“I never thought you were.” War smiled.
“War,” Death began, “this is it. Tell me now.”
War’s smile remained upon his face. He patted Death’s back and said, “Pestilence and Famine are there as well. We are having a sort of feast. We’ll talk about this there.”
Death moved ahead, briskly, toward the bronze doors. “What are they doing in your realm?”
“We are having a get-together.”
“And you didn’t think of calling me?” he asked, his voice was slightly taunting.
“You have indulged in the mortal affairs. I rather thought you would not wish to come.”
“Well, then, you have thought wrong,” Death replied.
Death found himself within a big hall where soldiers with silver-plated armors clutched their spears tightly against their chest. They all wore gauntlets, knee pads, and a helmet in the shape of a big long horn, shimmering in the room filled with gold and bronze artifacts.
A round table sat in the middle of the room surrounded by the soldiers. Two figures, one in a yellow robe and the other in a black cloak were sitting adjacent to each other, murmuring softly. They looked like one of the members from Senate, but from above, their faces were blurry. One had a round yellow flame around his head, while the other had a black flame hovering above it. Looking closely, the black one was a woman with an aristocratic look. Her face was visible through the smokeless black fire.
“Look!” War cried. “Someone is here to meet us.”
They turned around to face him. A bleak intensity filled the woman’s face. The man gave them a gentle smile.
“Death,” the woman whispered.
“Famine,” Death breathed. “And Pestilence.”
Anyone would notice Pestilence, for when he grabbed an apple, it immediately started to turn rotten with a nasty odor hovering about and flies and moths appearing out of nowhere.
“What are you doing here?”
Famine looked afraid. It was almost as if she detested Death’s arrival, for he had not been issued an invitation to the soirée. Pestilence shushed Famine with a sneaky pat on her legs. Death saw it, but didn’t say a word.
“It’s been a long time. Sit down,” Pestilence said, his voice husky.
Death needed no further invitation. He sat down, his bare chest visible. The various patterns of runes and symbols were snaking across his skin. His face was clear and pale, his eyes trained upon Famine who was now shivering. Her flame wavered when she saw Death. He had known that Famine was always weak in keeping things confidential. She would give up the feeling.
“Why are you wearing your human skin?” Pestilence asked.
“I prefer it,” Death replied. “Besides, this is not your real form as well.” “But this is close to our true form,”
“Close? That’s just an excuse.” He pulled his chair back noisily, breaking the uncomfortable silence that descended upon them. He poured wine into a small jeweled goblet and hastily drank it. “Ah, splendid, as always,”
Famine picked up her goblet and Death’s eyes narrowed. Her hands trembled as she brought it to her lips and took a small sip. She set the cup down carefully. War,
with his wide, animalistic smile, kept looking at Death as if he was some circus performer while Pestilence ate the rotten apple.
“Famine, I want to ask you . . .” Death’s gaze was slightly wicked. “How are things going on Earth?”
“F – Fine,” she stammered and looked down at her golden plate. She was really bad at lying and Death knew he could use that to his advantage.
Pestilence snapped. “She is not well, brother.”
“Oh, really?” Death raised his thin, pierced brows. He poured himself more of the wine. “I thought she was hiding something from me, brothers.” He looked over at Pestilence and War. “So I should come to terms of why I am here. I detest you three so badly that if I can, I am willing to reap you all right now. I have no interest to come and see you, but circumstances have led me here.”
“Harsh words always give out unexpected reactions.” Pestilence choked back a laugh.
“There’s nothing funny about it, Pestilence,” Death grated. “We had a secret which was forbidden to speak of, which should have not been divulged into the hands of another. No one should have known of it. No one!”
He sipped his drink. “That forbidden secret was...um...Well, how shall I say this gingerly? It was devastating. We took an oath.” His green eyes swung in their direction. “An oath to not reveal that forbidden matter. An oath defines that it is sacred and kept confidential from anyone outside the conversation. That oath was recently broken several days ago. Is that what an oath defines? Eh? Tell me!”
