they had met. She wanted to stare at him, but looked out across the pastures instead.

Amber never said a word, gazing at the world below as Viora was. For all that, Viora had a sense of warmth. He had sought to escape the stifling air of the house just as she had. He had helped her out the window. They were apart and they were together.

She wondered if this was where he came every morning. Finally she took a breath and asked, “Is it true that elves can make themselves vanish?”

“Elves don’t vanish,” he said. “They take the shapes of things humans don’t recognise or understand.”

Viora looked at him expectantly. “You must know so much about elves,” she said.

“Must I? I’ve never lived amongst them.”

“Your father …”

“Nor has he.”

“Then how did he know?”

Amber looked sideways at her. “What did he know?”

“Everything! He wrote so much about them. How they look, how they are made.” She struggled to find her words. “Not like a naturalist’s logs or studies. He didn’t just write about them, he really wrote them.”

Amber made no reply for a long while, staring into the distance. There was a distance within his eyes, too, that stirred her.

“He only wrote about one elf, and that one elf did not stay with him for much longer than a year. I wouldn’t set much by a judgement made with such little experience.”

“A year?” Viora suddenly remembered that Amber, too, had lost his mother. “Only a year? Do you … do you remember anything of her?”

“No. Except … except for a song.”

Viora’s heart gave a painful throb. “My mother used to sing to me,” she said, “when I was very young. She – she –”

It rushed out with her tears, a flood of fire and water breaking free from her at last.

“It was my fault she died. I killed her. It was because of me – she told me to cover my head because the air was cold and she said I was wasting away – I wasn’t! I always thought to myself, one day I’d go far, far away, and then she could yell the tongue right out of her throat for all I’d care. But that day I was so cross and tired and I didn’t want to hear her scolding any more so I put on the hood, and when I went out and I tore it off and threw it on the ground – just for spite! But she saw, and she came out to pick it up and then–!”

Viora stopped trying to force her words against her sobs. They no longer felt stuck in her throat, choking her. Now she was breathing, gulping the autumn air like she had been thirsty for it for a long time.

After she finished swallowing, she wiped her face with her sleeve and slowly raised her head. What was Amber thinking of her?

His cold, measuring gaze pierced her with dismay. Oh, what had she expected? Sorrow didn’t belong in those unhuman eyes. In a tremble of rage she understood what it was Lucanna saw when she looked at him.

Amber said, “You didn’t kill your mother. Putting one’s head under a heavily loaded cart is an act of rank foolery. She died by her own heedlessness, not yours.”

“But if it hadn’t been for my wickedness she wouldn’t have done it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “There is no dynamism in a child’s disobedience that might affect the load-bearing capacity of a vehicle or create faults in its structure.”

“But it affected my mother all the same,” Viora cried. “You don’t understand!”

Amber said nothing. It felt like a humbled silence. Viora, her heart beating a little less rapidly than it had a moment before, began to feel remorseful.

“Why do they say elves don’t have souls?” she asked after a while.

“I think the more pertinent question is why people think they do.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tradition of belief that elves have no souls. No-one thought of challenging the idea until some fifty years ago.”

“But don’t you think elves have souls?”

Amber’s mouth twisted slightly. “Who am I to say?”

“You have one,” Viora said at once.

“Why do you think I have one?”

“Because you do. You’re alive. You move – and you talk, and think and feel.”

“So do elves.”

“So there,” Viora threw at him.

“Then why not say that as elves don’t have souls, neither do humans?”

Viora was too shocked to answer. Why did he dismiss all souls, human and elven alike? Did he not care to be loved or remembered?

“It’s a curious time we live in,” he went on. “On one hand, the poets crafting souls for elven bodies. On the other, magicians wielding their butchers’ knives to cut them out.”

“That’s horrible!” Viora gasped.

“How else can we know what a soul is?”

“Your father knew!”

“My father imagined,” Amber said flatly.

Viora stuck her chin up. She knew the truth. She would not be made wrong or made little of. “You deny your own mother a soul,” she said bitingly.

“What of it? You killed yours.”

“I didn’t!” Viora was more surprised than outraged. “You said I didn’t.”

“And you didn’t seem to care for reason. But now you do. How typically human. A grasp of dialectic that is tenuous at the best of times and altogether gone when occasion permits, and even when it doesn’t permit.” The corners of his mouth had tightened in something like a smile.

Jamus was talkative in the sitting room that night.

“I met with some city fellows today,” he said. “They said there’ve been folks giving out pamphlets about some elven prophecy.”

“Indeed?” said Lucanna scornfully.

“They say that Kyreneg will be soon be ruled by elves again, if I remember right.”

“Ruled!” Imbert laughed. “They say the elves ‘ruled’ the land?”

“They did live here long before the First Dawn, you know, Father.”

“Well, of course they lived here. Spiders and boars and trolls lived here too. But what did they rule? Wooden spears and teeth and claws never ruled anything.”

Lucanna was disgusted. “Who do they think they are, printing the ramblings and ravings of – of who, exactly? What green, gangling thing are they calling a prophet? Do the elves have any gods?”

“They don’t,” said Amber.

“And what do you think of this ‘prophecy’?” Lucanna asked him, arching her brows.

Amber considered for a moment before answering, “I don’t care for it.”

He was lying, of course, Viora thought to herself, clenching her hands.

“Of course it’s sheer nonsense,” Lucanna said. “As if humankind could be threatened by the likes of the elves, indeed! We are immortal.”

“Immortal?”

“Yes, immortal. You have been with us for six days now. You must have begun to understand something the journey of the soul.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course,” Amber said.

“We are immortal,” Lucanna went on, “not only by life ever renewed, but by wisdom that will never grow old. Elves have nothing of ours. They have no palaces, no cathedrals – they cannot endure.”

She paused for breath, satisfied with herself. Then she said to Amber, “When our twenty-one days are done, you must go at once to the church and Assume. It may not be too late for you yet.”

Amber inclined his head in a gesture that seemed like a nod, and Lucanna was content enough with the impress of her advice to smile stiffly at him.

“I will not stay more than a day when the mourning is over,” Aunt Lucanna said one morning at breakfast. “I left quite a fuss behind at the Harbour Offices when I came here. They are waiting for a notice from the Archpriest.”

“Are they indeed!” said Uncle Imbert. “What’s His Holiness wanting with the Royal Ships? Won’t the wings of the Phoenix carry him anymore?”

“It’s not about His Grace, but a traveller,” Lucanna explained. “He was wanting passage on the next boat to Elantere. He didn’t have any papers or purpose that he would tell us – he had nothing but an old sack. He said that an ordinance for his respect would soon be coming from the Archpriest!”

“And you believed him?” Imbert grunted. “He’s raving.”

“I thought as much myself! But Cranmere would have us wait and see.”

“What did was in the sack?”

“I never saw it myself, but I heard him call it a – what was it? A Cyclops, I believe.”

Amber put his cup down on the table with a sharp clack.

“What was his name?” he said.

Lucanna chewed meditatively. “He might have said ‘Grey’ …”

“Grale? Aratus Grale?”

“Why, yes. Aratus Grale. Is he known to you?”

Amber looked uncertain. “A little … he said he was going to Elantere?”

“Yes, or somewhere over the north hills. I’m not sure I remember. What is it to you?”

“A small curiosity. It is nothing.”

He said no more and the subject was soon forgotten. But he did not touch his plate for the rest of the meal.

Viora saw him later in the morning, standing by the pine tree. After an hour or so of deliberation, she went to him.

“What is it?” he said.

“It’s quite cold out,” she said hopelessly.

He was tense with some secret, staring, as always, into the distance. But this was a distance that Viora could not see into. As the wind tousled his hair, she caught a glimpse of the tips of his strangely triangular ears.

“You’d better go inside then,” he said at last.

Aunt Hebe soon found her on the kitchen bench, staring at her hands in her lap. She sat beside her and drew her close.

“Auntie – is it possible to cut your soul out of your body?”

“Oh, hush, dear,” said Aunt Hebe as she kissed her. “Everything will be well again, soon.”

“I’m tired of coming back.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Just then, Amber strode into the kitchen.

“I’ve come for my things … I am leaving,” he said.

“Leaving?” Aunt Hebe was saying. “Leaving – now?”

“Yes.” He fastened the straps of his pack and picked it up with his cloak.

“You were supposed to stay for twenty-one days,” Viora was saying in a rush. “You were supposed to wait until my mother’s soul reaches the Deep Stair Below.”

She was speaking in the voice of a mother calling from a gate or a window, and she knew he wouldn’t listen. She realised it then, how human souls went circling like dancers in a ring, hand in hand. Elves had no circles – they went alone.

Viora followed him to her mother’s chamber.

“Sir,” Amber said to Alick, praying by a lamp, “I must beg your leave.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I must go now. I am sorry not to have stayed the full twenty-one days. You have my deepest regrets. I thank you for your hospitality, but something – something of great importance has arisen –”

“In the north?” said Viora in the doorway behind him. “In Elantere?”

“But this is very sudden!” Alick was too stunned to say anything else.

“Yes. It is.” Amber made a slight bow. “My father’s compliments to you, and good day. Goodbye, Viora.” He swept past her and hastened down the stairs. In a heartbeat Viora was hurrying after him.

Some minutes later when they were walking down the Town road, he finally said to her, “Are you going to follow me all the way to the post?”

“Where are you going?”

“You guessed where I am going.”

“But why?”

“I am going wherever Aratus Grale is.”

“Why?”

Amber stopped then, and faced her. He was looking at her at last, and his eyes were grave.

“I have no time to explain it but in the crudest terms. I am going after Aratus Grale because I have met him before, and he is a necromancer. Now I have stated my purpose. Make of it what you will.”

At first Viora couldn’t move. Amber was leaving her and her mourning family for a sorceror of death. She had to say something to him before he vanished into darkness and danger …

“You’d better go home,” Amber said to her. And he walked on.

In her time, Viora also turned around and walked back down the road. But she never quite returned home.

The Game

The Game

We play a delicate game, Crayak and I.

Each observing the simplest of rules.

I did not interfere, the choice was hers alone.

I looked down on this human, running through the woods, her dark skin turned a dark rough grey. Her pads thumped the ground as she chased the tiger, who chased the human, who chased ambition.

Once choice. I could conceive the consequences of this final scene. And they were great.
One decision. To save her lover’s soul, but lose him forever.
Once action. To, ultimately, end the war on Earth. A war that has consumed her and her friends for three years.

I let her have the idea, a feeling of the right action: let the Yeerks take the morphing cube.

I watched her work through the idea, her nimble paws stumbled slightly as the enormity of it came upon her. Yeerks. Yeerks with the chance to escape their parasitic life. To escape a life of war and conquest.

She made the choice. With absolute certainty she ran harder. Her knowledge that this was the right path added strength and speed. Cassie drew close up to the tiger, leaped and clamped her jaws down on the tiger’s leg. Jake turned and snarled, his paw slashing against her face, throwing her aside.

I turned and saw the human stare in surprise, then, grinning, Tom turned and ran. Ran back to his Yeerks. Clutching the morphing cube.

Haunted

Haunted

“Honey, the walls are bleeding again.”

I looked up. My husband stood in the doorway of the kitchen, cup of coffee in one hand. He looked about as bad as I felt. The low moaning from the floors had kept us up all night. Rubbing my eyes, I said, “Which ones? I’ve used nearly all the towels here in the kitchen.”

Donald just grunted and took another sip of his coffee. The doorway above him rippled like a pregnant belly suffering from contractions, and I felt my hand instinctively press against my own swollen stomach. The towels I had stapled to the walls were soaked to the point of dripping, and several drops splattered into Donald’s cup and onto his arm.

“Shit!” he said, jumping back. “Goddamnit, it can’t have already been a month since we had the necromancer in here.”

“No, only two weeks. It’s happening to the entire apartment complex again,” I said, approaching him with the last clean towel. I was still in my old polyester robe and bunny slippers, and ignored the increasing dripping. “I talked with Mrs. Petti this morning. Their faucets are gushing blood again. At least we’re still getting water out of ours.”

“Nice location,” he said mockingly, unresisting as I took the coffee from him and wiped his arm clean. Thankfully he had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. It had taken most of his last paycheck to buy it, a deceptively simple design of real cotton. “Perfect for raising a family. Yeah, sure. A family of little serial killers.”

“Go on, get to work,” I said. “I made an appointment for ten o’clock with the necromancer; he’ll be here and gone by the time you’re back. The closet didn’t leak on your suits again, did it?”

“Only my best one.” As he disappeared into our bedroom, his voice drifted back to me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to be there for the necromancer? I know you hate him.”

I turned on the kitchen faucet to wash out our coffee cups and stared at the gush of blood for a moment before turning it off. “He just makes my skin crawl, that’s all.” There were some things I still couldn’t tell him. Donald was a good man, and good men can’t conceive of what I had seen at the hands of the necromancers. I smiled as he reappeared in his suit and gave me a kiss goodbye, and watched through the window as he left, waving one final time.

The necromancer arrived a quarter after ten. I hadn’t bothered dressing in anything nice. A lawyer’s wife is supposed to look presentable at all times, but then a lawyer’s wife isn’t usually charged with keeping a bleeding apartment.

I opened the door after the first knock, used to his presence enough by now to not shudder at the pallor of his skin or the circle charred into his forehead. I still didn’t know what title to use for his kind; back home we settled for “rotters”. I somehow doubted that was still appropriate.

“Hello Andrea,” said the necromancer. I smiled widely, too soon, and knew he registered my discomfort. “Your apartment is acting up again?”

“Yes,” I said, stepping to the side so he could see for himself. “And we had just wallpapered the place. Perhaps we should paint it red and save ourselves the trouble.”

He stepped inside, ignoring my joke as his eyes scrutinized the damage. The floors moaned once at his presence, then fell silent. His gait was too smooth to be natural, and with his black robes covering his feet he appeared to glide through his surroundings like a shark’s fin cutting through water.

“Why is this happening so soon? The landlord told us to expect it monthly, if at all,” I said, crossing my arms and following at a safe distance as he ran his hands along the walls. The blood shrank from his gloved fingers, absorbing back into the walls without a trace. The trick had impressed me the first time I had seen it performed. Then I’d realized the coppery, stomach-turning smell of the blood remained long after the walls were pristine. Donald and I spent more money on air fresheners than on food.

“Inferior material,” said the necromancer. One wall of the kitchen was already clean, its calm plaster surface showing no sign of the muscles behind it that strained to hold the entire building structure together.

“It can’t be; all apartments built after ‘17 need to use cloned flesh as building materials, by law. And only perfect specimens were used for the cloning prototypes. I did my research before we moved in here.” The smell seemed to be getting worse instead of better. Damn my sensitive nose. I’d always had a good sense of smell even before my pregnancy, but now it verged on the point of ridiculousness. I fought back a wave of nausea and tried to listen to what the necromancer was saying.

“It’s true that there are less…issues…than what we used to have with organic flesh, but that doesn’t mean all the problems have been solved. Flesh remembers what it’s supposed to do, even if it has never had a brain to guide it.” He pulled off the towels and handed them to me. “I can’t get the blood out of these. You’ll have to throw them away.”

“What triggers the episodes?” I said, dumping the dripping towels into the sink. “And is there anything we can do about it? My husband and I are getting very tired of the floor screaming every time we walk on it.”

“It’s you.” He said it so calmly that I was sure I misheard him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Come now, don’t play stupid. I know what you are. Have since the first time I met you.” His pale eyes studied me as I flushed.

I still tried to put up a front. “What, a spoiled lawyer’s wife?”

“A refugee from Fandele. That is where most of the flesh prototypes were used. You may be stepping on your aunt’s face every time you walk across the bedroom. It‘s no wonder they have such a strong reaction.” The necromancer continued his work as he spoke, his hands moving of their own accord as he watched me. “It is a pity what they did to your kind; we were lucky to cull what we could from the remains.”

His words had stung like a slap, and it took me a moment to answer. “From Fandele? Nonsense. I have no accent. Furthermore, no true Fandelan would consider living in a house made up like some Frankenstein’s monster.”

The necromancer smiled. “You cut your hair. Dyed it. Found a human and got with his child so you can say you have human blood in you. And you might have even had some plastic surgery to reshape those ears of yours, though with that haircut I can’t really tell. These little tricks are enough to fool the living, but are merely laughable in the eyes of the dead.”

I shook my head, wordless, but he continued. “It’s a small world, Andrea. I was there during the war, raising the soldiers every time one of them fell from a shell or bullet. I remember seeing the royal court the final time it convened. Your family was there. You were there.”

The smell of blood was stronger than ever, coming from the walls, from the towels in the sink, from him. I was going to be sick. I wanted to vomit on him just to see that smile wiped off his face. Instead I only said, “It doesn’t matter now. It’s been five years; the world is close to forgetting it.”

“Yes,” said the necromancer, sadly. “Such a pity; those were wondrous times.”

We didn’t speak to each other again until he had finished the entire apartment. After I wrote out a check to him and escorted him to the door, I finally broke the silence. “Have a good day. I don’t expect to see you again.”

His mouth turned up in an ironic smile. “That is impossible, my dear. Your kind is at death’s door, and we are waiting on the other side.”

I wanted to say something that would cut him to the bone, but how could I speak after hearing out loud what I had been secretly fearing for five years? Then I felt my child stir inside me. “Life also waits,” I said, resting a hand on my belly.

For the first time a hint of discomfort appeared in his eyes, but he said nothing more than, “We will see each other again.”

I watched him leave much as I had done with my husband only hours earlier. Then, once the door was firmly closed between us, I finally broke down. The tears didn’t last long, and even the redness of my eyes had faded by the time Donald returned from work. He didn’t suspect a thing.

Post-Apocalyptic Monotony

Post-Apocalyptic Monotony

The year was 12 AA (After Apocalypse), and David Rodgers had flicked on the television that morning to watch the day’s early-morning Doomsday forecast. It wasn’t anything special today, but last week the flame showers had been pretty bad.

Today, however, there was just more of the same for this time of year, just a vague outline of pestilence in the sky clearing up to fiery spells and another overcast night. Yawn.

But what made this day stand out, despite the fairly ordinary (and most likely inaccurate; they always were) Doomsday forecast, was the fact that there it was the annual Horsemen’s Trade Meeting in the town centre, so even if there was nothing spectacular going on in what used to be known as the “weather”, the so-called “team building exercise” which he had to attend would have some spice to it.
Dodging flame-showers had become a way of life to the people of earth after the apocalypse had first struck 12 years previously. And it was still going. Rumour had it that it was meant to be a quick and easy process, but after various setbacks a compromised format had been set up. The countdowns by analysts all stated that the apocalypse wouldn’t end for at least another 3000 years, so it was time to settle down and get comfortable.

In the meantime, however, life went on, and as David walked to his workplace for the ever-dreaded “team building exercise”, his workmate Famine Stevens caught up to him.
“Hey Dave,” he said casually. “’Sup?”
“I don’t know why you’re still using that old slang,” David scoffed.
“Well, it just feels right to me, that’s all.” He was as thin as a matchstick, but that was his job really. He wasn’t getting very far; despite having closed down all the restaurants in town, McDonalds still seemed to be going strong, and had (as the fabled analysts had predicted, prophet-like) built a branch on every street corner.

David had entered the company because it was the only work going, and before he’d known it he was managing the local team of Horsemen. There weren’t any horses really, it was always just theoretical, but most of them were pretty lazy. In fact, in twelve years, they had accomplished precisely nothing. It didn’t seem like they ever would, but that was no concern to David – the money was good, and he was ready to settle into an idealistic post-apocalyptic (though that had little meaning to anyone any more) lifestyle.

“So, you ready for that thing today?” Famine continued, holding his cocktail-stick arms behind his head in a leisurely way.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. Even I have no idea what we’re actually doing.” He tossed his long brown hair out of his face. It seemed effeminate to him, but since Death had started doing it on stage it had become perfectly acceptable in modern culture.

As they approached the office block, they looked up at its bland styling: towering columns of drab red flames; cracked marble doors that needed replacing. The softly glowing and humming walls just oozed of 2130s style (or lack of it): so out of fashion these days. “Another day, another dollar,” Famine chimed. “If they paid that much, anyway.”
“The pay’s not so bad,” David said, almost defensively. David had noticed that Famine often forgot the David was higher up in the company than him; he had clung to him almost constantly since he joined up. On reflection, it was probably because he was the ideal candidate for Famine’s work: but his weight never really made him feel uncomfortable.

“Not for you,” Famine said dejectedly. “Not since you got that big fat promotion.”
“Well maybe they just thought I was the right man for the job?” David shrugged and walked on towards the doors, which swung open with a whining, floorboard-like creak.
“Yeah right. It’s just because you’re human, they think you look better on the publicity posters.”

They’d had this discussion a million times before and the outcome was always identical: Famine was paid less but had a more interesting role than David’s desk job, filling out endless paperwork for “The Company”, as everyone had come to know them. The reason work was so slow was because of the massive amount of paperwork which needed filling out for each job: risk assessment, permission forms, all sorts of accident claims, reviews, reports, and of course the constant Doomsday Forecast channel needed updating several times every day There was supposedly a new satellite going up to monitor the firestorm wave which had swept irritatingly over the country, but it looked like the government had forgotten all about that one (as the government often did. Forgetting was their specialty since War had moved on to pastures new; he’d given his job up even before Death).
The lift doors swung open with a droning cackle; it sounded like the power was just slightly dead. “Welcome to office 2379, branch 19.” The world’s most boringly evil voice half-mumbled. “What floor would you like today?”
“Twenty-bloody-seven,” Famine moaned, seemingly painfully. “Same as every other day.”
“I’m sorry,” the torturous recorded voice continued. “The number ‘twenty-bloody-seven’ is not recognized. Please try again.”
“That’s modern technology for you,” David sighed.
“I’m sorry, the number ‘that’s modern technology for you’ is not…”
“Twenty seven!” Famine shouted, a vein on his forehead inflating to ten times its normal size. David sighed and considered what he’d heard called a “facepalm”.
“Floor twenty seven. Enjoy your day. Make a bright doomsday and a brighter doomsmorrow with Doomsday Corp.”

The lift creaked into life before shooting in an upward spiral, whirring and clicking until it jolted into a lightning-quick stop and the doors slid open again. “Be aware that you are valued members of the Doomsday community,” the voice chimed behind them as they walked off. Famine rolled his eyes, replying in a bad impression of the synthesized PR woman, “Be aware that you are the most boring entity on the face of the planet.” He stuck up his middle finger as the doors clanged shut deafeningly.

The bats seemed agitated by all the excitement, swooping angrily around the cobwebs hanging from the crystalline chandeliers above. Various jagged objects protruded from the ceiling half-heartedly – even the wall shadows seemed not to be bothered about the task at hand anymore. That was the problem with this whole company: nobody at all could care any less about their work. And David was tasked with trying to make them feel otherwise. He wasn’t looking forward to today; no paperwork, sure, but no easy life either. It was off to the national lavasports center for doomclimbing, doomwater dooming, doomienteering and possibly other doom-based excercises to strengthen “team bonds”. When David had told Famine he’d mimed being sick at the prospect of strengthening his team bonds, and even less thrilled that David was going to be organizing the event.

“You couldn’t organize a simple hole in the ground, let alone a supposed crack squad of Doombringers. You’ve got no hope getting the rest of that lot sorted out… and even less with me!” He’d scoffed, laughing in his usual mildly haunted way. David simply shrugged at the time, but now that the event was approaching as they walked along the corridor he was beginning to feel more and more uneasy about today’s “exciting activities”. Why couldn’t he have just got a normal job in a call center? Then again, he supposed, he’d still have to attend these awful events. The huge carved iron doors swung open, onto the local Famine Office. Rolling his eyes at the display of uneaten and rotting food left on his desk (as always; his team were like a bunch of excitable schoolboys on Red Bull), he advanced to begin his mandatory morning speech, avoiding the jets of flame spewing almost lazily at him from the fire ducts on the ceiling.

He could tell it was going to be a long day. Apocalypse beckons, he thought to himself as he cleared his throat and turned to the expectant crowd of matchstick-men who eyeballed him expectantly.

Almost another day at the office for David. Almost.

Wheelbarrows and Vodka

Wheelbarrows and Vodka

I didn’t know I was smashing bottles until Phinneas caught me by the arm. I was holding one, the skinny neck of a Bud Light clutched in my hand like a stereotypical caveman would hold a club. My eyes dropped and I saw for the first time since I started what I had done; splintered remains of bottles littered the asphalt and the smell of cheap hops rose from the river of beer that puddled around my shoes. He let go of me and took the bottle from my hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he said. Whether it was for me to answer or not, I didn’t know. He has a knack for asking rhetorical questions, and there’s nothing more embarrassing than trying to answer a question that shouldn’t be. “Where did you get those?”

“I brought them,” I said.

“What a waste.”

“Budweiser tastes like shit.”

“Why’d you bring them then?” he said.

“They’re my mom’s. I’m doing her a favor.” Phinneas held the bottle up, turning it on its side and rolling it in his hand. His slender fingers pushed the bottle against the crook of his thumb in a rhythmic pattern that reminded me of water wheels.

“You know you want to,” I said, pointing at him and swaggering a little before grabbing his forearm for support. Everything was starting to turn counterclockwise, slowly at first and then faster and then slower again.

“What are you talking about?”

“Throw it.”

“You’re drunk,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and pushing me away.

“Define drunk.”

Phinneas pressed a forefinger beneath his chin and looked up like he was pondering his response, hiding a smile. “Overcome by alcohol to the point of crippling normal human functions.” He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, the metallic rims glinting due to the porch light. “Or some shit like that.”

“Fucking walking dictionary,” I said, finding my way back to his shoulder and leaning on him. He didn’t retaliate, or react at all for that matter. He was still staring at the bottle, the piss thin liquid splashing from side to side like a little tempest within its confines. “Do it.” I nudged him. He looked down at me for a moment and blinked, startled, just then realizing that I was as close to him as I was.

“You smell like vodka,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Phinneas cocked his shoulder back and hurled the bottle across the driveway, both of us watching straight ahead but losing sight of it as it disappeared into the darkness. We looked at each other as we heard the faint sound of glass shattering on the asphalt some distance away.

“No offense but your birthday party sucked,” I said to avoid an awkward silence. He opened his mouth to say something—probably an agreement—but I continued. “Did everyone pass out?”

“Pretty much.”

I nodded. “I should probably head home. I’m shitfaced.”

“Don’t you live six blocks from here?”

I scoffed. “I should be fine.”

“You can’t even stand on your own. You can crash here.”

“Damn it, I’m fine! I like to sleep in my own bed.” Phinneas fell silent. He was looking at something past me now, but I didn’t bother to turn and look for myself.

“Let’s go for a ride,” he said.

“I’m not driving.”

“I’ll drive.” He walked past me but I didn’t follow him. I knew he was just as wasted as I was, but what were six blocks in a car? Two minutes? He is a responsible kid, really.

A hollow, metallic chirping noise caught my attention and I swiveled my head around, watching as Phinneas approached me, carting a wheelbarrow in his hands. He dropped it to its legs in front of me like my cat does with a mouse he’s killed, pride apparent in his expression. So he was much more plastered than I thought. “Get in,” he said.

“Are you shitting me?”

“Get in. I can’t drive a car like this. I’d kill us both.” I told you he is responsible.

“Oh, and a fucking wheelbarrow is so much better.” Phinneas picked it up, lifting it onto the single wheel in front. I leaned over to observe it. It was covered in reddish green rust and a hole was eroded through the bottom in the corner. When Phinneas so much as touched it, it screeched. The piece of shit needed to be dumped in a vat of WD-40. “There are some pine needles in it.”

“Padding.”

I sighed and rubbed the back of my head. At least I could lie down. “If one of them gets lodged up my ass I’m going to kill you.” He seemed pleased enough that I agreed to his asinine plan and let go of the cart handles to allow me to get in. I fell over the first time, unable to maintain my balance on one foot while setting the other in the bed of the barrow. My second attempt was much more successful when Phinneas offered me his hand, hoisting me up into bed. Chivalry is not dead.

“You’re light,” he said, lifting the handles up just enough so that the legs were off of the ground. He hauled me to the end of the driveway while I looked up: at the sky mottled with black and gray and stars, at Phinneas, at the wiry pine branches that hovered above us. “Which way?” he asked, drawing me back to the present. I had to think for a moment before realizing where I was and where I had come from earlier that night.

“Left,” I said, pointing right. He covered his mouth in a stifled giggle and took my word for it, making a wide left and starting down the road. The only lighting was the waxing moon. I would never tell him that I was afraid of the dark. “Phinneas?”

“What?”

“Theoretically, if I told you I was going to throw up, what would you do?”

Phinneas raised an eyebrow but made no indication of amusement otherwise. “I’d stop and let you. There’d definitely be no goodnight kiss, though. Not on the lips anyway.” He paused, smirking. “Why, need to throw up?”

I could feel the nausea threatening to climb up my esophagus and a pounding headache in the near future. Being moved in a less than smooth wheelbarrow ride didn’t help matters in the least. “No, just curious.” I swallowed intentionally and tilted back, hanging my head off the edge of the cart and smiling up at him for a long time. He avoided my obvious stare, looking straight ahead or up or sideways; he’s so fucking cute when he’s nervous.

“I’m afraid of the dark,” I said. Alcohol is the poor man’s truth serum and I resent it for that reason. That and the fact that it disables me from shutting my fucking mouth.

Phinneas glanced down at me. “It’s not uncommon. What about it?”

“The world. It’s one big, dark shithole.”

He jerked the wheelbarrow up to change his grip on the handles without stopping. “Yeah.” If I was one shot drunker, I wouldn’t have notice the tinge of bitterness in his expression. It quickly faded and the dreaded silence came upon us, only this time I was content with it.

“Hey Rye.” I opened my eyes, not having realized that I shut them to begin with.

“What?”

“Is this it?”

I sat up in the wheelbarrow and recognized the blue flamingo lawn ornament in the yard. I had stolen it from somewhere and placed it there during another one of my drunken escapades. Since then I have acquired a fondness for the thing and haven’t had the heart to take it down.

“Yeah.” I scrambled to get out of the wheelbarrow, nearly tipping it over before Phinneas grabbed my arm to help guide me. Once my feet stabilized I looked up at him; I hadn’t noticed how tall he was, hovering above me like that. He was watching me.

“Are you gonna be alright?” I said, gesturing towards the road from which we came.

“I think I can handle it,” he said, grinning. “I got you all the way here and didn’t tip it once.”

I looked down and scratched my head. “Yeah.” I paused. If I didn’t bring it up again, my opportunity would fail. It was worth a shot. “So, about that goodni-“

“Oh, yeah.” Phinneas placed his cold hand along my jaw and tilted my head up. He leaned down, his other hand falling on the opposite side of my face as he brushed his lips against mine. I shut my eyes and reciprocated in like manner, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He broke the kiss and nudged my ear, whispering something into it. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts and process what he said, and by that time, he had hoisted the wheelbarrow back into his grip and had turned it around, walking slowly towards his apartment.

His words struck me all the clearer, and I couldn’t help but watch him, dumbstruck, until he disappeared down the road.

“I’m not drunk.”

Eternal Darkness: Arise of the Believers (Part Three)

The Fear of the Ancients

Alexandra and Michael had locked themselves in the secret room of the library, behind a large wooden grandfather clock. A crushing feeling had been taking hold of them as they knew that a door was useless against the Xel’lotath Guardian that had just appeared in the mansion.

Michael did not dare to see Alexandra, fearing she burst out in tears or letting out curses in the final moments of her death. At any moment, he thought she would fall fainted or crept back to a corner of the room, plugging her ears with her hands and weep silently.

—Poor girl… but what can we do? We don’t have the book! —he said.

Alexandra was just standing there, near the very old desk where her grandfather had spent long hours studying mysterious books and artefacts. Her eyes were fixed upon the door. There was no hint of any sound from her breathing. Thus, if it had not been by some swift movements of her pupils, Michael would have mistaken her as was statue.

Meanwhile, the Xel’lotath Guardian was crawling out there looking for Alexandra and Michael. If Alex had seen such a scene, she surely would have not bore to watch it, for it would remind her the last moments of her grandfather.

—End… end the behest—whispered the creature, the sound came from the disgusting holes that were their severed necks.

The creature kept moving for a while, and after some quick search, its shape became ethereal as it gleamed with a green aura. Rapidly it became a bright, green spot that waved its way through the walls and floor, going randomly here and there.

Alexandra still was paralyzed, and Michael, feeling somewhat annoyed, headed with heavy steps to her and shook her, trying to wake her up from the trance she was.

—Enough of this shit, Alex! Please! Come to your senses!

—What!? —said Alexandra with a gasp.

—Stop being a statue! Whatever is out there has been sent by the Ancients, and it will find us soon. If it’s going to be like that… let’s make it to go through an ordeal.

Despite hearing such hopeful words, Alex stared at the ground and closed her eyes. She grimaced out of frustration and seemed about to cry.

—Come on, girl, you can’t leave me alone here! —said Michael.

—But don’t you see? —replied Alex—We are alone, indeed!

—I will only leave you alone when you happen to be the first killed… or me being killed, whatever comes first. Now, I need you to focus, you have that enchanted sword, so it might help us against whatever is out there.

—You did not fight any Bonethieves in the past, and what if this thing happens to be something we had never seen before?

—Just listen to yourself… So hopeful words you are speaking, Alex. Right now is when I want you to be brave!

Alex did not answer. And on that moment, Michael felt his blood burning, and an urge to hit her right in the face came to his mind, but he restrained from doing it, although he did walk right towards her and told her:

—Just… let me know, what do you expect from me?

—Don’t leave me alone! —said Alexandra, at last looking right into Michael’s eyes— As you can see, there is no escape! If anything happens, you won’t be running away. This mansion has sickened me enough, and I want to go.

