Niall had followed the Anduain on the sly. It was not the first time. The shadows of the forest did not conceal him but rather swathed the mantle of ether he was already cloaked within as he watched the ancient but young immortal from the other side of the veil. He stood on the edge of the shadow plane and could, if he chose, with a single stride, pass through the veil like a door and emerge within Eoghan's view. Though the outer world was tinted in the darker shades he peered through, and sounds were muted as if heard through a wall, he could observe and hark Eoghan with clarity. The clever and wisely discreet Arcanon could only be amused by those bits and pieces of Eoghan's inner reflections that he spoke aloud, and as he had done on several other occasions without Eoghan's knowledge, he began to reshape reality for Eoghan's benefit. Lessons had to be learned, and Eoghan needed to be wooed into a Kingdom befitting of his nature. Haman was certainly not it and he was naïve to the perils of flirting with a god he had forsaken. Niall and Killian, along with Niall's Arcanon brothers Trebius and Argreph, had agreed that Annwn was the perfect place to welcome Bel between his terrestrial excursions. It was owed to this and other factors, that the spirits and beings Niall summoned and gave synthetic but very realistic life to, through precise imagery and projection, were creatures of Annwn. Each figure Niall fabricated was a reflection of his will as he commanded their appearance and actions with any elements he added for effect. Out of love and necessity Niall staged the encounter, for it was far better that he and Killian got to him before Belial did, or worse, Yajmha did. If Yajmha got his hands on Belorian, he would never escape Acheron. Belial at least believed he had Eoghan's best interest in mind. Eoghan had made the mistake of learning Belial's name and making himself familiar with who he was. Belial would come for him as a result, and Eoghan was not ready for Acheron just yet. Yet to believe that, Eoghan needed to see Acheron for himself and with it Annwn, so he too would see where he belonged. It was with this combined knowledge in mind that Niall constructed his alter-reality.
Eoghan startled and sat plumb as a figure emerged from the center of the tree stump. His flowing hair and beard were snow white and he wore a gown of pale blue brocade in gold. Mesmerizing blue eyes which shone radiantly from an ivory face peered at Eoghan from beneath a bush of white brows.
"I have naugh much time," the fellow spoke in a resonant yet waiflike voice, seeming ancient and youthful at the same time. "Thou hast explored the furthest region to retrieve a name thou art forbidden to know, and returned with knowledge thou art forbidden to recall. Learn more must thou to know the way of thy heart. Go thee to the Ring and enter there. See Killian's world, feel it. Know how powerful, how cunning, how good, how evil, how righteous, how corrupt, how angry, how kind is the other's brother. Fathom his logic, his emotion, his fears, his longing, and his hate. Go thee now, Eoghan the Comet, to the Abandoned World, and their find the broken pillars and enter there into the heart of darkness." The man, if indeed he was a man, ducked down into the stump which sealed over him and vanished from sight.
Eoghan stared faintly slack-jawed into the space the fellow had previously occupied, and continued to gaze there even long after he was gone. Inhaling a slight breath he spoke quietly. "I know thee…thou who art my divine brother."
Niall was surprised by this, that Eoghan recognized Argreph in one of many likenesses the cagey Arcanon assumed, and which Niall had borrowed from. How did he know him? Was it a latent memory? Or had he stolen far too much forbidden knowledge in his mental cathexis?
The Anduain clambered to his feet as if his body was estranged from his mind, his focus rapt on the energy radiating from the ring of mushrooms. "Hear Bel, thy brother speak, O' kindred Lords! By Lucifer's charms be naugh tempted to serve him! O' let us gather as one and reunite the Morning Star with Lord God his brother, and as one mind, and one council, let the guiding spirits uphold balance and answer solely to the great cycle, that peace abide in the heavens and upon the earths! Give in naugh to war!" he promulgated.
What nerve, Niall thought. Who but Belorian would think such an inconceivable pursuit was even possible? The veiled immortal smiled and lightning cracked at his command.
Eoghan staggered back as its aura electrified him and his breath was twice stolen as an assembly of corporeal spirits appeared before him.
One figure, a woman, was cloaked entirely in black, her facial features concealed beneath a hood. She stood before the others, her head bowed, with hands neatly laced in a clasp. She raised her head only slightly and addressed Eoghan. "Thou art the chosen, Eoghan O'Daily, Flesh of the Comet, Bel Danilorian, Spirit of the Pure Heart. Thou art ever strong to have journeyed into the void, a hidden name and secret to obtain remembered. Thou art the fallen hope, as Lucifer is the fallen despair, faith and skepticism are thine twain to judge that together ye may bring balance to this earth." Hence she retreated whereby another spirit came forward.
