Book I
“And Grace so loved the world…”
I
“I tell you, in
the name of he who has patronized this land; repent so that the kingdom of
Havon will be saved!”
The words echoed
through the streets. People walked by,
paying the useless seer no attention, for he was not like a man. No, he was something else. He was a Moerlf—a cross breed between Man and
Elf. The race in which people hated, were
discriminated against, and scorned.
Even in being
ignored, the Moerlf continued to speak.
“Our time has come! The end is
near! I tell you only truth; for Grace
hath revealed to me and only me: Havon
will be destroyed!”
A lone a boy
watched in curiosity, no, in fascination.
He was barely 15, and approaching the wonderful stage of acne in his
life. The boy was average height and had
brown hair with bangs that came down just over his eyes. His eyes were a fair blue as he looked
towards the Moerlf. His father had told
him to move on, to do his chores quickly and intently. But the Moerlf interested him. And he never listened to his dad. He and his dad were nothing alike anyway.
For some reason
the Moerlf’s message captured the boy.
And the seer had taken notice. He
looked directly at the boy. “To those
who will listen, be weary young one, for I am not one to be trusted. Do you not know who I am?” The boy nodded, simply acknowledging the
question. “But you listen anyway. Will you not heed the truths I tell you?” The boy stared back at the seer. Truth was a compelling idea to even the 15
year old. He nodded with a smile: the
seer was going to tell him and only him truths, for no one else would
listen. “Then heed what I tell you. Hear my voice ring true in your ears. Then you must discern what I say to be truth
or not: it is only then that you will
find your place, only then will you find your truths. I have a vision from the Rock. It has shown me what will be and what is to
come. I tell you this: repentance must come from the heart and the
heart of Havon must repent so that it may be saved from the One who hates this
world. Havon must accept the truth in
its darkness before we all suffer eternal damnation on Havon! These words will come to pass if the wrath of
Grace is not fulfilled!…”
“Travis!” The boy’s head flung towards the sound
knowing exactly where and, more importantly, whom the voice was coming from. He saw his father standing, waiting, with this
foot tapping and a face reflecting impatience.
He looked back at the seer for a brief moment; the seer, though, had disappeared. He then turned back and ran to his
father.
“What was so
intriguing?”
“The seer.” he
looked back again; still the moerlf was gone.
“What seer?” his
father hadn’t seen.
“Nothing, I was
just seeing things.” Travis walked
beside his father looking back with curiosity every so often to see if the Moerlf
was back prophesizing. The Moerlf,
though, was gone.
II
A
lone figure walked through the hallways of the massive castle of stone. This was a castle that was made by none of
the Fallen nor would the Fallen ever walk within its walls. This castle was known as Castle de
Havon. The figure that now walked within
Castle de Havon was taller than a Man and broader than a Dwarf and when in
complete glory the figure would be 210 square feet. He was a figure that had never had a reason
to show itself. He was an
Archangel.
When the Rock had
created life among the lands it desired partnership. So the Bread of Life created both Archangels
and Man. These two races were the first,
both made to reflect Grace’s relational nature.
Man was made to rule over Havon; to tend and care over the gardens. The Archangels were created to praise and
exalt Grace solely for its glory.
The Word though
was perfect and could see into Man’s hearts.
Men were naturally emotional and lacked the presence to do all that was required. Because of Grace, love was free. Because of freedom, the race of Man was
tempted by an Archangel that had began to praise and exalt himself over Grace. In being tempted, Man partook of the
forbidden bringing about the Fall of Man, the Archangel known as Luciphor, and
those Archangels who chose to follow the one who would become Satan.
Grace chose to
continually yearn for his creation. But
Grace’s creation had changed through the fall.
Other Races came into being as Man began to adapt to its surroundings of
the Fallen world of Havon. Havon
though, was equally being sought by Luciphor.
That was when the Archangels who remained became more then those who
would worship and praise. Their task
evolved into being called to trust in Grace as they protected the barrier
between Light and Darkness .
