by Lee Isserow
As she said his true name, he felt the intent ripple out across her skin, as she attempted to make use of it, to put an end to the hold he had on her. But her magicks paled in comparison to those that he had at his disposal.
“I did not give that title to myself. . . That was one that they decided to force upon me.”
“Yet you did not dissuade their enthusiasm for it. . .”
“Dam'i-Ka, you are attempting to stall for time, to allow your will to break mine. . . but that will not happen, not now and not ever. . . I beg of you. . . I have allowed your goliaths to live, when I could have struck them down with all the others. . . I have allowed some of your family to remain. . . Please do the right thing, call them back. I do not wish to leave you without a family, to be alone once more. . . but I will do what needs to be done if you choose to continue this foolish attempt to take the world of man as your own. . . You have the seas, they are your domain and can continue to be until the end of time―”
“The seas?! You think the seas are a fair and just place to force me to reside? Here at the depths, where I never see the sun, where I and my children are forced to hide in the shadows, to remain at the deepest depths, never to look upon the beauty of the world. . . surrounded by desolate rocks and vegetation that is soon to die in waters that are being boiled alive by the will of man. . .”
“I never forced you to live in shadows―”
“You forced me from the land. . . forced me into the oceans. . . There is no in-between place in which to be. Do not say you did not force me to hide―”
“I never forced you to breed, to build an army.”
“And what of your army, brother? Of your brood, spread far and wide across the lands―”
“I have ceased that foolish endeavour. . . It was under the auspices of a false prophecy.”
“You and I are more similar than you wish to admit brother. . .” she tried once again to fight the hold he had on her. It felt as though it were weakening, and her eyes glowed all the more at the prospect that he was exaggerating the power that he had returned with from the Outer Realms.
“One day, you will have to face it. . . that we come from the same place, and even though our reasons are different on the surface, we are in fact more similar that you would ever dare to admit. . .”
“I am not going to ask again, sister. . . Please. . .”
“Begging is beneath us, brother. And begging will not save you from your fate!”
With a rush of water, massive jaws came down upon Shaman Kahgo from above. And in a single bite, the life was crushed from him in an instant.
54
The tears shed
Dam'i-Ka cackled with glee as her child devoured her brother. She had called it to return home as soon as he arrived, and it had been slowly sneaking up on him as he held her in his grasp.
Having been freed by Kahgo's consumption, she sauntered through the water over to the colossal fruit of her loins, and brushed her appendages over its brow.
“Good boy,” she chuckled. “Mummy is so very proud of you.”
The beast wriggled with glee at having pleased its maker, but that glee was swiftly replaced by agony as light burst forth from between its lips. Its eyes glowed brighter and brighter, and then exploded, sending the sludge contained within its eyeballs washing across the matriarch.
She stared in horror as the glow permeated its skin, and looked away with tears in each of her eyes as the incandescence reached a crescendo, and her gargantuan child died the same death as its smaller kin.
When the light cleared, only Shaman Kahgo remained, and all that was left of her son were scant remnants of viscera.
“No!” she shrieked, throwing herself towards him.
Great claws burst from the tips of each of her tendrils and she swiped at him over and over, tearing great mounds of flesh from his body, shredding his chest and limbs, sending his blood pouring into the ocean. But each of her attacks was for naught. Every one of his injuries healed not long after they were made.
“Please sister,” he begged.
“You killed them!” she screamed, “You killed all of them. . . every one of my babies. . . I gave them life, held them inside me, birthed every one from my loins, knew them as if they were a part of me. . . and you killed them!”
“You gave me no choice,” he said, taking hold of her tendrils in his.
“You had choices! We all have choices, you simply chose to pick the option that would result in the most pain, the most suffering for me! You proclaim yourself as this great and mighty man of morals―but in truth, you are nothing but a murderer! You take life as your whim deems it, and have no care for the repercussions. . .”
“I know there are repercussions. . . I have never once wanted to take a life. . .”
“And yet that is all you do, time and time again!”
He restrained her limbs and held her close. Still, she tried to break free of his grasp.
“We are kin, you and I,” he whispered. “And I am truly sorry what what I had to do. . . sorrier than I think you will ever know.”
She glared at him, baring her teeth. “You and I are kin in name only. . . And having seen the way you treat your nephews, I shall treat you with the same respect, brother!”
Her jaws tore into his flesh, but Shaman Kahgo did not scream. He held in the pain, and held his sister close. As her saliva mingled with his blood, he felt her every impulse. She was never going to stop, never going to lose the desire to take revenge on him and the land above.
She would try again and again to not only destroy the world of man, but would venture beyond that, to kill all he held dear, to destroy each of his children as he had destroyed hers.