He was a creature that was not of the earth. Layers of silvery sheer fabric veiled his hunched, ancient old, gnarled form, which was only vaguely distinguishable beneath the feathery mantle. Red eyes which glowed like embers peered out at Eoghan from behind a cobweb-like shroud. It was with a gravely voice the being spoke. "No peace in heaven can be found where it cannot be found on the earths. The many are gathering to cast down the one that humankind can be destroyed and balance on the earth can be restored. All things but mankind observe the cycle and are part of symmetry, abide in harmony with the web of life. Man alone separates himself from the natural order to conquer and destroy all which it touches. If humans cannot learn to invent and conquer without laying ruin to all that gives him life he shall die out, and we who are guardians of life shall not permit him to let the earth die with him."
The creature withdrew and another cloaked figure presented itself before Eoghan, shrouded in a flowing, crimson gown. "If Yajmha is to protect mankind, he requires the help of those who have influence over the rulers and powers of the earth. We see little hope that mankind can embrace love and abide in harmony with each other and their world, for many are the cruel, apathetic, angry, deviant and savage people which endure among the masses. Thou must go out amongst the populace of this earth, and live among the diverse cultures, learn and discover a way to bring them together, to break down the walls of hatred and disquiet between the races. Behold of those who adhere to the cycle, and against the cycle. Let arrogance be cast down that people learn to behold of the spirit inhabiting the flesh of all things."
Eoghan shook his head and his lips parted to a slackening jaw at the fruitlessness of their request. "None of thee was born of this world. Thou art incapable of understanding it. What right hast thou or any being who is naugh of this earth to judge mankind's fate? The earth can take care of its own! It is the gods and immortals which have no place here! Aye, detestable folk inhabit this sphere, but there are many remarkable people as well. There are people who are as savage as crocodiles, and people who are gentle as fawns. Is naugh violence part of the natural cycle? Doth naugh fire spout from the earth to rain down on villages to entomb its inhabitants in ash? Doth naugh the wind, the waves, the rain demolish the forest and people's homes alike? What worry that mankind shall destroy the earth when the earth can defend itself? Even cruelty can be seen in nature. A cat may torture a mouse before it kills it, or a mighty orca may torment a seal for long hours before it either eats it or allows it to swim away."
Niall was impressed by his logic and the passion behind it. He smiled as Eoghan continued in his usual verbose manner of enthusiasm.
"I realize mankind must change, but naugh for the sake of this earth, they must change to prevent their own extinction along with the extinction of other creatures of this world. I know that people must learn that they destroy themselves when they destroy life on their world. I know that folk must learn to be tolerant of one another, and naugh to fear that which is alien to them. That they must naught crush the hope of others, or to force their will and beliefs on those who see things differently. I understand the weaknesses and iniquity therein mankind, as I know it can-naugh be purged from all people. Mankind's best hope dwells in persuading the majority, the greater intelligence of the masses; that it is vital for people to embrace unity as it exists for the welfare of this planet's environment, and for the common good of its creatures and humankind. If this could be accomplished, iniquity would still exist, but they would be overpowered by those who fight corruption."
"What is the better good?" the vague, cloaked entity questioned him.
"Peace, freedom, and the preservation of life."
"The one fears that freedom gives rise to chaos."
"Chaos only occurs when freedom is taken away from people and they are persecuted when they exercise free will, and must fight, die or be dominated in order to preserve their freedom. Only then doth chaos arise. Oppression breeds anger, resentment, bitterness and ultimately violent upheaval. A savage cycle begins. Too many laws oppress and too few give rise to dictatorship and superfluous laws which strangle a population. In time there must be one covenant of laws for all people."
"What wouldst thou choose for those laws to be?" Niall decided to have his puppets test Eoghan far beyond limits he would impose on himself.
Eoghan shook his head. "It would take years for me to devise such a plan. And as a civilization advances so too must their laws evolve. Economies must be considered…cultural diversity…"
"Name the laws," the spirit interrupted him to impose.
Eoghan blew a harsh breath and shook his head. "You do naugh understand…"
"Name the laws!" All of them demanded at once.