This
lone figure that walked the halls of the Archangels capital, though, had grown
tired of the Castle. He had grown tired
of Havon: the world that existed out of necessity. Grace had made Havon so that Grace could
share the greatest achievements and worst failures of creatures that resembled
the Rock. For Light needs the darkness
to be light. Without one; the other
cannot exist. But because of darkness
Grace’s beloved had fallen into the hands of something far crueler than any
other. The Lord of the Demons, the Lord
of the Darkness. Since Darkness blinded
creation’s eyes, Grace had been trying to set the creatures free from the
deception. Even if the Creatures did not
disserve love, the Rock had created them so he pursued them.
This
Archangel, Luscious Aramous, had gone through the histories slowly but surely
reading every line as it appeared in the books kept in the Castle’s walls. Luscious had been there when Luciphor and his
followers fell. Luscious Aramous could
see it clearly as if it was happening in front of him in how those who fell
complexions darkened. He remembered his
desire to be faithful to Grace so he continued to fight for the Light.
Over
the years, though, his desire had lessoned as he continually tried to speak to
the Fallen so that they would listen.
Time and time again he had called out to the Races and time and time
again the Races had turned away. They
constantly rejected Grace’s true teaching ever becoming less worthy, less
loveable. Still, Grace pursued.
Far too many tears
had fallen: tears laced with golden
light landed on the castle’s walls everyday as the Archangels above cried. The walls shone now in painful golden
brilliance as Grace had been rejected yet again, and again, and again. Luscious, though, would stand by and watch no
more. He would bring about a day when
the Archangels would no longer cry. If
Luscious Aramous had read correctly, in which he was sure he had, there would
come a time where there would be no more Archangels to cry.
I will give the Fallen a reason to come back
to Grace. Light will be consumed by the
darkness. Then, when they are consumed
by the Evil that will reign, they will have no choice but to plead for the
Light to return.
Luscious Aramous’
midnight stroll came to an end as he looked down on the lone altar at the
pinnacle of what was known as the Great Hall.
The altar had been placed there for the Archangels to place their
prayers upon as they were heard from the people who took the time to have
faith. This was the altar where the pure
Archangels could take their pleas up to the Rock itself and in Grace’s greatest
glory the prayers of the Fallen would be heard.
Luscious lifted
his wings just enough for the hilt of his sword to come into view where it was
sheathed at his side. He reached down
and pulled the sword slowly and precisely from its sheath raising it upwards to
the heavens above just as he had done every time before. Thus far an Archangel’s sword had yet to shed
Demon blood but had only scared them away from those with faith. The Archangel’s sword had also never cut into
his own skin.
But that was then,
Luscious Aramous would create the now.
Luscious placed
the sword down upon his wrist and began to cut through his skin. Pain seeped into his being. This, however, did not prevent him from
cutting only deeper and deeper still.
The sword crept through the veins deeper to the tendons till he no
longer could feel his hand. He let the
sword fall to his right as he turned his wrist over so that the wound faced
down towards the altar. Blood spilled on
the pure altar thus letting impurity pollute the symbol in front of him. As the blood seemed to seep down into the
altar Luscious Aramous breathed one last prayer.
“You are the Rock.
Grace that is greater then all else, yet you cannot control your own
people. I have been faithful and I have
prayed enough prayers for hundreds of lifetimes and I find no purpose in
this. This act will bring about a change
in Havon that not even You will be able to cope with. With this act I will meet the creator and
controller of all Demons. My actions may
bring about greater Evil, but this Evil, I believe, will only bring about Your
greater good. I will bring balance back
to the Fallen of Havon.”
His words echoed
throughout the hallway onto eternity.
Slowly, his life force faded away into oblivion. He began to loose his focus as the hallway
around him began to spin. Luscious
Aramous fell to his knees as his strength faded away. As he focused his last remaining thoughts
upon the altar he realized that his actions were irreversible. The Archangel was experiencing a sensation
that he never thought he would feel:
Luscious Aramous was dying.