There was only one way in which he could be certain that she would not carry out her plan, that her cycle of unending vengeance would come to an end. But it was not a decision he took lightly.
Kahgo held her closer, taking a breath as she continued to devour him. He closed his eyes, and finally let the tears shed as light washed out upon them both, releasing every last iota of the essence from the God's End that he had surging through his body. The blinding light poured across his skin as he expelled the impossibly powerful energy of a weapon that was mighty enough to kill a god.
In mere moments. Dam'i-Ka, sister of Shaman Kahgo, daughter of Khal'kru, was wiped not only from from existence, she had been completely unwritten from reality.
And as the light faded, he was left alone to mourn the loss of one he loved so deeply, and yet had been so estranged from by circumstances that only the Fates themselves could explain.
55
Never again
The light cascaded from the depths of the oceans, and made its way across the globe. But this light did not simply seek to destroy the goliaths that roamed freely and destroyed all they came into contact with upon on the lands. It blinded every single being on the planet, took the very building blocks of life and perverted them to its will.
It was a pure and relentless unleashing of intent upon the world. Reality was re-written in an instant, every element that had been destroyed was returned to its natural state, every death that had come at the hands of the creatures from the deep was undone.
The operatives of the Circle found themselves standing no longer in cities that were battlegrounds. They were amongst the men and women of the Natural World, acting out their lives as if they had no notion of the apocalyptic scenarios that had occurred around them. The memories of how close they had come to the brink of destruction had been removed. The world was safe, and it would never be able to recall just how close it came to falling.
With no enemy to fight, each of the operatives made their way to alleys and back streets, and took doors back to the Epicentre. They were the only ones that would remember what had befallen the world, their memories allowed to remain so that they would be prepared should such an eventuality come to pass again.
But one thing was for certain.
The Natural Wor
ld would never again find itself overrun by the brood from the deep, and never again would red rain fall upon the lands.
56
Wherever the Fates deemed him to go
MARIANA TRENCH, PACIFIC OCEAN
Shaman Kahgo dropped to his knees, and stayed there, motionless. He had released the full essence of the God's End, and unleashed all the magicks that he had stolen from the Outer Realms.
It took him hours to find the strength to move himself, and even then all he could do was rearrange his legs on the ground until he was in a seated position on the volcanic rocks, looking out over the kingdom his sister had once commanded. A kingdom that now never was, that had never existed, that was simply a desolate wasteland surrounding the sleeping body of one much older that all that lay around it.
He mourned her loss, and would continue to mourn her loss. She had been so damaged, so broken by all that had occurred in her life, and he couldn't help but feel that his mind might have so very easily become just as messed up, were he not as close to his father as he was.
Their choices in life were not so different, just as she had said. The only thing that separated them was their methodology. . . but even then, he could not help but admit that his respect for something as binary as the sanctity of life had proven itself frail in the grand scheme. He was willing to end so many lives, including that of his kin, for what he perceived as the 'greater good'. However, now that he was alone, that he was the last of his kind in the Natural World, he could not help wonder if it was indeed so great, or so good.
Life was precious, all life, whether it was benign or destructive. Even her brood, who had such a vicious streak, who took life without mercy, they could have been put on the right path―and he truly believed that―if only they had a better influence behind them.
No thing deserved death.
Of that, he was now certain.
Kahgo allowed the tears to shed once again, and looked up at the ocean above. The world of man felt so far away, such a distant place, and he did not think himself deserving to return, not yet. Not until he had made amends for everything that he had to do to secure their fate.
The Natural World was safe, that was all that mattered. And it would continue to be safe, for the moment at least. . . That much he could discern.
In the interim, he was too weak to even consider returning. Not that he considered himself even close to being worthy of such a thing. Perhaps when they next needed him to assist in their survival he would be ready, but he did not believe that he was going to be worthy for a long time.
Shaman Kahgo breathed deep, and let his true form expand, shedding the skin of man that his subconscious had grown for him before he was rescued from the waters. It was not right that he should wear that mask. Not when, at that moment, he felt more like a beast than a man.
He would need that skin again one day, when his children called him forth to aid them. But until that day came, he would exist in his natural state, and do all he could to atone for the lives he had taken.
There would be a time when he deserved to walk above the surface, to live and breathe and act as a man once more. . . But that day felt like an impossible distance, one he was not yet strong enough to traverse towards.
And so, Shaman Kahgo disappeared into the darkness of the deep, flowing with the current, being taken wherever the Fates deemed him to go, a prisoner to their whims. There was much they could see fit to punish him for, but whatever they would send his way, whatever pain or suffering they believed he deserved, it was no match for the punishment he was going to inflict upon himself.