—But where? —asked Michael— Where? How will we reach the library where the Codex Gigas is? Right here, your grandfather has a huge library, we must stop the creature out there. We can’t let it to destroy this place!

—But will you let it destroy me?

—What? Oh, hell… no, Alex, no! I’ll be right here with you, but I don’t want a coward next to me, and I know you will think the same of me if I had as much fear as you have. But don’t worry, soon I will.

Suddenly, an echoing, hissing voice spoke:

—Find them… please the mistress as the victims lose their sanity.

—You hear that? It’s coming for us, but I know it’s not only interested in us, but also in the library. The library has to survive.

—And we don’t? —asked Alexandra.

Again, a sibilant, echoing voice was heard.

—End… end the behest.

—Damn it! Stop being stupid, heed me! I won’t leave you alone—said Michael.

The hissing voice was heard again, although this time it was just a series of hisses.

—I promise, Alexandra—said Michael before stopping looking at her eyes.

Michael walked behind Alexandra and put his arms on her shoulders. The tender touch she felt seemed to have broken the spell was under. And there, as both stood together, facing the old, creaking door, Alexandra held tighter the enchanted Gladius as Michael reloaded his gun.

For some minutes they kept waiting, only listening to strange noises that seemed to come from everywhere. As that creature was approaching, it was affecting the minds of Alexandra and Michael. They felt light-headed, whenever they looked at the sword, there was a painful feeling on their faces, as if they had been cut by just staring at the blade.

—Keep focused, keep focused—muttered both.

The door was never opened. But they saw a strange-looking, green light spot coming through it. Then, it quickly changed its form into that of the hideous monster Xel’lotath had sent to kill them. As quick as it had stopped being ghostly, Alexandra lunged at it and stabbed it as furiously as quickly as she could. Each strike she let out a fierce cry, and only a glimpse of wicked joy flashed in her face, after that, she closed her eyes.

Michael shot at the limbs of the creature, and later helped Alexandra by kicking the creature and trying to tear apart the limbs from the creature’s torso. Their struggle became an ordeal as with the sound of splattering guts and gushing blood, the strikes of the blade, the kicks and the moans of the creature sounded unnaturally loud, which caused Alex and Michael to cover their ears and screamed out of pain. Their own screams hurt their ears too.

In their pain, they had wavered and fell to the ground. However, their rage had served them well, the creature had fallen dead.

At first, they though they had gone deaf, but slowly they were hearing things back again. They felt so good when they saw each other and smiled. As both got up from the ground, they heard another voice, though it scared them, as they thought it was of an Ancient, there was something about it that did not actually startle them.

—As of now, you have returned to the path you were meant to thread. What you ask so fearfully about your powers, you still keep them, but it will be more dangerous to use them now.

—Show yourself, and stop playing with our minds! —said Michael, looking everywhere.

—Wait… this is odd—said Alexandra.

—What do you say?

—I recall the voices of the Ancients… and if the only one you heard was that of Mantorok, is this its voice?

For Michael, that was a tough question. It meant a challenge for him to recall his adventure on that temple nine years ago, and whatever it was that voice that commanded him to destroy the temple, for him it was of no concern.

Soon, Alexandra and Michael found themselves waiting for something. Alexandra had not left a question hanging in the air, and Michael already believed she had gone crazy by now.

—What you thought you have grasped—the voice spoke again—, you better keep it in your minds. You are not realizing of it now, but right now the unfathomable enemies are unaware of their mistakes, once more.

—This voice is not from the three Ancients I had seen and read about—whispered Alexandra—. Of course, there’s this Mantorok, but I never heard him actually.

—Whatever its name is—said Michael—, I don’t trust what it says.

—Get used to it… we’ll be hearing a lot of voices from now on.

The shock they had felt after the battle was far from fading away. The door in the room was to them like an unwanted opening to more horrors, not to safety.

—So—said Michael—what are we going to do now?

—Get out from this room—answered Alexandra—. Find our belongings, we need to depart as soon as we’re ready to the city where the book is being exposed.

—What about the…?

—Money? Come on! Can’t you see where I live? My grandfather won’t leave me alone and living on the street. My grandfather’s inheritance has just solved the money issue. What we need now, is to take back our belongings and…

—What? —asked Michael.

—Well—said Alexandra while sighing—, we’ll have to read many books of my grandpa’s library to find anything that can lead us to understand what the Codex Gigas is.

—Damn! You know, I think I’d rather go into a dungeon and fight creepy creatures than spend long hours reading book and suffering from headache.

—After reading, we’ll go to the airport that takes us to Europe. It doesn’t matter how many flights we take, although I think it won’t be many, but we have to get to wherever that book is.

—You’re forgetting something here… What about the corpses? —asked Michael as he pointed at the carcass of the monster—. And look, it’s still there! I thought it should have been gone a few while ago!

—These Ancients only disappear what they deem fit for our insanity—replied Alexandra—. The body we must take care of is that of Evan. And… Oh, shit! The police officer is still in the house!

—That creature did not kill him?

—I guess it didn’t. Damn! I don’t know if I should feel thankful or annoyed by this.

The presence of the police officer was the reason that got them out from the secret room. Armed as they were, they hurriedly got out from the library and thundered across the foyer, going up the stairway and reaching the second floor. Once there, they had to be careful as there were some rooms on which the officer could be hiding.

Since the officer did watch the corpse of a Bonethief, he could still be scared, but that fear could give him a fine reason to not miss the next shot if he met one more of those monsters or, as he expected the better, Alexandra and Michael. At least a shot in their knees, so that they could not escape.

They did not begin their search quickly, as they first had to decide where to look first. In front of them was a large picture of a landscape. To their right, the hallway led to one of the guests’ room. To the right it led to the room of hers and her grandfather, one more was of the servants, of which they had none by now, and the last one was the bathroom.

Together they went to the only room to their right. The door was opened and only saw the loneliness of the room. They felt appalled by the odd quality in the air. All was so static and old-looking, as if it was part of a museum of antiquities. They turned around and followed their way to the other rooms.

Abruptly, they met the officer, already pointing his gun at them. His eyes were watering and his pulse was shaky. It was not hard to tell that he was about to scream out of fear. A hint of insanity could be seen in his eyes. This man was clearly dangerous.

Alexandra and Michael lay down their weapons on the ground, and slowly approached at the officer. They never stopped looking right into his eyes, which caused him to be more scared.

—Watch out with that, man! —said Michael—We mean no harm! But… what you have seen is real.

—Whether you give a damn or not about this, you can’t leave us here! —said Alexandra—Now, will you listen quietly or we’ll have to take care of you.

—Are we going to kill him?—asked Michael, clearly shocked.

The officer shot his gun, but missed. Alexandra and Michael hardly dodged the bullet, and as they threw themselves to the walls, they took advantage of the officer trying to reload his gun, so in no time he was lying on the ground. To him, Alexandra and Michael were like vicious predators that had trapped a frail prey.

Michael tried to look less threatening, so he stopped pressing his hands on the man’s shoulders, yet Alex could not yield to a more peaceful air.

However, as soon as Michael was to stand up, the officer shoved him away, and managed to kick him in the chest. He quickly stood up and ran away as fast as he could. Alexandra grabbed the gun of Michael and followed him. Alas, she could not shot him for the man was running so fast, that in no time he was already opening the door and exiting the mansion.

At first, it seemed like a defeat, but Alexandra smirked. If that man had seen the corpse of a monster, felt threatened by the presence of a Xel’lotath Guardian and was at the brink of insanity, it meant nothing else but another obstacle ridden for her and Michael.

When she returned to Michael, she told him:

—Don’t worry about him. Either he’s already insane or… if not, at any moment he thinks a voice speaks to him or suffers from a nightmare, and it will be no problem for us. Who’s going to believe him if the tells what he saw?

—Still… we must …find the corpse of that kid, Evan—said Michael, recovering his breath.

When they returned to their library, they found, much to their surprise, that the corpse had disappeared. To their minds came immediately lots of ideas, being the worst of them that a Bonethief could have stolen the body or, that the body itself had been reanimated by some unseen creature, or perhaps a spell.

—I won’t be reading books in a place like this, hoping that frickin’ headless body comes to kill me—said Michael.

—Alright, then let me find the books that are more helpful and then we can go.

Thus, while Michael went for his luggage and that of Alexandra, she spent for half an hour searching for books that could give her hints about the Codex Gigas and the Ancient’s interest in it. So far, some of them were historical fiction novels and some history books about medieval texts. Nevertheless, the book that she wanted the most was the Tome of Eternal Darkness.

But where could it be? How would she get it back? It had helped her in her nine years ago, but right now, she had no other choice but to trust in her natural skills, in Michael and luck itself. The sanity of both had been already tainted, but as they remained alive and somehow sane, they had hopes for being successful in their quest.

One hour later, and as the sky was turning dark blue, all the preparations had ended.

—OK, we go now, at last—said Alexandra, sighing out of weariness.

—It’s gonna be a long journey—said Michael—, so we’ll have plenty of time to read.

—At least it will be safer than facing those creeps again. And don’t complain about this reading stuff being boring, otherwise we won’t achieve anything bigger by just killing and getting our minds lost into insanity.

—If this is a nightmare, it’s the longest one I’ve had.

—You’re living it actually. And as you can guess, there will be things more dangerous and mysterious than this.

At last, they finished storing the books in their baggage and stepped through the entrance door. As they walked, they felt that had just come out from a horrible dungeon. Both shared that vision, but Alexandra at least had some cherished memories of her grandfather, most of them of her being a child and running here and there, touching everything as Edward yelled at her to not break or spoil anything.

And to think that below the Roivas mansion was the very city of Ehn’Gha, a colony of a long lost civilization, which had been turned into food for the Ancient’s minions. With the absence of Alexandra, perhaps those creatures would sneak out in someway into the surface. Although they surely would not venture into such a feat, but the ease with which they made many to fall prey to sanity loss, and the horror that was yet to be unleashed, what prevented them from escaping?

As Michael and Alexandra were boarding a cab that led them to the airport, they both had been speaking of that issue, and also, what the mysterious voice had told them. When Alexandra explained to him that Mantorok, the Corpse God, had been the one who had chosen certain people to take a stand against the Ancients, it led to some interesting points.

First of all, it had chosen the Roman centurion, Pious Augustus, to free one of the Ancients, Xel’lotath, perhaps the most dangerous of them all, as she was the Ancient of Insanity. Alexandra told Michael that the Tome mentioned how Xel’lotath came to state openly her distrust to Pious when it came to his servitude and the possibilities of success for her plans.

Then, it followed the choosing of the other people, from many ages in history: Ancient times, Middle Age, the Renaissance, even it chose one person from the World War I and the Inquisition. Edward Roivas believed the Ancients had been involved, though to a very secret and unfathomable extent, with certain disasters and events throughout mankind’s history, being the most important of them all, those regarding religion and warlike deeds.

—Mmh… it seems like no big deal for me—said Michael—. I mean, there have been people that have thought that disasters happen because of the gods, it happened so in mythologies and…

—But that’s what the Ancients find more useful—said Alexandra—, the fact that people can easily distrust those issues. How many calamities have mankind gone through, and yet it still keeps living on? Each day is growing more carelessly. And I know that there have been more things that can threaten both an atheist and a believer.

—Aside from that, what goes underground is as dangerous as what is openly shown.

Their interesting chat had to be interrupted as the cab driver told them they had come to the airport. After paying him and carrying their baggage, they continued their talk.

—Despite the influence the Ancients might have had in certain pagan cults and even, why not, creatures—said Alexandra—, they were always too selfish as to focus in nothing else but themselves. So, it’s pretty easy to think of them disposing of their minions and doing all the stuff by themselves. Thus, when it came to their human servants, what they asked him the most was for them to get rid of any human bindings.

—Family, feelings, material possessions? —asked Michael.

—Yes. Many times such an order was not obeyed the way it should, and the Ancients should have know better that humans were not as simple as they deemed to be. One could not expect of the Ancients total annihilation of mankind. Why should they strive for that?

—I don’t see your point yet…

—I’ll show it soon. Listen, how come for Ancients to speak our very language? Remember they had people from the ancient times, from different countries? Why did they appear disguised in somewhat human shapes, though mostly hooded, on the day Jesus’ crucifixion?

—What!? That I didn’t know!

—I should have told earlier… but it was a long reading. And I would not say that I was pretty bored… you know, as time passed by I was losing my sanity.

—OK, keep going.

—From the stuff I’ve read from my grandpa’s journals, the Ancients are no different than the gods you might find in fictional stories or myths. What is different is that the Ancients have had hardly any success with the rise of a religion or cult about them. Throughout many, many years, it has been always a very secret thing.

‘So, they speak our language, they have appeared disguised as humans… they even seem to have behaviour and speech patterns like humans do. This really makes me wonder if the Ancients do really know what the humans are for real’’

—Now, I think I understand…—said Michael—Still, it’s somehow confusing, I’m not used to such stuff.

—With this I’m trying to say that…—said Alexandra— Don’t you think there might be a chance for the Ancients to yearn to be humans? Just disguising as one would not be enough!

—Why would they want to? I thought it was humans that yearned to be gods.

—And how weird is that it happens the other way, eh? Imagine there might be a chance of the Ancients yearning to be humans, but at the same time, they actually are afraid of losing the state they have as gods, as omnipotent entities. They are limitless, perfect… why should they become something as frail and imperfect as a human?

—Oh, but humans have been capable of… well, both marvellous and terrible things. I think, I’d say great for both good and bad things.

—You have said it. Now, what could a human crave so desperately to become the closes thing of a god, and vice versa? Think about it, the gods have the ultimate power, though.

In that moment, Michael felt as if he was in a session of brainstorm, with many writers, being Alexandra who shouted the most loudly.

—There are, perhaps, more things that could cause their failure than their success! And… are you telling me they are, well, afraid?

—It seems that they are unable to feel fear, but the closest they had felt is distrust to their servants, and hatred to Mantorok, for he was the Ancient that had them imprisoned.

Once more, their chat had to be interrupted as they went to buy the tickets for the closest departure. They would have to take two flights to reach Sweden, Stockholm. In the meantime, they resumed their chat. They both felt thankful for at last having a good, peaceful time without fearing for their sanity and their lives.

The very deep and secret fear of the Ancients about what mankind truly was turned out to be a hopeful thought in the battle against the Ancients and the Eternal Darkness. Of that, Alexandra and Michael were sure. Now, what was left was to find more about the Codex Gigas and the interest of the Ancients in such a book.

How odd that the Ancients and their servants were not aware of this secret fear that could mean something terrible…but not exclusively for the Ancients. There could be something treacherous in that, and that could be a very dangerous prophecy.

Pray for the End of All Death

Arturo felt relieved, and even he felt touched, so that he would cry out of joy. What he had read in the newspaper, and later, seen on TV, was that some people who formerly had been going to the chapels of the Holy Death had turned again to the Catholic Church. The plaza of the cathedral once again was full of people who felt welcomed and forgiven, not looked down, insulted or persecuted.

Even so, those who stood firm on wrong ideals, looked with a deep feeling of revenge and contempt, thinking of their former fellows as betrayers. It was thought-provoking to see children who stood with their parents under the auspice of the Holy Death, or Santísima Niña (most holy girl), as they called it. Most of their prayers, if not all, jeered at God and the catholic rites.

If this was seen in common people, what could be expected from the burglars and drug-dealers? At least, one could visit the downtown and breathe clean air, free of any curses or blasphemous prayers. Only in the worst-looking neighbourhoods, where killing and robbing was as common as breathing, the cult of the Holy Death and endured.

It had been a week since the grisly discovery by Arturo, Ulises and Hal, and throughout that week, they had seen on the media the protests of the followers of the Holy Death. Some important figures from the Iglesia Católico-Tradicionalista (which was the real name of the church of the Holy Death) had taken upon themselves to argue with the authorities and demand a new kind of justice.

—Hopefully, they had not decided to go beyond the line—said Arturo.

—That’s what makes me feel relieved—said Hal—. Now it feels better out there.

—You can call me whatever you liked—said Ulises—. But… well, I kinda expected of them to be somehow punished.

—And humiliated? —asked Hal.

—As if they had not been more humiliated by choosing to follow that… whatever it is called—replied Ulises.

—I guess it was out of rashness what the military did with the chapels—said Arturo—. However, there ought to be certain reason behind that.

—Why don’t you take a guess? —inquired Ulises, looking at him with glaring eyes—. It’s obvious they had lost friends or relatives because of the favours the Holy Death grants to those… pariahs.

—It’s a touchy theme… let’s quit talking about this.

As Hal grabbed the TV remote and changed the channel, the first one to show was a crazed cartoon that regarded a catering company. It served them well to forget all the fuss about the Holy Death and the incoming menaces of the spokesmen of the cult of the Holy Death.

It also led them to forget what they had discovered a week ago, on that destroyed chapel. The charred corpses of a family, the destroyed effigy and the odd symbols painted on the walls. It had been work of another cult, one that perhaps could prove to be as dangerous or even more than that of the Holy Death.

Thus it was, that if there ought to be one thing that had them worried, was how the other Perfect Strangers were. They absolutely had not sent any message about what they have been doing lately. Despite the unsettling feeling all the issue with cult, there was no reason to suspect something dangerous about the Perfect Strangers whereabouts.

However, Arturo, Ulises and Hal were already being watched by another Ancient, and it was not Chattur’gha, Ulyaoth or Xel’lotath. It was not even Mantorok, the one who beckoned Alexandra, her grandfather, the fire-fighter Michael and lots of other people from many ages of the world. Not, this one seemed to be different. And it had fixed its unseen gaze upon Arturo, mostly.

Once more, when it was past midnight, at 3:33 am, Arturo heard that voice again. If he had felt weird when hearing that voice, now he felt weirder. He could actually feel the words touching him, and even it could taste them. Each word tasted different, even though it wasn’t related directly to food.

—Who or what are you? Show yourself! —he shouted in his dream, but he was shrouded in blackness. In the state he was, he was scared, as he could not see anything, when he tried to touch his body, he felt nothing. When he tried to entwine his hands, there was never a touch.

—The Codex Gigas, the Devil’s Bible—said the voice in an echoing, somewhat juvenile voice, its voice was sometimes felt like a caress, and sometimes like a cold bucket of water—, how weird that it was written by a man of God. But I could not deem mankind better the way it has deemed itself. I see the term oxymoron is a good one to define mankind, and also, the Codex Gigas. The fact that the page opposite to the large drawing of the devil depicts the Kingdom of Heaven is an interesting one.

—What do you want?

—If you refuse to believe completely what I am going to show, it is understandable. Perhaps it seems the best you could do, so that your sanity was never tainted. But as of now, your human life will not be as you want or yearn it to be. No more.

In that moment, several images flashed in his mind. They were all too quick, but eventually flashed a little slower. Gasping, he came to recognize scenes of his city and of his friends. Later, he saw the faces of several people from distant countries, and even distant ages in time. It all ended with the image of a huge, foreboding leather tome bound in flesh and bone.

—That is the Tome of the Eternal Darkness—said the voice—, a foreboding book which has been sought by only dark minds, and only very few of them are willing to pay the ultimate price by using it and knowing the Ancients, as well as unleashing their horrors.

Then he saw images of the Ancients and their intentions for mankind. To him it resembled what some tyrants and warlords would have achieved if the circumstances had been to their favour. But as Arturo thought of this as a nightmare, it simply made him to question all he was seeing.

—Keep doing that—said the voice—and I will not assure, but you, that ignoring all those warning will be your most terrible mistake.

—You can’t expect me to take these things literally, as some parts of the Bible—said Arturo.

—Unfathomable are the ways of the Ancients, and so are the ones of God. You are thinking right now if it is possible that even Evil itself came from God. Evil wonders if it can really exist without good, and if it could have exited beforehand than good. Do you not feel threatened by this? You ought to feel thankful for some vague warnings and not being so nonchalant as you are or have been lately.

—How did you… are you reading my mind?

—You hold on to the welfare of your family, your dearest longing. Defend it with your life, and prove yourself worthy of it with good reasons, no matter if you are long-lived or die in the dawn of your maturing days.

‘By your beliefs, you know that there cannot be anything good outside Go, something alien to him. Make that something clear for you, as it will help to grasp a glimpse of what I am. With the problems that not only you had faced, but the whole mankind as well, there have been sometimes when you neglect your beliefs, when you hesitate. A struggle. Keep that mind, for it will make you realize of your human state’’

‘Try to remain human as much as you can within the next days, the Ancients are not the only ones who will threaten your life and all that makes you human. What the Ancients and humans do, you should keep them on equal consideration. Be careful about what your true bindings are and, most important, your decision about life and death’’

Then, the voice stopped speaking, as well as its echoing. All the weird sensations had gone too. The darkness around him seemed to be falling back thanks to a growing light above him, it had a somewhat golden hue, but it rapidly was devoured by the blackness. On that very moment, his heart stopped beating.

Quickly, he found himself sitting on the bed, panting and blinking. He was seeing faint glowing spots of light everywhere. After some blinking, his sight returned to normal.

—What has just happened?—whispered Arturo as he leaned back to the bed and tried to sleep again.

It could be expected the same chances of him falling to an Ancient’s hold, whatever the religion he was into, even if he was an atheist. Also, the Ancients, though they indeed were not realizing of the incoming problems for their plans, were confident that the secrecy of their deeds was something to be thankful of, and furthermore, that converting people into their servants worked quite good in the way they had been doing for so long time.

But escaping from their prison was no easy task, Mantorok had kept some of his power even as it still was dying. If Ancient managed escape and grasp freedom again, such an event would trigger a surely stream of events that would lead to catastrophic consequences not only for humans but for the Ancients too. Even when an Ancient felt free at last, nothing prevented it from having a glimpse of fear of such a freedom. The expectative of the remaining Ancients struggling to escape, the presence of humans so close to it and the urge to carry out its plans, all that would surely take a toll on the Ancient.

Yet such worries would have to wait, for now. While a new Ancient had appeared, the others were just about to realize of its existence, but they had in more urgent matters than that.

For Ulyaoth, there was one: the hesitation of Oriana. Her binding with Christianity and God was really strong, and Ulyaoth knew that it had to be thanks to her friendship with Blessed Mother. Killing them both would prove to be no right choice, there was hardly any advantage in that.

It seemed Nemrod was in the same way as Oriana, though his silence was no more threatening than that of Oriana. In fact, Nemrod was more like a passive servant. He even had managed to get more people to follow Ulyaoth. The only thing that Ulyaoth did not see right was that such people had suicidal tendencies, troubled minds. Their psyche would be of no use to them.

Thus, the muteness of Nemrod would be a latter issue to take care of. Oriana was who was causing Ulyaoth to start fearing for his freedom. It just did not seem possible, that the Ancient with the most ominous and tremendous patience looked like it was likely to lose its way. There was no way a human could threaten an Ancient…

On a warm afternoon, as Oriana was expecting for the nightfall to enjoy the nocturnal vault, for she had a telescope, she felt an unsettling feeling. The quietness of the sky, along with a most unexpected silence of the neighbourhood just did not seem normal.

—I don’t know what I’m doing…—she whispered as she sipped a cup of tea—What does Ulyaoth expects from us? It infuriates me. The only thing that proves that Nemrod is not a statue is his breathing and unsteady eyes

However, as she recalled the sight of his friend, she felt compassion.

—Why did he answer that he feared for both death and the process of dying? —she wondered—That only made him to look weaker than Ulyaoth. We’re humans, we could be able to kill a monster, a…

As she was about to say the word god, she let out an aching, faint moan. The cup of the she was holding fell into the ground and broke into lots of pieces. She kept mute, with an unpleasant sensation in her throat. Her heartbeats were unexpectedly fast. Despite she was mute, her mind was talking. Oddly, she heard her own voice being accompanied by a series of whispers, it could be heard a faint tone of a juvenile, male voice.

—But if they are trapped, how can they sense what is going on here, in Earth? What could make it possible for an Ancient to return to the Universe and grasp freedom once more? Somehow… what I’m talking about? I guess this is simply a demon or a sorcerer, whose wretched book is weaving a spell of confusion on humans. That way, it seems more likely for he to be afraid, but, an Ancient, afraid? And of what?

‘Such an issue of the Ancients being trapped is nonsense to me… maybe all these Ancients are just one. If not, they all work as one, plotting mankind’s fall or… Damn! What are their true plans? Their so-called imprisonment is a diversion, as the wars, famine and diseases are. Ha! Even monsters and UFOs, those are a diversion too. This planet is nothing more but an exotic globe in the Universe, floating exposed to the gaze of an unfathomable being. No one knows if it likes what is seen or not. There’s no answer from it.’’

After having uttered such words, an idea came to her mind. Was it possible that Ulyaoth was right there, somewhere in the outer space, watching the Earth?

She looked through the telescope, and scanned cautiously, looking for… she did not know really. Still, the thought of the Earth being just a tiny globe being watched by someone or something proved to be really disturbing. In few seconds, Oriana could not think of mankind as something great: the greatest marvels and atrocities were as insignificant as grain of sand.

When she thought about the Codex Gigas, she wondered the meaning of the drawing of the Kingdom of Heaven facing the page with the Devil. The last thing she knew about the book in her research was the book did not have three pages.

—What does that mean? What are those pages? Where could they be? —she whispered.

Indeed, what she had about certain things being a diversion, was true. That was an advantage the Ancients had over humans.

Before going to sleep, she could not stop feeling she missed her friends, the Perfect Strangers. Whether she knew or not that the Ancients had taken almost all of them as servants, she did not mind. Her most important thought was about their lives.

—You left me no choice—said the voice of Ulyaoth, echoing in her mind—. At least be thankful that you were worried about their lives as most as your own, in the very last moments of their lives.

Then, the echoing voice was mute. It no longer spoke.

In their twisted minds and unfathomable purposes, the Ancients managed to carry out a plan. Whatever the cost, they had to make the Perfect Strangers meet one another again, and cause them to destroy mutually, as the Ancients had done before. What greater sacrifice could be than that? But, in order to prepare them for the meeting, they had to be tainted, in both flesh and soul.

Thus it was how it happened. On Chihuahua, where Arturo, Ulises and Hal were living, there were some rumours about an uproar of the believers of the Holy Death, and some of them had managed to get weapons from the drug-dealers. As if the executions and violence related to the drug-wars in Mexico were not enough. A critical point was when many schools had to be emptied. There was a rumour of a bomb in one of them. Also, there was a strong rumour that at 9:00, there will be a shooting in almost everywhere in the city. Civilians, police officers, whoever was outside at such an hour would die.

At the next day, it proved to be nothing more than a rumour, there was never a bomb. But it was known, truly, that the city was not in the hands of a government that cared for the civilians, their welfare and progress of the state. On the other hand, the followers of the Holy Death had struck their blow, which happened to be as painful as they expected, so they hoped to make others to know how they felt.

On a rural community from the outskirts of the city, a church had suffered from pillaging and burning. Almost every image and cross had been destroyed. Fortunately there were no deaths to lament, but still it was something to feel worried. On the neighbourhoods with the highest rate of poverty, the violence had increased. Assaults and murder attempts took place even under the very bright sun, at public places, at the sight of children.

Meanwhile, on the border cities, especially in Juarez, the executions had worsened. It caused a great shock that in just a single day there had been 20 executed in just an hour. However, what very few people knew was that some just simply did not stand anymore in a passive role. There had been forming groups of men, who acted more like anonymous avengers. Many of them could be confused with drug-dealers and criminals, and though their life conditions could lead easily into such a life, they stood vehemently for the survival of their family, mostly.

The Ancients expected that if those events were to be known by others, a great fear was spread. Not only that, they actually hoped for people to become selfish when it came to priorities about what issues had to be handled, which sorrows were more painful, where it was that so many lives had been ended.

But if these happenings made people to act more as a group than individuals, what happened to the individuals who hardly care for that, or simply felt too overwhelmed as to mind another pain that could be greater or lesser than his own?

Thus it was, that the Ancients found one person on which they could pour down just a glimpse of the disaster that will soon be unleashed upon mankind. It was a young girl who had been picked up from school by her family. It surely must have been a joyful day for her, given the big smile on her face and how great she felt in company of friends.

Before getting into the car, the last thing she heard before closing the door was one of her friends telling her:

—You know, I just realized that cars are really weird creatures. First of all, they attack to people to defend themselves for… what reason? Eh? And, what totally pisses me off the most is this. I just don’t really understand the frickin’ mania of cars to commit suicide whenever they have people inside of them.

Then, it began the journey back home. The girl felt a thrill, she expected than at any moment, her parents would give her some good news that would only increase her joy to the point of ecstasy.

—Honey, you know what? —said her mother—. Remember when you told about those on-line friends you wanted to meet? Well, just in a matter of weeks will be your break from school, and we’ll let you to go with them.

The girl simply let out a loud cackle as she hugged her mother and father.

—Animaiden, Morrigan… I’ll be meeting you soon, in person! How cool this is!

How overwhelming was when one such a joyful time, such an expectative was to be violently interrupted, and never meant to return. A car passed quickly, almost too near them. But shortly his father had pressed the brake, another car crashed in a loud ruckus. However, as their lives had not ended yet, the car stood still, unable to escape from a large trailer that was about to fall upon them.

If this lone death (as the Ancients thought) had happened, what could be expected of other deaths taking place actually in far worse conditions? All deaths, though the poor souls had been lonely for their whole life or just in a certain moment, they all had been deprived of any shelter, whether physical or imaginary one.

And these deaths, these fallen souls would gather in the Ancients’ domain of ultimate suffering. The Ancients were able to take one, preventing them to be sent to Heaven or Hell. There, all these dead, though they suffered a lonely death, would gather as a group, though still, they were in loneliness, and so they would be.

Hail the End of All Life

—It has been happening—said Chattur’gha—. If the circumstances are right, and the blow is struck properly, even the mightiest fall prey to grief.

—We must pull the string carefully on these puppets—said Ulyaoth—. With the proper moves, mankind will soon blame itself for the incoming atrocities.

—Do not be so limited! —said Xel’lotath with both voices— So delightful will be to watch them being unaware of the incoming doom, and later… yes! The moans, the shouting, the blame, the fool’s hope in them!

The three Ancients had gathered to discuss what they had achieved so far. They could only hear their voices, but they could hardly see one another, save for a faint glow. In the blackness of their realm, if a human was there, the sight would reveal three blurry clouds: one was red, the other blue and the last one green.

But the Ancients were not speaking merely about the death of that girl. However, such an event had proved them once again that their plans had been carried out properly. Seemingly, it was Chattur’gha who had the advantage with the rising people from the church of the Holy Death. Since he had ordered World’s Bane and Fell Deicide to create another cult to attack both the Christians and the followers of the Holy Death, it turned out to be a good plan.

Even so, to most people that did not seem a serious problem to be too worried of.

For Xel’lotath, she was clearly having some advantage as she tainted the insanity of not of only the Perfect Strangers, but of many other people as well. She knew that Michael and Alexandra had escaped from their demise, but she was confident that in no time both would fall prey to the most terrible sanity loss effects.

Now it was the turn of Ulyaoth. The other Ancients thought his excess of patience was more like cowardice. However, as such a consideration was so obvious for him, Ulyaoth knew better that none that he was worthy indeed of any title about how unfathomable he was.

If Xel’lotath was taking care of driving slowly, and one by one, her victims into insanity and Chattur’gha was striving to create a conflict among the believers, what was then the plan of Ulyaoth? The Ancients were warring entities, and as such there would never be a glimpse of alliance. Perhaps Ulyaoth was hiding behind a veil of stone-cold patience, and soon would take advantage of the ignorance of Xel’lotath and Chattur’gha… if they could truly be ignorant, even by a glimpse.

Since Xel’lotath threatened the minds of humans, and Chattur’gha their flesh, what was the interest for Ulyaoth?

—As Ancients we cannot fool ourselves, indeed—said Ulyaoth—. You do think of me as a betrayer, but indeed you fool yourselves if think such a thing. Who am I betraying? I am in the side of none.

—So are we… our minions are by our side, as well as our human servants—said Chattur’gha—. But your silence and seeming patience is a disquieting disguise.

—You better save your energy when it comes the moment for the ultimate battle between us—said Xel’lotath with her loud voice—, when there will be hardly any human that can stand on their feet or look at the sky without blinking or crying.

—When that day comes, their very senses will make them fall—she added with her whispering voice—. The great disasters they had gone through, the ones they recall, although they are free of them now, nothing worse has happened yet… When they see us battling, that will be the mixture of all the disasters

—The winner will have the chance to wipe out the last of mankind remaining in the Earth—said Chattur’gha.

—If we do not destroy it first in the conflict—said Ulyaoth—You lack the wisdom to find out what I’m planning, Chattur’gha. As for you, Xel’lotath, your rashness and insanity betray are more a defect than an advantage. If you think of me as a betrayer, what do you think of Mantorok, then?

—A master puppeteer? —asked Xel’lotath with voices—Now, he is truly in his last days, I can sense it. The only servants he has are Michael and Alexandra, her being the last of the Roivas. They feel alone, and prone to fall prey into insanity and oblivion. But I shall keep them alive, as pets. They have to see what I intend for mankind. Furthermore, they will be the last beheaded ones.

—You talk as if you were to win! —said Chattur’gha as he let out a loud growl— Only a huge rotten husk will be all that is left on Earth once I win. Ulyaoth would fade into the void of the Universe.

—Seeming, you speak strong words, but only reveal the weakness of your flesh—said Ulyaoth—. I know that Mantorok has just two servants now, and will die soon. But I am speaking of a new enemy. There is another Ancient.

—My insanity has tainted you, Ulyaoth—said Xel’lotath—. There is no fifth Ancient. Our kind was no numerous at all, and only four us survived the defeat God had condemned us many eons ago, on the dawn of the Universe.

