Salvation: A Templar's Quest for Redemption

by Mark Mihalko

  The sins of the masses fueling the inferno,

  And silence befalls the guilty,

  Their baptism closes, as my hand grasps the holy conduit of salvation.

  My blade slices Elyon,

  His venomous abdomen erupts like Etna,

  A river of blood and bile drown the sinners in limbo,

  Their bodies line the chasm as the statues line Saint Peters,

  Moloch must be next; his horns, the heart of a whore, he must fall,

  My pulse quickens as the look of fear overwhelms this fouled sanctuary,

  The flavor untouched, thrill unmatched-the scepter draws near.

  Moloch stands before me, the flames of Heaven consuming his blackened soul,

  The revolting stench masks the depths of sin,

  With centuries of viral rot infesting his every move,

  My staff enters his disgusting void, blood oozing from the festering bosom,

  Panic rises from the calm as thunder reigns down from the profane charlatan,

  The heretical lies masked within the sacred trinity revealed,

  And the true face of divinity will finally see the light of day.

  Charcoal to embers, night to day,

  The Scepter of Light is one with the Almighty,

  And the redemption of our order may finally be at hand,

  The demonic hordes of the unfaithful bow before thee,

  The fallen star has returned, I can feel it,

  My passageway lay ahead, as the moon rises about the sanguine fields of despair,

  Mount Heres has been cleansed; my work here is complete.

  XXIX

  The Fallen Star Nears

  As the vile beasts lay before the altar, the mighty warrior bowed before the Father and professed his sins. From the North a flash of light appeared in the sky and Heres shuddered, for the Redeemer has been forgiven, and his passage from Levant was granted.

  (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 10.2)

  Father, tonight, all my prayers will be answered,

  Baal, Moloch, and Elyon lay impaled upon the altar,

  Forbidden replies rise from the depths, and the fallen star nears,

  All of my atrocities will at last be justified by the remnants of the Templars,

  As night descends, the darkness laughs in the shadows,

  The rogue minion of sinners surround me; yet, I am alone,

  A torrential rage echoes from beyond the mount,

  Alive, the scepters light guides me,

  My heart races, and hope builds within my mind,

  I can see the Jordan, water to wine,

  My secret elixir and life,

  Still, my true destiny lay ahead upon my return,

  I watch the venom swirl in the well,

  I see deliverance, a lone tear,

  Scars of redemption glisten in moonlight,

  My fetid wounds of truth, and wounds of redemption,

  The secrets you hold are no longer a mystery,

  The transfusion nears an end; I must reveal the truth about the deceiver,

  The bloodline must be revealed to the congregation,

  Placenta filled vats await their call within the basilica,

  The sanguine river to again flow and the most holy trinity illuminate the urn,

  Ragged flesh breathes, their baptism at hand,

  Answer my cry to thee, Father,

  My quest at last complete, as the Scepter of Light will burn bright,

  And through this light, forever will be,

  Silence screams inside the chamber,

  And liberation will at last for perpetuity,

  My prayers; my gospel echoing through eternity,

  This night, breathe life into my soul,

  And allow my journey to be known to all humanity,

  For my epitaph complete, and I stand humbled before thee,

  Make Clement proud and renounce Phillip and the lies,

  From the void, and through the word of the Lamb,

  Bless those of lives lost and love anew,

  My mortal heart beats again upon this knoll and Levant fades into oblivion,

  And at last, the sins of the world can be forgiven.

  XXX

  Salvation

  Upon the day when the horsemen rose in the shadow of the cathedral and the tainted bloodline was at last disclosed, the martyr stood before the blade and professed the true wisdom of the Lamb. And through the chains the mighty warrior wept, for the blasphemers and heretics betrayed the blessed word of the Lord.

  (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 10.8)

  Such a dark day in the world,

  Phillip and the heretics have again defiled the Order-the true Messiah,

  And you, Father, are left to weep among the damned,

  The four horses are drawn, our finality at hand,

  Not by the masses that pray,

  But, from the hypocrisy of medieval royalty that prey,

  On our flesh and your sacred secrets?

  Should not it be they, who suffer for following the false prophet,

  The sinner who hid behind his disciples,

  And worse, the women and children of Judea,

  Spouting lies of redemption and tormenting the righteous,

  Preaching abstinence instead of indulgence,

  And in turn, creating turmoil in the perfect world.

  .. ..

  Through it all, you stood tall in the face of the blasphemers,

  The destroyers of forged faith who were blind,

  Failing to harness the power of your minions,

  By creating a day of homage of their transgressions, they granted you eternal life,

  History crying tears of truths in your name,

  Even now, after trespassing into our sanctum and pilfering the scepter,

  You will never be forgotten, as they will never eclipse your light that burns inside the relic,

  You Baphomet, will live forever, as will our Order,

  Like me, and my brothers, your followers will bleed for you,

  Carrying on the traditions passed down by the strong,

  Your enigma, a mystery to most, but a reality for the devoted,

  Father, forgive these sinners for they know not the depths of their actions,

  For through your wisdom and sacrifice, Salvation is upon us.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born and raised in the shadows of Appalachia, Mark A. Mihalko is cunningly creative with a flair for the freakish. An experienced fiction and nonfiction writer, Mark is the author of three books, After the Static, Searching the Abyss, and Walking Before Dawn, and has seen his works published in multiple online and print media outlets such as Mysteries, FATE, Horrotica, Haunted Times, Doorways and Revenant Magazine. He was also lucky enough to be the focus of the Poet of the Hours for the Graveyard Press, the official webzine of the Vampire Nation.

  Mark holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Creative Writing for Entertainment from Full Sail University. While he has a long way to go to achieve his goal of writing a multimedia/multi-platform horror themed universe, he is constantly searching for new projects and outlets to share his twisted interpretations of reality.