by B L Barkey
Three months ago, Matteo had trapped the Stone of Dominion within himself. The following days had then been the most thrilling, insane, pleasure-filled moments of his life. He now understood that his Stone was meant to reach into the hearts of all plants and animals, to seize control over them. He understood this thing. It gave him power.
Matteo smiled whilst kneeling to his shadowed master. I mustn’t refer to myself by my old name, he thought. He has renamed me in my new understanding. Matteo is dead. I am now Conqueror. Yet with this, he did not forget his old life, but instead buried it deep within his Stone.
He could barely see his master, though he could feel him. There was no light here. To look for it was like trying to stand upon air.
Morning was always there in the Outer Darkness. Yet one could only see him when and how he wanted. It had been thousands of years since he had revealed his true form, having buried it deep in darkness. It was hidden, though it would never be lost.
“And here she comes,” Morning announced.
Blood-curdling screams ripped from the new Stone-bearer. Her figure lay in the center of the twelve. It was a woman writhing in agony. She was the reason for the current Counsel of Darkness. She was to become the newest Prison, shaped for the Stone of Energy. Even now, her body lacked solidified form as it battled with the essence of wavelengths itself. Her cries were stifled then, most likely found annoying by Morning. Yet her mouth still gaped for air and reason.
It was then that Conqueror realized the differential power between Dominion and Energy. A wave of power blasted from the Stone of Energy, blinding them all and reducing the two weakest demons into dust. It scorched them, not with light, but with pulsing dark-energy. It’s good this Stone is on our side, he thought.
Conqueror saw more then through the power of his Stone, as it painted the scene in contrasting shadows, in which he called ‘the Gray’. Venetia, the Prison of Voids, stood by Morning’s side. Drowning, the Prison of Phases, was nowhere to be seen. Conqueror had heard he was on the trail of the Island of Matter, though he felt this was a half-truth. His Stone of Phases held the essence of reshaping truth, after all.
Jinn Morningstar unfurled. Though he was a faded hue amidst the Gray, his general form was still defined. Conqueror could see his limbs, fashioned after those of a handsome, mortal man. His hair was long like that of a mortal woman, while the rest of him seemed in constant transition between the two genders, as if to seek mastery over them both. As if he were determined to combine two things that were in their essence, opposites.
This was his kingdom, his reality. It was limitless. It terrified even the dark angels, who in-turn preferred to reign upon Proelum. The mortal realm also belonged to Morning, yet even he was bound there, his power to rule only given back to him over a century ago. Despite their desires, it was too late to change sides. They had already chosen. They would get their promised rewards in the end.
Conqueror looked to his lover, Venetia. Morning had made it very clear. You may enter her, but know that she is mine, as are you. At the time, he had accepted the terms. In moments like this, however, seeing her at another’s side and appearing as if she preferred to be there.. It was almost unbearable.
Yet he would bear it, for he held his real true love deep inside him. This Stone is my muse. She is my heart. It is mine alone, though Morning claims to own it as well. His day will come, and on that day, he will know the truth. He hid these thoughts within the Stone itself, keeping them from Morning.
Conqueror bowed his head, looking at the ground made of dark-matter. It was there, though it contained only emptiness. It had always been a hard concept for him to grasp, until Venetia had explained it to him after bouts of lovemaking.
It’s like the matter on Proelum, though instead it’s made of a substance opposite to light. Almost like frozen water, though still quite different. He could hear her voice in his head as he reflected on it.
Though his eyes were cast down, he could hear the bones and muscles of the Master cracking and shifting, reforming where the Dark Lord preferred them to be. Morning often shifted his body, though it held many restraints.
For one, it was not actually his body. He had never received a physical body, unlike his Litiguh. Instead, he had stitched stolen parts of other bodies together, from both humans and animals alike. Second, he sought to mimic the shifting patterns of the atrocious one called Torin, changing his limbs around as symbolism to Torin changing glories. This imitation was never flattery, but instead evidence that Morning could do anything Torin could.