—Do not say he condemned us! —said Chattur’gha—That means that we will lose even if we grace freedom again and battle!

—There is a fifth Ancient that has gone unnoticed—said Ulyaoth—, as some efforts of the previous chosen ones by Mantorok. Some of our servants still refuse to abandon everything that makes them human, and if they die they will be of no use.

—If this new Ancient has gone unnoticed, why it has not revealed itself to us? —asked Xel’lotath in both voices—That means that he is weaker than Mantorok, and thus, the least of our worries.

This concern should not be taken lightly, as Ulyaoth had stated. The other Ancients remained doubtful.

—I see nothing threatening in this new enemy—said Chattur’gha—In the end, when we are free again, it will be simply obliterated.

—And you will perish along with it—said Xel’lotath with her loud voice.

—Your ignorance on this matter will threaten you as you will never expect. This new Ancient is different to us… as it seems to be nearer to humans, almost to the point of it yearning to become one. The humans it has beckoned do not show panic, they do not flee from it.

‘This menace has to be stopped. This Ancient and its seeming closeness to humans is not the only issue to confront, there is also a very mysterious link to God. It astounds me, as you will be, to know that this Ancient has stated such a thing, though not directly. And we, as Ancients, did not know about it’’.

The Ancients kept mute for a long pause. And thus, they all disappeared into the blackness of their realm.

What the Ancients did not know, despite their suspicions of the new enemy, was that the fifth Ancient was indeed an obstacle. Its power was great indeed: it had managed to make the Perfect Strangers to hear the conversation of the Ancients as they were dreaming. The Perfect Strangers had heard in dreams the Ancients’ meeting!

On that dream, they could all see the Ancients’ true form. The new Ancient showed them how they were.

Chattur’gha was a gigantic bulky worm-like creature with a massive armoured head, which resembled more like a helm. Beneath it were multiple eyes and mouths, two of which resemble lobster’s pincers. As for Ulyaoth, he was an enormous jellyfish with bony plating over its bell and tentacles. His body was of ghostly blue, and through the body could be seen a glittering red core. 6 balls of light floated around the bell.

The form of Xel’lotath was, perhaps the most disquieting of them all: her physical form takes the shape of a green-coloured entity with four arms surrounding a single gigantic eye; a long tail drapes downwards from it, the shape of which seems to indicate the curves of a female form

On their dream, the Perfect Strangers also saw Mantorok, trapped and slowly dying in his temple-tomb somewhere in Angkor Thom, Cambodia. Mantorok’s physical form was a burdensome and amorphous mass with many mouths and eyes surrounding one central mouth. As disgusting as it was, as the decaying of its flesh continued, many of its black hearts had been exposed, though almost all of them had stopped throbbing.

The day after the night they had dreamt that, they could hardly remember what their dream was about. Only certain circumstances would remind them of it.

At the home of World’s Bane, he and Fell Deicide had been summoned by Chattur’gha. They did not expect that Chattur’gha scorned them for the plan of the cult not working the way it was meant.

—If we truly had some of your powers, that would make a difference—yelled Fell Deicide.

—You are not realizing of what you are doing—replied Chattur’gha.

—What? Refusing to believe in your plans? —asked World’s Bane—I should have expected that from an Ancient like you…

—Yes, we have read the Tome of Eternal Darkness—added Fell Deicide—. You showed gullibility when you beckoned Gilles de Rais, as he hesitated about your vision on vanquishing Xel’lotath. And what did you do to help him? Nothing! He ended up trapped and imprisoned. He could have been capable of great things for you, horrible things for mankind, but it never happened.

—I guess he actually belonged to Xel’lotath, given the facts about how deranged he was.

—Your knowledge and bold words are no match for my power, morsels—growled Chattur’gha, and this time, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide noticed he spoke with more than a tone at once, and distant human screams could be heard—. If you crave to throw away your lives so rashly, go ahead.

—You need us! —said World’s Bane.

—You uttered such words with fear, human—replied Chattur’gha—. Those words will fit you better if you told them to a human. You still have not forsaken your human bindings!

—We are no longer with the Perfect Strangers or our families—said Fell Deicide—. What should we be doing now? Plotting and getting more members for the cult? You are leading us nowhere.

—Of that you are right—said Chattur’gha.

Before World’s Bane and Fell Deicide spoke, they eyed each other first, but Chattur’gha interrupted them. His growl had been louder this time.

—Find anything you want to feel relieved from the shock I have caused you—he said—. But you still belong to me. If you want to flee from me, you will find no one to help you. At least in that you have done well in forsaking your human bindings.

World’s Bane and Fell Deicide shut their mouths. An unsettling feeling made them realize that he was right.

—You belong to me! —added Chattur’gha—Without me, you are only flesh and bone! I will make you sure you stand as the last living humans on the barren wasteland that I’ll look upon after my victory, and your corpses will prove me right. You want to participate in a more active way, there is a chance right now.

—What are you speaking of? —asked World’s Bane.

—The violence in the cities from the southern border of your country, there are taking place many demises… so many flesh to feed my hunger. The fear and hatred of the victims are fuelling my power. You want that thrill… you’ll have it. Listen well, humans, for I am asking you only one thing: Hail the End of All Life! Make sure the remaining members of your cult do it.

‘The believers will rise soon. In short time there will be a new plague. There will be no need to unleash my minions in an act of open war against mankind… No, the wars and hidden conflicts of humans will be a diversion, clouding their vision, disabling them. Thus, the real calamities will go unnoticed. I’ll be unchallenged until the hour of my freedom comes at last’’

When World’s Bane and Fell Deicide felt a different sensation this time, as their hearts beat faster, a smirk flashed on their faces. For some reason, they turned around and saw behind them was a large crew of men. In the darkness of the room it could hardly be seen anything from them save their faces and bare hands, but they were holding some things, maybe unlit torches or spears.

As one of those men approached to them, it handed them a gruesome weapon: a mace which bore sharp spikes all over its bigger end.

—Think of them as something symbolic, as you wish—said Chattur’gha—, but there will be more and more chances that will be fit for attacking with these weapons. Try to kill once in the shadows, make some ruckus under the sun, and jeer at the troubled people when illness and terror spread through the cities.

‘Do this, and you will see I have already granted you the power to, despite suffering pain, you will not die until you are with me in the ultimate clash. If you truly want to be free of your human state, then you will accept death as your choice. Yearn to kill and be killed’’

—Hail the End of all Life! —shouted the group at the sight of World’s Bane and Fell Deicide.

—Yes…—said Chattur’gha, growling like a predator which was about to kill a prey—Hail the End of All Life! Hail it! Even at the threshold of death, when there are no shelters for flesh and soul, I will be reborn, and so will you. Give them a scourge in any way you see fit, to whoever is at your reach. Each strike will be more painful than the previous one… until the last ones are for Earth and its creator.

On that moment, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide raised their hands and shouted:

—Hail the End of All Life! Hail the End of All Life!

And the people who had been summoned shouted along with them.

Thus time of the scourge of Chattur’gha had come. Soon, there were rumours about a new virus that had not been seen before, which was being mistaken by a common flu. When the first deaths had taken place in Mexico, much of the information had not been transmitted, save when it was too late.

People from many cities in Mexico had been travelling here and there, by train, bus or airplane. And this virus could be spread by simply kissing or greeting. If there were no good hygienic habits, the virus was surely to strike.

Such an outburst of confidence and thrill of the incoming calamities gave not only to Chattur’gha the feeling that his freedom was at hand, but also empowered his human servants to such an extent. However, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide did not see that as something acceptable. Somehow, they plotted to get rid of the other followers when it was the right hour, but as how to become the powerful enough to keep Chattur’gha at bay, there it was the biggest problem.

But as the race for the feat of grasping freedom and destroying seemed to become tougher, and not precisely because of its incoming end, but of what was after it. Chattur’gha, as the other Ancients and their servants, as busy as they were, once again they did not heed the various signs of the new Ancient. Mantorok was no longer a problem, but the new Ancient. The fact that it had revealed itself only in dreams to some of the Perfect Strangers meant a menace to them. But could it be for mankind too?

After all, it was an Ancient too. There was a right to fear it. That was something the other Ancients did not know, and if they had been told about it, they would refuse it boldly. If mankind did not know anything about its extinction, the Ancients would soon know that even they can be threatened.

What could possibly happen for them to be threatened? Who or what was this new Ancient?

And furthermore, what were the true plans of it?

Away and unaware of all this, Arturo, Ulises and Hal had been hanging out in a sunny day, at the downtown, walking through the most crowded area where most shopping, loitering and public performances were done. It had been now a month since they had been far from the Perfect Strangers, and the only messages they had received were those from Animaiden and Morrigan.

There was also one of Blessed Mother, who was worried about the others’ whereabouts. Her message seemed quite serious.

—I’m feeling the same way as her…—said Arturo—. The Perfect Strangers need to gather again.

—I cannot imagine what would be so serious about it—said Hal—. Unless of course, she isn’t telling us something.

—It’s no big deal—said Ulises—. I see nothing bad in it… but, if she isn’t telling us anything at all… and if we do not care or let ourselves to be panicked… Is there something you have not told us yet? —he asked addressing to his brother.

Arturo gasped as he looked back at his brother. Suddenly, they heard someone yelling.

—Hail the End of all Life!

—What’s happening! Who… look over there! —said Hal as he pointed out in front of him.

—Hail the End of all Life! Hail it! —shouted a couple, a man and a woman who were leading a somewhat large throng.

—Hail! —shouted the rabble as a response.

In no time, they saw a group of people dressed oddly, for their black clothes bore some odd symbols in it. Despite the fact that they could be easily been made fun of, they did not heed the insults hurled at them, but they were indeed starting to spread fear as they began to shoot randomly at people.

The couple who had shouted were the ones that did not look as weird as the rest of the throng. But they had a fiercer look in their eyes. They spotted him at once.

With a most unsettling feeling on his chest, Arturo had recognized who were the first two people who were shouting so boldly those harsh words. World’s Bane and Fell Deicide headed right towards them, screaming as their mob followed them like wolves in a pack.

As they turned around and ran for their lives, Arturo realized his brother was not along with him anymore. The rabble was getting closer, and, as that pain felt worse on his chest, he ran as fast as he could. From that moment no, he would not stop thinking what had happened to his brother, and mostly, how did he end up leaving behind his own brother?

Life Continues…and so does Death

The sight of the cathedral towering above the other buildings as shops and fast-food restaurants had given Arturo a painful sensation. For some reason he wavered as he was running away, along with Hal. The possible riots the followers of the Holy Death could have started could be compared, somehow, with the one that was taking place right now. However, there was something more foreboding on the strangers that were being led by two former friends of Arturo.

And he thought of them as former friends, because that act, the look in their eyes and the way the shouted Hail the End of All Life!, it all meant they had forsaken anything good they had, as well as the friendship of the Perfect Strangers. But if such acts had at least destroyed that friendship, they would not take away lives of innocents.

—Hail the End of All Life! —the ominous throng kept shouting as they spread out through the streets.

—What’s happening! This can’t be real…—thought Arturo as he was running along with Hal to the parking lot where the car was. He could not stop eyeing at the cathedral, as the feeling that even more than such a holy place would be endangered by the strangers.

World’s Bane and Fell Deicide were still running behind him and Hal. The more they kept running, the more painful became to Arturo the idea of leaving behind his brother.

—Hail the End of All Life!—the distant shouts could be heard still, as the patrols’ sirens were coming now. And as people were seeing, they shouted each time they killed a person.

Arturo and Hal did not look back at the strangers getting closer to the plaza, they kept running.

—I don’t mean to offend you, but we’re not going to hide in the cathedral, are we? —asked Hal as he almost stumbled upon a child.

—What? Why do you say it? —asked Arturo.

—Just stop looking at it, it’ll be shameful, I know—replied Hal—, it will be a pain… Come on! Don’t you see these fuckers don’t really give a shit? Just keep running, find a better place to hide!

As they came out from the plaza and ran across the street, dodging the cars that were passing by, things got even worse as the strangers shot at the cars’ windows, to the buses and then to the people that was at the plaza of the cathedral. They were reaching it!

—I really hate this! —thought Arturo as he kept running, leading Hal away from the cathedral, but he let him to run further—Look at them! Those people are spectators… and they dare to record this on their cell phones!

At some point, he was getting enraged as he heard laughing. He could not find out if those laughs were from vulgar people or from the strangers. What he knew for sure, was the spectator effect. People here and there, though they tried to seek shelter, some dared to use their cell phones and take pictures and video of the riot. Not for denouncing, but for entertainment. It was disgusting to see how cynical they were despite panic that was spreading.

Indeed, how twisted the humans could be, perhaps even more than the Ancients. Thus, for the Ancients, it would seem that the extinction of mankind would begin with the demise of these lowlife people, to the relief of the few humans that were allowed to witness the final battle between the Ancients, and lastly, the supreme reign of one of them.

—Hail the End of All Life! —the strangers were reaching the plaza of the cathedral, and their shouts were stopping being one after another, now many voices cried as one.

The parking lot where Arturo had left the car was still away, and the very thought of it only scared him more. An unbearable feeling was building up on his back as well as that of his friend, fearing that at any moment they would be shot. Some windows from the cars they passed by cracked as the missed shots made them to waver. And desperate, they threw themselves to the ground and tried to crawl under one of them as fast as they could.

They were not feeling tired yet, and the increasing fear was giving them enough energy to keep running, but it was just about to take hold of them and render them unable to flee. As paralyzed as they were, lying on the ground, they did not dare to take a glimpse of the marching feet of the strangers, who had clearly seen where they had been hiding.

Three men had been chasing them, and before they approached to the car and crouched to shot at them, World’s Bane called them with a hoarse cry.

—Leave ‘em alone! —said Fell Deicide—We got better things to do.

—Hehe… That’s true—replied World’s Bane as he stopped running and looked back at the cathedral—Never had I thought I would do something worthy of those blackmetallers out there in Norway.

—But this will be better, with Chattur’gha by our side

—Then, let’s get back to the church and start making it to tremble as the very believers that hide inside it.

Meanwhile, out there, the strangers were not the only wicked people who showed openly their hideousness, their lack of morals. Sadly, they were not the only ones.

There was people who had been jeering at those who had fallen dead, been shot or were suffering from nervous breakdowns. However, and maybe because of the Ancient’s plan that illustrate that no one would be safe, those people tasted some, if not a greater pain than that of the innocent ones.

While some went through that like everyone did out there, some were really hopeless. Even in death, their mocking faces had not been changed. However, they were truly alone, and not because their relatives and friends looked down on them if they knew what they had done… they were simply alone.

But the killing kept going, the strangers were gathering in front of the cathedral as they shouted and hurled burning bottles. Even some had brought their maces and began striking the cathedral’s walls and the door. Knowing some of the chapels could be still open, they went right there, thinking of them as the weak points.

If the cynical people who had died while mocking those who feared for their lives remained as such, what could be expected from these strangers? Surely, they would not even compromise even at the face of the Armageddon… or the return of the Ancients.

Once World’s Bane and Fell Deicide had returned to their group, they both shouted:

—You hope to be enlightened! Your temple will be illuminated, yes! We’ll set it ablaze! So you will be illuminated!

Then, three men from the mob now shouted the message in Spanish.

The patrols’ sirens were heard closer and louder. In short time they had spotted them. Despite being exposed, none of them showed any signs of fear. However, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide immediately ran away. Strangely, their fellow cultists did not seem troubled by that.

When the police officers came, they approached with caution. They had warned them first. The strangers did not give a response, for they had turned their backs on them, glaring at the cathedral and the holy images engraved on its wall.

—And the fire will spread! —the cultists started chanting in low tone—They will blame the sun for the heat, and will fear the night for the cold. Stand and fight or recoil and flee… slavery would be a reward for you.

Oddly, only one of them was hesitating. The others noticed he was mumbling indistinctly. His limbs were shaking and he started eyeing everywhere. He felt worse after he met the eyes of one of his fellow cultists glaring at him. His stare was of reprobation. Another grimaced at him, and swiftly jeered at him.

—Let them shot! —whispered one of them.

And thus, one of the cultists shouted a taunt in Spanish. The officers approached closer.

The young cultist dropped the spiked mace, and as he tried to grab his gun, his fumbling made him to let out a faint gasp and he dropped it. None of the cultists minded that, they just kept staring at the cathedral.

Once more, the officers warned them. This time, despite some of them being a little nervous, their pulse did not waver. Their arms were pointing at the strangers.

Unable to cry out of fear, the young cultist felt a shock, and tried to runaway. His movement had triggered the officers’ shooting. Only five from the 15 strangers had been shot. But as they refused to fall, something happened that made the officers to wish the shooting stopped: the cultists did not try to dodge the bullets, but actually to receive them. Even they moved their heads to where the bullet will hit.

But that was not the only thing that shocked the police officers. The rest of the cultists, as soon as they saw their fellow members falling to the ground. They all turned around and faced the cultists. In a swift movement, they all had in their hands a long, twisted knife. Quickly, they led it to their throats and cut them. The police officers reacted late, as they had all been shocked.

Some of them, out of fear, shot at the cultists who had just committed suicide right before them. Once the last of the cultists had fallen to the ground, the police officers approached to have a better look of them. No one could speak; their gazes were more of panicked man than that of one who held a grudge against the criminals and lowlife people.

Thus it was how the disturbance had ended. And World’s Bane and Fell Deicide had left no trace at all, they had disappeared. As for Arturo and Hal, they crawled out from under the cars and began to search for Ulises. Now would begin some long, uneasy hours for both of them. Arturo could not stop thinking on the shock his family would feel if they knew what had just happened.

While that happened in Mexico, in Scotland, Morrigan and Animaiden were completely unaware of the Ancients’ existence, almost as Hal and Ulises, but that would change soon. Xel’lotath would really enjoy tainting their sanity. She knew of the death of Sylvia, a dear friend that would have met with lots of joy Animaiden and Morrigan.

In the silent peace of midnight, at the room where they both were sleeping, there were no signs of them moving too much as they slept. No hints of nightmares, nothing weird was happening, the only audible sound was that of their breathing. But, when the clock time reached 3:33, a faint whisper seemed to interrupt the silence.

—To what are you holding on to, now? —said a hissing voice, disrupting the quietness in the dark room.

—What… is happening? —mumbled Morrigan—. No… it’s not real. It’s not happening! —she started to breathe heavily.

—Your mistress, Xel’lotath is beckoning you—said the voice—. You have been following the path into me… Now, you will at last open your senses, and will offer your sanity to me.

After a pause, she added:

—Who could resist more? —asked Xel’lotath with both voices? —Your friend, Sylvia, holding on to her hope of meeting you in person? Or you, trying to endure the pain of not knowing anything about her? You ought to be thankful for what I just told you.

—What did happen to her?

—It was not my fault—whispered Xel’lotath with her faint, sibilant voice.

—It was yours! —she said with her bold voice—You encouraged her. That only improved more my scheme… and worsened your lives.

—However, you are still alive—said Xel’lotath with both voices.

—What happened to her? —cried Morrigan, and then heard a faint mumble of Animaiden as moved in her, clearly was waking up.—She is… dead? Dead! What happened to her!

Her shout had been so loud that it shocked Animaiden.

—What’s happening!? What did you say? —she asked.

—She’s dead! She’s dead—Morrigan was screaming louder.

Then, the voice of Xel’lotath had stopped whispering, and then there were no sounds at al, save for the heavy breathing of Morrigan. Now she was crying uncontrollably. Despite their mourning, Xel’lotath had not dismissed them yet.

But Xel’lotath was not done with their servants yet. She had an important matter to attend with two more of her human servants. This time, she appeared in France, at the basement where Ash and Shermie had been called by her.

—You will prove to be better servants than Animaiden and Morrigan, humans—told them Xel’lotath.

—How is that possible? —asked Ash Crimson.

—I doubt you can give us something so great that makes us to follow you blindly—said Shermie.

—But you have been doing it for so long—said Xel’lotath with her whispering tone.

—Because at least it is better than living with no goal—said her bold voice—, even with all your senses at their keenest point. You could be disabled, lacking sight, hearing, touch… and that would have been protecting you against me… but only a slight protection. You cannot escape from death in such a state, for it already is preparing your for the end.

—Wait a moment… What’s this?

—Ash, what are… these… what are we?

Before they could realize of it, they were already stuttering as the ground trembled. The noise of several whispers echoed in their heads, and it was painful to them. But, that was the least of their worries.

Ash and Crimson, unable to cover their ears as they saw, horrified, that they had no arms, and as they tried to close their eyes, their sight was never blackened. Their eyelids had disappeared, thus witnessing the disturbing spectacle that was taking place.

Several mummified corpses were appearing from out of nowhere. Those who lacked limbs or heads had a ghostly image of that part lost, it was of a green colour. And, as huge boulders rising from the ground, seven Horrors had appeared. They were behemoths with a huge torso, three eyes in the middle of it, and their eyelids were actually mouths, as hinted by the tiny spikes that sprouted from them.

Other creatures had been summoned too, like several Bonethieves, all looking like scrawny yet vicious-looking headless demons. And among the horde were four lumbering Guardians, naked, male bodies as repulsive as they were with their gaping holes in their necks and their attached hips.

Ash and Shermie were paralyzed by fear, and they could not counter it as they stared deeply into the huge eye of Xel’lotath that had appeared before them. A large eyeball of green pupil wrapped in a thick brown skin. Her stare was full of madness as it pierced right into the other’s eyes and chests, giving an utter feeling of helplessness.

Thus, they had been prepared to belong completely to Xel’lotath. A headless corpse was approaching to them as two more had seized them. The first one was carrying a long, sharp object which shone with an unnatural green light.

Ash and Shermie did not feel any pain at all. In fact, they would never feel anything now. After some minutes, the headless bodies of Ash Crimson and Shermie began to tremble, and with slow, clumsy moves, they stood on their feet again.

—Now you truly belong to me—said Xel’lotath.

Sacrifice or Suicide

—What has just happened? —wondered Animaiden and Morrigan as their sobs seemed to stop.

They had been visited by Xel’lotath, putting their minds at a stake as the fear for more encounters with the Ancient were to come. Now that they were at the Ancients’ grasp, the only ones who remained, at least temporary free were Arturo and Hal, since surely Ulises had to be trapped at the time of the riot.

But now that Xel’lotath had begun converting her human servants, she would only play with Animaiden and Morrigan just for the perverse sake of it. However, it could not all end precisely in few more demises. She had promised them once that she would keep alive some humans to make them witness her declare ultimatum upon mankind.

If there one was one thing that could stop Xel’lotath from having humans as pets, was that, given how troubled were Animaiden and Morrigan, they committed suicide.

—Our friend… she’s dead! She’s dead! How could we have prevented it? —Morrigan could not stop wailing, thus getting her friend to weep too.

—But… who… how do you know? —asked Animaiden, struggling to not cry, but only ended up in a hiccup.

—If only I had had a nightmare or… something, anything that could made me to warn her.

—There was nothing we could do…

—Nothing? Nothing! Why it was so, then? Why did it happen? —Morrigan got up from the bed, shouting as loud as she could. Shortly she felt her rasped voice was hurting her throat, thus making her to cough.

As Xel’lotath would have hinted at them, did they really know they have to be thankful? If her friend had died, at least they knew it, though the way they were told could not be the most reliable source. But, after all, how would have it been instead of living without any kind of messages or contact? How would their friend feel if her messages were not answered?

And how would they feel if they knew that out there, several people lived an everlasting sorrow for not knowing where their beloved ones were. Would they be about to recover from illness or ready to leave this world? Would they be truly alone or had they found friends who became their family?

But for Xel’lotath there was no difference. It could be that even there were people who were able to completely forget some of their beloved ones, family or friends, or even possible friends. As long as ignorance and suffering took hold of humans, it was not a problem.

Animaiden felt anxious as she and her friend were weeping in the darkness, but an overwhelming fear prevented her from leaving Morrigan alone. So she went right to where she was. It seemed that both did not know that Xel’lotath was already there, playing with their minds.

Hardly had they noticed that the faint lights of the outside that went through the window’s curtains had gone, but there was something more disturbing. Animaiden could not resist the urge to shout out her friend’s name, and though she was replied, they would never felt each other by touch.

—What’s happening? —she asked in gasp.

They were only in their room, with two beds, and enough space for a dresser and other furniture… But they never got to reach one another! The more they spent wandering in complete darkness, the more desperate they felt. As the seconds turned into minutes, they rapidly found out that the floor had holes. Also, many times they stumbled upon something, and once they fell to the ground, an unnatural forced held them still. They could not turn around.

—Your Mistress is beckoning you—said the voices of Xel’lotath who appeared as a dim, green light was appearing, shrouded in mist.

—That’s the…—cried Morrigan—. That’s the voice. I knew of our Sylvia’s death by that voice.

—What are you…?—answered Animaiden as she turned around with difficulty, and then, trying to regain on their feet, fell flat back on the ground as a huge eye shrouded in mist floated right towards her.

—Choose now—said Xel’lotath with both voices—. A life under my auspices, sparing the little sanity you have, or being abandoned to increasing grief and temporary relief until my ultimatum.

Before Animaiden or Morrigan could reply, Xel’lotath entered into her minds and made them to see flashing images from The Tome of Eternal Darkness. Since the very beginning with Pious Augustus and other chosen ones, to Alexandra Roivas and the Perfect Strangers

—The few who remain alive are just about to have their minds lost, and if that happens, their lives would be at stake—said Xel’lotath with the bold voice.

—But they would not be the only ones—said her whispering voice—. What could you possible crave for in the current state you are? As desperate as you are becoming, you still fear death. Your lives will not be normal again…

—And I will not let the other Ancients to be free! —added her other voice, this time so loud that it felt like a strong gust to the faces of her servants—. I already have two followers that are loyal to me now. And as fearful as you are now… I tell you again, you have two choices, but you will belong to me!

After that followed a short pause, then she added:

—If you come with me, I will bring back from the dead your friend. I am an Ancient… a goddess if you prefer so. You will never grow up to my level, but I can make to glimpse of what it could be. The most important I ask of you is this: relinquish everything that makes you human, slowly… so you can enjoy the company of your friend. Later, you will become something more, never again you will go through the trials you have while you were humans.

—Our friends… have they all been chosen now? —asked Animaiden.

—Yes… all of them have been chosen—said Xel’lotath with both voices—Some not by me, but for other Ancients, some as servants, some as food, and some are just foes that have to be destroyed.

—Don’t try to think harder! —said Morrigan, surprising her friend with such words—You could go out there and find something to help you forget this… Why don’t do drugs? Or become close to religion, or to your family and friends? What you are proving to me is how threatened you are, and how big will be your lose when I happen to bring you down.

Animaiden then had no doubt about how frail they were now. The proof she had now was hearing Morrigan speaking, but it were the intentions of Xel’lotath who were being voiced.

—What do you expect from us? —asked Animaiden.

—That you belong to me—answered Xel’lotath as he let fall Morrigan to the ground—. And furthermore, that you will support me to regain my freedom. Your friends, the ones you call Perfect Strangers have been already chosen by other Ancients, thus turning them into your enemies… only three remain unharmed for now.

—But what else? —asked Animaiden, feeling an increasing anger—And what will be your master plan? An epic failure? Will you and the other Ancients share the same fate? If you fancy yourselves as powerful entities… as gods… do you believe in yourselves?

—And in what do you believe? —replied Xel’lotath with her whispering tone—If you had not found things that are beyond your grasp, it is surely because you lack the ability or because there are nothing at all that can be beyond your grasp.

Animaiden kept mute, and started shivering. The response of Xel’lotath was not an expected one. Animaiden thought she would have been killed right after the question, but the Ancient responded in a calmed way. However, there was foreboding meaning behind those words.

—What is remaining for us then? —she asked.

—Uncertainty—replied Xel’lotath with her bold tone—. This world only has a place for me, and therefore, to what I will create and spread afterwards my vanquishing. If you follow men, you will be granted unthinkable gifts.

In that moment, the complete darkness seemed to be a common one, the lights from outside were seen again through the windows, and Animaiden had again the feeling that she was in her room, not in a vast, unknown wasteland.

As she approached Morrigan and tried to get her back to the bed, she asked:

—What do we have to do, then?

—Follow me. Just do that—replied Xel’lotath with both voices.

When Animaiden lifted Morrigan, they realized their clothes had been changed, but even so, it was not something to be too scared about. The giant eye of Xel’lotath kept looking at them. The feeling it gave was that of a constant stabbing on Animaiden’s back.

—The only thing I warn you… is your head. Be careful about what you think. And I hope you are not thinking in suicide. You could not do something more coward and stupid as that. Of such a matter I will take care personally.

Then, the giant eye spread a thicker fog and with a blast of light, it took Animaiden and Morrigan. After the blast, no one remained in the room. The quietness of it bespoke, strangely, about death, not a departure.

Meanwhile, back on Mexico, the panic the strangers had started was far to come to an end. More of the strangers had been seen in other places of the city, armed and dressed in the same way as the others.

And near the plaza of the cathedral, Arturo, even when he had spotted his car, refused to leave his brother behind. It was painful for him to stare at Hal, who had been paler as he had never been.

—And now… what do we do? —said Hal.

—Look for him… but, alone? —said Arturo, feeling that Hal was about to succumb to fear and cowardice.

—We can’t risk other’s lives for…

—What are you speaking like that? What do you mean?

—No, no… don’t feel offended. But… Damn! Let’s do this alone, we won’t be taking care of others’ lives. They are already troubled by the riot.

—But help from other will be handy for us, Hal!

Hal turned around and mumbled something only audible for him.

—It were heard lots of shooting. Would have all been killed or what? —asked Arturo

—I hope that—answered Hal—. But now there is no shooting. Let’s go there and have a glimpse of what’s happening.

They approached carefully to the plaza of the cathedral. Soon they saw the officers, media personnel, ambulances and some curious ones that seemed to crowd around something.

As curiosity led them to the spot where the riot had taken place, there were some people who ran past Arturo and Hal. Some of them were saying what had happened there, and some were showing the others what they had caught on pictures and video.

It was no hard for Arturo to hear what that people said, but indeed, he could hardly believe what they were saying.

—What is it? —asked Hal, getting more nervous.

—Would you believe it? —said Arturo—. They say the strangers committed suicide at the sight of the police officers. Even as they were shooting at them!

Before the morbid desire led them closer to the plaza, they quickly looked to their left, and spotted some of the strangers that had just appeared, walking away from the corner of the building.

—Hail the End of All Life! —the strangers shouted.

And quickly, the same words were echoing throughout the plaza and the streets. More strangers have appeared, shooting at the people who were crowded around the bodies of the first rioters.

As for Arturo and Hal, this time it seemed the strangers would reach them soon. When one of them shot at Hal’s leg and hit him, as he fell to the ground, Arturo could not stop running. When he heard his own voice muttering coward. He stopped abruptly, and returned to his friend.

He was engaged by the new rioters. They shot at him, but only for keeping him at bay. Those who came first seized Hal and took him away. The others just approached to Arturo and kicked him for a while. A loud voice cried the name of Chattur’gha from somewhere, and the rioters stood paralyzed for a while, as creatures which had been called by their master.

While Arturo was still on the ground, the rioters fled from that place, running past him, away from the cathedral. However, three of them, who were carrying Hal got separated from the group and headed to an old building whose walls looked rather filthy. There was a fence gate by which they went as soon as they opened it. The others tried to hide in other places, but as soon as they were spotted by the police officers, only few ran away, the others committed suicide as the others. And as they did, they were shot.

Hal had been paralyzed by fear. Yet he believed there was something more, and whatever it was, he was not meant to find out, he did not want to, but they would make it anyway. As his captors were running in a long sort of alley, they opened a secret door concealed on the ground, by which they threw Hal. They later jumped through the hole and grabbed again Hal. Now they followed a long, winding hallway.

Whatever the place he was inside right now, the absence of light and the increasing heat recalled him of nightmares and things he head read in fantasy stories. Even as he deemed that as ridiculous things, he could not (and would not) dare to think that his life was about to end. After some minutes, he was dropped to the floor. Only the red light of some lamps in the ground and ceiling revealed where he was and who surrounded him.

—What has happened to you? —wondered Hal as he recognized World’s Bane and Fell Deicide standing before him.

—Only you and your friend remain unscathed—said World’s Bane as he stared deep into Hal’s eyes—. If you search for your friend’s brother, they’ll soon meet again. He has already made a decision.

—You will tell us where the other Perfect Strangers are—asked Fell Deicide—, and what is most important, you will tell us about the new Ancient.

Hal stuttered out of fear. He know nothing what they were speaking of, but he came to panic as he was questioned this:

—And what will you do now? Here… grab this dagger. And do what you see fit.

As cold and simple as these words had been voiced, Hal quickly knew what they intended too, and also, knew what trouble he was going through. If he sacrificed to prevent the rioters from finding Arturo and the other Perfect Strangers, it seemed a good way to die. But if he committed suicide, it would be the most coward act of his life. However, whatever he chose, what could possibly stop the servants of Chattur’gha from finding them?

A War to Start All Wars

As Michael and Alexandra were on the plane, travelling to Sweden, Stockholm, they had been suffering from several nightmares. Seeing events from the past, a distant time, all written in the Tome of Eternal Darkness. They also saw their own adventures and, what disturbed the most, scenes that were happening right now.

How the Ancients had been tainting the Perfect Strangers, how they plotted to choose them and led them to conflict, even how dangerous the issue of the Holy Death cult was; all this recalled the Ancients and nothing more.

As the nightmare seemed to reach no end, they were seeing many images of the Ancients’ intentions for mankind, and their former human servants: Pious Augustus, the Roman Centurion, for Xel’lotath; Gilles de Rais, a deranged knight who was friend to Jeanne D’Arc in the Hundred Years War, chosen by Chattur’gha; and lastly Marcello, a friend of Giordano Bruno, who had been a judged by the same trial who condemned Copernicus.