Consciousness began to leave him as the room seemed to close down upon
him as darkness overcame his being.
*****
The Archangel
Gabriel woke suddenly from the slumber he had needed from a long day under his
Creator. As his dreams of Grace left him
the Archangel was overcome by a ceaseless emptiness of cold sorrow. His mind instantly focused on Grace above
every person praying for the Fallen knowing that yet another life had either
been lost or another soul corrupted. Now
the emptiness only intensified. As the
cold sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, he remembered another time when he had
felt such pain.
The Rock had
created Archangels purely to praise and to be messengers. One of these Archangels became self consumed
and in that act the Angel had realized life without Grace and had lusted for
it. In doing so the Angel had found a
realm of Good the Rock had created merely out of creating Good. Through creating something the Rock had created
a possibility for the lack of that something or an opposite of that something. This Angel had found that opposite: Evil.
A great battle was
fought amongst Angels of Good and those of Evil. The Archangel Luciphor was banished by Grace
and the heavenly realms along with those Angels who followed. Thus a Balance was created that Grace
controlled the heavens and his creation but Lucipher received the Fallen in
their nature after the fall thus ruling over Havon. It was the Balance; one that Grace had been
trying to overcome for its glory for too long.
Until now. The Balance had been broken.
Gabriel though,
was aware that although the Balance had been broken it was not because of Grace,
but by something else. The Archangel,
with his wide, white wings, flew through the air to the one place he feared was
desecrated. With the wind of his wings
the doors to the Great Hall flew open and he saw a fallen Archangel in front of
the Altar of Prayers. He quickly was by
the Archangel’s side bending down to see the fallen one’s needs. What he saw was exactly what he had
feared.
Luscious Aramous,
Archangel of worship, had cut his wrist to the bone with his own sword. Gabriel’s tears fell down into the open wound
of Luscious. He looked up trying to make
sense of this Archangel’s actions only to see blood seeping down through the
grains of the wood that constructed the Altar.
The Altar of Prayers had been desecrated. The Archangels would no longer be able to be
mediators. Where they once would bring
the prayers of the faithful up to Heaven to place they now would no longer be a
part of the Heavenly, but another fallen race lost to Havon. Their purpose, if nothing else, was going to
change. Gabriel then looked down once more
to see the bloodied ground under Luscious’s body. Luscious body, though, was gone.
Then Gabriel
remembered the Scriptures, the Histories that recorded the way Grace interacted
with its creation throughout all of it’s existence. The Histories recorded the fall of Man and
the Archangels demise. It also
prophesized: “An Archangel of Light will
fall away from it’s meaning and find meaning beyond what I, the Rock, hath
meant for my creation.” For so long the
Archangels knew this to be the already fallen Archangel Luciphor. “Darkness will then break what I, Grace, hath
given my own. But even then, all will
not be lost.”
Gabriel thought
quickly, trying to make sense of the Scripture in light of what Luscious had
just done. Was it possible the Archangels had been wrong? Could it be possible the first fall had
nothing to do with this prophecy?
Gabriel then realized a horror he didn’t want to accept. If, in fact, Luscious Aramous had brought the
first part of the passage true, then the second part of the promise was surely
coming just as sure as Luscious actions had already been committed. Darkness would be coming upon the land of
Havon.
*****
Luscious
Aramous awoke in a foreign hall eerily similar to the one he had just spilled
blood in. He was now on his knees in the
hall that just preceded the Great Hall in Castle de Havon. For a moment, Luscious began to wonder if he
had not completed the action he had meant to.
Had he been dreaming?
