The Truth

It was all around me in the beginning, the truth of the world, the answers to everything. In those books, copies of words from Elders before, and before, that were in Lilian's library. Copies that I devoured in night, and then took their meaning to be some metaphoric process of living.

And yet, there's no metaphor.

It didn't take the opening of the Doorway to impart the truth to me. As is perhaps always the way it should be, it took blood, and the words of an Elder, words which spring my mind back to those days in the library with all those books. And in a way, I already knew the truth, I was simply blind to it. Now, it shocks me into sanity. Musical notes reach deep into my mind and tear me away from that which would take me down into nihilism.

I have questions. I've many questions, and the answers will come. But now, I've the Truth, and I've Purpose again, and I am living.

All things are falling into place around me, and there is a veil of darkness going down upon the world. I pity those who don't know the Truth, those who haven't been exposed beyond those paltry lies and services of their Old Gods. They will be exposed to so much bloodshed... needless bloodshed. The demons will see to it. They will tear their skin from their flesh, and blood will pour from the very gutters of the streets. The slums will be painted, silk will be crimson, and Ylessa's fountain will bubble with the life of so many dead. Useless blood.

Here I am, writing this page, underneath the light of the Red Mother's moon, and I feel sorrow for them... and anger at those who would blare this 'enlightenment' this 'falseness' onto them, keep them shrouded in the dogma of the Failing Ones.

"If you have been saved, and seen the White Queen, the Father must have some plan for you," the words echo in my mind, words that my Twisted one said to me. Words which in some way... I resent. I've known him for sixty-two years, and it's only now do I understand all that I've heard, and my understanding is growing... and yet there are so many more who are more deserving. Many more who are so much more perfect, and refined.

I'm becoming rather embroiled in it all. I must not make the mistake of losing perspective. No, never that. Then I would have truly failed Lilian. And now, to bury this parchment into the earth, where it will forever lay. My mortal thoughts, buried deep.

A Stutter

I really fell apart at the seams, and rather quickly too. No matter that the Dryth still lives - the point was to make my escape and not have to worry about her calling Doraster, or the whole pack of Wolkin on me, and I believe I did that amiably.

But everything happened so quickly... even I, who is quickly losing his concept of time, felt it. I, who's mind is so sane, actions so rational, felt the insanity of the moment.

I couldn't even ask that woman for answers, the girl who looked like she had seen as many lifetimes as Lilian herself. She was so connected to the Father, I felt it, and yet I asked her nothing. Perhaps it was politeness, or that inane foolishness at the rate at which things were progressing. And then, it hit me. Promises of the truth.

The truth! Answers! All beyond a fifty ton metal doorway which I could hardly push open even if it was unlocked!

My mind is ravaged, my thoughts insane. I am not myself. Demons and blood, demons and blood... I have said I am different from them, Lilian raised me to be different. I don't enjoy it! The killing, the rape. Tits for ears - it isn't funny! Why did I laugh inside, why?

Why must this come when I've found her...? That lovely somebody who would fill the void inside of me?

Perhaps she can console me, and turn my mind back to what it was. Maybe I'm just pissed because in attacking the Mind Fuck, I lost my violin...

This will pass. It must. I will live.
For You, Father. Things will come into perspective once I see the Truth.

Falling Leaves

By far, autumn is my favorite season over any other, even the Darkfall. The air, laden with the smell of dry leaves, moist leaves, earth, and chill is invigorating. I can blow my breath in a tube and have it appear to me in the form of a white ghost. I can crumple a leaf between my fingertips, and feel the texture of the dead thing on my skin - excitingly itchy and brittle.

To be in such a state of mind, in such a golden time, is more than I could have prayed for. I truly am blessed by Him for this, to be able to experience this novelty, over and over again. Seeing the various preparations for the harvest festivals, to be so invigorated by the four senses is an experience I'm not wishing to pass. To think I would have dulled this out, that I would have stowed away myself underneath layers and layers of reservations, in turn with wide smiles of the toothy kind, is madness.

My only regret is that I am alone. As I look at the vague changes of color, as I sit and watch them even as they change, for hours on end, I feel it acutely. When I stare into the sky, my mind drifts back to years ago when I used to stare at the same sky with a kindred spirit. We would sit on a rock, and I would profess a young affectation for her, and she would sit next to me.

How many women did I do that with when I was young? How many of them did I confess love to, only to have love replaced with disenchanted glances and a canyon of ambiguous emotions as my manner dissuaded them from me? I recall a few, though perhaps it was a fair number more. I can hardly recall those individual situations, and even now I don't know why I recall those in particular. It's only somebody to talk to, somebody with whom I can look upon things, that I feel a longing for, not a lover. In my loneliness, why would I not wistfully ponder back to my mother, and to her image? After all, she knew me better than anyone aside from Lilian.

And now, as I write the words, it strikes me. It's because I can't remember her. That's alright with me, oddly enough... I've no feelings of corrupt morality on it. Maybe I've no morality to speak of, or it's been so starkly convoluted from what Lilian left it as.

The raindrops are starting to speckle through the climbing roses, now. Perhaps I should stop writing.

The Art of Living

Wherever they came from, these spawns of the Darkness are powerful. Their venom, it cuts through my will, and that's saying something. It's odd how I can cut myself, how I can be cut, punched, and even burnt, and yet it's a choice to me if I feel the pain or not. I can put a vast canyon between myself and it, or feel it as it is.