As the gigantic bodies of the Ancients and their voices overwhelmed the minds of Alexandra and Michael, they saw too the disgusting, rotting mass that Mantorok was. Abruptly, after that followed complete darkness, save for faint, yellow gleaming that was becoming brighter.

An echoing, juvenile voice, which was being drowned by several whispers and growls was calling their names, not only of the Ancients, but also of all the chosen ones, even the Perfect Strangers. Suddenly, that voice spoke its name: Sharanduin

Suddenly, they both woke up.

—Did you… dream… the same? —both said to each other.

—The story hasn’t ended!—whispered Michael, whose fear did not let him to yawn—It can’t be! Would all really happen again!

—What do you mean? —asked Alexandra—That the Tome of Eternal Darkness will take us back right to the beginning? And not only us, but the other chosen ones as well?

—Shut up, girl! —said Michael, quite scared—Don’t say that! I thought of committing suicide the whole time I was carrying one of the Ancients’ essences, that weird thing that corroded the flesh. Even after I had delivered that thing to your grandfather, and when I left you the package with your sword… I was being chased, relentlessly, by those freaks.

—And who will be these guys and girls… the Perfect Strangers—wondered Alexandra—. I heard a voice saying such words, it was clearly referring to them.

—Right now, I think they’re all dead.

—Now who’s the…—said Alexandra, feeling disturbed by the lack of hope of Michael’s words, but she would quickly feel like him as a decisive moment would soon happen—. I hope they are… well, at least we ought to find some of them alive. You know how important were the chosen ones by Mantorok for us, to prevent the Ancients’ return…

—Even though they escaped.

—Maybe you don’t know, but I happened to fight Pious, and the souls of the fallen chosen ones, those who perished because of the Ancients in any way, they helped me in the fight…

—Then, let’s hope those remaining guys are the ones who can help us, not help the Ancients.

—I second that, Mike.

Before the pause became longer, Alexandra and Michael looked each other. They had forgotten something.

—Now… who is this Sharanduin? —wondered Alexandra.

—Don’t look at me like that—said Michael, getting away a little from Alexandra, as her inquisitive gaze met his eyes—. You’re the one who spent most time reading that stuff

—The Tome of Eternal Darkness never mentioned a fifth Ancient. Even the Ancients… they were too worried about each other, especially about Mantorok. Mmmh… Let’s see… Violence, physical power; Mind, Insanity; Wisdom, Magic; Chaos, Order… and Red, Blue, Green and Purple.

—What’s all that stuff you’re babbling?

—It’s related to the Ancients. Gee, you really had forgotten much about what you went through nine years go, eh? Now, let me think… Umh, yes, that’s all I recall now. But, hey… what about that yellow light. That’s got to be his colour.

—I guess that helps us a lot, right?

—I hope you’re not being sarcastic, dude! Now, let’s try to rest again. I guess it’ll be only some hours more till we reach our destination.

—And to have nightmares again about the Ancients?

—At least that Ancient, Sharanduin, doesn’t seem as scary and evil as the others, but I know, it’s an Ancient, so, what could we expect from it?

—I’m getting sick of this. When will this all shit end?

They did nothing more but trying to relax themselves, with the help of some idle chitchat. Eventually they were getting drowsier, but the fear of nightmares always kept them awake. But as boring as the travel was, they had no other choice left but to sleep.

Fortunately for them, the Ancients spared the sanity they had, even Sharanduin did not bother them this time, but it had been watching them as closely as it could, perhaps even more than the others. Moreover, it was watching the slow death of Mantorok, and the increasing urge of Ulyaoth, Chattur’gha and Xel’lotath to be free.

After long days of travelling, and only some swift nightmares, at last Alexandra and Michael had reached Sweden, Stockholm. They were at the Bromma Airport. From there, they would ask for a ride that took them to another long journey, till they reached the town that was nearest to the library where the Codex Gigas was kept.

It was a cloudy day, and such days always seemed to endure longer than the expected, as the greyness of the sky made everyone prone to melancholy. With such a weather, and also, after the nightmares Alexandra and Michael had had, finding someone to help them get there would seem hard. Luckily, they did not spend long time till they found a well-mannered couple. A somewhat young woman was along with them. Both were dressed with rich garments, so even at their old ages, they looked radiant.

The man, who seemed more like a grandfather to the girl who was with them, approached at them with a big grin and confident pace.

—You look rather tired, and in need of a warm lodging—he asked—. Do you already have someone to take you to your destination?

—Emh… no—said Michael—. We’re just… starting to feel a kind of lonely here

—It would be much appreciated. We need lodging for some days, since we are doing some research on a book

—Ooh… a student—said the woman as she smiled—. But, isn’t him too old and big and burly to be your boyfriend?

Alexandra did whatever she could to not yield to a rage attack, so she only smirked swiftly as Michael met her gaze, clearly taken by surprise.

—You ought not to say such things, stop teasing the foreigners—said the man to his wife.

—Oh please, dear!—she said—At least I did something to break the ice.

—Restraint from teasing them, still. It’s not your business about whom she can or can’t date

—Or get laid with…

—Ssshhh! Please, woman! —said the man, laughing.

—Gee… what a funny couple we’ve met—said Michael.

—But we must be thankful—said Alexandra—. It’ll do us fine to forget all the gloom and doom from the Ancients… even Sharanduin.

—Come with us—said the man—. We’ll take you to our home. On the road, you can tell us from whence you came and…

—Stuff like that, I know—replied Alexandra, with a faint tone of sarcasm, to which Michael eyed her with unease.

—Don’t screw up this, girl!—he said.

—Sorry… but I think I’d rather the gloom and doom and now.

—And Sharanduin?

—That Ancient? Well… Mmh, maybe—said Alexandra as she nodded.

Then, the young woman who had been behind the couple, at last showed herself up and greeted Alexandra and Michael.

—And what is your name? —asked Michael—You live with them?

—Oh, I’m in the same situation as you—said the woman.

Alexandra and Michael looked each other swiftly. There was something strange about it.

—You have not answered us—said Alexandra.

—Oh, sorry for that. My name is Claudia, I came here to look for something. But let’s talk about it when we go to home.

Alexandra and Michael got their luggage into the trunk of the car and took their seats. Another travel began, though it would not be as boring as the previous one. Even so, Alexandra hoped she could restrain herself from at least glaring at the somewhat mischievous woman who offered her lodging.

Luckily, it was thanks to the presence of Claudia that the ride did not turn out to be quite boring. In fact, it was interesting, but a hint of danger was hidden.

—And, where are you from, Claudia? —asked Michael.

—Oh, I come from Italy, I was born there—she said—. But now I have just returned from the USA.

—What were you doing there? —asked Alexandra.

—Oh, I was spending some time with dear friends, the Per…

—The Perfect Strangers? —hissed Alex in a low tone.

—How do you know? —inquired Claudia as she felt a slight shiver.

—We’ve been getting to know a lot of things lately—answered Michael, and as he looked at Alexandra, it motioned her to draw closer to Claudia as he did and mumbled—. Perhaps you can help us with some troubles we have.

From that moment, till they reached the house where they would spend the time they needed, Claudia kept absolutely mute. Michael hoped neither he nor Alex had screwed it up, but they would keep an eye on her.

The voice of Sharanduin whispered inside the heads of Michael and Alexandra, startling them, for at first they thought it was Xel’lotath trying to deprive of them of their sanity. Before they came to recognize it, Sharanduin told them:

—She is one of them. Do no let her go.

Right now, as Sharanduin was doing, the other Ancients were aware of their servants’ choices, all were decisive, crucial, to the point that will lead to the ultimate price of saving more than just lives and the Earth. Thus, each mistake, each life lost would trigger a series of losses that would not end until the very return of the Ancients.

But as ignorant as most of mankind was, the Ancients, whether they knew it or not, were becoming slowly affected by an unnerving expectative. They were relying too much on mankind. Whatever power or amount of pride and unfathomable essence the Ancients had, it could not make them impervious to mankind’s thoughts and desires.

The travel lasted for some hours until they got to a town, which sadly, was not near to the city where library exposed the Codex Gigas. Once again, the couple asked the reason of Alexandra’s and Michael’s stay on Stockholm

—We need to reach the National Library of Stockholm—answered Alexandra—. There is an important book we must find.

Michael, who felt something weird was going to happen, eyed swiftly at Claudia. He did not turn to her, but it came to hear that she mumbled something. At the next time she opened her mouth, he heard her whispering the name Codex Gigas.

Claudia closed her mouth out of fear as she looked Michael and Alexandra with fear.

The couple saw the reaction of Claudia and became worried.

—Oh, dear… I guess it must be important. Maybe it’s needed for their studies, and yours as well—said the woman as she looked at Claudia—. But the library is still a long way from here. But don’t be scared, as interested as you are, tomorrow at morning we’ll take you there.

Half an hour later, as the grey sky was turning blue, they came to their house. Once they got their belongings and came into the house, the couple now introduced themselves better.

—It’s a pleasure to have you as guests here, my name is Olavi, and she is my wife, Helen—he said with a big grin as he embraced his wife, thus making a nice scene, what they only needed were sons—. Sadly, we could not have a family of our own, and we think that adopting children will not be a good choice, since our days are numbered… we can feel the end coming. No adopting, no… we’ll just give those children another loss, as if losing their parents was not enough.

—So, we offer lodging to forlorn tourists and travellers—said Helen—. Oh, but we can be severe! We are not alone here, we have good neighbours that will help us to stop you from taking advantage of our generosity.

Alexandra, Michael and Claudia did not answer. In fact, they all looked as children who had been scorned.

—And Claudia… how long has been here? —asked Michael.

—Oh, she arrived a few minutes earlier than you—said Olavi—. We were just to leave the airport when we spotted you.

—Well, thanks for your offer—said Alexandra, feeling somewhat unsettled.

—Oh, but let’s stop talking of this—said Helen—Feel yourselves as if it were your home. We’ll make some coffee for you and leave you alone for as long as you discuss your school issues. Oh, and you’re in company, girl… don’t do something indecent here—she addressed to Alexandra—. Unless of course… you are to take part with her in a…

—Helen, quiet, please! —said Jude, blushing—Now let’s go and leave them alone.

As they retired, Alexandra and Michael looked around them: the exquisite finishing of the furniture, the quietness in the whole place, the portraits in the walls, all this made them to feel as if they were again at the Roivas Mansion. This house looked more like a museum, and Olavi and Helen were living wax statues.

But as tender as Olavi and Helen were, there was no reason to feel afraid.

Now that they were alone, Alexandra, Michael and Claudia sat on a big sofa, and the questioning began.

—Now, you are you indeed? —asked both to Claudia.

—My name is Claudia, and I am one of the Perfect Strangers, Blessed Mother… I’m like their mom—she said with a hint of smile—. But I’m worried about them…I had not received any calls or e-mails from them… even, I had not dreamt about them. Our departure was not meant to be.

—Or perhaps your gathering was not meant to happen—said Alexandra.

—Maybe—said Claudia as she shrugged—, but I feared more the splitting up than the gathering. Something weird had been happening since in… well, one of our parties, there was a disturbance outside the house were we where. World’s Bane and Fell Deicide were the ones who felt most distant after that day.

—Wait… what kind of names you choose for…—said Michael—. But, how many of your club are in?

—We’re twelve members—answered Claudia—. Although we once were thinking about having one more member, since

—An interesting life I suppose—said Alexandra—. But it must be fun.

—You can bet it is!—said Claudia with a smile that relieved for a while—.If only these… weird things had not been happening, we’ll have invited you to one of our concerts.

—Are you in a band?

—We wish… but let’s talk about another thing. Something… that, well, it makes me feel afraid.

—At last—said Michael without noticing the reaction of Claudia.

Now it had come the hour. The following questions would be slightly disconcerting for Claudia, but surely her answers would be for Alexandra and Michael.

—What do you know of the Codex Gigas? —both asked.

—Nothing more than what you might know already—she replied.

—Listen carefully—said Michael—, whatever plans you…

—But I’m looking for the Codex Gigas, as you have guessed.

—Tell me now, which Ancient do you serve? —asked Alexandra, startling Claudia immediately.

Claudia had shown some respectful fear towards occult and obviously, the Codex Gigas, but when she heard the word Ancients, though she did not know what it meant, she felt an increasing, unpleasant sensation in her chest. The way Alexandra stared at her only worsened the situation.

—Which Ancient do you serve? —she said once more.

—What are you speaking about? —said Claudia as her eyes were wide open—. Ancients? What nonsense are you saying? Who are you?

—Now, tell us who you truly are! —said Alexandra pointing at Claudia—Again, which Ancient do you serve?

—Alex, calm down! This is not being helpful! —said Michael.

Alexandra did not realize she could be as well falling into insanity, whether by a trick of Xel’lotath or just a suspicion that Claudia was possessed by a Bonethief, she simply could not stop feeling alarmed.

Then, the three heard the voice of Sharanduin echoing in their heads. Claudia almost cried out, had it not been for Michael’s quick reflexes as he covered her mouth with his hands.

—Do no let her go! I will make her know what she needs…—said Sharanduin.

And in the same way Sharanduin had contacted Arturo, Alexandra and Michael, Claudia saw flashing images in her mind, as the voice of the Ancient was being drown in several whispers. Claudia almost was driven to panic and a non-stop crying when she recognized the faces of her friends, the Perfect Strangers, and how many of them had been chosen by the Ancients, and who had died.

—This can’t be happening! —she gasped, it had been her only response.

—The Codex Gigas is not the only wretched book in the world, Claudia—said Alex.

—And what do you want? —Claudia asked them— Why do you need my help?

—No, we’ll be helping each other—said Michael—. We can’t leave you alone—he noticed that Olavi and Helen had been eavesdropping, but he quickly looked at Claudia, as they returned to the kitchen—. And we’ve got to stay together. Now that we’ve suffered our testing by Sharanduin, the other people could mean a menace to us.

—Because they either won’t believe us or are under the control of the Ancients—said Alexandra.

For some minutes, Claudia did nothing more but to mumble, talking to herself, eyeing everywhere, fearing for an invisible force to seize her and take away her life. She repeated constantly who or what the Ancients were. During that time, the voice of Sharanduin was never heard.

—But… these Ancients. Are they gods?

—Yes, they are—answered Sharanduin, its voice once again took them all by surprise.

—But there can’t be other ones? —Claudia wondered—And why this Sharanduin seems it means to help us. There can’t be anything good apart from God.

—Never said I was—said Sharanduin.

That answer only left them more confused than before. But as the confusion seemed to increase, Michael loomed eyed back at the kitchen and saw no one was looming from the door. Then, realizing that before the three was a table with a television, he turned it on.

If what they were speaking meant something fearful, what they were seeing was far worse than what they expected.

The news on TV were talking about the alarm of the virus spreading to many countries, scenes of Mexico city, which streets seemed more like a ghost town; airports’ flights being cancelled, scientists stating that the virus was a new type of flu which had been mutating into a newer, more dangerous type.

But as they thought that this media alarming news could be distracting from the real problems, they happened to find some random news that were as troubling as the virus outbreak.

It seemed that in some countries, there had been sightings of throngs of people, rioters, who had been causing disturbances in churches and places where cultists from other religions gathered. It was not hard for them, even Claudia realized of it, that the Ancients could be as well behind all these happenings.

As they looked at the expression of Claudia, soon Michael and Alexandra were sharing her fear. If all this was happening right now, who knew what other disasters could be about to happen? All this could be a distraction, the one the Ancients needed to fulfil the preparations for their return. This was perfect for them, and it gave them a great advantage over Alexandra and her friends.

Then, the voice of Sharanduin echoed again in their heads:

—Now people will long to pray for the End of all Death, while the Ancients will hail the End of all Life. This is the War to start all Wars.

Arise of the Believers

Claudia was dumbfounded. She could not stop thinking what the Ancients could intend for mankind, how was it possible for them to wreak havoc as they remained unchallenged and unchecked. She knew that Mantorok had imprisoned them again with the help of a powerful spell by Alexandra Roivas, nine years ago.

Then, Alexandra explained Claudia how did it come for the Ancients to escape from their prison, and how did they battle each other, not knowing that they all had been reduced as puppets of Mantorok, the Corpse God.

—What did you say? —asked Claudia, scared of the expression Corpse God.

—What? —replied Alexandra—. Corpse God? Mmh… Oh, no, no! Claudia, I didn’t mean to offend you. One of the Ancients, Mantorok, is called the Corpse God, but such expression is to that Ancient only. I’m not mocking God.

Feeling slightly relieved, Claudia keep hearing what Alexandra had done with the Tome of Eternal Darkness, and how it had beckoned many chosen ones to lead them to the Ancients, and ultimately, to their demise, not only of the chosen ones, but that of the Ancients. She said that Mantorok, despite being an Ancient, it was actually on the good side.

—That is what it makes you believe—said Claudia—. But how did the three Ancients end up destroying themselves. I thought they were bent on the destruction of mankind together, not plotting their downfall.

Then, Sharanduin told them the following: you can kind of think this through like it was in the Middle Ages.

—At the time of the Inquisition, and this fact might surprise you as well, the Maleus Maleficarum had been created by people who had read the Tome of Eternal Darkness. With such a foreboding aura around it, it was not difficult for the Tome and the Maleus Maleficarum to attract the very haters of the black arts and the Devil, thus leading them slowly into insanity.

‘Furthermore, there is an interesting analogy for you to understand the nature of the Ancients. Think of Xel’lotath as the Queen, Ulyaoth as the Knight or Sage and Chattur’gha as the barbarian or beast. Queen is ravaged by the beast, the Knight slays the beast and vanquishes the barbarian, and as a sage, it rejects superstition; and lastly, the Queen can betray and lead the Knight or Sage to his doom.’’

—It’s like rock, paper, scissors’ game—said Claudia—But what about Mantorok? Don’t tell me that such a monster will play as God, because that would be…

—This is becoming a heated debate—said Michael trying to get Alexandra and Claudia apart from each other—What we must do is to find another place to spend the night.

—Why do you say that? —asked Alexandra.

—We’ve been eavesdropped all the time. Olavi and Helen… those are the ones that give me the creeps.

—That can’t be…

—But I can’t doubt my suspicions towards them. Now, we must do something quick before things go out of control.

In that moment, Olavi and Helen had come out from the kitchen. Their merry faces now were showing a hint of annoyance. When they stood before the three, they said:

—I’m sorry… but you should not address to us like some burglar or spies—said Olavi.

—That doesn’t give you a good image before, us—added Helen.

Olavi seemed a little taller, and Helen body seemed slightly bigger too.

Just in a flash, Olavi lunged at Alexandra and Claudia, his big, strong hands had seized them by their faces, and quickly grabbed their necks. They saw how Olavi was clearly enjoying watching the fear in them. As for Helen, she was trying to bite the face and the neck of Michael. Even as he was burly enough to repel her, he felt that Helen was becoming heavier.

Michael could not help but feel panic as he looked how Alexandra and Claudia had passed out because of the strangling of Olavi. Helen did manage the hand of Michael, and then, quickly cocked her and struck again, as a rabid dog. The very feeling of her teeth trying to tear apart his clothes was enough disgusting for him to bear.

He managed to hit her as hard as he could on the face, hearing her nose cracking. When Olavi saw him, he lunged at him, but oddly, he stopped dead. He and Helen stared to shiver and let out loud, painful cries. Their voices quickly turned raspy as they shouted as loud as they could, feeling pain dealt by an unseen force.

Both fell down to the ground and were twitching, and scratching themselves in their faces and body, trying to tear apart their clothes. Their bodies arched and stretched in unnatural ways as their cries seemed more and more loud. Michael plugged his ears. Slowly, anything made out of glass in the house began to crack, and some things did broke apart.

After some minutes, they all stopped squirming and yelling. Michael did not dare to look at their faces.

—It is done—said the voice of Sharanduin echoing in Michael’s mind.

Michael felt terribly scared and powerless. He raised his gaze, as if hoping to find something breaking in through the ceiling.

—What? Did you kill them? —he asked.

—Yes. They were possessed by Bonethieves—the Ancient replied—. The only chance you had was my alliance with you. But, had you managed to kill them, it would have ended up in you committing a crime and being sent to prison.

Michael did not know what to answer. Even saying Thanks was weird for him.

—Now you must go. Find another shelter for the night, and prepare to depart to the library where the Codex Gigas is kept.

—What about them? —asked Michael looking at last to the corpses of Olavi and Helen, who now looked as if they had suddenly fallen dead.

—The corpses of the Bonethieves inside them have disappeared—said Sharanduin—. Thus, it will seem they had suffered from a heart seizure…

—Or something else—added Michael—. Anyway, I’ll move away the body of the woman, it’ll seem strange for her to be along his husband.

After placing the corpse in the kitchen, for Michael did not want to linger anymore in the house, he recalled that Alexandra and Claudia were still lying on the ground, fainted, or dead, he did not know. When he came out from the kitchen, he sighed out of relief. Alexandra and Claudia were waking up.

—What happened? —they asked.

—You’d rather not to know—he said—. Well, surely you would—he addressed to Alexandra.

But when they both stared at the corpse of Olavi, they recalled how he tried to kill them. Then, Michael told them.

—Now, grab your belongings, we’ll go out of here.

Alexandra and Claudia did not waste time to ask for details. They grabbed their luggage and came out from the house. Michael looked for the keys of the car in the pockets of Olavi’s pants. He did it as quick as he could, for he still feared the corpse would rise and attack him.

As soon as Michael found the keys, he got from the house, locked the door and ran as fast as he could to the car where Alexandra and Claudia were.

—There! Now, go, go! —he cried to Alexandra.

She started the engine and drove away from the house. When she realized she was going too fast, she slowed down the speed, fearing any police officer could stop them. The last thing she would want was for authorities to stop them for something liked going with excess of speed. But it could be more dangerous if they found the corpses of Olavi and Helen, and blamed Alexandra, Michael and Claudia.

But the Ancients would not blame, they would simply utter their warning, no ultimatum, save for those who truly sought to forsake anything that made them human, in order to become property of the Ancients (as pets or servants, anyway, they would be degraded).

It was nightfall, and they spent some longs hours trying to find a hotel. Upon finding the nearest one, they asked for a good yet not expensive room for them, and after having paid, they rushed directly at it. The people who saw them did not stop thinking some suggestive ideas about them.

But sleeplessness was sure to take hold of them. And as they began talking about the recent events and discoveries, Sharanduin spoke to them again.

—The time is coming closer. Now only for the Ancients return. For they have fooled their humans servants by making them to think their return would only be able after they had offered them sacrifices, loyalty and some minor preparations.

‘The true event that will be the sign for the Ancients’ return will be the death of Mantorok. The Corpse God, the Keeper of the Ancients will at last perish in its own temple, now its tomb. The followers of the Ancients must never find the Codex Gigas, whether it happens before or after the death of Mantorok’’

‘Whoever the Ancient comes out first, will inevitably give its followers the Tome of Eternal Darkness, the real one. Right now, the human servants think they all have the real tome, and hardly few will come to even suspect that there could be another Tome, but they all are false. When an Ancient, after having granted them full powers and the real Tome to its servants, they will search the Codex, and both the Tome and the Codex will reveal the three lost pages.’’

—Stop talking! What you say only leaves us in a very bad position! —said Michael—We’re going to lose!

—Significant losses, but it must happen for both believers and non-believers to be in the middle of the battle—said Sharanduin.

—What are you talking about? —asked both Alexandra and Claudia, whose shock would seem to never end.

—It is true—replied Sharanduin—. But if you have ever come to think how come life in Earth, despite being threatened and having suffered wars and famines and pests, it has not reached an end. No human or beast can truly lead mankind to extinction, only a god has the power and right to accomplish that.

—God, not god or gods—said Claudia, trembling—. This is nonsense! And, power, right, accomplish! Can you listen yourself! Can you listen? Do you pay attention to what it’s saying? —she addressed to Michael and Alexandra—What is this about?

—But it is happening, even if you never come to understand, perhaps, even after your death. Otherwise, why would you need to know what happened truly during the many ages of the human life in Earth if you have been granted eternal mirth in Paradise?

‘Consider yourselves fortunate for knowing all this, everything that will be sure to happen. There are some non-believers and believers would find themselves as shocked as you are, and in death, they all will be the same for the Ancients, but not for God. Know, Claudia, that four of the Ancients were at the very time of the Crucifixion of Jesus, many years ago… I was not there because…’’

—You are not God! —cried Claudia

—No, I am not! —replied Sharanduin with a loud, thunder-like voice this time, the whole place trembled and even it could be heard the alarms of the cars outside ringing, and people shouting out there too—. You will come to know what I am when the threshold of the Eternal Darkness appears in Earth.

Before Claudia, or Alexandra or Michael could reply anything, an unseen force seized them and made them fall to the ground, asleep.

Meanwhile, back in Mexico, at the hidden lair of the followers of Chattur’gha, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide were summoned, along with more of the rioters, to a new improvised shrine, this time, reeking of foetor and decay. Unnatural structures, pits of burning blood and a giant threshold, shaped like in some sort of pincers, arose at the end of a long hallway were revealed to the sight of the cultists.

But what it seemed a long hallway was indeed a long, narrow bridge, which extended itself over a deep abyss, the borderless road led from the shrine room to a huge round platform where the threshold was. There, a huge flame, sparkling with red rays was glowing there. A faint image was being seen there, and it showed an odd, giant head of a weird creature with several mouths and small eyes.

To the platform were heading a group of the cultists, who were escorting a young boy. World’s Bane and Fell Deicide had him seized him by his harms. Once they came to the platform, before the threshold, Chattur’gha spoke to him.

—Maese Alastair… Ulises. What can you offer or say for me to not ravage your flesh?

—The other pagan cults are nothing compared to this… we rely more in strength, the flesh, where our true abilities can develop into something beyond, but only granted by Chattur’gha—said World’s Bane.

—Which is your response? —asked Fell Deicide.

—First of all, I find people talking about “paganism” annoying. There is no such religion as “paganism”–there were dozens of entirely different religions floating around northern Europe in classical and medieval times, not to mention Greco-Roman “paganism”.

But that was the only time where Ulises could feel brave enough to not yield to fear. Just a flashing image of him being with his family, and was all he needed to feel fear.

—But you think of us as Satanists, don’t you?—asked both World’s Bane and Fell Deicide.

—As for Satanism, why is it more of a genuine expression of the self than Christianity? —answered Ulises— Theistic Satanism is just Christianity turned upside down, managing to make the religion even more repugnant than it already was, and LaVeyan Satanism strikes me as a form of atheism for people who are too self-serving and assholish to adopt secular humanism or other common atheistic philosophies that actually require you to think about people other than yourself.

—I’m not sure what I hate more, the dudes who blather on about faith—said one of the cultists—or the ones who talk a bunch of pseudoscientific facts.

—Both are the same kind of losers who can’t deal with reality—said another one.

Chattur’gha heard them, and with a growl, he made the whole place to tremble, but oddly, Ulises, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide, along with some of the cultists, did not waver. In fact, it seemed as if they were a part of the structure, so strongly bound to it. However, as for the cultists who had spoken, clearly showing some sort of disrespect, fall over the structure and fell into the abyss. The deeper they went, the louder their screams they were.

Then, it could be heard more desperate, piercing cries, as if they were being devoured alive or had fallen into lava.

—Should anyone else remain still attached to human nonsense when speaking, consider yourselves doomed! —said Chattur’gha as his voice was drowned by several human cries and growls.

Another cultist dared out to speak.

—Come on, say your choice in the matter! Belong to us or die. As short as your life has been, your death will not be a one to be long remembered.

—Haha! That’s nonsense. Are you speaking of Jesus? Whatever that man was… I had not heard from his (as if I really cared about that) in a long time. But, what? A death to be long remembered… well, if you said that, it’s assuming he existed… at all.

Chattur’gha made again the whole place to tremble, and the cultist fell over the structure, deep into the abyss. His cries seemed to be louder and more painful than those of the previous fallen ones.

—I will ask you no more—said Chattur’gha—I will spare your life for now. And behold, and grasp what you will go through now: I shall keep you alive to feel overwhelmed by your lack of decision, your silence will speak clearer and louder than any hopeful or daring word you ever come to speak. Consider yourself fortunate, for others will only be able to scream in pain as the ones you have seen.

And thus, the other Ancients had been testing their followers. While more riots had been happening, the media kept alarming the people about the virus and crimes and wars seemed to be left in oblivion, the Ancients found every signal for their return in their favour.

Xel’lotath for example, had summoned her followers at the Stonehenge, never minding that her exposing could draw too much attention. She actually felt with enough power to defy the humans and whatever means they have to conquer. Her servants too had caused panicked with massive suicides of her rioters when they were spotted.

But her ceremony for testing her servants was, perhaps, the more disturbing: Xel’lotath had summoned Bonethieves, Guardians and Horrors to prevent any hesitant follower from escaping. The task for this monster was a gruesome one: to behead all of them, at the sight of the giant eye of Xel’lotath, whose maniacal laughing could be heard everywhere.

In that ceremony, stood Animaiden and Morrigan, shocked and paralyzed. Not only were they witnessing the gruesome transformation of the servants, falling dead as they were decapitated but rising on their feet later. However, the thing that truly made them scream and wish to be dead, was that Xel’lotath showed them corpse of her friend, Sylvia, being carried by Xel’lotath Zombies. They’ve placed her before them. It was beheaded too, but still dead. That was the warning Xel’lotath

As for Ulyaoth, his meeting had taken place underneath an abandoned factory in Churchill. There it had shown his followers the strange, huge machines that it had invented, with which it planned tot transform men’s souls into energy, and making experiments as to understand what man truly was.

As for Mantorok, he was rotting in his temple, now a tomb. He soon would be alone, had not been for the ghosts of the previous chosen ones. They all knew that Mantorok would soon die, for the flesh of Mantorok, as dry as it was, exposed only three hears that were throbbing slowly. One of them stopped beating, and Mantorok exhaled a painful groan.

Eternal Darkness

Mantorok was truly at his last moments. Surrounded by the ghostly shapes of the previous chosen ones who helped them to stop the Ancients, even when it seemed the Ancients were winning. The ghosts shown saddened faces, and as they were about to cry, no voice came out from their mouths.

There they were: Ellia, the slave dancer; Anthony, the Frankish page; Karim, the Persian adventurer; Maximilian Roivas, the deranged scholar; Paul Luther, the Franciscan monk; Roberto Bianchi, the architect from the Renaissance; and lastly, Edward Roivas, the grandfather of Alexandra.

Only Peter Jacob, the war journalist, and Edwin Lindsey, the archaeologist were not present. They, though having suffered from the insanity and the terrors from the Ancients, managed to survive their adventures and died in the peacefulness of old age.

No words were voiced, no tears were shed. The only noises were those of the throbbing hearts, the growls and guttural moans of Mantorok, his many mouths coughing bits of dried flesh and bone.

One of its hearts stopped beating. All the ghosts were crying in silence, but no tear came out from their eyes.

Long hours passed, and the ghosts never stopped crying, staring at the bulging mass of Mantorok. Even its eyes were dry and rotting, only few of them were still healthy, blinking constantly. Should a human came to witness this, perhaps, after coughing or throwing up because of the stench, would feel some compassion.

The hours seemed endless as the last black heart of Mantorok kept throbbing with difficulty. The ghosts kept crying, but it seemed they were more like ethereal statues, not ghosts of winding shapes

Mantorok kept coughing and groaning. Some guttural moans came out from some of its mouths, while others stopped moving. Some of its eyes stopped blinking. They remained frozen, staring aimlessly, while others had been shut forever.

Then, there was sudden rumble, the whole place shook itself violently, making Mantorok feeling an unbearable pain, one that the Ancients would have never imagined. The enchanted stakes that impaled its flesh and kept him imprisoned, thanks to a binding spell cast by Pious Augustus many years ago, was taking its final toll on the Corpse God.

The last black heart of Mantorok stopped throbbing as the quake ended. The ghosts lowered their heads and disappeared. All the huge eyes were shut and some mouths remained open, as if trying to still breathe.

Thus, Mantorok, the Corpse God, had died. It was no longer a God, just a corpse.

Meanwhile, around the world, the virus outbreak, who some had thought to be a lie, a trick of the governments to lead people into paranoia and not making them realize of the incoming crisis that was to come, new riots had begun. More and more of the rioters, followers of the Ancients, were driving people into a non-stop madness, and whenever they were trapped, they committed suicide.

Only very few people, aside from the Perfect Strangers, and Alexandra and Michael knew what was happening. For the rest, it was just another issue that should be taken lightly (as cynical as it could sound), for others it was surely the Doomsday. There were people, who, believers or non-believers struggled to not fall prey to panic and stopped being spectators. They helped themselves to whoever needed it, even when there was no endangering situation.

For those who were rude, it was of concern for the Ancients, and it was allowed to some people to feel some pity for them. Unlike the public slaughters and suicide of the rioters, those pariahs who jeered at the suffering of others or took advantage for committing crimes, simply were found dead or insane a few days later.

Back in Stockholm, Alexandra, Michael and Claudia were heading to the National Library to find the Codex Gigas. At some point they came to think that Sharanduin will betray them and lead them to the ultimate ordeal of insanity. They never heard the voice of Sharanduin since they woke up.

When they come, it seemed nothing serious would happen. All of a sudden, they saw rioters appearing out of nowhere, and clearly recognized the symbols they wore on their shirts. They were symbols of Xel’lotath.

—Quick! Into the library! —cried Michael.

Eternal Darkness: Arise of the Believers (Part Two)

Breaking the Silence

—Alexandra…—whispered Michael to Alexandra as he went into the kitchen.

—What do you want? —she asked, somewhat annoyed.