57
Lost in anguish
EPICENTRE, THE CIRCLE
Isaiah Faith sat in his gleaming white office, looking out through the large panes of glass at his operators and operatives. But he was only there in body, not in mind.
His mind was elsewhere, lost in thought, lost in anguish at what had befallen the world. For as much as it had been saved, the Circle had failed in its mandate. If it were not for forces that had yet to be discerned, the Natural World as they knew it would have been lost. The battle would have ended with a myriad more deaths, of mundane and magickal alike. Hope would have been lost, and it would have happened under his watch.
The deaths that did occur had been undone, unwritten from reality, the lost returned as if they had never had their lives taken from them by monstrous forces from the deep. And his troops did not seem to take the potential of failure to heart. If anything, the chatter he had heard and auras he had felt seemed to convey that they respected him more than ever for his leadership, for fighting alongside them yet again.
But even though morale was high, and his leadership was deemed strong, he had never felt more weak and feeble. However, one thing had been made certain by the legion from the deep, that had attempted to take the land from man. His fears had been proven correct. . . The same fears that were raised when Yog Sothoth attempted to incur. . . The Old Ones were far from gone.
Whether this scourge had been a direct result of one of them launching an attack upon the world of man, or some other force, it proved that they were something to be concerned about. And if the Circle was going to be prepared for another assault from creatures of such might, things were going to have to change.
He reached into his pocket and felt for the stone that he had carried with him every day since he had first risen to his position. Now he understood where Comstock's instinct had come from. The only difference between them was that his predecessor's will was weak, his lust for power had taken over, and he had lashed out against those that he commanded, rather than seeking power from other sources. . .
There was much power out in the world, and even more out in the realms and realities that forked off from this world. And he would take the necessary actions to prepare for the next inevitable onslaught from the Ancient Ones.
No longer would he think twice about such things. His inclination days earlier was proven correct, the Circle would no longer sit back and be damage control, they would take the first strike, they would accumulate power, and they would be ready when some churlish god decided to attempt to invoke its will.
And then, the Outer Gods would learn once and for all that the Natural World was not their plaything.
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Keep reading for an exclusive preview of the next book in the world of The Circle
Elsewhere in the world of The Circle...
The Spirit Box
SYNOPSIS
It's not a nightmare if you're awake...
Ana's grandmother has died in a horrific fashion.
Soon, she finds herself under assault by the same supernatural forces.
With nowhere else to turn to, Rafe, a low-level magical detective comes to her aid.
He's been tracking the creature, and the box that appears to draw it forth. Together, they set out to put an end to the malevolent fiend once and for all.
But all is not as it seems with the entity that's hunting Ana down. Nor is all as it seems with Rafe, or Ana for that matter.
Everyone has secrets, and some secrets are powerful enough to kill.
The Spirit Box is available now
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The Spirit Box
Chapter 1
Its latest victim
He had been watching the house intently through the day, waiting for night to fall, waiting for the right moment. As much as every sign had brought him this far, nothing about it sat right. He was parked up in a car he had borrowed―stolen would have been more accurate, but he intended to return it. . . eventually.
The street was picture book London suburbia, a real neighbourhood, where people knew the folks living next to them, houses full of apparently happy families. Hardly the place for nefarious forces to be lurking. But “hardly” and “definitely not” are two very different things, he knew that all too well.
As with many of the c
apital's suburban streets, it rarely remained quiet for longer than batches of ten or fifteen seconds at a time. The road was a thoroughfare for the nearby dual carriageway. There was a constant stream of traffic driving back and forth, and he couldn't risk being seen breaking in, not until he was certain this was the right house. There was a part of him that was restless, a part that wanted to act, to do something before it was too late. But, he reminded himself, sometimes the only time to act is when it's too late.
The old lady that lived in the house pottered around constantly, dusting and vacuuming, polishing and cleaning. She sat down briefly to drink tea and do a crossword, but as soon as she had drained the pot dry, got back to her feet and returned to her regime of making everything spick and span. Something was compelling her to clean. From his view on the street, it felt suspicious, the house looked damn near flawless, the window frames acting as borders for photos from Perfect Elderly Person's House magazine. Maybe that was him projecting. After all, his place looked like the resident was a hoarder who died along ago, and weasels had been cohabiting with squirrels since his demise.
This could be it, he thought, if it is here, perhaps this is the way the possession has manifested. It wasn't how these things usually went down: it was much more common for these things to make a mess rather than tidy things up. However, as he knew full well, every possession was different, depending on the possessee, let alone the variety of possessor. That said, he couldn't comprehend, if this was the creature manifesting, how it would result in the old woman's death.