Eoghan felt like he was caught in a badger hole again. The Anduain thought for a moment then obliged their demand. "It would be imperative that the laws naugh intrude on people's beliefs or personal lives. I shall list them in order of the severity of their penalty.
Murder as always is the greatest offense against mankind. To kill the earth's creatures for any other reason than sustenance should be considered a wanton act of murder as well.
To destroy a forest is an act of greed and an assault upon the earth. Sexual assault or abuse would carry an equal penalty with assault as it injures the victim's soul. Assault would carry a severe penalty for it can precipitate murder. Any act which threatens harm or a life would be considered assault. It would be unlawful to assault or otherwise abuse others, the earth's creatures, and the wilderness.
Theft would be the next offense and all circumstances surrounding a theft would be considered. Examples would be used as guidelines to clarify this edict. A starving child who steals a round of bread would be counseled, given aid and shown all mercy. A man or woman who steals without threat to their victim would make full restitutions, and be held a duration in which they worked and learned skills, to attain a trade through prisons set up as schools. Those who threaten the lives of their victims would receive a harsher punishment, more intense counseling, and learn a trade. Any thief who assaults their victim is punished naugh as a thief but for assault. If a thief kills the victim, they are charged with Murder.
Wanton Destruction of other people's property, commerce, water sources, and wilderness, would all be punishable by an equal term of imprisonment. These laws alone would stand to govern all people as crimes punishable by incarceration."
"All other complaints would be considered moral grievances to be brought before the court by the people, not one of which is punishable by imprisonment. Only if wrong doing can be proved might a moral concern be brought before the court, such as infidelity. In the event of adultery therein a monogamous marriage the court would decide what responsibilities the parties involved must uphold, be it support or a term of counseling. If someone's property is destroyed by another, and the act was naugh malicious, no threat to that person made, the court would judge how restitutions might be made. If one man owes another money and hath refused or been negligent in making payments; the court shall hear the circumstances and decide whether or naugh the defendant must pay his dues to the other. If the defendant is too poor to pay his dues, he shall make restitutions by working for his community, which shall pay his debt."
"The thing of it is, that no matter how severe or petty is the offense, it would be brought before naugh one king, or magistrate, but before a court of ten judges, chosen from ten walks of life, all of whom must be intelligent, educated in every law of their court, and they must be trained as astute listeners who are adept at exploring each individual circumstance to attain the best judgment. There would be but two courts. One would be the Court of Grievances. The other would be the World Court. The ten judges of the World Courts would be enlightened in those laws punishable by imprisonment."
"The public would be allowed to attend this court, and to be involved in the judgments made therein that courtroom. The judges would make their verdict known and the people would be given allowance to protest or to uphold the judges' ruling. If the judges' ruling is cast down, ten alternate judges from another region shall replace their predecessors and try the accused again. If on the third trial the judges are overwhelmed again by the public the accused is either set free or imprisoned as the public demands against the judgment of the court. In this way the public is also held accountable for their society."
"The Court of Grievances would be a closed court. The ten judges, the complainants and the witnesses would be the only ones allowed to attend, barring guards or officers of the court. If the accused in that court requests a retrial, he may be tried as many as two more times by alternate judges. Each judgment in that case would be cast as a vote for or against the accused."
"That is how I would have the world's laws be, had I the authority to make it so."
Eoghan inhaled a deep breath as the figures all advanced to circumscribe him.
"Why do you not mention death as a punishment?" one of them asked.
"Because to put a man to death is murder, and murder is against the law. And if an innocent man is found guilty, he should naugh die in place of another."
"What excuse may pardon murder?" another questioned.
"Defending one's self or others against an attacker is the only excuse to kill another."
"What of war?" the spirit attired in black queried.
"War is murder if one faction initiates an attack to conquer another, but war is naugh murder when it is a defensive counterstrike against an attacker."
"What is honor?"
"Honor is to act with decency, to consider the consequences of an act before performing it, naugh to attack the beliefs of another or to act against thy own heart."
"At what hour would you see your laws instated?"
"When great cities loom over the world's landscapes and the earth and its people weary of war and intolerance, and they look to the stars for a better world; when the great powers of the earth all share the same longing for peace."
"Who would rule the united world?"
"An assembly of learned, honorable and wise men from the many cultures of the earth would regulate the courts and quell upheavals between the masses of the world. No one would be permitted to put themselves forth and aspire to be elected for positions of authority. It would be for the people to choose who would be an exemplary world leader or court judge."