Michael saw that Alexandra had not been preparing any meal at all.

—What’s happened? Are you not hungry? —he asked.

—I can’t even do something as a meal right now—she replied. Now, what do you want?

—You keep weapons here, on your grandfather’s room?

—What? Why do you ask? What’s wrong with you?

—I’m warning you… we are alone already, and if we don’t want to, then we must choose carefully with who we will be.

—Stop saying bulls…

—Calm down, girl! I tell you, Evan… might not be Evan indeed.

—Why do you say that?

—Because after I heard some noise in the library, I opened the door and found him on the ground. He stood up and picked up the books he had scattered. However, something didn’t look right with his head. His neck looked as if it was… well, out of place.

—Come with me.

They went upstairs to the room of Edward Roivas, there it were the weapons Alex had used nine years ago, even the enchanted Gladius, glowing with a bloody, fire-like aura.

—Alex, don’t you think we might not be able to use that sword?

—What?

—We haven’t been using… our powers since, well, those days.

—But what are we going through, eh? And I know I’m not the only one who has been hearing whispers and seen weird people.

—The whispers part, I understand that… as for the weird people, well, you speaking of the urban tribes?

—Oh, don’t be so… naïve.

Both grabbed a gun of their own, and Alex picked up the enchanted Gladius and wrapped it in some clothes. Some of the glowing could be seen through it, but Alex didn’t mind. She grew very impatient when it came to silent, stalking situations.

When they approached to the door of the library, Evan already was opening it and said:

—Gee… I guess I’m a total stranger for you, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. It’s a fair deal, huh? And by the way, why did you tell her?

Michael and Alexandra eyed to each other. They hesitated about what to do next.

—You ought to know better, kid—said Alex—. If you hold in so high an esteem my grandfather, why do you end up making a mess of his library?

—I was just excited—Evan replied—. Gosh, have you ever spent some time just looking at the tons of books he has here? No, you rather spend time thinking on…

—Watch your mouth kid or you’re so going to be ass-kicked out of here!

—Nice answer for the granddaughter of a respected scholar. I guess no one of the family remains alive to bear the shame of the last in line… that being you.

—One more word, and I’ll help Alex for busting you out of here.

Evan felt offended and turned around, he mumbled something inaudible for Alex and Michael and kept browsing the books he had place on a nearby sofa.

—I don’t know… maybe this kid is just a weird geek—said Alex in a hushed voice as she turned to Michael.

—Whatever he is… but I know what I saw—said Michael.

—Anyway, it’s dangerous. If he’s one of the Ancients’ creatures… what shall we do with the corpse?

—Let’s hope his father never comes here.

—OK, just before something worse happens… what kind of creatures did you face when in that temple? Surely you recall their names, right?

—I didn’t want to recall that, Alex. Anyway, and despite it’s happened some years ago, I still think it of that as it had happened yesterday.

—Which creatures?

—Zombies, they’re common. Although, I saw more of the dark, skinny ones. The Horrors, those were a real pain in the ass, damn monsters! They and the Reapers. There were also those weird, squeaky critters, the Trappers. Oh, and those weird worms. They had a spiked mouth.

—You never seen any Bonethieves?

—What?

—Wait… that’s it. Keep your guns and be ready. I’ll handle that Evan with the sword.

They hid their guns in their jeans and returned to the library. They couldn’t hide their nervousness, and though they had scorned Evan, they thought of him as a cold, proud boy. He already had defied Alex when recalling her of her grandfather, and surely it would start on Michael.

Back at the library, Alex placed the wrapped Gladius on the mantelpiece. Michael waited for her and then, walked alongside, staring at Evan, who was sat calmly on a lonely couch at a corner of library, which led to the favourite room of Edward.

Such a sight really unsettled her, and now all trace of fear seemed to vanish. Nine years ago, in that library had taken place a gruesome murder, what remained of Edward had really shocked her, and it was thanks to the Tome of Eternal Darkness, that she knew who the perpetrator was. But now, after that and many other unthinkable events, Evan had gone to and fro as if he owned the place, and to him, Alex and Michael were the strangers.

As for Evan, whatever trace of discomfort he had, it was gone, but he felt rather restful, unlike Alex. How naturally he browsed through the pages, the gestures on his face, even how he grumped, all that were just fuelling Alex’s anger.

However, as bothered as she was, she and Michael were walking too slowly. It was useless for them to realize of that, and they tried to pretend to search for a random book. Evan didn’t mind them, he never eyed at them or turned to them. As motionless as he was, it seemed to him that there was no one in the mansion but him.

Then, they heard Evan saying:

—You could have been excellent vessels, great supporters… but now, the two remaining living heroes will perish.

Calmly, Evan stood up and left his reading. His pace was firm, his gaze fixed upon Alex and Michael. They could not stand it, for they either looked to the ground or to the walls, but as Evan approached at them, they eyed each other or looked somewhere else. They realized too late they were stepping backwards, and then, Evan was close to Alexandra.

In just a blink, he sprang onto Alexandra, trying to strangle her.

As both fell to the ground, Michael readied his gun. He fumbled the gun at first, and missed a shot. At the next one, the bullet went through Evan’s chest. Alex screamed.

—Watch it! Something… Damn! He’s… like a ghost!

—Or he’s way too thin! —said Michael.

With the sight of Alex struggling to get rid of Evan’s grip, Michael didn’t hold the gun correctly, and shot again. The bullet went through Evan’s neck and Alex barely moved her head, dodging the bullet. The strength of Evan seemed unnatural to a boy his age, and Michael felt more desperate as Alex’s eyes became red and her screams became gasps, each one weaker than the previous.

Just a glance of Evan’s face, his smirk and cold stare, all that was enough for Michael to muster up the enough courage to drop the gun, run to the mantelpiece and unpack the Gladius. Then, he dashed to where Evan was choking Alex, and kicked him as hard as he could on his face. The cracking noise sounded unnaturally loud to the ears Alex and Michael.

And so it were the grunts and hisses of Evan. He startled mumbling indistinctly, but each word caused itchiness, and later it felt like stabbings for Alex and Michael. She lied on the ground, crying and fighting to regain some breath. And Michael was almost to drop the sword if had not been for Evan’s proximity. This time he didn’t jump at him like a lion would do, he just walked imperturbably to him.

A stab was the response, but it had been on Evan’s chest. Michael drew out the sword as fast as he could and tried to behead him. It didn’t work out as he expected, not only because of Evan’s attempt to dodge it, but also the fact that was each sound too loud for his ears, even his thoughts were like a deafening roar to him.

With another swing of the sword, Evan’s head was cut off. There was spattering sound that made both Alex and Michael that her heads had exploded. Alex could hardly move, as she didn’t stop crying and gasping, a throbbing pain took hold of all her body. On the other hand, Michael could not close his eyes to the disgusting sight he had before him.

A thin, mantis-like creature, blood-stained yet with hints of a dark green stood before him. It was not tall, but its scythe-like arms made him vicious looking. It had no head, and above its neck floated three green lights.

Before the creature leaped directly to the head of Michael, he swung the Gladius, and luckily, managed to chop off one of its arms. He had never faced a creature like that nine years ago, but he knew what that creature meant: the Bonethief would burrow into his chest to possess him.

Alexandra was still on the ground, though she was recovering her breath. She struggled to sit down on the ground. Despite the fight that was taking place before her, she could hardly open her eyes and something to help Michael.

When the Bonethief tried to leap again and behead Michael, he dodged it and lunged upon him. There, he stomped it as hard as he could and landed a heavy blow on the creature’s chest. The three bright spots on the creature’s neck faded away.

Panting, and cleaning her face with her clothes, Alexandra stood up.

—At last you killed him… Those fucking demons are really hard to kill.

Suddenly, they were startled again, for they heard someone was knocking at the door, it was from the lobby hall, someone meant to enter at the mansion! Muffled shouts could be heard behind it, and soon the door was opened.

In the mansion were now another young boy of similar looks like Evan, and he came along with a burly, short-bearded man, a police officer. He surely must have had looked quite authoritative in the past, but right now, sweat was treading his face, and his stare had eyes with more fear. His features were not one of a man who knew how much was at stake on his job.

He already had drawn his gun, and aimed at the open door of the library.

—Come out, whoever you are, hands up!

—Evan, Evan! Are you there! —exclaimed the young boy.

Alexandra and Michael almost thought they would fall fainted as they heard the footsteps of that young boy looking for Evan. Before the shock of the grisly sight that would appear to his eyes, fear had paralyzed both Alex and Michael. In their helplessness, they could not stare each other, but simply waited for the boy to come and see them… and then, came in the police officer.

The blood-splattered ground, the beheaded body of Evan and the most disgusting corpse of the Bonethief were lying on the ground. The boy almost threw up as he lowered the sight after seeing Alexandra and Michael. Before he suffered a nervous breakdown, the police officer covered the boy’s eyes with one hand, and with other, threatened them with the gun.

—You, don’t move a muscle! Now… what just happened here!? —he could hardly believe what his eyes were staring at—What kind of joke is this?

Alexandra, breathing heavily, replied:

—I wish… it… was that… easy…

—Explain yourself better, young lady! —said the police officer.

—We wished it was that, a joke—said Michael, placing slowly the sword on the ground—. Whether you believe us or not, I’ll tell you… now you won’t be safe anymore.

The police officer looked at the corpse of the morbid-looking creature, which was disappearing in an odd way, as if it was decomposing quite fast.

—Listen now—added Michael—, you are just a few seconds to take the right choice, but I don’t mean it is precisely in our favour but of the Ancients.

The police officer shot at the ground, annoyed.

—Don’t even try, Mike! —said Alexandra—He’s clearly losing his mind already.

—You two are coming with me, right now! What a pair of twisted psychos we have here… damn!

The young boy who came with the officer shuddered and fell fainted to the ground. That was the diversion Alexandra and Michael needed to escape, yet the police officer had quick reflexes and shot at them, and missing them by just an inch. Michael stopped abruptly after the shot, turned around and lunged at the officer. Struggling on the ground, he managed to take away the gun but the police officer countered with a stiff headbutt.

Feeling dizzy, Michael lied on the ground, and the officer readied the hand cuffs for submitting him. Alexandra had seen it all, and did nothing now. She still was trying to regain her breath, and she meant nothing more for now but to remain still and don’t taunt the officer.

—But… what now? —she muttered—What will we do, now? If things get real bad… what if he doesn’t see the things that are haunting us right now?

As the officer put the hand cuffs on Michael’s hands, she whispered:

—Ha! I never thought I’d say… but I kinda will thank any creature to appear all of a sudden here and attack us again. Maybe he’ll be on our side once he sees what we suffer.

—Stop muttering, girl! —shouted the police officer, his face trembling with anger—You’re bothering me! And you better stay quiet right there!

When Alex saw him coming closer to her, she slowly stepped backwards, and tried to turn around and runaway. With a cold stare and unwavering pulse, the police officer aimed at Alexandra.

He surely would have shot her in the back, had not been for a gruesome sight behind him.

The headless body of Evan was regaining on his feet, and with slumbering pace at first, it approached at the police officer. Then, all of a sudden, started walking with a normal pace, and in short time his arms soon were to reach the officer’s neck.

With a yelp, the police officer ran away, but not before without having shot at the corpse twice. He crashed with Alexandra, making her to fall to the ground. While she stood up, she glimpsed how the officer hurriedly went up the staircase and thundered through the second floor’s door.

And Alex, before she was again strangled, she dodged as fast as she could the monster and went again for the enchanted Gladius on the ground. She cut the hands and feet of the creature, making it fall with a loud thump to the ground, which noise made her to suffer from a headache. Alexandra knelt to attend Michael.

—Hey, come on, wake up!

Groaning, Michael turned around. Alexandra helped him to stand up, but quickly stood motionless. She realized of something.

—Damn! We’re lost! The officer surely will call for reinforcements… and… No, fuck! This can’t be! We’re going to end up like Maximilian Roivas, or even worse! Grandpa… Please, help me!

At first, she thought a faint light had shone above her, but when she looked up for the third time, she gasped out of fear and quickly led Michael to the secret room of the library, through a hidden passage, a narrow road that led to Edward’s secret study room, where he kept most of his really interesting findings and research. As soon as she reached it, she came in and slam shut the door. Even so, she knew how futile would that be against what had just come into her mansion.

Alexandra had never dared to turn back to prove what she had seen. Being on the library was already enough, so no déjà vu was needed. The Tome of Eternal Darkness had once given her information about how his grandfather had been murdered, and right now it seemed she would suffer the same fate.

In the library, the green, gleaming light had materialized into a grotesque monster: it was a pair of headless male bodies, bonded by their hips. Their skin was green and red on their limbs. It seemed to moan sometimes, or chant in an echoing, disturbing deep voice that became a series of hisses. It moved somewhat awkward as it crawled. Despite its apparent clumsiness, it had a bequest that would be accomplished in one way or another.

Back at the secret study room, Alexandra and Michael did not know what to do now. They had the enchanted Gladius, but did they still have the powers from the Tome? Also, the Xel’lotath Guardian was not the only one of their worries. There was the officer. Would he run away and tell others what he saw? Or would the mansion swallow him, Alexandra and Michael in a pit of insanity?

Private Murders, Public Slaughters

The times the Perfect Strangers had spent together had gone from little issues to some problems that could get really serious.

First, it had been the discussion about a possible rise of paganism in the USA, and, given the facts about the distinct religions each of the Perfect Strangers had, a big uproar was sure to come. Although it didn’t escalate to something to regret, yet for Arturo, things like that were always something hard for him to endure.

And no one knew anything about the strange finding of World’s Bane and Fell Deicide. What they had experienced that night was something they would never have expected in dreams or sensations their favourite music attempted to make them feel, at least by a glimpse. On that night, they couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by that power, and now, knowing they possessed some amount of it, all human traits and constructs would slowly fade away.

Or they could suddenly rise up and show themselves to the world. Even so, they were still humans, their lives were so fragile and there were many things to worry about than an impending doom. Let humanity to be as nonchalant as they wish, there’s a good moment for everything: some took advantage of those chances; others simply were not able to see those who had the chances, only when it was real late.

This and more things were not in the minds of the Perfect Strangers, despite the heated discussion of paganism, the next days after that were spent with long hours of concerts at the home of World’s Bane, and hanging out at the malls or parks. One of those days, a kid approached at them, making his parents and other people watch him with fear as the boy came to the menacing group. Then, the boy asked them what band were them.

Before the women threatened to cuddle him to death, they told him they were the Perfect Strangers, and that not all of them were musicians. They also told him they were not a band.

—Ha, who would have thought? —said Oriana—That kid is surely wishing we were a band.

—One of these days…—said Ulises—, we’ll make his dream come true.

—Until then—said Ash Crimson—, let’s keep being gloom and doom.

When it was only three days for the end of the week, at night, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide got up at 3:00 am. With all stealth possible

—Now… how we’ll use them? —asked Fell Deicide.

—A fine hour to discuss these things—whispered World’s Bane.

—Complain later. On this week we’ve been hanging out together for a lot of time.

—You still enjoy their company?

—What? You’re not a monster still, are you?

—But shouldn’t be so hasty about this!

Then, a rumbling, guttural voice was heard, yet only by them.

—You are as naïve and fragile as the rest of humans. Chattur’gha speaks to you, morsels.

World’s Bane and Fell Deicide shuddered and stood motionless, as on the ground appeared a searing pit of flame, surrounded by nine runes of lava-like colour.

—Choose right now! Will you have the rest of your friends with us, or will they feed my hunger? If other Ancient calls them, it still might not be a problem.

—And you told me I should not be hasty—said World’s Bane looking at Fell Deicide.

—I expect you to be somewhat patient, human morsels—said Chattur’gha—. But an excess of it bears the name of cowardice! The patience I speak you regards the other Ancients choosing of their followers… or you killing them.

—But, only that? —asked Fell Deicide.

—No, and you will know why—replied Chattur’gha—I want you to create a sect, what you spoke about paganism was a good hint for my plans. I need you to travel to a far place of the world, where a truly relic is kept. The Codex Gigas.

—That book…—whispered World’s Bane—The one Oriana and Blessed Mother spoke of. What do you need it?

—That book has lost three pages, the Tome of Eternal Darkness has three blank pages, which content will be revealed as soon as you uphold my bequests. Despite your allegiance to me, you still are little pawns that, along with the rest of mankind, will feed my hunger and power for my return.

‘Gather more followers, choose the proper ones, and should the chances come, ravage any enemies that you encounter. Do not worry about human problems of these modern times, these are actually improving the setting for the return of the Ancients’’.

—But, doesn’t that mean that you might be endangered by them? —asked Fell Deicide—. Why don’t you want them destroyed before they appear again?

—If you want to feel closer to the Ancients, and not give them reasons to forsake you, don’t question about that. You will later grasp it.

The burning pit and its symbols disappeared quickly, and World’s Bane and Fell Deicide found themselves mumbling indistinctly. An unsettling feeling took hold of them, they felt as little children who had just been scorned harshly. Despite being together, both fell quite alone at that moment, on that hour. And as they returned to their rooms, that feeling increased. They hardly felt safe when they leaned on their beds and realized of the company of the other Perfect Strangers.

They were like that for long minutes, until their eyelids felt heavier, and a deeper darkness of sleep finally stripped them away of any worry and fear. What would they face the next day? Maybe the Ancients, and only them would know.

For the next days, things were normal again, save for some random heated discussions, which Arturo, Oriana and Blessed Mother always struggled to end. When that didn’t work, it was just for someone to suggest a midnight concert and booze, and all anger was replaced, somehow. The rage and thrill of the lyrics and vocals were still there in the music, but that was something that in no way meant any harm for them.

At the very last day of the week, the Perfect Strangers would depart. Early in the morning they had gone to the bus station to leave Arturo, Ulises and Hal, who offered to still hang out with them a little longer. The others would stay at the place of Fell Deicide for a couple of days as they had to prepare the baggage for their long travels. It would be a long session of dropping each member on airports.

Who would have to travel farther were Ash Crimson, Shermie, Morrigan, Animaiden. The first two to France, Morrigan to Scotland and Animaiden to Japan. Oriana, Blessed Mother, Nemrod, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide will remain in the USA for a while.

On a cloudy day, while Ash Crimson and Shermie were enjoying their date, they found an odd house, for its door was a huge glass. Before realizing it, their curiosity had led them to a sort of fun house, it was a maze full of mirrors.

—Hello, there! —said the man who owned the place.

—Eh!? Ooh… don’t scare us like that!—said Shermie

—Are we the only ones in this place? —he asked, and the guard eyed at a couple who was just turning to the left in a distant hallway.

—Oh, I see… How much is going to…?

—Nothing… I mean, you can pay when you reach the exit of the maze.

—What are we waiting for, Ash? —said Shermie.

Shermie took his hand and led him into the maze. The guard stood motionless at the entrance door. He just eyed them with a somewhat annoyed look, then he quickly closed his eyes and heaved a long sigh.

Though it seemed Ash and Shermie were to desperate as they could not find the exit, in few minutes they thought to find the right way in the maze. However, something was not right. At anytime, they should have already reached the couple they had seen when they entered. But there was no trace of them, not even giggles or chatting. The maze was quite silent.

Suddenly, Shermie noticed something that startled her. At first she thought she had seen another person in one the mirror walls. But then, she realized that her reflected self was not moving like her, and so it happened with the image of Ash.

Before feeling trapped in a narrow hallway, they ran until they reached a circular room. Suspecting something dangerous, they tried to escape from that place, but only to find there were no doors. At that point, the mirrors were annoying, and the feeling that place gave was no less disturbing: the floor and the ceiling had a mirror surface, although the ceiling had opening holes for the lamps.

The reflected images of Ash and Shermie were moving at their own will.

Both stood motionless, and they stopped gasping as their reflected images seem to mock them and glare at them. Then, the clones in the mirror floor and ceiling started hitting the surface, they were trying to break through it!

Ash and Shermie could not speak or move at all.

Overwhelmed. That was how they felt on such situation. But as mute and immobile as they were, the only movement on them was that of the swelling of their chests out gasps and the shivering of their hands. Strangely, they could hear their heartbeats louder and louder.

A swift blackout took place at that moment, and there was a glimpse of a gigantic green rune appearing on the floor. It did not matter how long did they looked at it, or if they could discern it completely, the very second they watched it, their heads shivered and felt too cold.

—The one who makes the choices are us…—said a spectral, female voice.

—But if you prove worthy to us—said another voice, with a mischievous, sibilant tone—, we might let you keep your lives and sanity for a long time.

—Help us to achieve our greatest plan, without failing, and then, we shall truly grant you to remain by our side unspoiled, and also, we shall grant you unique blessings, so that you can renounce forever of the frail state you possess as humans.

Ash and Shermie could not move still, and the dizziness became worse as the room started to tremble. They were listening to rocks being moved under the earth.

They still could not speak, yet their minds were already working… and they could not realize how big their need of feeling safe was, whatever the cost. They were trapped now, hidden, and stripped of any shelter from their fears and sufferings. Should there have been anyone nearby, they could expect whoever that person was helped them. There was no one at sight. And, right now, Ash and Shermie thought that even if someone outside came to think something strange was happening at that Fun House, it was an issue pretty irrelevant.

Something could have happened, something else should have happened. And many thoughts flashed in the minds of Ash and Shermie, the later ones were more of fear and helplessness. And as one would have expected, surely they would have seen their whole lives passing in a swift time. Nothing happened. They were still trapped, and they felt how their feet were being grabbed by the reflections on the mirror floor.

At the very first gasp, the most immediate sign of panic, the mysterious voices were heard again, this time, it sounded like a mingling of a sigh of relief and a maniacal laughter. A rune appeared on their chests, burning bright with a green light. It quickly faded away and the whole mirror room burst out. The walls and the ceiling came apart with a loud crashing sound that made Ash and Shermie to think their skulls had cracked open too.

They could hardly recall what happened after that, save for some police officers and fire fighters coming to their help and leading them to some ambulances. And, among such caring men, Ash and Shermie eyed at each other and smirked. Those gestures were no longer of them. That was just a glimpse of the control of Xel’lotath over them.

Slowly, the Ancients had been choosing their new followers. Soon it was the turn for Ulyaoth, whose new servants were Oriana and Nemrod. This time, they had dreamt about one another, and later, while still asleep, an echoing, authoritative voice had transported them to the outer space. And it told them:

—Relinquish your human state, all your constructs and limitations, and you will see the transformation of the Universe at my command. You will last many ages in the Universe, and see how mankind’s souls become nothing more than a fuel for my machinations.

Before Oriana and Nemrod could reply, the voice added:

—I am the craftsman of all fates, the guardian of all gates. Belong to me, and frailty no longer will remain in your human bodies. Even if you abandon this dream realm, I will not leave you alone now. Any soothing time means I will be watching you, and any harsh time means I will be expecting you to show me your worth.

Abruptly, a deep blackness engulfed them both. And they were not aware of a single thing that was happening in the night quietness of late midnight. Oriana and Nemrod had fallen fainted. However, at the next day, when they woke up, they had forgotten almost everything, save for a weird nightmare they had had. Before they left such an issue in complete oblivion, they went to meet each other as soon as they got up from bed. Shortly they were in front of one another, they glimpsed a faint glowing on their foreheads. It was a symbol which rapidly disappeared.

As the Ancients kept choosing more followers (and secretly planning to use them as they wanted, on their own twisted ends to wreak havoc between them and later spread it to all mankind), Hal, Arturo and Ulises had been having a peaceful time back on Chihuahua. They were spending the afternoon on a restaurant. The weather outside was pretty warm because of the relentless sun, which wiped out all visible clouds.

Neither Arturo, Ulises nor Hal had suffered from nightmares or strange effects on their sanity. Should there be any worry, it was very trivial.

Could that be an advantage or a disadvantage against the Ancients’ unfathomable power? They often spoke of mankind’s blissful ignorance, yet they had never wondered at all if such ignorance was not exclusive for humans.

There could be a faint yet inspiring light of hope amid the vast darkness the Ancients yearned to spread. If the Ancients never came to suspect of such issue, and furthermore, that despite several wars and countless natural disasters, all life form kept going on, all that made the Ancients to become desperate. And an Ancient could only fall prey to such a feeling when in the last seconds of its life, at the threshold of death, in a battle against another Ancient.

But that had happened nine years ago. However, there was still another defeat, the primeval, on the birth of the Universe, when God had imprisoned them deep into another dimension. What remained of the Ancients were only the usury, deviancy, nightmares and insanity.

Now, all this was not being discussed by Arturo, his brother and Hal on a restaurant. Perhaps it could be more interesting if they were in a better mode, and, it would be better, if speaking of such things never threatened their lives or those of other people. Certain themes were even dangerous if discussed privately.

—Have you received any messages from the others? —asked Ulises.

—No, I haven’t—replied Hal—. But I think they must be doing pretty fine. But, you know… it kinda aches me being far from them

—I feel a little like you—said Arturo—. Of course, sometimes we all want our private times, but hanging out together is really cool.

—Even so, we haven’t spent long time together for us to break all barriers between us—said Hal—. You know that Blessed Mother sees us all like a family.

—Since she’s the eldest of us, and the she is, I’d expect that from her.

—Recalling the issues we’ve had before… Well, that makes me fear if there would be something worse. Being far from them gets me worried.

The three lowered their heads and sighed. For long seconds they were like that when Ulises went to the bathroom. As he left the seat, Hal spotted the waiter bringing the dishes.

The waiter, however, stop dead as he looked with eyes wide open. His mouth was trembling as his limbs and he let fall the dishes. From the entrance door had entered a tall, elegant man, surrounded by four men, all with powerful fire weapons. It could be seen behind them a large black Hummer.

Before the people started screaming, a stirring blast was heard. Two men of the mob had shot against the ceiling. The screaming ceased.

As more and more of those men came in, each one as fully armed as the bodyguards, the leader of the mob shouted a name. No one responded. He then called for the manager of the restaurant. Since they all spoke Spanish, Hal could not understand a thing.

—What’s happening? —whispered Hal to Arturo— Who are they?

—Narcos… eh, drug-dealers? —he answered—I guess we’re just to witness an execution… or maybe they’re waiting for someone.

Hal stopped looking at Arturo, he was more worried than any of the mobsters started shooting everyone. Arturo did not feel better, for his brother was still in the bathroom.

For some unbearable minutes, the leader of the mob ordered his henchmen to approach everyone, he wanted to find the man he was looking for. As they spread throughout the restaurant, there was some people screaming again, but the response was another shot to the ceiling. Once again, people became mute, but the increasing fear and nervousness’ sweating would not stop.

Here and there, people were about to have nervous breakdowns, and some fell fainted when one of the mobsters approached at the tables to look closer.

While the search continued, there was a very critical moment: the henchmen had found Ulises in the bathroom and escorted him back. He was shivering and as pale as his brother had never seen him before. With harsh words, they asked who Ulises was.

Arturo was sweating, and felt some throbbing sensations on his forehead and back. He wanted to raise his hand or open his mouth to say something but fear had paralyzed him, especially with one fact: he surely would witness his own brother dying in front of him.

Again, they asked if someone knew Ulises, and Hal raised his hand, pointing to Arturo.

Quickly, they delivered Ulises to Arturo, almost throwing him to them. Oddly, the leader of the mobsters showed a disgusted face. But it was swift, for he was constantly eyeing one side or another, trying to find someone, and he always whispered to his escorts to look behind them.

When Ulises sat next to Arturo, he heaved a sigh. Even so, he was panicked to death. Tears were held back as well as sobs, it was the same for Arturo and Hal.

—Don’t worry, we’ll go through this safely… you’ll see—whispered Arturo to them—. They’ll let us go… in some way…

After the search was done in the entire restaurant, the leader was told no one was found and he said that everyone was free to leave the place. Everyone, save the waiters and the manager. The rest of the people ought to go away, at once.

The manager wanted to say something, but the drug-dealer actually said something that amazed Arturo. When Hal asked him what the drug-dealer had said, Arturo replied:

—There’s no doubt… He said that all the people can go, for he has so much money, that he can pay whatever the people here have ordered… and even so he’d still have plenty of money to spare.

With menacing glares and the sight of the vicious-looking fire weapons, the people left the restaurant as quietly as possible. They were all being watched, even when leaving on their cars. As if that was not enough, some mobsters actually followed them for a while, using the cars they had brought, the three Hummers remained there as a sort of barricade for the entrance door.

Despite the increasing fear, there was some morbid reason that held back Arturo, Ulises and Hal to see what would happen next, but the henchmen pressed them. Nothing could be done against those men and their weapons. Arturo started the engine and drove away as soon as possible.

The three Hummers who barricaded the entrance had been moved away and parked far from one another, yet at some reachable distance should the police come quickly. After that, it was just a matter to disguise the fear of the workers in the restaurant.

Back on the restaurant, the setting had returned to normal. The drug-dealer and his henchmen occupied the tables, hiding the fire arms under the tables, and ordered the most expensive food it was to be offered. While the manager and the waiters were on the edge of panic, such a sensation will be overpowered when the wanted man came into sight.

And thus it was, after half an hour. A police chief had come along with friends, some police officers and detectives to celebrate his birthday. There was a reporter that was a dear friend to him and was known for always capturing the best shot of him.

When they arrived at the place, and shortly they had entered, there were endless shots… and not precisely of a camera.

As Arturo drove back to home, he was struggling to remain calmed down and not looking actually pale. So were his brother and Hal. As they were getting closer to the neighbourhood, the fear had hardly faded away. Also, on the road back home,

The message read:

Hello, there…

Things haven’t been smooth sailing since the Perfect Strangers split up. Actually we never thought it could happen to us… yet some of us did happen to suspect it.

I though it must have started with the discussion about paganism. Of course, the concerts always helped us to feel good together. If you happen to go through some bad things, we share your pain. You have not been the only ones. Something really awful, horrible happened to us a few days ago.

We can’t tell much about it, for it’s really painful. And I need to see the other Perfect Strangers, I want all to be together now. It’s not a selfish wish to ask for all of us being together.

So, this is what happened. A dear friend of me and Morrigan died in a car accident. It was really painful to find out how she died, and how did the accident happen. There was no drinking, not even high speed. As a matter of fact, there was something weird about the accident.

But that was not the only thing that has overwhelmed us. Something worse happened at the day of the funeral. At the very moment where she was going to be buried, some screaming was heard, and all of a sudden, there bullets and people running everywhere.

I can’t tell much right now, and I doubt I ever will. Perhaps if we got reunited, that might help. It’s not that I wish to the one most pitied, what I need is the others to help us. We feel alone right now.

Love and best wishes,

Animaiden & Morrigan

—What’s been happening? —muttered Arturo.

—What did you say? —asked Hal.

—What’s happening? Did anyone of us wish this to happen? What can we control now?

—Aw, man… I really hate this.

These tribulations were affecting them all as humans, but for those who had become servants of the Ancients, those feelings and issues should not been an obstacle to spoil their master’s plans. Again, that was something the Ancients never wondered. Because even Pious Augustus, who freed Xel’lotath more than 2009 years ago, had several times showed signs that alarmed the Ancient. While the servants of the other Ancients were more subtle when it come to hesitation or questioning their masters, Pious was often confronted by her mistress.

As a matter of fact, Xel’lotath often stated openly her distrust towards him. Pious, even in his decayed state, remained human for some reason, but whatever feeling or reason he had, it was for evil purposes, and her mistress suspected a selfish longing, and because of that, an incoming treason.

There it was another hope for mankind. It had happened nine years ago, and even it had happened further back in the past, with Pious Augustus. During mankind’s story, with the dawn of myths and religions, many stories had been told about how frail was the man at the mercy of the gods, even when those shared the same vices and virtues from the humans.

Others simply did not believe in a superior force and the beyond, they rather trusted on what was inside, claiming that myths and religions served only to put names and embodiments to metaphysical concepts.

Thus it was that mankind and the Ancients were bound by the chance of grasping each other, and the key to victory was the grasping of both their vices and virtues alike. Should the Ancients come to think about it, they would start feeling as feeble as the victims of their unfathomable plans. The Ancients would feel as insignificant as a star in the whole Universe.

Almost all the Perfect Strangers had suffered something, which led to an encounter with the Ancients, and its following submission to them. Only Arturo, Ulises, Hal, Animaiden, Morrigan and Blessed Mother remained safe… if it could be called they felt safe after they had gone through. And now, it was the turn for Blessed Mother.

While she offered herself as a volunteer in a church in Texas, one night she spotted a couple, two youngsters, harassing a group of boys and girls. The couple just shouted once, tough it was very loud. Despite they were just two, they had cornered the youngsters.

—You there! Leave them alone or I’ll call the police! —she yelled—. Don’t you see you’re near the house of God!

The couple sneered as they heard the word God. Oddly, they stopped harassing the kids and let them leave. They stood firmly, facing Blessed Mother. Then, she watched, intrigued, that their black T-shirts had a huge red symbol which looked somehow blurry, and it seemed to move.

The Sons of the Ancients

The most insignificant trait about the Ancients could not be understood (even if attempted with zealousness) by hundreds of human brains. With this incoming return, and the new followers, the Ancients were sure to grasp the world again. Even so, they were being wiser when it came to summon their hosts, both human and beast.

On this matter, they would send, though only one but powerful creature against Alexandra Roivas in her mansion. There could not be another defeat at her hands. Now that she was alone, despite the company of the fire-fighter, she would suffer the same grisly death than her grandfather. No one could tell how she would succumb, and as fear was coming back to her, random flashing images of her death came to her mind.

If only someone helped her, if only she found a shelter…

But while Alexandra was struggling to find any courage to face the new challenge, the Perfect Strangers, though split up, would only gather for the sake of the Ancients and the death of the followers. They did not suspect they could be used as mere puppets, or why should an Ancient feel bound by a human in a special way? What could a human offer to the Ancients even after achieving the goal?