Morning stepped forward. They heard only his breathing then, deep and irregular as a riotous hog. After many breaths, though it was impossible to tell how many in absolute darkness, Morning began to laugh. The enjoyment in his voice was more unsettling than desperate screams.
“My beloved,” Morning growled. “Do you understand what has just happened?”
His voice then shifted to that of a healthy, strong man. “Never, in the history of all of Proelum, have we progressed so rapidly as we are now. Gaze before you.”
They heard a crunch and a cry as Morning stomped deep into the chest of the new Stone-bearer. There was a burst of light at this, like rock striking flint. It vanished just as quick. There was a strange stillness as the new Prison ceased her squirming.
“She shall be the receptacle for our latest achievement. We have found and destroyed the hidden one of Energy. The island called Ethera, burrowed thousands of feet deep under bedrock. It was once a cavern filled with flora and fauna of adapted luminescence, all pitifully futile things that are now dead and buried, filled in with sweet darkness. The island was the space of nourishing air, surrounded by a sea of compacted soils.”
“This woman here led the charge with feats unparalleled in one so beautiful. For twenty-four years she lived amongst her people, never feeling like they were her own. Knowing that there had to be something more to all this.”
Morning raised his arms. Conqueror winced as the words struck home, striking at his hardened heart from within.
“I’m sure many of you can relate.” Morning pushed harder on the woman, shooting more sparks in every direction. The sparks looked like digitized fire made of millions of tiny marbles, seeking any sort of escape from this place, though no such thing existed. One did not escape the Outer Darkness. One was released, knowing they would soon return.
But that is well, Conqueror thought. We will soon have castles of our own in this world. That is why we do these things.
“She led us to her island,” Morning continued, “and to it we led a flood through the Stone of Water. Drowning performed admirably. She is already in pursuit of another, the very Stone of Matter.
“So again, I ask you. Do you understand what has just happened? We are moving at an unprecedented rate. Far quicker than when we kindled the world for its great burning.
“By taking this new Stone of Energy, for the first time in over a thousand years, we hold the upper hand! This is to speak of numbers alone, for we know that we will triumph in the end.
“Four of the Seven. Alas, we have momentum. Water, Voids, Dominion, and now, Energy. Through these, we are creeping further into the mortal world. And through these, we will devour and control it, to bring matter to our own.”
Conqueror found himself standing and screaming a battle cry. In these moments, he was unsure whether Morning controlled them or not. This time, however, he didn’t care. He meant every yell that hurdled from his chest. And with each scream, Ammon was left feeling out of breath.
“Yes! My promises to you all will be fulfilled, and we will all be much closer to our dream. Keep up this momentum. Seek out the Stones of Matter, Gravity, and Rest. Do not slow. Do not be diminished. Do not let us down.” The voice came from Morningstar, as well as from them all. It is us, after all.
He stomped one last time on her chest, while vanishing from their space. Further darkness swept in like a gust, mimicking the wind of the mortals. With Morning gone, the
screams were unsuppressed, and Conqueror finally felt the true horror raging within the one who imprisoned Energy. He held a core source of energy within himself, and even that was too much at times.
But to hold the Stone of Energy itself, reverberating over and over again as it boosted its own energy? He couldn’t imagine what she was going through.
Yet as he felt these glimmers of empathy, he heard cackling like whipping lightning. It was indeed both of these things. For as he looked around, he saw the Prison of Energy standing. She flickered bits of light upon them all, though it was sporadic and much different than real light. Conqueror could see better now, though he figured the ones without Stones couldn’t see even this. This is for the Dulkrye alone. He could see her form, now changed.
Then Morning was there again, walking amongst them, and Conqueror wondered if he had ever left. Such was the kingdom of Outer Darkness, weaved with its unstructured Master.
“My wielder of Stone,” Morning whispered into his left, then right ear. “The Creation Stone of Dominion. Conqueror. How are you?”