But no, not with the poison. It slices through whatever barriers I put up around my mind, and strikes me right to my core. I haven't felt pain so raw in a many years.

The situation has given me an awaking shock though. Since Lilian left, I've been so... detached. I've been losing myself to it, taking refuge in it. For what? As a defense against the very real pain of her departure? Regardless, it's carried on too long, and I'll be a slave to it no more. The safety, the comfort, has made me languid. It's hardly what I would call living.

I've been given a gift, and once again, I will come to recognize it.
I haven't been living - once again, I will live for Him.
I've blocked myself from the pain of losing... her. No more. I will come to terms with it.

A New Demon in the Mirror

"It's been so long since I've been confronted with the things that I did in those first months," I spoke out the words in a quivering voice, a voice shaking like the candle which provided the only light in this room. "It was so long ago, I had forgotten, and it never seemed very important at all. Even now, I can hardly remember the times... they were so intoxicating. But what I have seen tonight, Lilian... what I've seen tonight was an abomination - an abomination to Him, and to Us."

The woman who sat across from me was beautiful in every way. Obsidian hair, as dark as a raven's feather, and her blue eyes - so much like the sea as it is obscured by night. I could lose myself in those eyes, and had before. Then, she spoke, a voice of empathy, of understanding, and of wisdom; lilting and filled with all these things. "My love... my pupil... if you can see this so clearly, than I have taught you well. It is not the carnage He desires; leave that to Morhiag, no matter how her followers deny it."

"How do we know, Lilian? How do we know what it is He desires. I feel Him, yes, I cannot deny that I am part of Him and He part of me, and you. He is our Father, and I love Him... but what does He want us to do? Children without guidance are hardly good children at all. You've taught me of Him, through your own experience, yet I've none of my own to base it off of..." I looked at her. I think, if I recall, I was pleading. I wanted so much to know what to do, what He wanted me to do. If He would but give me His will, I would have it done. I would destroy the whole damn city if He wished it, even though destroying something so enticing would hurt me so.

She simply looked at me, and smiled a thin smile. So much like the smile I employ now. Somehow, it's just more comforting. "When He wishes something to be done, and it isn't blatantly obvious, He will show you. Remember, we are a part of him. All you must do is listen to Him, through your own mind, and you will know what to do without any intervention from the Father."

Then, I asked the most simple question I could muster in my confused, fumbling state. "Why do they torture them so? Were we not all once like that?"

"They do it because they are sad, because they are mad. Because they don't know how to handle themselves, because they were confronted with the same questions that face every one of us, every one of His children, and they were overwhelmed by it. That, dear, is what separates those who will live for centuries, and those who won't last the decade. Those who last undoubtedly go on to serve the Father more than those who don't."

"Lilian... I want to live. I want to live for Him, not for the blood."
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live.

"And with my help... you shall."

Birth

And when my eyes closed, it was not death that I saw. It was not sleep, nor dreams, nor agony that I felt creep upon me. It was the silent comfort of shadow, and the feeling that I could be in them - forever.

"Do you feel it?" The voice echoed deeply, and eternally, within me. It came from everything, for everything was it. Everything was darkness.

"Yes... I feel life."

"And what else do you feel?"

"I feel You. I feel Your pain... M'Lord, you are sad."

"Why do you think that?"

"You are sad, M'Lord, because You thirst. Not for the blood - mostly, but for knowledge mostly. You thirst for the world. You thirst for it all, everything. M'Lord, I feel that you are the most raw emotion that I've ever contacted in all this time, and it... it..." I could not speak, for my voice was caught it my throat.

"Overwhelms?"

"Yes," I could only weep.

"My Son, for you will be My Son, do not cry. I will walk beside you always, and you shall always feel this emotion, my emotion, echoing across the distance. It will be a reverberation of your own emotion, and it will echo your own emotion as if across from a vast canyon, for it cannot be helped. Your's pales in comparison to Mine. My son, I will feed you, and you in turn shall feed me, for it has been deigned that way. The so called 'Divine' would have it no other way than that we both desire this blood. My son, I will hide you in shadows, and from there you will live the rest of your life like any human - but you will live it for Me, and I will live it for you. In Shadow We are One, and in Shadow We are All. Remember these phrases, for if nothing else, they will guide you on your new life."

And it faded, only it didn't. I knew I was asleep now, but the Shadow didn't leave me. Father stayed with me.

The End

From the perception of Cecil Nightengale, Armante Nightengale, Samuein Nightengale, and countless others.

Why does He do this to me...

Have I not satisfied you enough, Father?! Have I not respected You, given You the Drink, did I not DIE for you? No, no, that's not entirely true... I died for her, not You...

The pain is overwhelming. His shadow is on me no more. His protection is gone, and I cannot bare it. I can't bare it even if the pain wasn't upon me. I never wanted this! Go, my warped mind, unravel at the seems, for I would be disentangled from you forever more. I want these beliefs no longer, I want nothing. Please, just give me the void back. I don't want anything except a lack of everything. I don't want to exist!

And quite slowly, languidly, things fade.

"Please, don't hurt her! Gods, don't hurt her, don't hurt her damn you!"
Silence.
"Take me, let her live; leave her be - I need her!"
"Then you will lose her... but not in the form of her death."
All things since that have been torture, and now... they are gone. I am dead, or at least as dead as I can be. As such, I will remain, for as long as I can. It's only now that I look back and realize how arrogant I was. If only he had taught me... if only I had known what immortality stood to be.

There is none of that now. There is nothing but silence.