Nevertheless, if in some stories, the humans had managed to fool the gods, who could tell if there was a chance of misleading the Ancients to their own destruction again?

At the home of World’s Bane, the large room where once had been used as a stage for private concerts, now it had become a sort of temple. There were some runes of Chattur’gha painted on the walls, a giant one dominated the floor.

The warm air, the dim lighting of the red candles whose flames burned with an unnatural red flame, all this brought a dry setting, which caused lips to crack, a uneasy feeling on the tongues, longing for water and a horrible sensation that eyes were getting dry, too. The whole place seemed more like a dungeon now.

—Is everything ready? —asked Fell Deicide as she wiped off some sweat from her forehead. She looked everywhere, for she was feeling cornered.

—Yes—replied World’s Bane, walking stiffly as he lit more candles.

The Tome of Eternal Darkness was slowly stripping them away of any fear of the Ancients, as well as of human sensations. It had to take away from them everything that could spoil their allegiance to the Ancients. This also meant that they would lose their sanity on a slow time. This was due to the priority of Xel’lotath over the mind and insanity. Then, they would lose physical strength and reasoning skills, this was due to the essences of Chattur’gha and Ulyaoth.

They would hardly notice when one of them uttered the words This can’t be happening! or What have I got myself into?

World’s Bane and Fell Deicide sighed, closing their eyes. Then, they walked towards a big, strange altar. It was shaped like a large claw, on which was clamped a platform with three red candles, lighting the Chattur’gha rune on the wall

With their improvised altar, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide intoned the following:

A roaring rage has arisen

All its victims are now chosen

With uttermost dread and infinite pain

All shall be doomed with no restraint

To ravage and consume Humanity

With an ominous ill fatality

No power in Earth or Heaven

Can make an invincible haven

Safe from Chattur’gha, Great Devourer

Its several mouths gnaw from all sides

Only one great pain with several strikes

Raw, brutal, crude, reckless violence

It is what Chattur’gha declares as sentence

As my enemies are clenched in my claws

all their struggles reveal their flaws

Wriggling and crying, waning and fading

All hope and life vanishes, dying

All lifetime’s deeds are gone

Just a sharp blow and is done

The fiery burn of might

Is at the victims’ sight

Humanity cries for its Saviour

Who bore all their sins and pain

But I am its Destroyer, its Bane

Not only have I brought Man’s suffering…

But Man’s Hope failure

After that, they intoned some strange words. It were the names of the symbols, and bespoke of a spell:

—Tier, Redgormor, Aretak, Pargon, Chattur’gha!

A crumbling noise was heard, and the whole place trembled for a while. Shortly after that, a growling noise interrupted the silence.

—For what did you have call me, morsels? —inquired Chattur’gha.

—We’ve started to…—said Fell Deicide and World’s Bane, but a loud growling noise interrupted them.

—Never speak to me again without bowing to me! —said Chattur’gha—You are morsels and you will be that forever.

—We’ve started to gather people for a secret cult—said World’s Bane.

—Do not speak as if you had done much of a worthy deed, human. What you have tried to do is irrelevant still. But, you could disguise the true behest I have planned for you.

—What do you speak of? —asked Fell Deicide.

—Christianity had condemned the pagans as evil, as Satanism. You will not be safe from that. But it is actually humans with their twisted minds

—So… you don’t complain or condemn what religion is, but you are more aware of what humans have done throughout all these years. And what about…?

—God? That is something an Ancient would never tell a human. That battle is private, its meaning, unfathomable for you; for atheists, nonsense; for believers, threatening for both their flesh and soul. God surely must have been watching mankind all this time

—Then, what are you asking us to do? —asked Fell Deicide, hitting the floor.

—If you show again that impatience you will be eaten in no time, morsel!—growled Chattur’gha—. I ask you to keep courage, in case you are persecuted. Should that happen, remember now that as my servants, you hardly represent a worthy cohort to me.

Before Fell and Deicide could say something, their faces had already shown fear and, just for swift seconds, disgust. Chattur’gha kept talking.

—No one has ever persecuted me, but you will suffer it. Even so, the faster you forsake everything human in you, the safer you will be.

—How are we supposed to do that? —asked World’s Bane and Fell Deicide.

—It is already happening, but you are showing distrust even when you are witnessing it—replied Chattur’gha—I will say no more in the matter, save for this. Destroy your former human bindings, being the most important, your friends.

With a loud roar, Chattur’gha dismissed World’s Bane and Fell Deicide. It could be heard distant human cries among the guttural noises and the fading roar. After some unbearable minutes, all sounded died, and only could be heard the panting of the servants.

The moment they looked each other, no word was spoken. But in their gazes the message was clear: What are we now? What will happen?

While that happened in the USA, in Spain, Oriana and Nemrod had been enjoying a good time together, visiting museums. But deep in their minds and hearts, was an unknown behest. They did not grasp it completely, but Ulyaoth only talked to them whenever they hesitated or failed, which had not happened still. They were looking for something which they had forgotten, and their master refused to give them any hints.

After a long day, they returned to Oriana’s apartment. An increasing feeling was building up in their chests and head, making them feeling dizzy. The living room had turned a little cold. Neither of them knew what exactly to do, they had not built an altar like World’s Bane and Fell Deicide, and, since they were both devoted people to their beliefs, they hardly understood what was happening to them.

But once they had been touched, or called by an Ancient, perhaps death will be the only escape, but they would take hold of the pain of those who mourned them.

Nothing strange had happened. So they went to sleep into their own rooms. At midnight, Oriana and Nemrod, dreamt about each other again. They were plunged in total blackness, and felt they were floating. Many times they felt they were falling to a bottomless pit. Oddly, after long minutes floating, an invisible force took hold of them and placed them on invisible ground. Then, without knowing why, they intoned:

An unfathomable being ponders

All its boundless wonders

Judge of all sentience

Speaker of the true sentence.

Patience and Magic at its summit

Unknown remains their limit

No prayer and faith are useful

when Ulyaoth turns thoughtful.

For in his deep lore

Of all things he sees the core

God’s miracles are a mockery

Of Ulyaoth’s wonders’ gallery.

Thoughtful, cold, wise is his deviancy

Never will he abandon himself into frenzy

Blind, dull, warm fancies mankind

Ignorant of the mighty unkind.

Ulyaoth is the craftsman of all fates

He is the guardian of all gates

Life and Death are his moves

Evolution and Usury are his thoughts

Sin and Redemption make no difference

Before great Ulyaoth’s presence

Man’s soul is nothing more

Than a fuel to Ulyaoth’s core.

After that, they intoned the words for calling an Ancient:

—Tier, Redgormor, Aretak, Pargon, Ulyaoth!

A blue aura appeared abruptly, it felt cold, making both Oriana and Nemrod stiff. The cold got into their bones. Then, a deep, echoing and thoughtful voice spoke:

—I am hearing your doubts now, humans. Speak clearly.

—It is an honour to meet you at last, Ulyaoth.

—You did not call me with a title, human—said Ulyaoth—. You did the correct, for I am not a human and will never be. That would be a disgrace for an Ancient. Any construct you might use for a human does not match me. Even though I speak your language, I have come to understand that mankind is a needful tool for the Ancients.

—We called you to ask what the direst plans are.

—You still remain humans, and that is something that will surely thwart my plans. But I will let you keep that state until the completion of my behest.

Oriana felt offended and replied,

—If you claim to need us at first, and then treat us as nothing more than…

—You yourself treat like that before me, I have not fully taken you as servants. I am just testing you. You are devoted people, then why are you hesitating so much? Give me reasons to save you, stripping you away from all your human traits and weaknesses, as for your beliefs, they are no longer a match for me.

‘If you happen to feel terribly overwhelmed when seeing an accident or about to be killed, perhaps you might think in an embodiment of death, but sometimes you have been told to not fear death, for it will be there when you are no more, and vice versa. I am beyond that limitation.’’

‘In what you believe, whoever he is, listen well, is not omnipotent, malevolent, is neither able nor willing to prevent disasters from happening. I do not strive to become a human creation of a god or to get myself enclosed while my creations forsake about everything good they had created for… No! For eons I have been patient, and only few will be granted that gift, and to their eyes will be revealed a blessing. Have faith in that.’’

—How does he dare to use the words blessing and faith? He’s alien, a monster… but… I know… is he real? What’s happening!? This can’t be real!?

—Do you fear death, Oriana? Or the process of dying? —asked Ulyaoth.

—I fear both—answered Nemrod.

—I will grant you new things beyond human mind, you will not fear immortality. Basic needs will be no more in my new world. For the other Ancients you are nothing more than mere pets, but I offer you an existence with no limits. Has mankind once strived for becoming a god? I can give you that.

Oriana and Nemrod did not answer.

—Your silence is somewhat distressing… but you shall keep being tested—said Ulyaoth—.What I need you to do now is to stop your friends from getting closer to a treasured book, not the Tome, one that is as important as the Tome itself.

—You are speaking of the Codex Gigas, aren’t you? —inquired Oriana.

—Why do you need it? —asked Nemrod—It’s just a large book written by a punished an anonymous monk.

—It has been studied by humans, and there have been glimpses of interesting names, such as the monk who wrote the book—replied Ulyaoth.

—Wait…—said Oriana— If what you are trying to tell us is that we need to be as patient like you, and to be aware of anything that can lead us to that book and to achieve whatever goal you had… what do you intend truly for humans?

—What do humans intend for each other? That would be the right question—answered Ulyaoth.

After that came a long silence. Oriana and Nemrod didn’t stop eyeing each other. They thought they would be trapped in a nightmare forever. Then, Ulyaoth spoke:

—If you cannot achieve to reach the place where the Codex Gigas is kept, I will transport you there. Nevertheless, I need you to fulfil your oaths to me. You must begin to forsake what makes you human in order to achieve a freedom as great as the one I strive for.

Oriana and Nemrod kept hesitating. Ulyaoth, however, added:

—Oddly, your silence is speaking loud and clear to me. Fail me, mocking what I can be and am, questioning what is happening right now and yearning to wake up from this nightmare, and you will be silent forever. The Universe will never suffer from your absence.

‘Thus, I shall keep testing you, humans. In short time you will experience some of the powers I have granted to you, but they will be useless against me. Keep living a normal life while you can, because the more exposed you are to human tribulations, the faster you will yearn to be freed from those.’’

Then, the blue aura disappeared from the place and total darkness invaded fell upon Oriana and Nemrod. They did not wake up, but their heartbeats were not as fast they had been through the entire nightmare.

Meanwhile, in Paris, France. Ash Crimson and Shermie had been having a nice leisure time, totally unaware of the Ancients’ plans set in motion. Also, they had almost forgotten what had happened on the mirror maze. When it was a few minutes for midnight, they headed to Shermie’s apartment.

Suddenly, they heard lots of whispering voices. They could not make out what they were saying, but the sound came from everywhere, and it gave them an unpleasant feeling inside their heads.

Then, from the whispers, one voice spoke louder and clearer, yet still the other voices kept murmuring.

An eternal yearning

For the freedom I am earning

I claw and scratch at my humiliating prison

Always wanting to free my endless vision

To see into the souls of humanity itself

To flay their minds in upon themselves

To feast on their sanity and perceptions of reality

For I am Xel’lotath the Queen of Insanity

But my way is hindered, by a keeper most foul

The Corpse God himself, the Messiah of Darkness.

He keeps us contained

Behind a wall most profane

His will is what limits our strength

And cages are immortal hate.

We watched as Humanity rose

Our anger and rage burning unknown

For humans lived in blissful ignorance

They could now see beyond the veil of quietness

Hidden in a black and white sketch

Hiding from the paintbrushes of reality

Me and my brothers, the scourge of the galaxy

The great destroyers of all known realities

But my plan soon comes to fruition

My agent has already prepared my entrance

A most delicious feast is ready at my awakening

A banquet of flesh and bone

Of human sorrows and human woe

So fear ye pitiful mortals

The Darkness is coming

And I’m bringing the fear of God back to you

For I am Xel’lotath

And I will be your doom…

Then, the voice chanted the words for the spell:

—Tier, Redgormor, Aretak, Pargon, Xel’lotath!

—I am assuming you have called me for a good reason, humans—said a sibilant, menacing female voice—. I have plans for you right now.

Before Ash and Shermie could eye each other and ask something, Xel’lotath added:

—Use any mean you see fit, and do not mind about petty issues in your life. If you happen to commit a mistake, I will give you the solace that I will not complain about that. What you need to know, is that all you do right now will count as just one move. All your life will be reduced to just a blink, a sigh.

Ash and Shermie kept mute. They could feel their hearts throbbing faster.

—Such words been said, I am sure that is enough of a reason to lead you to a successful mission. I need you to go to Sweden, Stockholm, for in a library, is kept a most treasured relic from the Middle Ages: the Codex Gigas.

Ash and Shermie blinked in surprise. And they jeered at the name of the book. What they had heard reminded them of being at school. However, Xel’lotath hissed loudly and said:

—And I will not doubt that you can be more despicable, even to something alien to you humans, you bear disrespect. I hardly trust on humans, and if you have not realized of it yet, you are as disposable as the things humans have created.

She didn’t let a relief time for her servants, as scared as they were. She kept talking:

—Oh… but soon…—said Xel’lotath with the whispering voice— and we will plunge the rest of mankind in a pain so great as that of the man we and the other Ancients had witnessed more than 2000 years ago.

—But here we are now… and they had never thought about a chance of another failure of ours—said Xel’lotath with the loud voice.

—But that will not happen again.

—No, it will not. I shall not ask you, Ash and Shermie, to relinquish your human state as the other Ancients have done to their servants. How strange it is that you now hold desperate to what truly are when nowadays mankind has been forsaking so cynically what its own race is.

‘No. I plan to keep you alive, all your senses will endure the incoming horrors for your sanity. But you will later thank me for preserving you when mankind is finally at the brink of extinction. Even when that would still happen in a long time, what is happening right now should not be considered as such. But as I have seen and foreseen, each death is seen as the first and the last by both peaceful and warlike. Whoever doubts it, I will take care of making that person to witness it firsthand’’

There was something frightening about those words Xel’lotath had uttered. Ash and Shermie had been listening to lots of whispers that came from everywhere, and the loud, authoritative voice of Xel’lotath caused them stabbing sensations on every part of their bodies. It worsened when she continued with the mischievous, sibilant tone:

—Yes… you shall remain alive. And you might keep your heads unscathed, too. All your senses will be needed to feel the true experience of the fall of mankind. What your media has created has done it already for us, but we will take it to the maximum level. Some would fall prey to invisible terrors, many will lose, one by one their senses, but their lives will be pitifully kept unharmed, just for my sake of watching them wailing.

Then, Ash and Shermie saw flashing images in their minds: people crawling in the ground, under a sickly green sky, the buildings had been turned into bizarre structures, most of them with paintings of a giant green eye. As Xel’lotath had said, even when people had lost all their senses, their bodies still bespoke of their suffering.

If there was a disturbing scene, they rapidly saw it. In that ill-fated future, Xel’lotath kept some other human servants, aside from Ash and Shermie, but they were being beheaded by several zombie-like creatures, and some of them looked like two male bodies fused by the hips.

—We recognize it—said Xel’lotath with both voices—. We need mankind for achieving our goal, but they do not need us to destroy themselves.

Sought Sacrilege

—I’m sick of this, really. How come that I feel this powerless?

A feeling of impotence had been worsening everything Animaiden and Morrigan were doing lately. Both were right now in Scotland, since Animaiden did not want to feel apart from the others, and especially from Morrigan, with whom she had spent most of the time.

They would have never thought that something so dreadful would happen to them at the day when the grieving seemed never-ending.

Animaiden had not been feeling well since the horrible even that happened during the funeral of her friend. Morrigan tried to help her in any way possible, but most of the time they ended up fighting and feeling lonely. When they apologized for each other, it rapidly came to another fight which seemed it would end in a worse way than the previous one.

Cursing and almost ending up in fist-fighting, when a harsh word said at the right time hit the vulnerable spot, countless tears were spilt by one of them, which led the other to either become really cold and distant, or become moved and remorseful. It was in those moments when a tender embrace was most deserved, and neither Animaiden nor Morrigan should felt ashamed of their tears.

There were no reasons to keep building up more unwanted feelings. They had both suffered, and they were bound by their friendship. If one fell to despair, so would the other. On the other hand, one could lead the other to the brighter, merrier side.

—The Perfect Strangers…—muttered Animaiden

—We miss them so much, I know—said Morrigan—. We haven’t talked to them by any means.

—I bet they’re having a pretty good time while we…

—Don’t say that! You know that Delta and Blessed Mother would feel offended. They had told us that is not right to make your pain to surpass that of others’ with a selfish overtone.

Animaiden could not help but starting to cry again. Morrigan embraced her immediately as she put her face into her shoulder. Her sobs made her to shiver.

—My love… we’ll go through this and forget it in some time—said Morrigan.

—For how long? —asked Animaiden.

—Don’t worry about that. I’ll try to contact the other Perfect Strangers for a meeting… or at least a video-chat. That might do the trick.

Animaiden didn’t give a response. The way she sobbed and trembled showed her so helpless that Morrigan could not get away from her and stop embracing her. Patting her head and neck, she said:

—We won’t be alone, I tell you. We won’t be alone. You will feel better when they reply for our call for help. Being with them, hearing or reading what they say will help us.

For some minutes, Animaiden kept sobbing until she calmed down. After that, she heaved a long sigh and started to feel drowsy.

Knowing she was asleep, Morrigan placed her carefully on the bed. Then, she watched it for awhile when it was not too long for her yawn over and over, and fell asleep next to her.

Unaware of the horrors the Ancients could unleash at such a perfect chance, they remained unharmed for the rest of their sleep, which lasted throughout the night. In their dreams, they still recalled vivid moments from the slaughter that took place at the funeral, which made both to tremble, yet they were unable to wake up. Only when it came to a short-lasting yet warm-feeling dream, they felt better: being together with the rest of the group.

They would hold on to that hopeful dream to endure the pain they had received from that horrible event. Yet the Ancients could use something more than that to harass them, but if this choice was so evident, then, it should not be wasted.

It had been three weeks since the Perfect Strangers split up, and the near-death experience of Animaiden and Morrigan had just happened a few days after those three weeks. The horrid memories still haunted them, whether they were asleep or not. However, there was something that could help both to endure the ordeal.

One day, while both girls checked their e-mails, Animaiden read an interesting message. It had nothing on the subject, but she felt an urge to read the message. At first she thought only horrible things, but as Morrigan leaned close to her, she mustered up enough courage to read it. After some clicks, the e-mail was opened and showed the following:

Hello, Animaiden and Morrigan:

It’s been almost a year since we met in that forum. I didn’t really expect that an on-line friendship will go beyond than commenting on threads, on our profiles and chatting via IM.

You know, I think we all might have felt the same way when we meet people like this, as you have experienced with the guys of your group, the Perfect Strangers. Hoping for their replies, speaking of things you have done, looking at their avatar and trying to imagine how would they look like… until the day each one feels safe enough to give them the right to speak in a more intimate way, and also, to send photos to each other.

And thus it is that on this most delightful day for me, I want to tell you that I’ve been daydreaming about an incoming meeting of us. I hope that you might be as excited as I am with the idea of meeting each other in person, at last!

Although I haven’t sent you many pics of me, and it’s the same for you. But now, let’s be hopeful that our encounter is close. No longer will we reading words and digital images, because someday we’ll hold hands and hug and laugh.

I’m not expecting of you to let me be a member of the Perfect Strangers, it’s not something I want to… but, who knows?

Kisses and hugs (which I hope stop being virtual)

Sylvia

—You see that? —said Morrigan with a big grin— Even I would not have expected it.

—That is so… tender—whispered Animaiden.

—Maybe she would tell us, on the next message that we’ll finally come to meet her in person. At last!

Animaiden could not speak, she was already weeping a little, but out of joy.

—My girl, what? —said Morrigan when she noticed a faint sob of her friend— Oh, come here. All things are going to get better.

Sylvia was a girl they had met in an anime forum a year ago. They came to find her while searching for some fan arts, and they saw her amazing skills at drawing. But she had not been participating too much in the forum, and it seemed she was kind of shy and did not know to use a forum properly. Thus, Animaiden and Morrigan helped her.

As their friendship was developing, she became a more mature person when it came to participate in forums, and slowly was feeling more secure to address them in a more personal way. Of course, they were not free from some misunderstandings and fights, but it was a faint desire to meet each other in person.

But, while time passed for that merry meeting to take place, the mourning of Animaiden and Morrigan would continue, but with less crying as possible, especially for Animaiden, for she had not been eating well. Morrigan also knew they would never replace the friend they had lost, but Sylvia would never mean to make them forget about their friend.

If there was anything that could thwart all this were not the Ancients, as surprising as this fact was, but the feelings and choices of Animaiden, Morrigan and Sylvia. Whether they knew it or not, those choices would be right for one of two things: to relief from their former pains or to make them fall prey to them.

The Ancients would only take advantage of the latter as vicious predators hunting down a sick or young animal. One of them found the opportunity to strike.

The night of the day they had been relieved from that hopeful message, Animaiden and Morrigan were sleeping in their beds. At last, there was no sobbing or shivering. When it was 3:33, Morrigan felt some pressure on her body and tried to wake up. She saw nothing but the blackness of the room and the faint light of the lampposts through the curtains.

But she was shocked, because she could not close her eyes. The darkness in the room, which had definitely nothing unnatural about it, started turning from black to a dark green. An unpleasant feeling of nausea and spikes going through the head harassed Morrigan. But what scared her the most was that she could not close her eyes. She tried to close them with their hands only to find out she had no eyelids.

An invisible force took hold of her, preventing her from even moving. Fear was turning into despair as the horrible sensations became more painful. Each beat of her heart felt like spikes going through her chest. Whenever she tried to move, it ached her more. Panting and breathing seemed to hurt her badly.

With a stroke of luck, she broke free from that hideous grip. She bolted out of her bed and ran to the bathroom. She found unable to scream as she turned on the light. But what her voice could not do, her expression did: it was true, she had no eyelids. The mirror revealed a disgusting sight as her eyeballs seemed about to fall out from her sockets.

She let out a mute cry, which she felt as a stream of thorns going through her throat. She tried to turn off the lights as another gruesome sight was being seen by her eyes. Her mouth started to open in an unnatural way, which it would surely tear apart her cheeks and face. Before her mouth opened itself wide, she managed to turn off the lights.

—If you fear seeing yourself in pain, how will you feel when you see your human bindings? —said a whispering, female voice. Her tone was full of treachery.

—Who’s there!? —Morrigan yelled— What’s happening!

—You will later know me, you and your friend—said Xel’lotath with her loud voice—. Right now, I will only ask you this…

After a brief pause, as Morrigan felt devoured by the darkness, Xel’lotath spoke with her two voices.

—What do you choose? Getting rid of all painful memories or bring back from the dead your beloved ones taken by death?

Morrigan did not reply. She could not see a thing, save for a faint green aura around her. The words of Xel’lotath echoed loudly in Morrigan’s mind. But as strong as the urge to respond was, she remained silent.

—Ooh, yes—hissed Xel’lotath—. You want a third option? And I will make you know what it is. Morrigan, do you want to get rid of all human bindings and break all the barriers your frail human state has placed before you?

‘The religion of your primeval people… those forefathers of ancient times, which Christianity has deemed as dangerous and satanic will never offer you what I am about to give. Listen, Wiccan, from now on, all your moves will just be reduced to the right choice, and you will not know who is the one to be rewarded but me.’’

Abruptly, she found herself again on the bed, breathing heavily. At last she could hear her voice. However, as shocked as she was, she leaned back to her bed and closed eyes. At least that was the only thing that made her feel safer. For the rest of the night, she fell in a heavy sleep.

But the voice of Xel’lotath was heard again in the room, though neither Morrigan nor Animaiden could listen to what she said:

—Later you shall not wish to fall asleep, and if you do, then you shall wish to never wake up.

Thus it was the Ancients had threatened and taken more servants to serve their unfathomable purposes. As far as they were concerned, there was nothing that could stop their incoming return to Earth again. Surely Alexandra Roivas must have perished by now, as the Ancients expected, and with no survivor Roivas in the picture, the path would be clear.

Even so, the Ancients were hardly interested in the particular story of the Roivas family, a theme which was the cause of several nights of sleeplessness for Edward Roivas, and, as Alexandra later found out, one of the causes for the paranoia of Maximilian Roivas.

The Perfect Strangers were not acquainted with any of the Roivas family, and if nothing was done, they would never be at all. However, and given the fact that Mantorok, though imprisoned by Pious in a temple that had been turned into a tomb, had managed to weave a mysterious spell: it secretly beckoned certain people to take part in the battle against the Eternal Darkness, and ultimately, led the Ancients to destroy each other.

Because of that, the Ancients should have been more than aware of that situation, for it surely would happen again. It seemed that they, as the alien entities they were, totally ignored what their poor humans servants were. Chattur’gha saw them as mere food, Ulyaoth shared that vision too, but he was more interested in human souls, and even it meant to clone humans as man’s science had never done before.

But Xel’lotath simply had no immediate use for her servants. As treacherous and wicked as she was, she would not be limited by goals of disposing of humans as food or fuel, or as a way to prove the banality of soul and flesh, the so-called greatest creation of God, as some humans thought. Such an opinion was shared by Xel’lotath, but she would make it for real.

Meanwhile, back on the USA, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide had been having tough times. The few members they had found for their cult (more likely, food for Chattur’gha) turned out to be posers, which spoke more of Gilles de Rais and Erzebeth Bathory than the natural laws of life, the constant struggle of sentient creatures and the priority of empirical sensations.

Of course, even while they came to meet some people who, disregarding the fact they listened to Black Metal, came to agreed with their yearning of a rise of paganism, whenever World’s Bane and Fell Deicide spoke to them about Chattur’gha, they were jeered.

So, the few people that did not turned their backs on them while jeering, were sacrificed to Chattur’gha. The brutal Ancient told them they would never go further only sacrificing people.

—I just don’t understand!—said World’s Bane— What’s the point of all this shit?

—I second him—added Fell Deicide—. What are we going to do with this bloodshed? Even you had warned us already, but at the same insist to do this to feed you!

—I cannot enter yet in your physical world, morsels—said Chattur’gha—. If you plan something unwise, something that could draw the attention of many unwanted people, you have committed that mistake, not me. I can find more servants. You will no longer have a second chance!

‘I will not squander my hosts of Horrors, Guardians, Reapers and Bonethieves only for your entertainment. You still have not done something to win my favour to you. As a matter of fact, you have done nothing at all. You are childish to me’’.

—You might rot as that stupid Mantorok! —said Fell Deicide

—And you will be one of millions of corpses the feed my minions when the world is over! —said Chattur’gha—. But, enough of this. You think this is boring, and I will let you to keep those human sensations for a while.

World’s Bane and Fell Deicide looked one another. What they heard caught their attention, and a big grin had them in the proper mood for hearing.

—You want to be defying, you want to desecrate—said Chattur’gha—. Now you will have the opportunity. I ask you to go the southern border of your country. There has been an uprising about a new cult that is not recognized by the largest clerical authority in the Earth. This cult is disguised as one for downtrodden people, but indeed is for criminals. Destroy their chapels, trouble their minds… do it properly, and it will ease the path for all us of to the threshold of our freedom.

Hidden Sacredness

What did the Ancients have in store for Arturo, Ulises and Hal? It could be something really dreadful, or perhaps the Ancients had not found them useful at all. However, they were still part of the world that was to be obliterated once the Ancients were freed from their imprisonment.

Probably, one of the reasons was that, even whey they were not truly aware of what was really happening to their friends, they had seen how their friendship was being spoiled by discussions. Yet, they never came suspect something beyond it.

Before the Perfect Strangers split up, and a few days after heated debate about paganism, the three friends had to stop Blessed Mother and World’s Bane as they spoke about the attitude of most metal bands towards Christianity.

World’s Bane just thought she would try to convert him, so, it would not be long before some cursing started. When Blessed Mother spoke about the Orthodox Church, it seemed things would get worse. Negative aspect after another had been told about the church and Metal music.

However, Arturo recalled what Blessed Mother said that day:

It just seems that a lot of metal criticism towards Christianity, unfairly groups us all in one large block. In my belief the Orthodox Church has always had a stronger connection to nature, spirituality, and God. It doesn’t have a history of religious violence, like the crusades and the Inquisition) and it was in fact a victim of crusades and persecution by both Catholics and Muslims.

All that would seem random if he, his brother and Hal knew something about the Ancients. However, whatever trouble they had gone through, any interesting discussion about a particular could give them hints about what was happening right now. Sooner or later they would meet the Ancients. Nightmares and supernatural things were not the only ways to be acquainted with them.

Whatever was stored for them in the future, there was no other choice but to face it.

And so it was. One day, while the three had come out to hang out at the downtown, they had seen some random groups of people crowding around something. It did not took them too long to find out those things were chapels, some of them crudely built, on the side of the roads. Most of the people that attended to those chapels were the downtrodden folk. Although there were some persons who did not seem to be poor.

Somehow, there was something on that people that irked not only Arturo, but his brother and friend too.

Devoured by curiosity, Arturo stopped driving and parked nearby one of those chapels, which, oddly, was nearby the plaza of the cathedral, just across the street.

—Do you see them? What’s happening? —asked Hal

—What do you say? —said Arturo.

—Those people—said Ulises as he walked slower—. Watch them… you spotted those over there? They look like…

—It can’t be! —whispered Arturo.

They had seen two men, with blue jeans, a bright shirt and a hat, a Mexican sombrero. Their boots looked quite expensive as well as the buckles of their belts. They somehow resembled the henchmen of the drug dealer they had seen when they were at the restaurant, a week ago.

—You might think they would later get rid of all that junk or whatever—said Hal—, but… what are they doing here?

—You’re overreacting! —said Arturo— They’re clearly not the ones we saw.

—And what do you think? Have they come to ask forgiveness? —asked Ulises.

Arturo did not find amusing the sarcasm of those words, but he could not glare at his brother. The urge to follow them was stronger.

—Let’s find out once and for all.

So, they crossed the street, and as they did, Arturo had a glimpse of the cathedral as he looked back, but rapidly turned around to follow those men into the chapel. Soon they found themselves among many persons whispering prayers and placing offerings to shapes they could not identify. They headed to the wall opposite the entrance, where one of those shapes, possibly an effigy, stood tall inside a glass booth.

The sight was somehow disturbing, even Hal gasped. Fortunately, no one had noticed the grimaces of disgust they had done. But what their eyes met simply could not understand it.

Inside the glass booth was a tall, skeletal figure, it looked more like a Grim Reaper. With one grabbed a vicious-looking scythe, and with the other held an earth globe. The skeleton was clad with a precious, long satin gown. Even when one might think it looked as something from Halloween, there was something about it that was frightening.

At the feet of the figure, there had been placed offerings of money, food, beer and candles. People who stood in front of it, bowing so humbly to it, while others came to it dragging their knees… and the whispers of the prayers, all this was getting them on their nerves.

They could not stand it and got away as fast as they could, yet avoiding to cause any ruckus in the process.

As Arturo, Ulises and Hal returned to home, he said:

—I just… can’t believe it. How is it possible!

—Dude, just tell me what that thing is—asked Hal.

—It’s no joke though it looks like one—said Ulises

—La Santa Muerte… It’s the Holy Death—replied Arturo—. It’s a new cult that has been increasing in Mexico, but I never thought it would reach the northern cities

—They praise the Death? The Grim Reaper? —asked Hal.

—Yes, and it’s not about the biological process, but an embodiment of death. People asks favours to the Holy Death… but let me tell you, even when you might come to see people asking for protection of loved ones and success in getting a job or relieving from an illness… that cult is dangerous.

—Why should a drug-dealer go to a chapel like that?

—Because the Holy Death is protector of the criminals and drug-dealers! Of course, you can’t expect that all the people we saw there are bad people, that they have got into dangerous business and lives… but they are likely to end up in those ways. Of that I’m really sure!

—I suppose this cult has not been approved by the Vatican, right? —asked Hal.

—No, it hasn’t, and will never be—said Ulises.

—I can hardly believe it! —said Hal—. Those people… praying… to that thing! I didn’t find anything creepy on paganism, like Morrigan being a Wiccan or World’s Bane being a member of the Asatru… but this really scares me!

When they reached home, they kept discussing all day, and finding more information about the cult of the Holy Death. Each image and word that addressed the effigy turned out to be more disturbing than the previous one. It was even scarier when they saw pictures of children praying to the skeletal figure.

They read accounts of people who had been saved by the Holy Death. Many of them (if not most) were related with situations that involved criminals. When reading more about the rate and social class the believers of the Holy Death belonged to, it was not hard to understand that such people were the most vulnerable to choose a life of crime and vices.

The requests to the Holy Death are those for love, protection, health and recovery of stolen things or kidnapped relatives. However, the people who suffer from those, in most cases, are people vulnerable to commit the same acts they asked protection against.

The roots of the cult could be traced back to the very Aztec natives from America. On that time, they worshipped a similar figure named Mictlantecuhtli, the god of death. Nowadays, the cult shares characteristics with the practices of witchcraft.

Given the facts of the increasing power of the drug-dealers in Mexico, the cult of the Holy Death is believed to be a cult mostly related to them. Its grim look could avail the places where is most seen, in poverty-stricken neighbourhoods.

Arturo, Ulises and Hal grew tired of researching, as they could not see something appealing to such a cult.

—It ranks of vice and… well, weird, scary stuff! —said Hal.

—Can you imagine it? —asked Ulises—Children staring at that thing… and praying to it!

—And the Holy Death is not the only one worshipped… you already saw who Jesus Malverde was. He was a kind of a Robin Hood in Mexico… but now, he has become the protector of the drug traffickers. He and the Holy Death are worshipped as saints.