As he tried to
grasp reality he looked down at his wrist which was still cut deep down just as
his sword had done. If this was still
his dream then he could will himself to do things he may not regularly do. He tried to stand only to find to his
surprise that all his limbs were working properly. In standing he began to walk forward. The sight he saw was the same, even the
smell. Everything but the feel. Something about this dream was different, but
still, he walked forward as if he was to relive the moment he had just
experienced. The doors at the end of the
hallway that would lead him back to the Great Hall watched him as he came
near.
Waiting.
As he approached,
the doors crept open. For a moment, he
was afraid. He tried to will himself out
of this horrible nightmare only to be reminded of his actions. He had willed this and with this realization
an overwhelming sense of anxiety over came him.
Had he misread the histories?
No, he had read
them clearly. Nights upon nights he had
read and read trying to formulate a clear action. His action would change the course of Grace
and It’s creation forever.
Something spoke
within him to continue to walk and like a puppet he did so. His footsteps echoed in the hallway until the
doors closed behind him. He glanced back
in mid-stride: Was this truly happening;
had he just broken the Balance? When
his head turned back towards the font of the room he saw a replica of the altar
that he had just let his blood fall upon.
He walked, slowly towards the new altar, ever hesitant of reaching it,
but reaching it all the same. He stood
for a brief while, waiting. Then, a
thick red drop landed on his arm.
Luscious looked up to the ceiling as he saw more crimson bead up and
fall down upon him and the altar in front of him. Then, as if the levies broke, the red came
down in steady streams.
Thick red blood
seeped into the altar just as it had done at Castle De Havon. Following the streams a voice entered the
room, pounding clear through to the heart of Luscious Aramous. It was harshly low, more inaudible beats than
any sort of pitch. Somehow though, it
comforted Luscious. At first Luscious
could not understand any words, but then, slowly, the words transformed into an
audible, understandable language.
“Luscious Aramous,
I have heard your prayers at night. I
have watched you since the day you were created. You are my son.” A pause.
Luscious breathed in the atmosphere, knowing that from that second on he
would feel more alive then he ever had before.
In death he would have life everlasting.
“Luscious Aramous, it is from this moment on that you will follow
me. You will serve me just as you have
always done.” A smile came to Luscious’
lips. Finally, a purpose higher then
being a mere protector. He would follow
his Father. “Do you know what you have
done?” The question was unexpected and
lay in the air waiting for the Archangel’s response.
“Only
partially. I know what I was doing and
what it symbolized.” Silence. As if Luscious was left to put the puzzle
together. A puzzle that had already formed
whether he liked it or not. Or, maybe
more accurately, whether he realized it or not.
“Luscious Aramous,
you have brought about a change in the Balance.
And in that change you will serve me as you bring about the dominance of
my will in Havon.” The Balance. Luscious had interpreted correctly. He was not in the Castle De Havon at all, but
Luciphor’s parallel, his deceit.
Realities came
together and tore apart all in seconds of each other. The parallel of Castle De Havon imploded upon
itself over and through Luscious Aramous till all that was left was the ground
below Lucious’ feet. Beyond the ground,
Luscious found himself in a great expanse of void and space separate from all
that Luscious had ever known and removed of all he had ever been. The castle that had been surrounding him was
destroyed by the realization of Luciphor as truth was revealed.
In front of
Luscious now stood something completely different then the altar or the
presence that was before. It had no form,
but Luscious could see it. It had no
smell, but Luscious resented the smell.
It had no face, but Luscious was afraid of it. The presence spoke with a different voice than
he had before. This voice was no longer
a deep baritone but spoke with a thousand different voices from the dead and
gone. The voice then somehow correlated
into one whisper of complete Evil.
“Will you serve me
even in realizing what you have done?”
Luscious focused
upon the presence that wasn’t really there, the smell that overwhelmed him, and
the face that he wanted to cower away from.
It was all too late for cowering.
He spoke his words. “In my action
I have confirmed service.”
“Luscious Aramous
is no more. From hence forth you will be
known as Luscious, Commander of the Demons, Son of Luciphor. You will command my armies and you will be
praised for my sake!”