The most splendid of the creatures advanced to stand facing Eoghan. A radiant, pale blue light illumined its flowing, gossamer white robe, and its smooth, human-like features were a limpid shade of ivory. Its large violet orbs gazed at Eoghan's eyes as its long, delicate fingers brushed across his skin to both chill and electrify his body. It addressed him in a voice that was as enchanting as it was feminine. "Thou art wise, Eoghan for one so young. The future shall grant thee the wisdom to help accomplish thy goals for this planet. Hear thee our counsel and keep it in thy heart. Judge naugh as others would judge thee but let thy heart and the forces guide thy persuasions. Let go thy anger, thy pain, thy remorse and let all that is good flow through thee. Look to none as thy enemy but be as their patron and know their sorrows. Thou art the chosen, be one with all things, feel, sense, see all sides of all things." Niall took full advantage of the opportunity to counsel his brother and superior in life through these false idols Eoghan obviously respected. He loved him, he did.
The gentle being took Eoghan by his arm with its pleasantly charged hand and ushered him across the greensward to the toadstool ring. She seated the dazed Anduain on the tree stump whereof he inhaled a breath and settled his eyes on her as she spoke. "Go to the Abandoned World and learn the truths which evade thee," it bade.
Eoghan's eyes felt suddenly heavy and it was all he could do to watch as the diaphanous entity faded into the atmosphere with the others until their assembly dispersed altogether. His eyes sagged and then rolled to a close and he fell into a deep slumber where he sat. Niall promptly plunged him into the Abandoned World, where he would fine the gateways to Acheron and Annwn. He would not be able to find his way out until he had explored both regions. No harm would come to him, for he had the protection of the Morning Star, Niall, Trebius and Argreph combined. His duty performed, Niall returned to camp.
Eoghan bowed his head deeply and wrapped himself in his arms as an enigmatic but dreadfully familiar voice infiltrated his thoughts. Unfortunately it was not Niall staging another performance on his behalf. "Thou art so terribly naïve, Bel. Others pray on thy blind trust. Be I ever deceitful yet I would never lie to thee. Deceit surrounds thee and thou art too impressionable and innocent to recognize it. One spirit disguised as another forced thee to make a choice that never existed. A ploy it was to undermine and test thee and nothing more. Others conceal truths from thee which are thy right to know."
"What truths and who deceives me?"
"That is for thee to discover. Open thy eyes, beloved Belorian."
"And what motivates thee?" Eoghan addressed the unseen specter through clenched teeth.
"As I possessed thee in an attempt to protect thee from the demons which conquered thee in the mine, I strive to protect thee now," it claimed.
"What is thy name, spirit?"
"I am neither spirit nor demon. It was thee summoned me when my name and secrets thou uncovered in the void of knowledge."
"Belial…so it was thee tried to tempt me into Acheron, while the others vied to drag me into the abyss," the Anduain hissed.
"A fiend of the pit they wished to make of thee, an eater of souls, whilst I intended only to wrest thee from those devils and bring thee into thy true father's embrace where ye belong. Thou art my brother and belong among thy true clan. Lucifer wishes for thee to come to him of thy own will or naugh at all, whilst I believe that thou shalt never embrace Acheron as thy kingdom else ye see it with thine own eyes. Thou art blinded by human beliefs as to what Acheron and thy maker truly are. I love thee and wish only to protect thee from the horrors which humanity hath in store for thee."
"I am naugh meant to be in Acheron, Belial, and I have seen all I wish to see of Acheron. Great it is, vast, its cities magnificent, it caverns filled with horror, its shrines beautiful and terrible at once, and it is dark…oh so dark. I do naugh belong there."
Eoghan forced himself not to believe anything the Mogduain conveyed. He was ever so clever and even by declaring himself a deceiver he exonerated himself of subterfuge, regardless of his promise of truth. He had also absolved Lucifer of sharing any agendas in common with him.
"Fear alone keeps thee from heeding thy heart's true desires, Eoghan. Let go thy fears and only then shalt thou know the genuine disposition of thy heart, and have the courage to follow it."
"Leave me," Eoghan whispered sternly.