—This sickens me, pal! —said Hal closing their eyes, in a gesture of disgust.

—Blessed Mother would be so alarmed to know about this! She will surely defend anyone who feels threatened by this cult, and I will support her. I mean, really… What good can one possibly expect from that cult? And let me tell you, what we Mexicans have for tradition to mock death in our Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), that is not something to be confused with this… sickly cult!

For the rest of the day, they quit talking about the Holy Death. Luckily, there were no nightmares that haunted them to the point of starting paranoia. But still, the pictures they had seen; the prayers they had heard, all that was worsened by the effigies of the Holy Death. How did it come that one did not see that large figure as a joke but as something real?

Despite what they had seen, nothing had prepared them for what they would see on the next days.

And it could not have better: Arturo, Ulises and Hal had not read any newspaper nor watched news on TV or seen anything on the web. It seemed the Ancients could have been taking care of all that, but it just was not like that.

It was not until afternoon, after eating, when the three friends knew what was happening. Shortly they had heard the words Santa Muerte, they felt unease at once.

The news on TV were speaking of the destruction of several chapels of the Holy Death in the cities near the border. As the leader of the cult in Mexico had claimed, after knowing of these events, that he blamed the military, and in a more daring way, the Catholic Church, for deeming as satanic and ignorant the people who professed their beliefs.

But what shocked them the most were the words of one of the spokesman of the leader from the cult:

—We won’t tolerate these attacks to our traditional and peaceful beliefs. This is not clearly an abuse of the military, but of the Catholic Church as well. The times of the Inquisition return. But the believers would not let themselves to be swept off as the unwanted people many you believe they are. No! There will be holy war against the Catholic Church if these attacks keep going. At first, it will be nothing more than meetings and protest. But, if more chapels are destroyed, and believers are offended, we will take more drastic measures.

—Shit! Now we’re screwed! —said Hal.

—That is of terrorists! —said Ulises—And do you think the people of that cult know what a terrorist is? What can we expect of the believers? They are being controlled! I mean…

—It’s hard to discern it but—said Arturo—, this is serious. I just hope the drug-dealers in Mexico never find this issue as menace for them. Because… well, why should they care? They are busier dealing with the success of their business, deliveries and destroying rival cartels…

—Why would these mean a threat to them? —asked Hal—. It seems these Narcos are somewhat nihilist.

Ulises turned off the TV and became thoughtful for a while as the others did too. Ulises was expecting to go to one of those chapels, watching the debris, the scandal.

—Let’s go see what’s happening out there—said Arturo—. But we must be careful with whom we speak and how close we get to any of those chapels. This is going go to be dangerous…

They headed for the downtown, and soon saw lots of people protesting in front of churches, and there was a large crowd at the plaza, in front of the cathedral. Across the street, there it was the chapel they visited once, but now it had been burned. There were people crying outside the place. Lots of curses were heard there.

—What is happening? —whispered Ulises.

—In what have they become into? —wondered Hal as he stared at the crowd. He gasped when he saw flags and even standards bearing the shape of the Holy Death. It was such an awe-inspiring contrast against the crosses and figures of saints engraved in the cathedral.

They did not linger for too long, and quickly got away from the plaza. Arturo never saw that some people, who had attended to those chapels, instead of supporting the uproar, stared at the cathedral, and felt overwhelmed by an unseen force. Thus, lowering their gazes and then, their heads, they entered into the cathedral, much to the contempt of the crowd.

That would have given him a hopeful feeling, but such a thing went unnoticed by him. At least, it was to think that there were signs of a veiled purity, after hesitating about one’s faith or what was the right thing to do. If Arturo had feared for his own faith and that of his friends, what just had happened with those who repented at the sight of the cathedral was something that ought to be spread to them.

From downtown they headed to the outskirts of the city. There, they found some random spots where people were trying to build some crude chapels, but police officers were coming to prevent that.

—The sight… it makes me feel quite… well, I don’t know how to describe it. —said Hal.

—You’re saying that it makes you feel pity for them? —asked Ulises.

—Yeah, I mean, they are quite the commoners. Gee… how did they end up in something like that? I would have never expected that such people believed in something like that?

—I feel the same way, Hal—said Arturo—. One could think they ought to be closer to religion, given the conditions of their lives. I have seen that people like that, despite the adversities, are more hopeful than us, and are actually good-hearted people. But this just makes me wonder… And the children, they even kissed the feet of that skeleton!

When they had travelled for almost half an hour, they spotted a lonely, crudely built chapel. This one was bigger than the ones they had seen. However, there was something odd about it. An unsettling feeling came to not only Arturo, but to his brother and friend too.

Shortly they stopped and got out from the car, they headed to the chapel as fast they could. However, they could not advance further. The sight and the odour stopped them at once.

They had found the corpses of what seemed a family. A man, his wife and two youngsters. They were charred, and almost naked. What was the most shocking was the fact that they had already worms. But all this seemed to have just happened a few minutes ago, and despite this chapel being lonely, some cars passed nearby. It was never that a car passed by every three hours.

The stench was unbearable, so they could not step inside the chapel, which had bloodstains and remains of some unidentified substances. The offerings and effigies of the Holy Death had been burnt too, the few things that remained had been stomped to pieces. In one of the corners was the skull of the effigy, without the satin gown. It looked as horribly defiled as the very corpses that littered the ground.

—The defilers had been defiled—muttered Ulises.

A gust of wind rushed in and played with the dirty satin gown that the effigy once wore. Oddly, before it came out from the chapel it was torn in two. One half got stuck in one of the cracked walls, and the other flew away to the wilderness.

—Come here…—said Hal as he tried to approach at the entrance of the chapel— Tell me… what’s that thing painted on the wall, over there?

—Not only there, were standing above one of those things, too! —said Ulises.

On the ground was a strange marking, a huge symbol with red stains. On the walls of the chapel, its indoors bore the same symbol, most of them painted randomly on the lower parts. As they checked out around the outdoor of the chapel, a huge symbol had been painted on one wall.

—This is not something done by the military—said Arturo.

—How stupid we are—said Ulises, and Hal reacted with a gasp as he heard him—. We should not be lingering here anymore. Let’s get away before the police comes! We’ll later speak about this.

At that moment, the stench became more unbearable, almost to the point of leading them to throw up. Covering their mouths and noses, they ran to the car and got away from that place as fast as they could. Strangely, the stench could be smelled still. It was not until many miles away that they got rid of the nausea sensations.

Upon returning to home, none of them had any wishes to speak what they had discovered. They spent their time in more trivial, safer stuff than the charred corpses and the odd symbols painted on the chapel. Nothing about the Holy Death or the bizarre finding was said. And, they hoped that they did not suffer from nightmares.

At midnight, when it was 3:33 am, Arturo heard a mysterious voice in a dream.

—What you are about to witness tomorrow, will never let your life to be normal again.

—What am I doing here? —said Arturo, unaware that his mouth uttered those words while he was still asleep—Who or what are you?

—I am not the only one of my kind, but I can tell you… that in a lesser extent, I belong to humankind. The incoming pain you will need to endure, I cannot protect you much as I cannot damage what is sure to harm you, but you will belong to me in this battle.

”Somehow there is a thought in you that makes you think you are safer. Hold on to it, because there might be nothing else to hold from now’’

_ _ _ _ _
Click here to continue reading Eternal Darkness: Arise of the Believers

Eternal Darkness: Arise of the Believers

Eternal Darkness: Arise of the Believers

A fanfic by Maese Delta, inspired by the videogame.

Disclaimer: I do not own Eternal Darkness or any of its characters, save for some I have come with. All copyrights are reserved for Nintendo and Silicon Knights.

For ages it has been told

Till all life has become old.

Each promise of salvation

Is but a sentence of damnation.

Who would be more delayed?

You committing suicide?

Your god forgiving and saving you?

Or me destroying you?

—Phobos. Epic in Everdant

Prologue
Long Expected Encounters
The Perfect Strangers
The Roivas Mansion
Hazardous Unearthing
Breaking the Silence
Private Murders, Public Slaughters
The Sons of the Ancients
Sought Sacrilege
Hidden Sacredness
The Fear of the Ancients
Pray for the End of All Death
Hail the End of All Life
Life Continues…and so does Death
Sacrifice or Suicide
A War to Start All Wars
Arise of the Believers
Eternal Darkness

Prologue: Nine Years Ago

Mankind… what should be destroyed, somehow would always manage to endure any kind of chastisement, no matter how overwhelming it was. Many had carried out such a plan, and there had been those who defend it, too. But in the end, the outcome was that the amount of dead surpassed the living, and the dreams and hopes of those who only had one life to sacrifice were left in oblivion.

When someone stood at the threshold of the unknown, when faith was lost and its opposite replaced it, dread, all shelter was taken away. There would never be a dungeon, cage, not even the arms of loved ones could give shelter to one who has fallen into despair. And so vast was such a domain, but there was no one who could tell its dimensions, for everyone who had been there was dead.

No one knew it save for the Ancients, the master puppeteers of mankind. Or that was what should have been. And nine years ago, the world never knew that it was at the brink of extinction. At the same time, the Ancients never suspected that such event could be the gravest of their mistakes.

For millions of years, in the youth of the Universe, the Ancients, though kept caged, they still had influence over the surface world, through dreams and nightmares. Cloudy days, cold nights, the moon, the fire and the waves seemed to remind things of old, things that were too strange and unfathomable to think they ever existed once. The pestilences, the aftermaths of war, natural and human disasters were like a constant voice that echoed the Ancients’ domain. Year after year, and significant event after another, all of this meant the incoming return of the Ancients.

And nothing had forewarned them for their defeat.

Nine years ago took place a series of events that led a few chosen ones to the journey of their lives, but not to be renown, but to save their sanity (and as some really came to know, the world). Many of them died, their spilt blood and crushed bones rejoiced the Ancients in their wicked pride, but while there were others alive, the hopes for good and evil to achieve their plans were alike.

One of the many beginnings of that story took place in the year 2000 A.D. After a nightmare, a girl from Seattle, Washington had woken up from a nightmare, only to face the fact that the real nightmare was just beginning: she had been told by phone that her grandfather had been murdered.

Upon arriving at her grandfather’s mansion in Rhode Island, she saw horrified what had happened to her grandfather, at least, she saw the corpse. There were no clues as to who could have been the murderer or how did he or she get into the house.

After the funeral, and realizing of the incompetence of the authorities, Alexandra Roivas set out to discover what happened to her grandfather. It didn’t take her long time to get involved in a series of discoveries of something she was not meant to ever imagine: an odd, leather bound tome, bespeaking of fell rituals and wicked entities.

As she read, she knew about the other chosen ones, just as she had been one, and their struggles for their lives and sanity. There were some who didn’t believe what they were seeing and doing, but no other choice had been left to them as they realized what the Ancients would unleash if nothing was done against them.

It was an adventure that spanned millennia, from different countries and ages, the Ancients found their bearers of their goals, zealously longing to destroy the others and then, mankind. As this epic went further, the Ancients found themselves again facing the one who had defeated them once, but this time they jeered at the embodiment of His son.

And before the cross they stood, disguised as hooded persons. No else could see them save Christ. Of the four Ancients, three of them said to him:

—Watch thyself, bereft of any shelter and love!

—Thou will be aware of it in the most painful of manners…—replied Jesus—. Thou shall not be able to reject the craving to be what thou wish to destroy. As plunged in vice and evil as thou are, everything thou find to achieve thy goals is spoiled, and by thy own evil thou shall be destroyed.

—We long to destroy each other vehemently, but as of now the only thing that gathers us in a brief truce is thy demise, caused by thy very people thou claim to love. Is this what thou really intend? If one man sought to bore all mankind’s sins, will mankind suffer to regain thy forgiveness?

—They shall not suffer it. I will grant it for them. So be it.

And thus, as more lives kept coming anew and others reached its end, so it were those of the chosen, and it came to Alexandra Roivas to make a stand against the Ancients and one of the chosen ones who had freed them: Pious Augustus, who stood for Xel’lotath, Ancient of Insanity.

In the end, the three warring Ancients appeared and destroyed themselves, unable to afford that they were only puppets to the will of Mantorok, the Warden of the Ancients.

Yet in the darkness of some unfathomable realm, there it remained, dying slowly, plotting.

The Ancients were claiming that many times it had been told, till all life had grown old to hear it. They claimed that each of promise of salvation, they would turn it into a sentence of damnation. And thus, who would be more belated? Mankind committing suicide? God forgiving and saving them? Or the Ancients destroying them?

Long Expected Encounters

After having read a book on astronomy, and wondered about the many mysteries of the universe, Arthur had enjoyed of strange yet soothing dreams of himself swimming in the outer space. He was feeling awed at the size of the planets and amazed with the endless stars, making everything human too small.

On that journey, it seemed he would have been astray for more than hours and weeks, perhaps he had lost all measure of time, but sadly, dreams hardly last longer than a few minutes. Thus, a sudden spasm woke him up.

—Nnh… what? No clouds? —he whispered as he saw the blue sky through the window. It had been a long week of cloudy days.

This meant a nice break from the melancholy of cloudy days and rain, and Arthur enjoyed sunny days, and thanks to his natural tan, there was no fear of sunburns. As soon as he got up from bed, he longed for breakfast and writing down whatever he had dreamt or thought during his midnight readings. The notebook rested neatly on the desk, with the trustful pen next to it. Once he opened it he wrote down what he saw in dreams.

—Mmh… sure it’s still a long way for the Mayan prophecies to become true, but that doesn’t mean an ill fate. I mean, we’re in 2009 already, and the world didn’t end. There are many things that can end a life faster than those prophecies.

After he finished writing what he wanted, he was called for the first time, for the breakfast had been served. Just some words more and it was done. Placing the notebook on the desk, he left his room. Oddly… some minutes later, the pen leaked some ink, staining a little what had been written.

When Arthur returned to his room and found the mess on the paper, he restrained from cursing, took the pen and threw it to the floor. I’ll later discard it where it deserves he murmured. Then, he searched for another pen and tried to recall the words that had been stained with ink. He wrote them rapidly on another page and then closed the notebook.

From that moment, he followed his routine: some exercising, then reading a book or enjoy some leisure on the PC. At midday it was time for a shower, and from there, after a hearty meal, to college. On the last minute, he recalled the pen. Hastily he went up the stairs, dashed into his room and picked up the pen. He forgot to discard it in the trash can outside his home.

—Oh well, I’ll do it when I arrive to college—he said.

On that day, he didn’t notice that the word Roivas had been showing up many times. First in a book that regarded psychology. Then, on the news from the web. Later it was on the newspaper. It only remained to be at the television, with big glowing letters. However, it never happened.

But after that, once he was at the college, the word Roivas never came to his ears or eyes. As for the pen, it still remained somewhere in his backpack.

After two classes, there was an hour on which he had no classes. He spent that time with friends from another faculty with spare time. Later, before the free hour came to an end, he passed by the computer lab to check the messages from the writing club on which he was.

Arthur wasn’t expecting much of a big important message or an update, the forum had been suffering from a lack of activity. However, he read a message that addressed to him. It seemed odd, for he should have expected it as an e-mail. It read:

Hi, Arthur!

How have been things on the other side from the fence, eh? I hope everything’s OK where you live. We’ve been kinda lazy nowadays, so no updates nor new members, but surely we crave so much for the meeting, and we’ll meet you in person at last.

But if we get past some common problems (and Writer’s Block), this place will come back to life again. Hopefully, it’ll do us well to be together. Our club now is of 12 members, and many of us have confirmed their attendance to our meeting, save for three, including you.

Tell us when vacations are nearby so we have everything ready for your arrival. It’s been hard to decide where will be our place of meeting, given the fact that, well, each of us is from a different country, but at last we’ll meet each other in person! But, guess what? You’re lucky. We’ve decided to come to El Paso, TX. Just some north of you. But, for the next meeting (I know, we’re planning our very first meeting and we’re already longing for the next, ha!), it’ll be in a different city, I mean, country. So, start saving up money or find a good job.

Well, that’s been all. We hope you’re excited as much as we are. Have readied whatever you need and daydream about the things we’ll do once our group is together at last.

Best wishes,

World’s Bane

The Perfect Strangers

This message made Arthur to have a big grin that would hardly disappear, so there were some people who looked at him oddly, but he didn’t give a damn. He replied to the message and left the computer lab. With such news, the last and more boring classes would be hardly a nuisance to rob him of the joy he had now.

—At last… the Perfect Strangers as a whole! —he muttered.

During the last class, his enthusiasm increased with an interesting debate about what heroism was, that it was not only seen on comics and warlike deeds, but also in a passive manner.

—You surely remember the experiment of the Stanford prison, don’t you? —asked the professor.

—Which’s been reflected on Abu Ghraib… those Iraq prisoners, you remember the scenes? —said Karla.

—It showed that drastic times and experiences can lead people to heroic acts or really awful deeds—said Jerónimo, the eldest of the classmates, for he had been already on another career.

—It can also lead people to a passive role, it is called spectator effect—said the professor.

Many people liked to think that the line between good and evil was broad. They thought that people who did horrible things like murder, raping and betraying are in the foul side, and the rest of us was safely on the good side. But the experiment of Stanford prison showed the porosity of that line. The good people remained so because they had never been tested or seduced the enough to cross the line.

—Then, we are speaking that in most cases, the people remains passive, and that certain actions and events can lead them to virtuosity or vice—Arthur said.

—Banality of evil, that’s what you mean—said the professor—. There could be also a banality of heroism, too. If heroism is considered a universal attribute of human nature, not like a singular trait, then it becomes at the reach of everyone. Yet, if heroism is trivial, then that leaves it as lacking any sense, specially the myth of the chosen hero, which grants special traits to people who does something unique.

—We haven’t heard still the words of a Christian—said a friend of Arthur named Eduardo—. Let’s see if we don’t end up more confused than we are already, although I should consider free of such troubled ideas.

After he had said that, many looked to Alan, who was known as a very Christian boy. However, it happened many times and never went awful, just some chuckling and fixed stares but nothing more. Nevertheless, Arthur feared for an intense debate regarding Christianity, which he never liked when that happened, especially when he was the focus point of all eyes. He wasn’t right now, but it could be pretty soon.

—Moreover, the spectator effect is driven often by a diffusion of responsibility. Let me explain this: when several people are witness of an emergency, all assume someone will help them. They think the responsibility to act like a hero belongs to another one.

—Then… when such a responsibility is hidden? —whispered Arthur— What’s being spread out instead?

—Such an interesting topic, but time’s up, and don’t tell me you weren’t expecting that—he said laughing.

Hopefully the class had come to an end, and Arthur sighed out of relief because there was no debate that would surely end up in heated words.

It was a cool night of Thursday, and tomorrow will be a spared day, since on Fridays there were no classes for those in eighth semester of Philosophy. However, Arturo liked to spend at most of the day at the University, hanging out with his friends of lesser semesters, whether going to a joint or the rock-metal bar Rock Stage.

While crossing the park before the entrance to the faculty, he looked for the car where his parents were. As soon as he found it he headed there and boarded the car. During the travel, his own voice still echoed the words he had read on the message from one of the Perfect Strangers. He wondered who would be the newest members, since they hadn’t uploaded a photo of them in their profiles.

Before he was to enter at the street where his house was, he somehow felt a little startled, yet such a feeling was swiftly gone. But it wasn’t that swift for his parents as they saw a stranger awaiting at the porch of their home, with a large backpack and wearing black clothes. The speed of the car didn’t lower at all, but still it approached closer to light whoever was that person.

As Arturo stared at it, it took him a while to recognize who was there, but after watching the shirt he was wearing, he grinned as a sign of relief and told his parents that he met that person. Arturo quickly got out from the car and went to greet the guy. However, his presence surely had been a surprise.

—But… what are you doing here? How did you come to end here? Who told you? —said Arthur with a rain of questions.

—At least it’s raining questions and not punches, hehe—said the stranger—. It’s me Hal, remember? I’m Celeron, from the Perfect Strangers.

—It’s just that I found hard to recognize you…—said Arturo, looking at the shirt and chains on Hal’s jeans—. You don’t dress like a metalhead! What’s with that shirt!

—I like this band and their last album’s cover, yet I don’t see fit the name Cannibal. But, whatever. Your brother, Ulises, told me where you live, even he showed me pics of where you live.

Arturo still found that somewhat unnerving, but he had to stop thinking like that if he wanted to protect him and tell his parents if Hal could stay at his home.

—So, are you ready for the journey? —asked Hal.

—What, is that so, really? —replied Arturo—I was just about to tell my parents about the message World’s Bane sent me! But they surely will let me go. Tomorrow I have a spare day, and for me that’s the beginning of the break of Holy Week.

—Gee, sorry for startling you and your parents. I guess it must have been this night.

—And the last news about the executions on the northern cities of Mexico. You know how bad have been the issues of the drug wars here.

—Yeah, but let’s mind a more important issue, our gathering with the Perfect Strangers and… ehm, your parents letting you go there. Of course, you surely will have their permission but I want to be sure.

—Just don’t creep them out.

—And you need to dispel out your fears more, pal.

Just before they entered into the house, for they were the only ones outside, Hal said:

—Oh, and don’t forget to tell them your brother goes with us, too.

—Mmmh, that shouldn’t be a problem. And I was planning to bring him with me.

Once inside the house, before a hearty dinner, Arturo had to introduce Hal to his parents, and he later told them about the message he received and the reunion of the club where he was. When they knew that the meeting would be in El Paso, TX, that relieved them (yet Arturo longed for them to become less worried if the meeting spot had been farther). His parents called Ulises, and they told him of the reunion. He answered with no hesitation.

—Well—said Hal with a grin—, all’s settled, now it’s time for…

—Sending the message to the others!—interrupted Arturo, for he guessed that Hal would have said good dinner—. Hold down your hunger, Hal!—he told him in a whisper

—I’m alone here—said Hal—, at least you could make me feel as I wasn’t that far from home.

Once they had sent the message to the other Perfect Strangers, it was time now for a good dinner, and that made Hal to feel warm again. At midnight, Hal helped Arturo to prepare another bed on his room. There was only a brief talking before they fell asleep.

After a while Arturo woke up. If it had been a nightmare, it was oddly short-lasting, and he didn’t recall anything he dreamt. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t dreamt at all. Lying again on his bed, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. As he was getting drowsy again, the last thing he saw were the big green numbers of a digital clock. It was 3:33 am.

The Perfect Strangers

At the next morning, a most brilliant sun greeted all the morning joggers and people who got up early for work. Arturo was one of the morning joggers, but this time he was on bed, tired after a long talk with Hal about the plans for the journey and the chance of meeting, at last, the Perfect Strangers.

—So… Ehm, any plans for tonight? —asked Hal.

—You’re not telling me we depart today, are you? —asked Arturo.

—No, we’ll go on Monday. I forgot to tell you that. Today I’ll check out to see if the Perfect Strangers have accorded about one date for the meeting, so that we don’t have to wait for somebody for days.

—I hope everyone of the club go there, I’m looking forward for such a gathering.

—Me too… 12 members, including your brother. Oh, boy, it’s gonna get messy if we happen to…

—Don’t talk me about it that I get more thrilled.

After the breakfast, which both enjoyed greatly along with Ulises and the bright of the sunbeams trespassing the kitchen’s glass door, Arturo asked Hal:

—How do you feel for a morning jogging?

—What? Right now? —replied Hal— It’s 9:30 am. I’m sure soon it’s gonna be hot as hell at midday, even if we quit jogging before 12:00 o’clock.

—It’ll do you no harm, c’mon—said Arturo.

—You have no problems since you have a somewhat tanned skin, I’m gonna suffer sunburns out there.

—You’re no vampire, we are not in the desert and it’ll be good for your health. Now, rest for half an hour. It’ll be just an hour of jogging.

When that hour came, Hal did not want to upset Arturo for going along with him for some exercising. Even so, it seemed to him this day was going to be really long.

—Hey, plans for tonight? Are you going to school today though you have no classes?

—Yep.

—What for…? Oh, no, nevermind.

—Just ask me the right question, Hal. You want to tell me if we’ll go the Rock Stage? Then I tell you, yes, we are going tonight… and with good company.

Hal chuckled out of relief.

Hal would indeed thank later Arturo for the jogging, for he was really enjoying it. Was it for the decent amount of clouds that covered the sun? Or was it for some fresh air currents? Or for a sudden whirlwind that formed up before them when they came across a sand spot? Maybe it was because they both enjoyed all those things while listening to their iPods. Whatever the reason, it sure was a joyful time.

And, for more thrill, Arturo challenged him to a race, three laps to the whole park.

—Don’t you think this race will be better if we listen to Power Metal? —asked Arturo—I think you should leave Techno Industrial and Industrial Metal for the night ride.

—So, that’s why you put those songs in my iPod, right?

—Yep.

However, that race would need to be finished another day, for the sun had become suddenly shinier, and there were only small clouds that did nothing to shelter anyone from the heat. Despite that fact, the thrill the music have given them was what they needed to complete the race, and then, immediately heading to home: a good shower and cool drinks.

They stood in the house for many hours until 3:30 pm. At least the sky became a little cloudier by that time. With a friendly weather, Arturo

For this day, he had not seen many of his classmates, or even those of other semesters and faculties he knew of. That was until he found some, to which he introduced Hal, and thus, he and Arturo spent time with them, even the one of the first class. On Fridays, the college halls were usually seen with very few people.

When it was 7:00 pm, they both returned to home. Arturo was at the expectative of a call of some friends to meet at the Rock Stage. On that night, it rained for some minutes, yet it rained as if it was a storm. After that, it only kept raining a fairly amount of time. Even when the tear drops were not seen, the whole environment felt damp.

One hour later, Arturo got the call, and that just increased the zest for both. It would be a nice leisure time before departing to meet the Perfect Strangers.

After the thrill of such a night, the weekend passed as a good, soothing time, and both prepared what they needed for the travel, and it gladdened them to know that Ulises had gotten permission to go with them.

—I just hope the whole crowd can come—said Arturo.

—They will—said Hal—. Think they are expecting the same from us—said Hal.

The morning of Monday, the parents of Arturo took him, his brother and Hal to the bus station. This would be the first time for he and his brother to travel alone, but both were not too nervous.

Once they were out from the bus station, Arturo, Ulises and Hal couldn’t help but feeling the thrill of the sight. There two dark green Windstars before them. From one of them loomed a bearded guy’s face, and gestured them to approach. The three had shortly edged closer to the back of the Windstar when the back door was lifted, and lots of arms picked up the backpacks and led them into the vehicle.

A large man with short beard and big grey eyes stared at Arturo and his company. It seemed he was the only one who wore all black, and he had some vicious looking spiked boots and a pentagram as a necklace. The other guy next to him had no lesser looks.

He was a thin person, wearing red, gleaming jeans, a red jacket. On the lower part of his jeans and jacket, he had some striking designs of black flames, as well as on his sleeves. But what was most eye-catching on him was his white hair. The features on his face were rather juvenile, save for the cold stare of his green eyes.

—Don’t tell me that you’re feeling, uneasy—he said—. I’m World’s Bane. Sorry if my looks startle you, but you better start causing some dread to others if we are to hang out together for a whole week. Just think what we are going to do…

—Where are we going? —asked Ulises, who felt rather uneasy among such company.

—To our meeting spot, kid—said the white haired guy—. I’m Ash Crimson.

—Mmmh… that name. He must be cosplaying—muttered Ulises to himself.

—Is everybody with us? Where are the rest—asked Hal.

—The girls are in the other Windstar—said World’s Bane—. And yes, all of the members are here. Oh, and Nemrod is the one who drives. Don’t disturb him.

As the blue of the sky began to go darker, one thought echoed in all of the Perfect Strangers: at last the club was gathered, and they would meet each other as soon as they got out from the vehicles.

Around 7:00 pm, they vehicle suddenly stopped. Arturo hardly had noticed the sound of a door being opened, it was Nemrod coming out. Before going to the front seats, he looked back and saw the back door being lifted. World’s Bane motioned him and his brother to come out.

Before him was a two story house, it had a garage for two cars. The façade looked somehow as if was more of a club or hideout than a regular household, yet it had been cleaned lately, and even the garden showed signs of being preserved.

There, the male members were reunited. Ash Crimson and World’s Bane were right next to the first vehicle. Nemrod, the Muslim, was the only one who seemed to wear for a more formal occasion, as for Arturo, Ulises and Hal, they all were with the most comfortable and common clothes. What distinguished them were their shirts: a one eyed sphere for Arturo, a banned Nazi swastika for Ulises, and a pair of hands greeting to each other; one was that of a robot and the other was human.

From the other vehicle came out the female members. Almost all the Perfect Strangers seemed metalheads, save for Nemrod, and each one of them had something unique, whether in clothing or features on their faces. From the girls, a Spanish and an Italian girl, Oriana and Blessed Mother were the only ones who were not dressed as metalheads, and there was another one who was more of a Goth girl, a Japanese girl.

Arturo knew now how different they all looked by the faces and accents. Even so, all were joined by one genre of music, epic fantasy and horror literature and the secrecy of their reunions, and this one would be the most important since the whole band was together.

And, as World’s Bane had told Arturo, it was to be expected that such a band would like to feel the thrill of going out and somehow irk the people around them. A group of twelve people, mostly clad in black, all speaking to each other and occasionally eyeing someone deep into their eyes… which was better if the whole crowd stared at someone.

Then, Arturo spoke the names of all the members, each one of them raising a hand as the name was uttered:

—Maese Delta, Maese Alastair, Celeron, Ash, Nemrod, World’s Bane, Fell Deicide, Morrigan, Animaiden, Shermie, Blessed Mother and Oriana.

After that, he paused for a while and added:

—Now, in the same order, I’ll say our true names. Each one raise a hand as you hear your name.

And thus, he spoke:

—Arturo, Ulises, Hal, Ash, Ibrahim, Sven, Liz, Lucille, Hiromi, Jess, Claudia and Oriana.

—We’re all here—said the crowd at the same time.

—Well, and that’ll be the only time we say our names—said World’s Bane—. Save for some special circumstances, but other than that, and while we’re in public, we won’t say our true names

—Well, what do we have for the schedule?—said Hal.

—First, let’s come in and you’ll find out—said Fell Deicide.

Once everyone left their backpacks and the rest of their belongings in the living room, they all sat down in circle and introduced better to one another. Oriana, Blessed Mother and Nemrod went to their rooms to change their clothes fore something more fitting and comfortable.

Some minutes later, when they returned, during a loud chitchat, Oriana asked them:

—By the way… have you heard or read something about the Codex Gigas? —asked Oriana, but her voice was drowned by the others.

—Hal… what are you talking about? —said World’s Bane.

—Isn’t this something about your games? —asked Fell Deicide.

—No, it isn’t, and I didn’t know the word either—replied Hal.

—Spell it—said World’s Bane and Fell Deicide.

—Did you say Gyigas? G, Y, I, G, A, S—asked Ulises.

—No, I said G, I, G, A, S—replied Oriana.

—Oh, interesting.

—It is Greek for Gigantic.

—Alright, silence everyone! —yelled World’s Bane, and as soon as all grew quiet, he said— Now Oriana, you can talk.

—Thanks, World’s Bane—said Oriana—. The Codex Gigas, or commonly known as The Devil’s Bible, It’s the largest book in all medieval history, and for that considered the Eighth Wonder. It’s so large it needed two men to carry it. It’s said it was written by the Devil in just one night

World’s Bane and Fell Deicide were starting to feel their mouths being opened out of astonishment. As for Blessed Mother and Nemrod, they shuddered a little, and all this was at the sight of Arturo, who hoped nothing bad happened for speaking of such a topic, or at least, that it didn’t start a heated debate about the occult.

However, and given the fact of the music and literature they had been reading lately, almost all the Perfect Strangers had come to grasp a little of the occult and ominous. Yet they never went into frenzy for such things, some just found it as entertaining as a horror movie, and the new genres of metal, like Black and Death, surely gave them the thrill to read or heard more about such things.

Arturo found a little unnerving the fact that the Perfect Strangers, which was a mixture of Christians, Atheists, a Muslim, a Wiccan, and one of the Ásatru, began to take as serious what the Codex Gigas was.

—Where is it, then? —asked Ash and Shermie— Even though some authors have claimed to, indeed, search for the Necronomicon, it’s nothing else but a fictional work.

—But such things should not be taken so lightly, dear—said Blessed Mother.

After she had spoken, it followed a rather uneasy silence. No one seemed to breathe or blink at all. And even when all seemed as statues, unconsciously, whoever moved would expect an awkward moment, or perhaps, something worse.

—The Codex Gigas was written by a monk—said Blessed Mother—, it has been known his name. This monk had a sinful life, and as a mean to strive for redemption, while going through an ordeal, he was walled up alive. In that cell, he would spend the rest of his life writing a book that contained all the knowledge of that time.

—But, did you know how long did it take to write a Bible? —asked Oriana—. Just for starters, imagine this: one line in five minutes. A whole page in 30 minutes… it could take from 10 to 30 years to write a book. Now, can you imagine how long did it take for this man to write the Codex Gigas?

—That’s why it’s said the Devil helped that monk to write the book, not with ink, but with blood, in just one night.

—But it’s also called The Devil’s Bible because of a huge drawing in one of the pages, which, oddly, has shown some rather strange stains than the rest of the pages.

—There’s something even weirder, Oriana. As an opposite for that page, there’s a drawing of the Kingdom of Heaven. It seemed the monk still longed for redemption, as it was his ordeal for whatever sin he had committed, and he sought to cleanse himself by writing such a large book.

Blessed Mother noticed Nemrod was very thoughtful, as if wanting to say something, or perhaps recalling something. She and Arturo went to Nemrod to ask him what was happening to him.