He banged his clenched fist upon the table. His goblet tipped over and the scarlet poured out of it. It moved slowly, like a thread twisting across the tablecloth.
War’s his steady smile was plastered upon his face. “What are you talking about, brother? We have no idea what you are saying.”
“Oh, right, right. Only the four of us knew about the forbidden way of raising Lucifer once more. I didn’t say anything to Manfred Croft. So it must have been one of you.”
“Who is Manfred Croft? What a bizarre name?” Pestilence scoffed. “What are you talking about? Are you in control of your senses?”
“I am not. No. No, I am not. But I think Famine . . .” He turned to face the sharp nosed woman. “She knows what I am talking about.”
War’s smile disappeared. Pestilence coughed in nervousness. They both stared at Famine, who kept rolling her carved ring around her finger.
“It – it was his plan!” she stammered and pointed at War.
“Go on, go on, sister. It would be fine to tell me.” His smile was small and forced. “It would be perfectly all right. You can tell me. I am your big brother and the oldest of all, so you need not worry about my kid brothers.”
“War thought of joining forces with him. With Manfred Croft by giving him the information he sought. Pestilence agreed and I...I agreed, as well.” Beneath the onslaught of her discomfort, her black flame glowed bright. “I thought it would be...It would be fine. That we would achieve our goal.”
Death was confused. “What is this goal?” His voice echoed throughout the hall as well as within Pestilence and War’s thin ears.
“Come on, old brother! You know. When God created Earth, he didn’t want greed, power, death, and all that evil. We saw Him, how he created Earth, how he managed to create Adam and Eve with His hands. He loved Earth. The thought vanished when Earth turned into a total disaster. Project Earth was a failure, a
complete failure. It was a disappointment for me and fortunately for Pestilence, as well. Famine thinks the same way, too.”
“So you thought that by raising Lucifer you would change Earth? He will make hell here!” His jaw line tightened.
“We are not stupid here, brother. We know what the consequences are once Lucifer rises. We all know that. We just don’t want anything to do with the messy part. When he’ll rise, he’ll destroy mankind and then we’ll destroy him. We will make Earth a much better place than what it is now. That is the plan, no matter what, no matter who interrupts,” Pestilence said as a matter-of-factly.
“You are greedy, sinful, and insane. You think you’ll be able to make Earth a better place? Hah! That is the worst goal I have seen in millennia. If God doesn’t want to change Earth, we shouldn’t give a damn about it, either.”
“God is not paying attention to Earth. He is busy. But us – we see the things that matter the most every day and we have taken a pledge, to bring Lucifer back. After he kills everyone, we will kill him as well.”
Death laughed, refusing to put stock into the words that were coming out of War’s mouth. He was disappointed. He’d taken care of War for as long as he could remember, despite his rebelliousness and insane manners. But now, seeing him become a monster, Death could only feel pity for him.
“I was the evil one. I w
as always considered the evil one,” Death began. “Because I was Death and I was responsible for people’s deaths. But now...now, I think I was far better than you smuts. I never expected the three of you to become what I’ve dreaded for ages. You are cold blooded monsters now!”
“We are doing good in our own way.”
“By assisting a person in wiping out the human civilization?”
“Every war has casualties, brother!” Pestilence shouted. “Out of chaos comes
order.”
“I am seeing chaos coming from order, here and now.” He pointed directly at his two brothers and his sister.
He threw his chair away in anger and lowered his head as tears poured down his cheeks. He felt betrayed. He walked to the end of the room and looked behind him. The three Horsemen were sitting at the table, looking back at him with anger flaming within their eyes.
“I am Death. Everyone has to die. One day, someday, it doesn’t matter because anyone can be killed. When your time comes, I shall come to reap you,” he promised and closed the bronze doors behind him. “Oh, I shall surely come to reap you!”