“Well pleased, my Lord,” Conqueror said. It was the designated response after such a question. Rehearsed and meaningless. As was the question. For Morning did not care for anyone.
“We found something,” Conqueror said to the Morningstar. “A distant signal. Jealousy and envy, it seems. We almost have his name. It won’t be long. This is what Drowning seeks after.”
“Drowning is missing,” Morning declared. “We lost his trail only moments ago.”
Conqueror was stunned.
Morning cleared his throat, concealing his emotions. “I believe he may be rebelling. Such a thing is common when your kind returns to the old mortal realm. I understand this, and even encourage it. To an extent. Rebellion is good. But defying me is another matter entirely.”
Morning patted his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll turn up. In the meantime, I will be sending our Wieldier of the First Stone. We shall see then how Energy and Water can handle such a task.”
Conqueror wasn’t surprised. Morning never sent more than one Dulkrye after a new Stone, for the Litiguh these days were soft after years of peace. Yet for this most precious of stones, the Stone of Matter, Morning was sending two. Conqueror was only upset he would not be joining the momentous assault.
“Now now, fret not, dear boy.” He stroked Conqueror’s back. His touch was both comforting and repulsive. “I still have purpose for you in seeking the Stone of Matter.”
He walked around Conqueror. “Should Water and Energy fail, I will need you to obtain the vessel. This one we are tracking… he is strong, much like you were. Do you understand?”
Conqueror nodded.
“Very good.”
Emptiness gushed in around Conqueror, making him dizzy with repressed memories. They swirled about him, calling him by his old name. Matteo, remember the loneliness? It made you strong. Embrace it now. And so he did, reinforcing the armor of his hardened heart.
Just then, enshrouded in his comfortable isolation, his mind linked with all the others. It was there that he felt the mind of Energy for the first time. Even through the conduit of thought, the pulses of energy surplus charged them all.
Morning laughed aloud, scaring them into standing with renewed vigor.
“He is magnificent!” Morning continued. “His name shall be strong, to take power from the Creator of Stones. The one of Energy will be called Reverence.”
The Dulkrye of Energy grinned with menacing voltage. “As you command, our Lord,” Reverence hissed, her voice playing in octaves. She then vanished, blinking away into nothingness, in pursuit of control over her Stone.
There was a silence then, and not for the last time, Conqueror wondered if Morning had actually left. He looked towards his lover Venetia, who was already looking to him with longing. Even in the Gray, she looked relieved. She took a step towards Conqueror.
“Milady,” Morning said, freezing Venetia mid-step. “Where are you going?”
Venetia was swept away then by Morning, for punishment and pleasure. Though he knew Morning was watching, Conqueror was barely able to conceal his anger. And as he repressed his emotions, Conqueror felt a presence within himself. It was strange, far different from his Stone. Who are you? he demanded.
As misty claws of darkness approached Ammon, seeking to grasp him, he stepped back. Yet he couldn’t move, and instead he tried to wake himself. The claws drew closer. Panic choked him.
And then he heard a warmer, yet urgent voice, like that of a concerned guardian. ‘Leave this place’, the voice growled. ‘Leave here, before they follow.’ Ammon choked out words of affirmation, though he still couldn’t move. He struggled as the claws dug deeper into Conqueror’s own being. Finally, Ammon felt something like tripping as he slipped away from the dark scene of the Gray.
Chapter XII
Sleepwalker
Ammon jerked awake. He was still surrounded by blackness, though it was far different than the Outer Darkness of his dreams. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for further orientation. He could see the place of demons and dark angels again. He was afraid that if he opened his eyes, they would be standing right before him, ready to consume him.
Yet as he opened them, the entire scene changed. The projector was off. The room was quiet and peaceful. The glow from the Wind Caves celebration was dim. While he could make out the shapes of his friends, he couldn’t distinguish between them. Ammon whimpered with relief. I am free of that place. For now.
He rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes. The rest of his body felt wide awake. He stood up carefully and stretched. His eyes adjusted, though navigation remained difficult. He moved towards the door and decided to head down to his cube where his books and bed were waiting. Like before, the details of that place of Outer Darkness began to fade into obscurity.
He headed for the elevator, following the interconnected paths designed into the carpets of the Leviticum, each outlined with small blue lights. He followed these lights, bumping into a chair that hadn’t been pushed in. My reflexes are still sleeping. He pushed the chair out of the way with subtle frustration, then continued along the path. He pressed the glowing green button on the wall. The elevator was there in seconds. He stumbled in and pushed the button for the first floor, rubbing his eyes again.
The zero gravity feeling he had anticipated didn’t come. Instead, he felt heavy. The elevator is going up… he thought, confused. Did I hop in the wrong elevator? Am I that tired? He looked at the numbered buttons, seeing only one button lit up, its symbol ‘1’ glowing bright. So why was he going up?
A sudden lucidity struck him. Blood surged through his veins, causing the dim lights to grow brighter. The elevator slowed, then stopped on the seventh floor. The transparent glass doors crept open. He could see only the lights of the path, reaching out into the darkness like a pale arm in a bear cave. Tongues of fear licked out from the darkness, causing goosebumps to cover his arms. No one seemed to be there. Yet his feelings told him different. What on Proelum... Did I bump the seventh floor button on accident?
He scanned for movement, his own muscles creaking. Nothing came. Suddenly, as if thrown at him by the unseen creature, he was struck with remembrance from the dreams he had just departed.
The images were vivid, sharp. It didn’t take much imagination, for he had dreamt of this very moment the night before. This very darkness. This lighted path. This gripping fear. And off to the side of the path, just to the right, barely visible from the low blue glow, there had been an animal. A four-legged beast with large eyes that seemed to glow within themselves.
Slow, rhythmic movement had waved back and forth behind the creature, indicating some sort of tail, or perhaps a swinging arm. Steam poured from its mouth, as if the air were frigid. In the dream, the elevator had then continued upwards for one hundred floors. An impossible occurrence, as the seventh floor was the highest floor of the Leviticum. In his dream, the elevator had accelerated on and on until he had awo
ken, sweating.
It took great effort to hold his stare into the darkness, visualizing his dream, yet truly seeing only the lighted path. There was nothing there, but that didn’t stop his memory from creating cloudy wisps of delusion, projecting movement and sounds, and even scents. He could smell the breath of the beast. Guttural. Deep. Distant. Closer.
He was shaking. He realized he was suffocating. He took a few deep, intentional breaths, allowing himself to think clearly while keeping his eyes fixed on the imaginary beast.
It whispered to him then. He swore he could hear it. Its voice bridged the gap between dreams, connecting them. The one of the beast last night, to the one he had just escaped. This beast spoke with the voice that had pushed him from the darkness. Leave this place, it had said. Leave. Before they follow.
Who are you? Ammon wanted to ask, but it was too late.
The doors lurched. Ammon gasped and fell back. As the doors sealed shut, he laughed at himself. I really got myself worked up. The elevator shifted down, seeming to finally acknowledge his chosen floor. He had half expected it to start climbing through an imaginary shaft in the sky. It continued past the fourth floor, from where he had entered. Then came the third floor.
The elevator slowed. He felt dizzy. Fatigued. Not from lack of sleep, but from the bending of his mind. He was truly unsure of whether he was in reality, or in one of his lucid dreams. In these dreams, he could consciously make decisions and recognize that he was outside reality. It was near impossible to tell the difference.
He peered through the glass doors. The path lights extended, but this time, above the left string of lights, there was a lantern floating through the darkness, illuminating a hand. His heart-rate spiked. Then suddenly, it became clear what he was looking at. It was the lantern of a Levitian. The hand holding it, with pale fingers like thin tree branches, could only belong to one person on Cephas. The Master Levitian. Master Lyon.