Suddenly, a loud noise was heard. It seemed as that of pounding a door or a trash can. All the Perfect Strangers were startled. Some went to look out the windows and others headed right to the doors to lock them.

—We won’t come out, just wait—said Fell Deicide.

It passed some long minutes of watching through the windows. Then, Oriana cried out:

—I think I saw someone, quick! He’s… ehm, just standing there or… Quick! He’s going to backyard.

—He can’t climb walls or pierce them! —shouted World’s Bane—Everyone, come out, we’ll trap him there!

As soon as all reached the door, Fell Deicide gave him the keys and opened it. One by one they came out, those who had glimpse of fear had turned into anger since their privacy had been violated and none of them liked the idea of leisure time being disrupted by a stranger.

World’s Bane was the last one to come out. He just locked the door and then he got his hands in one of his pockets, as if to be sure he had something he could use. As swift as he realized of that with a touch, he turned around and ran to the others.

—There he is! —cried Oriana— He’s just climbed the wall! He’s in the backyard!

—Make way, I’ll open the door! —cried World’s Bane.

He stopped abruptly, crashing with the door, but he didn’t fall to the ground. He got the keys and couldn’t help fumbling through them, in order to get the right one for the lock. Once he found it and unlocked the door, he dashed in first, quickly followed by all the others. Should that stranger had been closer to them, and looked back, he would have thought for sure he was being chased by wolves.

A long, narrow path was before them, and they just caught a glimpse of the stranger turning to the left. They ran as fast as they could, dangerously crowding. Once they turned to left, there they saw the stranger at the right time he was climbing the wall. Perhaps due to a jump or using some good sneakers. But as soon as they came right in front of the wall where he was, the stranger wavered as he was to cross to the other side, and fell backwards.

He fell on the other side, and landed right on his head. A loud thumping noise was heard.

—Is he dead? —asked Arturo.

—Let’s find out—said Fell Deicide—. Now, all of you grab those ladders and climb so we can see him.

What they saw next startled them. They spotted two more strangers carrying the body of the fallen one, with such a speed that was not natural of men when carrying a body. They opened the glass door of the house they were nearby and quickly disappeared. At the base of the wall where the stranger had fallen was a large stain of blood.

—What do we do now? Do we call the police? —asked Oriana, her panting was increasing.

—No, leave that to others—said World’s Bane, and upon hearing that, Arturo felt somehow uneasy—. But we might as well get out of here. Let’s go back and grab our belongings, we’ll spend the night in other spot, Fell Deicide has a large home that formerly was of her parents. There we’ll go.

—Damn! What a way to start our first meeting! —said Hal—. At least it gave us some thrill but… I was afraid.

Arturo couldn’t stop recalling what he had seen since he departed, and some random words about the chat regarding the Codex Gigas. Right now he was only thinking:

—Fearing… doubting. I just hope the others become aware of whatever those strangers meant to us.

—Whoever that guy was, his intrusion really pissed me off, I mean, all of us—said Shermie—. I guess sometimes we shouldn’t be living off of thrill and near-to-death experiences so often—she giggled nervously.

—Thanks for your words, dear—said Blessed Mother as she embraced her and Oriana, who were rather uneasy by now.

—We better go to your place, Fell Deicide—said Morrigan—. It’s a big as this one, and let’s hope things get calmed down here.

—We were going to play some songs for you, me and World’s Bane—said Fell Deicide—. But… damn! Right now I don’t feel in the mood. Let’s just keep all our stuff safe in the basement and locked the doors. We’ll go soon after that.

After they finished locking the doors and windows, and having stored all their stuff in the basement, they left the house. Arturo watched World’s Bane mumbling and staring into the night sky. He looked rather worried, and Arturo wanted to tell him something yet was afraid he could get mad at him.

Leave that to others, those words kept echoing on his mind, and Arturo tried to stop thinking on them. What was more important was the safety of the others, yet what truly worried him was the interaction of the Perfect Strangers among themselves. And the disturbance that stranger brought would not be the only and least of their problems.

The Roivas Mansion

Alexandra Roivas was sitting on a bench, enjoying of a coffee while reading the newspaper. Suddenly, she found some rather mysterious words. Codex Gigas. A strong gust of wind blew and tried to take the newspaper away but Alexandra quickly caught it. The part she read said the following:

The Codex Gigas has given a newfound interest to many scholars and curious ones. This large tome, exhibited at the National Library of Sweden, Stockholm, has been studied for long time. Despite its foul nature, it was not forbidden by the Inquisition for its study.

This giant book, the largest manuscript of the medieval world, created in the dawn of 13th century in the Benedictine Monastery of Podlazice in Bohemia, is something that should not be taken so lightly, according to some religious groups, given the tribulations of the modern world and the interest of modern and not-so-modern sciences.

After reading that, she stared at the picture, which showed the most conspicuous thing in the Codex Gigas, a large depiction of the Devil.

—What the fuck is this? —hissed Alexandra with eyes wide open—Have they returned? Grandpa never told me anything about it, but I’m sure he must have had known about this book.

She kept reading, though she didn’t find something that actually helped her to grasp what she had just found.

—Is there another wretched book? Did Pious know about it? Are there more servants of the Ancients? No… this can’t be happening.

She led her hands to her forehead and closed her eyes. On that moment it seemed she was suffering a headache, and a swift yet painful feeling of a lightning going through her skull made her to shudder. She restrained from muttering the name of the book, as it was likely the chance that a sibilant, alien voice would keep it echoing in her mind.

—What the fuck is this? Damn! Grandpa… Help me, please! I thought I was done with this shit already!

For a while, she kept her eyes closed and tried to breathe deeply. Another sensation of shivering took hold of her body as a really faint voice was whispering Codex Gigas from everywhere.

Again she eyed at the newspaper and read:

On September 24, 2007, after 358 years in exile, the Codex Gigas returns to Prague. It had been kept as a loot by Swedish troops, after the end of the Thirty Years’ War.

—Now it turns out to be there’s another wretched book! I don’t believe the Tome of Eternal Darkness is gone… but I really wish it were. And I find this now, well, at least I happen to read that there’s another book. Yet people didn’t know what happened nine years ago.

Then, she kept mute for another while, recalling something.

—There’s hardly someone who knows what happened back to that time…I guess it’s only me and… that stranger the Tome mentioned… it was a fire-fighter. Grandpa happened to meet him briefly. Where will be right now?

Her mind started to come up with random ideas, and hopefully, none of them were horrid.

As she was enclosing herself on her thoughts, and thanks to that, relieving a bit from the shock, she didn’t notice she was being seen by three people, two men and a woman. They seemed to be surrounding Alex, and approached at her with common pace. She was still lost in her thoughts as the strangers kept coming closer.

—Grandpa, help me, please—she muttered—. I’m not prepared for their return. I’ve got to go.

She got up from the seat and left the place. She stumbled with a tall man, and it was really big, she had crashed with the chest of the man, and hardly noticed a weird necklace that hung from his neck. As she muttered Sorry without looking at the man’s eyes, she kept on her way.

The three strangers halted, and then resumed her pursue. However, as Alex passed next to a youngster who had striking designs tattooed on his arms, those strangers halted for a long time. And the one who seemed would block Alex’s way didn’t move as she passed next to her. She just turned her and stared at Alex’s firm steps.

Then, the strangers followed their own ways, as well as the young man.

It wasn’t a long walking to her apartment, but as she approached at it, she felt that she was being watched, so she eyed from one side to another constantly. She hissed and closed her eyes. Such a feeling really annoyed her, as tempered as she was. She didn’t mind glaring at anyone who looked at her or pushing assertively those who blocked her way.

As soon as she reached the door, opened it and entered, she shut it with a loud noise and halted, leaning on the door. She heaved a long sigh, and shook her head as she believed a sibilant voice was whispering indistinct words from everywhere.

—Here I will be fine… safe—she said—. There’s no tome, there are no freaky creatures around here. Huh… I don’t want to read, see or hear anything weird right now.

She looked for a CD with classical music and put it in the stereo player. At first it annoyed her that the first song started more like the theme of a mystery or horror movie, so she skipped the song, pressing violently the button. The next one was more soothing. And with the hopes of the incoming melodies to keep such a mood, she headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

After the shower, her unease had gone, as well as any glimpse of hearing a sibilant voice. It only remained to forget the name Codex Gigas and also, hoping to not find something else that weird and she would do fine for the rest of the day.

When she was dressing, someone knocked up at the door.

—What the fuck…? Oh… let’s find out who’s there.

She headed for the door with loud steps, breathing heavily. Her face was already blushing with anger.

—Who’s there? —she yelled— I’m not in the mood for visitors…

And as she opened the door, she gasped, her eyes wide open. Then, she added:

—Ehm… especially for you.

Before her was burly Afro-American man, bald, dressed somewhat like a military man though it wasn’t his job. He was no one else but Michael Edwards, the industrial fire-fighter who took part in the battle against the Ancients. He had been trapped in a pit while trying to put an end to a fire in a place of the Persian Gulf. He had fallen into a very old temple of the Ancients, where a foul beast was to be unleashed.

—Listen girl, be careful of what you wish—said Michael—.I can leave you alone if you want. I don’t want to imagine how you will end up in this place alone.

—What do you want?—said Alex as her features became rougher.

—You’ve seen the newspapers, or at least have seen that TV show? —asked Michael.

Before Michael spoke again, looking at the eyes of Alex, she burst out in rage:

—And what do you want me to do? To destroy that book? How will we go to that library? And I bet you’re not thinking about destroying it like you did with that ancient temple in the Persian Gulf, because that’s bullshit!

—Is this what you have learned from your grandfather, girl?

—Don’t talk me like that and don’t mention him! You didn’t know him.

—I wish I had now. You surely were lucky.

Alex kept mute for a while. It ached her to recall her grandfather, Edward Roivas, in such a manner as she had done now.

—Sorry for that… didn’t mean it—said Michael.

—Shut up and let me think.

Abruptly, to her mind came many memories of what had happened nine years ago. What the Tome of Eternal Darkness showed her had been a travel that spanned millennia, when she only spent long hours reading, and later, it finally led her to take action against the creatures sent by the Ancients, in an effort to stop her from preventing their return. The Roivas Mansion, there it was one of the many beginnings of the story, and there she would return.

—I guess there’s no choice but to the return to the mansion—said Alexandra.

—Then it’s settled. You see? Be thankful that you won’t be alone.

—I’ll be more than thankful if you don’t leave me alone at all.

Knowing how big was the library of her grandfather, surely she would find any reliable sources as to what the Codex Gigas was indeed. That was something hopeful for starters, and helped her to feel more relieved for now.

—If you happen to read some pages of the Tome, I think you won’t find it hard to read books, some as large as that one. It’ll be kind of a rough time only reading.

Michael shrugged and restrained from replying.

—Now you’ll go through what I had nine years ago—said Alexandra with a chuckle—. By the way, are we going right now? Let me get the stuff I need, and what about you?

—Me? It’s not much—said Michael—. I’m ready now, the faster we arrive there…

—Hold on a second…—hissed Alexandra—How… did you find me?

Her expression made Michael to shudder, it seemed as she would kill him right now. The silent seconds after she left the question hanging in the air grew unbearable to him.

—I… eh, you wouldn’t believe me.

—After what I have gone through, I can believe almost anything.

—Look, I’ll later tell you. But if it helps, even when I no longer have that fucking tome, I keep hearing and seeing things that I should not… and I don’t want to.

—What are you trying to tell me?

—I was somehow guided here… I was meant to find you.

Alexandra just hissed, yet she diminished her annoyance by patting Michael on his forehead as she would do to a kid. Even she smiled at him for a brief moment.

Michael helped Alex to do the packing, though she said many times that it would not be too much, and before she realized it, Michael made to her to see that she was getting nervous, and that she was trying to carry too many things, and most of them were needless. She sighed and shook her head, annoyed.

—Aahh… sorry for that. It’s just that I can’t believe we’re into this thing again.

After she prepared the luggage with what she’d truly need, Michael led her to the street and waited for a cab to pass. They headed to the airport. The destination: Rhode Island, and there, to the Roivas Mansion. What was the true meaning behind all this? A possible return of the Ancients. What was at stake? It probably was their sanity, but still they refused to imagine that the whole mankind was at the brink of its downfall.

If they truly came to grasp even a glimpse of the Ancients’ nature, there were far more unfathomable things they could unleash upon mankind than mere loss of sanity. Mankind was already too troubled with their own troubles, most of them self-inflicted.

Even so, there were too many forces on this Universe than the Ancients or whatever embodiment of evil, there was also good and hope, which were strengthened by the very conflict against all that meant harm. Unfortunately, it seemed that more people was getting blind, unable to see that conflict and they either were driven by unchecked and total vice, or to a passive attitude. But all this was not troubling the minds of Alexandra and Michael, right now they were enjoying of a good dream, perhaps, the only peaceful time they could ever have.

When they arrived at the airport, they looked for a cab and asked the driver to get them to the Roivas Mansion. Oddly, he asked them what their business was and before Alexandra uttered a harsh word, Michael hurriedly said it was a private affair.

After the events of nine years ago, it seemed the fate of the Roivas Mansion was to be left in oblivion, or as Alexandra would have thought, destroyed, not by the Ancients, but by machines and construction workers. However, since she still was fond of her grandfather, though it gave her a painful recall of his murder, she ought him respect and knew the mansion had to endure.

Thus, Alexandra only visited her mansion when in times of mourning her grandfather or to find refuge from the daily world stress. Some random people and friends of her had dared to ask her if there was chance to make a big party there. Those friends were lucky that Alexandra had only kicked them and told nothing else.

She had not visited the mansion in 6 years. Now that her sight revealed a somewhat unwanted scene, some tears rolled down from her eyes as she longed that her grandfather was opening the door. She would dash to him and embrace him as if she were little girl.

Michael seemed to have guessed how Alex felt and he tried to put a hand on her back. She was as stiff as a statue. Then, she let out a long sigh which became a soft sob, long suppressed after many nightmares. She hugged Michael with all the sincerity her pain could get out of her.

—There… be hopeful—told her Michael—. You won’t be alone in this new challenge.

—I hope that we are not alone in this—she said.

On that moment, they both saw a person was coming to them. It was a young man, he had come from the mansion’s fence. Alex thought he might have trespassed it. He looked as a student college, and had a rather inquisitive gaze.

—Don’t worry, he must be a journalist or something.

—Oh, hello there! —the boy said, stuttering a little—. I’m Evan. I’m writing an article about Edward Roivas, and I was told of his mansion… and his mysterious death.

—How did you know about it? —asked Alexandra.

—My father worked the police department, and he knows Inspector Legrasse—said Evan—. Also, there were some police officers who are not very good when trying to keep some things secret, especially on the joints they spend the nights.

—Were you spying on them? —asked Michael.

—Oh, no, of course not! —said Evan, offended— My father told me that, and I should have suspected that already. Now, my interest on Roivas began two years after his death, since I didn’t want to approach at the mansion… I didn’t know how to, who was the heir or heiress and… well, seriously, that mansion gives me the creeps.

Michael led a hand to Alex’s mouth to prevent her from cursing and said:

—Look kid, we’re busy for now! Come tomorrow.

—It’s been a long time, and I haven’t found any reliable sources—said Evan—. Besides, I’m not here to know about his death, but for his life. I was told of the great library he has and it’ll be a gift for me to take a look to it.

Alexandra turned to Michael and told him in a hushed voice:

—We better bring him along with us… We should not let him go out…

—He still doesn’t know much about Edward—replied Michael.

—Perhaps he can help us. Remember I told I don’t want us to be alone?

Michael shrugged and sighed, and later he nodded.

—Come with us, I’ll later tell you how you can help us, and I’ll let to enter at the library of my grandfather.

At last they entered into the mansion. It was afternoon, and inside the mansion Alexandra felt like in home. Again she felt the sensation of being in a museum of antiquities, the motionless of all the things and the warm light that filtered through the curtains. On the foyer walls, the foreboding portraits of the Roivas family kept haunting everyone with their gazes. Evan could not help but to feel amazed, but what he longed the most was to enter at the library. As for Michael, he thought he was in a five stars hotel.

Michael had seen at last the indoors of the Roivas Mansion. Nine years ago, he had travelled Rhode Island to deliver a mysterious package, containing a precious item that would help Alexandra Roivas in her battle against the Ancients. He recalled he knocked up at the door and immediately ran away. Then, Alexandra, after opening the door, found a package which contained the Essence of Mantorok and an enchanted Gladius. It gleamed with fiery red light.

As Michael and Alexandra went to the second floors and headed to their rooms to left their baggage, Evan had the chance to enter at the library. There he spent a long time and was babbling and saying things to himself about the amount of books Edward Roivas had. 10 minutes later Michael came back to the foyer room and Alexandra headed for the kitchen for a quick meal.

As soon as Michael touched the doorknob, he heard a thump sound, and then he heard some cracking noises. Quickly he opened the door and found Evan standing on their feet, as he was nervously lifting some books that had fallen.

—I’m okay—said Evan with a smile—. How dumb of me! Don’t tell her, please!

When Michael left the library, he never noticed that Evan led his hands to his neck and re-arranged it. Then he resumed the browsing of heavy tomes.

—Alex told me she was afraid that we were alone in this… quest or whatever it is. But I’m hesitating of that… perhaps we should be alone or… Damn, I don’t know what to think, what to do… what to believe.

Hazardous Unearthing

—And what about your concert? —asked Oriana.

—Well… we need to know if things have turned out better at my place—said World’s Bane.

—And, there is the best spot for our show! —said Fell Deicide.

—Perhaps we might return there, it’ll be only for one night—said Oriana.

—What? —said World’s Bane.

—Sorry, I meant no offence, but, I feel safer at this girl’s home—said Oriana looking to Fell Deicide.

—Oh, well, whatever. Now, let’s wake up the others for the breakfast.

It was a sunny morning out there, and the warm light that went through the windows in the rooms invigorated the others while in their sleep, yet some of them were really as heavy as rocks when it came to trying to wake them up.

One by one, all the Perfect Strangers were called to the dining room and enjoyed a good breakfast. Luckily, no one commented on the cooking skills of World’s Bane, as she was quite supervised by Fell Deicide.

After the breakfast, some wanted to take a shower, while others went to the living room and turned on the TV. Here and there the Perfect Strangers were not doom and gloom as most people would have thought, and perhaps it would not be too long before any of them came up with a sort of game that invited to others to start a friendly mess… save for the worrying of Fell Deicide, who showed more interesting on preserving all the furniture and hygiene of her home.

—Oh, but I don’t live in a dungeon… though it surely looks like one—said World’s Bane before he was told how his house looked like.

Some hours after noon, the day had become cloudy, and that meant the Perfect Strangers would get dressed in black, and planned to go to a mall or for a long walk while they were all together. The fright that strangers had given them was no more than a dream for them now, but they had to be wise about what they could and could not do.

But, after all, what was the thrill of being in such a band if not for causing a little disturbance here and there?

That, and the fact of the joyous time some friends would have, it was something they would never let anyone rob them off.

On that day, however, though they hanged out for some hours, it seemed they didn’t get to scare the people too much. Nothing strange was hanging on the air, and whatever memory the Perfect Strangers had of the disturbance at their place was no more than a joke to them, since most of them found funny how he fell from the wall.

When it was 3:00 pm, they returned to Fell Deicide’s home. There they ordered for some fast food. As they enjoyed the feast, World’s Bane stood up and said:

—OK, we’ll have our concert at my place! So, as soon as we’re done with this, get what you need, for we’ll stay there for some days. Remember, it’s only one week and we might have plenty of things to do, but we must choose which them are worthy.

At 5:00 pm they set out and headed to the other house. After half an hour of driving, they came and started unloading all the stuff they had brought with them. In less than an hour, what once had been a living room and the dining room had been merged into one since there was no wall now. There it was a stage!

Arturo and Ulises had been seeing that some of his friends went for the instruments, and began wondering how many of them were actually in a band.

—What are you doing? How many of us are in a band? —asked Ulises.

—World’s Bane and Fell Deicide are the ones who actually are in a band—said Morrigan—. Celeron has been taking classes for drums, and Animaiden and I had taken already classes for singing, and also, she was already in a band of her friends, singing and playing the bass. Though we do it just for leisure, Ha! We both aren’t pursuing a career in the music business…

—Yet.

—That’s true.

It wasn’t long for everyone to feel as if they were in a bar, and with a good reason, to feel relaxed in an environment that fit perfectly for them.

Around 7:00 pm, all the preparations had ended. World’s Bane and Fell Deicide had brought their guitars, Celeron went for the drums and Animaiden and Morrigan would go for the vocals. Animaiden would be in the bass. The speakers, instruments and everything else had been checked out so that no one got annoyed by technical difficulties.

As the band was on the stage, World’s Bane said:

—Well, this is the best option for us to be relaxed and… uhm, I hope this is what you need as an incentive so you can all start taking classes of singing or maybe you want to learn to play guitar or any other instrument. It’d be really great that all the Perfect Strangers formed part of this band.

The others cheered them up and started shouting out that they began singing.

They began with a somewhat soothing song that Morrigan had written about a gathering of friends, which couldn’t fit better for the occasion. All were moved when she sang the following:

As broad as an ocean

and as high as a mountain

Our friendship’s a blessing

Should times became harsher

even meaning to end our lives

We would never fail to each other

We’ll die together as friends

After that song, they started with covers of some famous songs of Heavy and Power. At first, it was difficult to decide which one was to be played, and also, when someone mentioned a song, those on the guitars would quickly play the most recognizable riffs from that song, and those who wanted another song, would start screaming.

Thus, the concert was interrupted by a game, on which they would play some riffs and ask the others from which song they were. Though the game was entertaining, they ought to keep going with the show.

They came now with heavier and faster songs, and in some songs, World’s Bane did the vocals, though still accompanied by the girls on the choruses, but only in the songs they seemed fit (and not to annoy him). Once they had enjoyed of almost one two hours of memorable anthems, one after another, they were told to come up with heavier songs, faster songs, of whatever the genre. It seemed obvious they would end with songs from Melodic Death Metal.

—Give us something epic! —shouted Arturo.

—Prepare your necks to be worn off! —answered World’s Bane.

On that moment, only Animaiden was playing her bass. Then followed Fell Deicide with slow, heavy riffs. And as Morrigan started to vocalize with an eerie tone. A few while later, World’s Bane started whispering in a growled voice.

With a blast beat, Celeron invited the others to headbang as hard and fast as they could. Those who were not in the mood, they ought to stop feeling shy while the others would never mind how did they do it as long they did it along with them. And thus, Nemrod and Ulises joined them. The drums and the heavy, raw riffs of World’s Bane were assaulting everyone’s ears, and it was for sure: all felt such a thrill in their mind and heart.

Even they thought their blood was starting to boil, although it was for the warm air in the room. However, that didn’t matter. All of them were stomping and headbanging as they had ever wanted. It was such a sight for them, such a thrilling time. Too bad no one took a picture. When it was 1:00 am, the concert had ended.

It was around 4:00 am when World’s Bane got up to drink some water. He felt his throat rather dry. With the music still echoing in his head and the dizziness of the drinks, his way through the darkness was slow and clumsy. Before he came to the fridge, he found Fell Deicide, who felt pretty much like him.

Before they even gasped or did anything else, they started hearing whispers.

—Is anyone else awakening? —asked Fell Deicide.

—No, I was the only one who got up. —replied World’s Bane.

The whispers, oddly, became more audible, and they were coming from everywhere. They didn’t mind, until they thought someone had brushed past their cheeks and feet, and somehow, they felt gripped.

—I didn’t drink that much.

—Quiet! And listen up…

Again, the whispers became more audible, and suddenly, they heard a hiss. Before they started thinking about having a snake as an intruder, they were startled… it seemed they were in a vast room, and the floor felt irregular, with bumps and holes. They tried to look for walls, but their waving hands never touched anything.

However, there was a sudden light, yet it was so dim that it seemed to be far away. That light, flickering and distant, made them to feel quite anxious, and it wasn’t long till they could hear their panting, even though they were not walking, and they could feel the throb of their hearts.

—What’s happening? —both asked to each other.

When the light vanished, once again total blackness took hold, and their pants seemed to be somewhat desperate. As tough-looking as they were, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide waved their arms, trying to feel the other’s body, each touch, instead of helping them, caused them to almost yelp out of terror… for the things they touched were not clothes or skin… human skin at all.

A dim light seemed to come from somewhere, and as both tried to reach it, the light grew a little brighter. On that moment, they could see each other better, but their sight just made them to drown a gasp. They had seen each other of lesser height. In fact, they were just kids.

—This can’t be happening! —whispered both.

As they looked up to the ceiling, there were some distant bright spots. It somehow made them to feel as if they were in a cathedral, because they thought to see pillars and beams of light coming through huge windows. They stopped walking when they felt something big and heavy on their feet.

They crouched, fumbling whatever was just at their feet, but immediately back away, for an unpleasant sensation crept from their hands to the arms. It was a unbearable heat, and just some seconds later, they realized of a faint stench, though they could not tell what it was. The lighting became a little brighter.

At their feet rested a huge tome, leather-bound, with little pieces of human bones on the cover. It was so large that even with two hands would not be enough to carry it. When World’s Bane and Fell Deicide tried to pick it up, the book shrank in an odd way, very fast. Abruptly, they tried to grab it, scratching more one another than the book, for it had become ethereal.

They never uttered a word; the only sounds there were those of gasps and groans, and even hisses. They were fighting for an imaginary book, in a place perhaps induced by the alcohol and sleeplessness… or so it seemed.

An even deeper blackness overwhelmed them. Both immediately cried out, scared. They never thought they would feel as such. The darkness made them to hesitate, were they blind? Were their eyes still open? And, for some reason, they tried to touch their faces but never came to feel them.

A shuddering feeling was taking hold of them, slowly. The absence of light, the increasing speed of the heartbeats, the sweat, and everything else that was spoiling their sanity would soon reach a point where they would lost it. Those two mortals never would have imagined that if they lost sanity, they would die.

With a stroke of luck, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide thought they were in front of each other, and they embraced. Swift gasps, and just a moan, so sincere that recalled them the fears of childhood, showed them weak to whatever or whoever was haunting them. But in the embrace, they desperately stood fast, willing to defend mutually against something so unfathomable, that all that was human simply could not be compared to it.

—Make it stop! —whispered Fell Deicide.

—This isn’t really happening! —hissed World’s Bane, shivering as if he was out in a wintry landscape, under a snowstorm.

They stood together, embraced, for what it seemed like hours. Each thought of being free, of seeing the morning and being back with their friends, all that just made them feel how helpless they were, how big would be their loss.

In that moment, the last hope they had, being together, their longing to be free, was like a flickering flame in a huge abyss. But the flame simply passed out.

—Fuck this! We won’t be the only ones to suffer this!—hissed Fell Deicide.

—The others would suffer worse than we did…—whispered World’s Bane, his tone became rougher—. And I tell you, why us? Who let this happen? If we are nothing, think what’s been happening to mankind through so many ages…

—All the deaths and suffering are just a sigh, a blinking…—said a deep, echoing voice.

World’s Bane and Fell Deicide quickly became mute.

—… in a very long contest called Life—said a growling, guttural voice.

They still were motionless, embraced, and with a swift hint of light, they could see each other, and their grip became stronger. Could that be a renewed glimpse of hope?

—Malevolent, powerless and false in its true goals, such is the one who created you—said a hissing, female voice. Oddly, each word she uttered was followed by another voice, similar like, and sometimes it came with a maniacal laughing.

‘You are as disabled as that one, the retribution for their mistakes is a never-ending one. And that one claims he is the only one, what a dictator-like idea to humans! But, indeed, we must thank you, for you only have done everything easier to us.’’

And then, the three voices said:

—So insignificant you are, that even the greatest pain all mankind will suffer, will be reduced to a blink once it’s extinguished. The Universe will never recall you. You shall be just a shooting star that was hardly noticed

After those voices, came a series of hisses, humming voices and whispers. World’s Bane and Fell Deicide couldn’t tell what they were speaking of. It was not until some minutes later, that they understood what those voices were saying:

You look behind, there is the past.

Did you reach the zenith?

You look ahead, there is the future

How deep will be your fall?

Selfishness is the primal sin

yet the pain would not be for one.

Indeed, no greater glory than

to destroy Man’s last hope

But we can save you, yes

Belong to us, morsels!

You’ll spread your foul pain

as it has never been dreamt

There was dim light that was approaching to World’s Bane and Fell Deicide. Again, at their feet was that book, the Tome of Eternal Darkness. Three runes had appeared before them, one blue, other red and the last one green. Before they realized it, they had already chosen the red one, as they grunted and got away from one another.

The ghostly book divided itself in a half, and when there two books, they floated in front of the couple and came into their chests. They never feared any pain at all. What they experienced was that a whole amount of knowledge had seeped inside their heads, and that they were capable of something more. They would grasp things no other had before… save for some chosen ones.

Even so, only the Ancients were capable to understand those things completely. However, there was something they were starting to yearn, and because of that, there was a risk for the plans of another return.

Slowly, all cold, fear and painful sensation was vanishing. The feeling that the ground was irregular faded too, the grim and odd lights and the almost, utter darkness was turning into the usual night veil inside a house. Quickly, they spotted some windows and the kitchen. A few while later, they returned to their rooms to sleep, though they would hardly have any sleep at all. But, at least they achieved something, and that was secrecy. They would tell no one what they had just found.

At the next morning, while the sun was rising, on World’s Bane house, the Perfect Strangers were waking up, one by one, some struggling to remain asleep, others doing some exercise, while others were chatting or watching TV. As for World’s Bane and Fell Deicide, their sleep was so heavy, that even there could be an explosion outside, and they would not wake up, startled.

—Good morning, everyone! —said Celeron to whomever he encountered—. What a concert we had, eh?

When it came the time for the showers, there were two rows, each one for the bathroom of men and one for the women. While some grew somewhat impatient as they could not stand the heat, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide hardly eyed each other.

Things were going calmly through the morning till afternoon, when they were preparing some tuna and salad. It was pretty sunny outside, and today the Perfect Strangers were not dressed in black.

During the meal at afternoon, World’s Bane and Fell Deicide eyed swiftly to each other when Celeron left this question hanging in the air.

—So, what do you think? Can there be a resurgence of the Old Pagan ways in the USA?

All the Perfect Strangers opened wide their eyes their gaze was fixed on him.

—My personal research—added Celeron—has noticed a number of small cults and under the radar sects of these various pagan practices, and from what I have gathered, this seems to be growing. Now, be it most of these particular groups are in Europe, it is fairly obvious that this spreading to the American shores…slowly.

—You speaking of Odinism and other religions like that? —asked Morrigan.

—I’d like to hear if anybody else feels that there will be a large resurgence of Paganism in America…

—And, if this is so, will it be the beginning of overthrowing Christianity, or another religion that will co-exist with it like Hinduism or Islam or Judaism? —questioned Ulises.

—I doubt this could happen—answered Arturo—. Christianity has a firm grasp on 1/3 of the world. For Paganism to take hold in the USA, the government would have to be overthrown and state cults…

—Much like in ancient Rome—added Oriana—, that would need to be put in place.

—But people would not be happy—said Blessed Mother.

—American Paganism is a joke anyways—said Ash Crimson—. The country and the people living there now have been there for less than 300 years, there is no Pagan tradition to fall back on. Not to mention that the whole idea of Paganism being some sort of original and ‘true’ religion is in itself ridiculous. Religions come and go with the times, and Paganism was just another phase in the onwards march of Human history.

—I know what I know from the Evangelical Christian church I was practically raised in, church two times a week plus Bible study—said Blessed Mother—. I don’t exactly know where I made the broad generalization. Care to fill me in on what I seem to be missing? I’ll take constructive criticism, but making a claim like that and then not giving me an example and leaving me in the dark about it isn’t exactly productive. Hopefully I’ll be able to clear up any misunderstandings.

‘‘Was it the fact that I made a generalization about the role of God in Islam, Judaism, and Christianity? All the basic interpretations of him in each of these three religions come from the same root, so it isn’t exactly too broad.’’

‘‘On another note, why does the legitimacy of a religion have to pertain to the history of a given land in which it was practiced, other than conversion or importing said religion? The same argument can be made for Christianity in the United States, and if you even want to go back farther, Europe itself it is foreign (although obviously it is a European religion from the years of it’s firmly rooted assimilation with the cultures there). Why would European paganism be any less legitimate than European Christianity in the United States?’’

Then, Celeron said:

—That’s not even taking into account the Native American religions which many tribes and nations still adhere to that actually have their genesis within these lands.

—Either way—said Ash Crimson—, you’re not saying that there should or that it would be a good thing if paganism was a majority here, religion is religion and I don’t like it one way or the other. Just to clarify.

Before an unwanted ruckus started, Blessed Mother stood up and raised her voice, a stern expression flashing on her face.

—Let’s not get carried away with the romanticizing, children—she said—. Perhaps forced conversion wasn’t an issue (since “conversion” itself is somewhat unique to monotheism) but there was certainly pagan VS pagan religious persecution and violence.

Before anyone else replied to that, she added:

—And please, let’s mind over better things than this topic. We should not let such things to spoil our friendship. We all must be aware that things alien to us are a danger to us… but what we have inside could be as great a menace as those things.

After that, it followed a long silence.

—What now? —asked Nemrod, shrugging.

And after some uneasy moments, Celeron said:

—What happened? Eeh… Um, no one’s going to refer Wikipedia or something?

Everyone burst out in a good laughing, even World’s Bane and Fell Deicide, who had been serious for some time. Even so, and since they were sat together, they spoke to each other.

—What we have spoken today is interesting—he said—.We ought to start… you know, getting some people into what we are now.

—You mean, using them—said Fell Deicide, smirking.

_ _ _ _ _
Click here to continue reading Eternal Darkness: Arise of the Believers.