La
nd of Souls
Caspar was in his room, packing his satchel with the finest knives and daggers he’d found in the basement of Capernaum’s mansion. Capernaum had a warehouse of weapons underneath his house. He held his cane up high and saw Balthazar as he sat close to the opened window. Rain blanketed the entire view. A long, leather belt was tied diagonally around his chest where a knife and two other blades were fastened.
Balthazar frowned. “These weapons make me heavy.”
Caspar stared at him with soft contemplation and shook his head. He dropped the smoke bombs into the leather bag. The sound of slight movement within the other room caught his attention. He approached it and flung the door open to find Zephyr drinking scotch and talking to Capernaum. The angel’s face was not alarmed or cold this time. Instead, it was serious and dedicated. He and Capernaum whispered amongst themselves.
As Ivy strode out of the healing room, Caspar saw her in full battle gear for the first time. She was wearing a bronze-plated armor upon her chest with sharp, bladed gauntlets strapped to her hands. A long sword hung on her back and another sword was clipped to her belt. She held a wooden, leather stringed bow with a quiver of arrows over her right shoulder.
Balthazar looked at his gear and then at hers. It was of vast difference. He sighed softly and shook his head. Caspar was surprised. She was prepared for battle. Her eyes were swollen and the deep scars she’d gotten in the fight with the demon showed upon her face.
“In front of me, you guys look naked,” Ivy chortled.
Caspar pretended that he hadn’t heard what she’d said. He turned to find that Zephyr was now gone. Capernaum stood nearby, his smile broad.
“The angels are coming to the Land of Souls. Michael has ordered the attack.” “That is brilliant.” Ivy beamed.
Caspar smiled. “Very good. I’m going to borrow Balthazar and Ivy for some
time.”
He pulled Ivy aside, leaving a confused Capernaum within the previous room. He closed the door behind him and turned to face Ivy with a peculiar expression on his face. Balthazar’s eyes shot up in question. Caspar’s smile faded. He paced from left to right, trying to find the right words to begin with.
His British accent thickened, making his baritone voice sound a tad gravelly: “We have a different plan,” he said. “While the angels and Capernaum are trying to fight the demons that have come to the uprising, we have to do something else.”
“What do we have to do?”
“We will attack Manfred. He’s clever. He must have some guards around him. It will take days for the angels to reach the place where Manfred will be practicing. That’s the reason we have to go straight to Manfred.”
Ivy and Balthazar looked at one another. Balthazar nodded. “The plan seems nice and logical as well,” Balthazar replied.
“Manfred will win whether the angels attack or not. But us? He doesn’t expect us. We will hit him by surprise,” Caspar mused.
Ivy pondered his plan. Caspar knew she’d learnt that every Nephilim, be they brother, friend, or sister she’d met or had been acquainted with would be coming to the war. They’d be fighting with her. Even the one she had a crush on, Ryun, would
be there. Abandoning her Nephilim group was something she was reluctant to speak about.
“I don’t know. I am not sure.” Ivy lowered her head. “I...I made promises. Many are expecting me there.”
“Our main objective is not to fight amongst friends. It’s to prevent Manfred from raising Lucifer,” Caspar stated in a subtle, persuasive tone.
“I can’t abandon them. Thank you for the offer.”
Ivy shook her head. She looked ashamed. She didn’t even tilt her head up to look at Balthazar or Caspar. Without another word, she left the room.
“I wonder what’s stopping her from joining us,” Balthazar commented. “Your bad breath,” Caspar replied. “I presume.”
***
Caspar had only heard and read about the Land of Souls. He had never seen the place itself. His first reaction was the fact that it seemed to be a bizarre place. He left Capernaum, Ivy and Zephyr behind and entered the portal before they did. He’d gotten the location from Capernaum by lying to everyone that he and Balthazar would be waiting at the doors.