"I am well aware that ye do naugh trust me and I am glad for it. Ye place thy faith with a guileless deficit for heed in anonymous spirits. Thou shalt see for thyself as time passes that I speak only the truth to thee. I miss thee, Bel, and could I manifest on the world ye now call home, I should make myself known to thee and thou wouldst love me as ye once did, as thy brother and champion. Adieu."
Eoghan could feel Belial's ominous presence withdraw as a shadow retreats beneath the pale light of the moon, haunting and subtle. Like Killian, he was ominous because he was so cryptic and cleverly self-possessed. If he had lied, and Eoghan could not be sure if he had either way, he had woven pretense with the truth nevertheless. One spirit disguised as another forced him to make a choice that never existed, he had said. In other words, O'Braugh's fate was predetermined and a dark spirit disguised as the Goddess of the Moon had imposed a choice on him to play on his guilt, to weaken him...He trusted too easily in anonymous spirits, he said…Were these spirits deceiving him, or was Belial jealous of their influence? No…he meant something else. What did he mean? Eoghan squeezed his eyes shut. He felt terribly vulnerable all of the sudden. Even if he figured out what Belial meant, could he trust the meaning? Or…was that the point? The Anduain felt suddenly foolish. He had trusted the word of every spirit which appeared to him and accepted their guidance as divine truth…He questioned them yes, but did he not respect and esteem them, despite them being completely unfamiliar to him? Who were they, really? But…how did one prove if a spirit was what they claimed to be? His heart felt so weary…He felt used somehow, terribly used.
Eoghan heaved a breath and lay himself down on the soft bedroll of furs. He was so tired, so very tired, and so full of grief. O'Braugh would be resurrected, yes, but would he be the same man?
Belorian was enslaved by an immortal named Paxartifex who was posing as a Roman Bishop and supernatural hunter in an order called the Order of Arcanum. Eoghan and Niall were forced into the order by Pax to become hunters. Niall was killed while trying to escape the order while Eoghan survived and remained trapped in the order. Belial freed Eoghan by posing as a crusader and joining the order, then sending Eoghan back 230 years to the past so that he could avoid Pax in the future. Belial tells Eoghan before parting with him; "Life has been nothing less than Hell for thee, Eoghan. It grieves me to see it, to know thou art suffering so. If only thou wouldst embrace me, embrace our father and Acheron and take thy place with us. If thou shouldst fall before embracing Acheron, thou shalt surely become a slave. Acheron is an infernal horror to those who are its slaves, Eoghan, while to those who rule there; the Dark Kingdom is paradise." A fact Maelmorda tries to prove to Belorian much later by taking him into the heart of Acheron as a slave.
Belial serves the Morning Star with the same loyalty and devotion as he always did, having his own idea about what loyalty means; to please, protect, and defend his Lord, and above all; insure that his Lord reigns over Acheron so long as he lives. Belial also continues to pursue his resolute conviction to bring Belorian into Acheron's fold as his to command, for; 'Whosoever bringeth the Anduain into Acheron shall be his master'. Having achieved a strong bond with Lucifer by raising him as his son during a transitional rebirth, Belial has established himself as an indispensable and close servant to his Lord.
I freed the Anduain from his prison and took him to a tavern in Hawker’s Fort. He was grateful and I was hopeful.
“You look tired, friend. Let me buy you a drink. No, no, don’t talk, you just relax and let me put something to you. Peanut? No? Okay. Are you a religious man? No need to answer.”
“We’ve both seen paintings of fallen angels, cast from Heaven like animals, neck limp and eyes trained on the ground in shame. Sometimes they’re laying flush with the earth, or over some rock or headstone, weak and grieving without Holy forgiveness. Then there are the pensive ones, sitting on the edge of a rooftop or lake or ocean or, you know, a fiery pit, thinking “who am I and what are the repercussions of what I’ve done?” Have you ever seen their faces? Nothing like the illuminated, beautiful faces of the angels on high. Twisted, sad, despairing, poor souls (souls used loosely, of course) that have lost their way in God’s great shadow. We really need to clear up some injustices here.”
“I’m a logical man, and I can see you are too. And when you have an issue that begs addressing, an issue you feel is important and worth discussing, wouldn’t you get the advice of your friends, your brothers and sisters, the head of your family? Yes, I would too. And that’s what happened up there. A few had some questions, just needed some clarity, maybe had a couple suggestions for the master plan, and it was called a rebellion. Have your holy books ever given firsthand accounts with those angels? Of course not, only those that remained in His so-called light. Please don’t get me wrong, any great cause is worth looking into, right? I’m just giving you a little more information.”