The Land of Souls should have been called the Land of Blood. Everything, from the sky to the land was red with sharp patches of grass. A cathedral stood in the distance with a humongous army of demons crowded in front of it. There was no order there and various types of hideous creatures were assembled in what was a disorderly mob. Some had wings, while some did not. Some had one head, while
some had two. It was an unforgettable view for Caspar as well as Balthazar, whose smoky eyes sparkled with wonder.
They crouched low and sprinted on occasion. Demons whistled, gurgled, and gnarled. There were numerous sounds rising up around them from every direction. If they were to be spotted, they would be lynched and mashed like boiled potatoes.
Caspar didn’t want this to happen. He carefully moved toward the back of the cathedral and hid behind a gravestone with Balthazar. Two demons were guarding the backdoor with spears held tight within their hands. Above each, an orb was suspended.
“We are waiting for Zephyr’s army, right?” Balthazar asked. Caspar sensed his fear. “Not exactly,” he said. “Follow my lead.” “Why do I always have to follow you? It’s irritating!”
Caspar got up. The demons saw him and immediately aimed their orbed spears at them. He lifted his hands in surrender, one hand clutching the cane. His satchel hung loosely about his shoulder. The demons stepped forward, their shiny tattoos sparkling. Their heads were shaved and black tattoos covered their muscular bodies. They frowned as Caspar stood before them.
“Identify,” one of them requested
“Caspar Socrates and Balthazar.” He waved at the gargoyle. The demons exchanged looks.
“What is this about, Caspar?” the gargoyle inquired. “Is this your plan? Please, please, please, don’t say this is it.”
“No, of course not.” “Thank God.”
“We are going to be prisoners,”
“WHAT!” Balthazar was shaken.
Caspar gave him a nauseated look. “Oh, come on, nitwit. This is the only way to enter the ritual palace.”
“I don’t care. I am just waiting for Zephyr’s army to come, mate. I don’t want to be a grilled gargoyle for Manfred Croft.”
“Grilled Gargoyle?” “Believe me, they are tasty.”
One of the demons hissed. “Come with us.”
The other grabbed Caspar and Balthazar by their arms. “You don’t have to be rude, do you?” Balthazar whined.
Pushing them forward, the demon opened the door. It led to a dark alley with stale and sour smell to it. Rodents and insects roamed around. The smell could have easily made anyone puke. Caspar
was pushed into a disturbed world he’d never thought he would be part of. He knew this would only be a one-time thing. He wouldn’t regret his decision. It was part of his life, part of what he was now, part of what he would be a part of. What had happened to him, to his family, to his dog – it had all amounted to this.
The alley ended and a large stage stood before them. There was a row of seats, broken down and shattered as if someone had purposely destroyed it. Opposite the rows, a round, small pentacle surged in brightness. Manfred stood nearby as scary as ever with his maniacal smile and wide, dark eyes. He looked up. His smile didn’t fade when he saw Caspar. It broadened, instead.
“So, so, so. Like a fool, you come? Alone?” “I am here,” Balthazar replied.
“Oh! You brought your pet!” Manfred gave Balthazar a fleeting glance.
The two demons stood behind Caspar, while two others stood at the ready behind Manfred. Caspar couldn’t attack him. It was impossible. He would be caught and clawed to death if he were to try to leap at him in retaliation.
“I am going to raise the Morningstar, Caspar, my dear,” Manfred replied. “You can’t do anything about that. But after that, I am sure, we will go for a coffee and you can tell me everything about me, about what you hate. I swear, I’ll try to change, Sweetheart, just for you, I say.” He laughed mockingly.
“Why are you doing this?” Balthazar asked. His voice was simple, yet furious. “Oh, oh. Caspar knows that answer.” He grabbed Caspar’s curly hair and
turned him about so that he was facing the gargoyle. “Tell him, Caspar. Why am I doing this?” He paused. Caspar didn’t utter a word. “That’s nasty. Nasty, nasty, nasty. Tell your pet the reason I am doing this. Ah well, I’ll tell you, whatever your name is. I like danger.”
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