“The angels He cast away weren’t evil; they were intelligent, just like you and me. They wanted to improve the strategy, but He got angry and defensive and now look where we are. Innocents die at the hands of true evil every day, and chaos runs rampant. It isn’t fair, is it? No. I agree, sir, you and I are of the same mind! And where are these terrible souls cast, along with the confused and the forsaken? Down into Hell where they’re punished by His command and by whom? That very band of brothers he cast away so quickly. It isn’t really a battle of good and evil, you see. It’s a partnership. Yes, they take the evil souls, but they also welcome those that Heaven wrongly rejects. I hope you don’t mind me observing that neither you nor I are wealthy men. Thank you. A poor man might steal to feed his family while the rich fail to share a fraction of what they discard for lack of hunger. Which is the greater sin? Yet the poor man is cast down with those truly evil souls to be punished in exactly the same manner! Yes, I see the injustice too; you make an excellent point, sir. The unfortunate lot I mentioned above, they agree with you and have tried to ease the pain on those cast down for the sins of others by separating them from true evil and making them as comfortable as possible, the poor, confused, depressed, who isn’t depressed these days? Do you know He calls this Sloth? For each unworthy man allowed through the White Gates, ten far more admirable are refused and cast down, just as the angels of my story were.”
“Another ale for my friend, please. I’m glad we met, you and I. We’re both intelligent men. Just something to think about, no need to make up your mind right now. I’m sure I’ll see you later, we can talk about it then.”
The undecided were always a nice respite from real work. Belorian here was no exception. Had I gotten through to him? Maybe. He was thinking about what I said at least.
It was true. Belial had been a good father, but a protective one. He strained to draw boundaries for Malachai that he would not wander too far from Belial’s sphere of direct influence, but he knew that a growing boy needed space, too. Therein lay the beauty of hunting. One could feel totally isolated from the rest of the world, waiting, focused and alert, without wandering for days (or, more importantly, out of his father’s vast line of sight). As much as Belial reminded himself every day that his son would live forever, the small things—cuts, bruises, even simple romantic crushes—made his Master seem as mortal and as fragile as any living creature. Malachai had grown as other boys did, and his father had been acquainted with the hormones and mood swings that accompanied certain transitions, but the feelings he fought now were obviously not related to age.
Belial had written this speech in his head over and over again, starting the first night he’d spent alone with the tiny being that used to be Lucifer. He was aware of no manual detailing the delicacies of how to go about telling your Master-turned-son that his mortal shell was a temporary holding cell for the being that was supposed to be the only Lord of Acheron (among other things). He reasoned that perhaps this was part of being a father, having difficult discussions with your particularly special child. He’d watched his son pace about the grounds of the shrine all day as if his legs wouldn’t let him rest. In and out, checking on this and that of no importance, Malachai even once asked if there were errands to see to. ‘No, everything’s as it should be,’ his father had responded to Malak’s obvious frustration. Finally, after opening his mouth to call for his son and failing to find the words for the fourth time that day, Belial decided to instead seek Malak out himself. Any words would be better than letting the poor boy go mad trying to figure it out on his own.
The moment Malachai spotted his father, he dropped to his knee, ever respectful. If only he knew. Ironic thought, since that lesson, perhaps Belial’s last, was precisely what he’d come to give. “Son,” he nodded and gestured upward, indicating that Malak could remove himself from his unnecessary posture and join his father on a nearby bench. As soon as they’d both settled, Malak looking uncomfortable in his own skin, Belial spoke, catching his son’s eye in a serious, concerned expression, “What ails you, Malak? You’ve been pacing about these grounds for a week now, restless and angry at times. Is it your health? Shall I call a doctor?” He knew very well what it was, but he thought coaxing Malachai into explaining his feelings would make the transition easier and give Belial more time to chart how, exactly, to explain himself.
He allowed Malak to lean on him for support; who, after all, if not his father and servant? The admissions that tumbled from Malachai then were, part of them, fully expected and would make the coming discussion much easier. The rest, the voices in particular, these concerned Belial immensely. He would concede that Lucifer belonged to his people, but Malachai belonged to Belial and he would not tolerate such dangerous interference. It was at this juncture that Belial sensed a new presence nearby. He could pinpoint her directly and needed only a deep breath, taken as a pretense to gather his thoughts after Malak had finished, to identify her scent.
Ah, Faradora, he connected with her, so nice that you’ve come to visit. You’re always so…punctual. She did always show at the climax of the drama, didn’t she? You haven’t,
by any chance, been speaking secretly with your Master without alerting me, have you? Right to the point, and so casual too. His tone wasn’t demanding, nor did it betray his possessive nature toward Lucifer. He was a silver tongued angel, and he was nothing if not polite.
Seeming to have altered no focus at all, he returned quickly to his son. “There are things you must know about your past now, Son. Things you might want to turn away from at first, but I beg you to hear me, and if you have any questions, to ask me before you seek answers on your own.” This must have seemed very mysterious, but it would all be clear later, “These feelings, the hate, despair, regret… the feeling that you should remember something you cannot comprehend, these have a source. Do you trust me, Son?” Of course his answer would be affirmative. Okay, now the hard part. Belial couldn’t sit any longer and rose from his seat to pace in front of his son, a few hesitant steps and then an abrupt about-face and another few steps. He stopped himself just in front of Malak, the sun shining on his back so it created a halo around his body and cast his shadow over the boy. “You may stay with me forever if you wish it, rather I will stay with you.” Belial faltered again. A rough start, but he forced himself on, “You are my pride, my solace and my son, but you are not my blood. You are the son of mortal parents, not far from here, but they are of no consequence. Your soul is ancient, Malachai. As old as time, and you have not always been as you are now. Do you feel it?” He waited for any response, or any indication of utter disbelief that Malak wished to give before he proceeded.
“You are different, Malachai, as I am.” He had never exposed the boy to his full presence before, not just his impressive obsidian wingspan, but the sheer ancient power he exuded, a power that was palpable, immediate, dangerous and beautiful. Now was the time, and he did so, hoping it would lend credence to this unbelievable truth. “I am your Father,” he said with considerable authority, and then softened his voice, “but I am also your servant.” This time Malachai would witness something he had never seen, his father on bended knee before anyone. Belial bowed his head, his great wings still blocking the sun from blinding Malak as they spoke. “If you wish, I can do more than tell you about where you’ve come from, I can show you.” And indeed he could.
He raised his head then, eye level with the boy who might soon become his Master once again. He attempted to capture Malachai’s attention once more with an intense stare, before the boy was allowed to respond. When he was sure he had the focus he required, he added a last warning, “You are very important, my Son, and this is why you must not listen to the impostors in your mind until we know where their loyalties lie. You will soon have to choose between living out a mortal existence and returning to your Kingdom as an immortal Lord. I don’t expect you to grasp your present and your vast past at this very moment, nor do I expect that you’ll have believed everything I have told you, but I need you to promise me that you will do your best to block out those voices. I think you’ll find that if you focus on the task, the skill will come to you easily, as your other studies have.” Belial had finished. He stood, at once folding his wings back and releasing the sheer sense of power he’d cast over Malachai. Had it been wise to relate the entire situation at once? Eh. Probably not, but Belial had never before been the father of Lucifer, and he did the best he could, having found no way that Malak could possibly grasp one part of the picture for what it was without seeing the entire masterpiece, and seeing as the Eternal Flame hadn’t attached instructions to the mortal it produced. A deep breath in, and he waited for Malachai, for The Morning Star, to laugh, cry, or run screaming from his presence. He’d cast a containing spell in a certain circumference around the shrine so that his son might have room to run, if he desired solitude to grasp this and develop questions, but not far enough for others to get their hands on the poor, shocked Malak.
Honest, this one wasn’t his fault. He’d been sitting on a rough, rocky outcrop over the ocean near what Ereme calls a kingdom, minding his own business. Belial often got away from the pressures of his work at the water’s edge. Sometimes the Lake of Shadows was quite sufficient to calm his mind, but the days were shrinking, or time was speeding up. He’d noticed the change in Malachai and worried everyday that today would be the day; the day they would have that conversation. You know, the one about being the ruler of the underworld in your past life. Every parent dreads that day, do they not? Needless to say, the lake wasn’t big enough to iron out the kinks in Belial’s mind that evening, and he thought why not watch the sun fade into stars at the edge of the vast sea. Surely he would find quiet there.
First it was an odd sort of noise: “Hah!” Then it spoke (Belial hadn’t turned around to see what it was, clearly nobody would be foolish enough to threaten him): “Face me like a man, immortal!” Already there was trouble, for the boy was incapable of separating the concept of man and superior being. Belial turned to face the foolish young Prince. He knew Argaius. Not personally, of course, but Belial never forgot a face unless needed to. As he stood, having understood the tone in boy’s ill chosen words, he unleashed his impressive ebony wings and cast a wide shadow over the Prince that should have sent him running for his life. Not this one, this one apparently had delusions of grandeur. There may have been an exchange of words. Belial may or may not have said a few things he shouldn’t have, but Argaius wouldn’t listen to reason and Belial could only take so many insults about his mother. Had Belial a mother, she would have deserved far more respect! Charging the angel with a sword had been the straw that broke the hell dragon’s back, and in seconds he held the youth by his neck over the edge of the cliff. The sword slipped from Argaius’ hand into the water, no telling where it would end up, if not at the bottom of the sea.
The angel’s eyes flashed at the smaller, headstrong mortal but his voice never wavered, Belial always sounded the epitome of calm. “You have been misinformed, boy. By whom I cannot imagine. Your father would be ashamed.” And then a shadow of a smile on his lips, “No matter. As a courtesy from my kingdom to yours, we shall fix this together, hm?” Belial swung the adolescent to solid ground and let him go, straight down so he landed on his feet and immediately fell backwards. “You know,” he said with his back to the boy as he prepared to transport them both to his shrine, “the education of a people and its wealth and success as a society have a direct correlation.” Argaius wasn’t interested in statistics, instead he had realized exactly who he’d tangled with and was making what he thought was a stealthy escape. Perhaps Belial’s mastery of illusion was a little known treat. He laughed heartily when the illusion faded gently from the Prince’s senses and the boy realized he hadn’t gone anywhere at all. “Come!” Belial patted Argaius cheerily on the back, though his wings had spread around the youth’s side so that his attacker-turned-captive would have no choice but walk with him. The Angel of Deception was no brute. No need to let his father know, Belial was sure that one of his faithful would be hot on their trail soon enough.
This had all transpired months ago. Since then, Argaius had been treated to a full education and True History of his brethren. Not the monsters he’d been told they were? Obviously. The Prince had been rotated through Belial’s best haunts. His shrine first; Malachai was closer to the boy’s age and perhaps could still remember being… no. His son had never been so foolish, but was better at talking to Argaius regardless. After a few days of shadowing Malak (the mortal Prince had been secured to the premises with charms, of course), Argaius hadn’t wanted to leave. How easily young minds were influenced! He had allowed the boy to stay with his family at the shrine for a month as a ‘temporary ward’ and no doubt they’d all been seen together by other mortals around the Lake of Shadows area. That one of them had mistaken the delicious angel for a demon and subsequently spread the information was no surprise. Mortals lacked sense sometimes, but they made up for it in staying power, and he loved that about them. He had been particularly fond of watching Ereme grow as a king, and was happy to do this favor for him.
Next had been his lair in Acheron. There he’d left the boy mostly to his servants, under strict orders to protect him but let him sample the best of the city. Though he heard, and honestly inquired, little of the visit, he expected all went as planned. After all, the Prince was returned to him rosy and in one piece. He would reward his servants later for lowering themselves to the level of babysitters. Servants had pride as everyone else, and he treated his well. Indeed it was a rare person who disliked Belial, only those ancient and close enough to the angel would know him well enough to hate him. The last two months had seen Argaius in travel. Belial made sure that he had visited every major culture, for he had acquaintances (and favors owed) in all. Immortals of various types, most quite normal in lifestyle, if not always in appearance. Yes, he made sure the Prince had been humbled, as the ruler of a kingdom should, for he not only affected the destiny of his people, but all, like ripples on a pond. (Lovely metaphor, isn’t it? Who do you think uttered it first?) Alas, four months was enough. The angel, though lacking constant custody of the child, grew weary of being responsible for him. He’d only really the energy to be responsible for Malachai and as the situation there came to a head, he sought to wash his hands of Ereme’s son. He’d enjoyed playing cat and mouse with Fae, but her pretty face looked tired and she’d searched so tirelessly for her king. Time for kitty to rest.
He would notify his friends in the Hunters Forest to let the boy on his way as soon as possible. The Prince would have what he needed to travel safely back home, and Belial, who made sure that Argaius knew his name, would wait patiently for a thank you note from Ereme.