by Leon Castle
Text Copyright © Leon Castle 2015
Cover Art Copyright © Leon Castle 2015
The right of Mr. Leon Castle to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
E-book IBSN 978-0-9966777-0-7
Print book IBSN 978-0-9966777-1-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise.) without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of Fiction
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover Art by Dawn Austin
www.Austinillustration.net
www.earthslastangel.com
For my baby sister Valerie, sleep peacefully little one, I will see you soon.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
The most profound Question in the Multiverse Is
What If…?
-Leon Castle
Prologue
Endless eons before our own…‘In the Beginning,’
the Grand Guild of Master Creators exist.
This 10 member guild is countless eons old, each member measures their age by the rotations of their home universe. Their average age is 2600 Trillion-R. Their creations now span millions of planets throughout the multiverse, life in all its diversity teems out there. Younger, less experienced creators benefit from the master creators teaching them the art and rules of creation.
Creators have only three cardinal rules they must obey.
Firstly: They are only allowed to create very basic organic lifeforms on planets that are now able to support life, these having a viable atmosphere and so forth. They are forbidden to create advanced intelligent lifeforms. These basic lifeforms need to develop over long periods of adaptation, allowing an intelligent species to emerge from the diversity of life on that planet.
Secondly: The creator is forbidden to communicate directly with this new species, but is able to send tutors with the ability to transfer from energy lifeforms into the organic lifeform of the new species, and then back to become an energy lifeform once again.
It is the mission of the tutors to help the new species to develop their civilization and technology so that by the time the planets lifespan nears its end, the species has developed the technology to transfer from organic to energy lifeform and back again itself.
Once they have achieved this with the aid of technology, they develop the ability to do this, at will, without using technology. Now they can enter their second phase of development, and join the community of energy lifeforms in their home universe.
The Grand Guild of Master Creators is at the very pinnacle of energy lifeforms.
In the beginning of time, the guild is formed in response to a crisis that occurred on a newly- developed planet now able to support organic life forms. This planet, Thera, had become a dark planet. Its inhabitants had become an evil, violent species destroying each other and the planet they called home, something drastic has to be done, and immediately! Their young, arrogant, creator was seduced by the prospect of being worshiped as their Almighty God.
He had ignored the third cardinal rule:
Under no circumstances is worship of any sort ever tolerated!
Pure evil is the sole product of worship!
Both the hands of the worshiped and the hands of worshipers become saturated, dripping with the blood of innocents, as proof of this fact!
The 10 oldest and wisest agreed to meet in the void that separates the centurial cluster of universes. After much discussion it was decided to create a new lifeform that would have their combined authority and power. This new one-of-a-kind creation would also have the wisdom of the 10, and although not a creator itself, was given authority to assist, or even in some cases neutralize a creator and his creative works, leaving a clean slate for the next creator to populate the now empty, cleansed, planet. This new lifeform is also given the ability of entry-level energy lifeforms. He is able to transform from an energy lifeform into the intelligent indigenous organic lifeform of the planet to be visited.
With each one of the 10 master creators giving up one tenth of their energy, power and wisdom,
the Sky Lion came to be.
His appearance is brilliant gold energy, radiating from his massive body, from his huge powerful wings, with his lion head and mane down his back to his tail. His torso, arms and legs are fashioned after a powerful humanoid male. His piercing eyes beaming out from his lion head…humanoid.
His true name is unpronounceable to us, since we cannot speak nor understand the tongue of the master creators. He speaks every language in the multiverse fluently from the moment his life begins.
We will only ever know him as…
The Sky Lion Angel of Light
Chapter 1
‘Son…move your chair a little closer, I have something I need to tell you before I go.’
My grandfather has two ice-cold drinks in his hands as he settles into his chair.
‘Here, grab this,’ as he hands me one.
‘Where do you reckon you might be going?’ I ask, looking directly into his fading, milky-gray eyes.
‘My time here is nearly done, I turned 96 last week lad,’ he says, turning away to sip his drink.
‘You’ve plenty of life left in you yet, you old geriatric delinquent!’ I quip.
He smiles and looks up at the starry heavens with a longing I’d never seen before.
I lost both my parents at the age of nine. My grandfather took me in and brought me up. I have an extraordinary relationship with him. He is my granddad, my father, and my best friend.
‘Let me tell you a story from the beginning of time…my time,’ he says softly, reengaging eye contact, his eyes now a crystal-clear steel-gray.
I feel a shiver run down my spine…this will be no ordinary chat!
‘How well do you think you know me, son? What do you think my real age might be?’
Now my attention jumps up a notch or 20!
‘Come on Pops, I’ve known you all my life! Just like you said, you’ve just turned 96-years-old,’ I reply to his odd question, becoming quite concerned. Is he finally losing it?
‘Tell you what, finish your drink and I’ll tell you the story of Thera, a beautiful little planet not far from here.’ He smiles as I drain my drink and jump up to go to the fridge for another round.
Now I know for sure this will be no ordinary evening spent with my aging grandfather, there are obviously things I don’t know about him that I need to know. And what’s this about a planet called Thera? Now my head is buzzing with questions. I return to the table with a large jug filled with ice tea.
My grandfather gazes at me and makes a strange comment: ‘I fear humans are now at the crossroad…I hope they choose wisely.’
He suddenly brightens up and the clear steel-gray returns to his eyes. ‘Ah, where were we?’
‘I guess it’s best if we start from beginning. Thera is a planet much the same as ours, only the land mass is a super continent with a scattering of islands. The sea level is slightly higher than ours and the poles are much smaller. The climate is quite warm so there are huge forests and grass plains in abundance, the fresh-water lakes rival ours both in size and number. Life teems on this planet in both abundance and variety.
‘Over millions of years a dominant species finally emerges. Their skin had developed the delicate texture of a gecko, with both large, powerful neck and wrist-frills. Once long snouts have now shrunken down to being barely noticeable. Thick, long tails have become elegant and slim. They have tiny ear openings on the side of their heads and their eyes are large, protruding from the top front of their heads. They stand and walk upright like us on powerful legs.
‘They are very much like us, son, they have the full range of emotions and attitudes that we have. Some names and places are untranslatable to English so I have given them equivalent English names. Over time, they develop over 1500 verbal and written languages.
‘They have become a very powerful species intellectually as well as physically. This is the age of reptiles.’
‘That sounds incredible! How do you know about all of this?’ I ask not knowing what to expect next.
‘Let’s just say for now that my source is totally trust worthy,’ he replies with a wink.
‘As usual, life on Thera started off sweet, beautiful and abundant. Over time the Mazubans, as the reptilian species called themselves, began to develop civilizations and build grand cities. They have long since divided themselves into clans decided by their frill color, their main body color is a white, pinky translucent color. The large, powerful neck frill and the delicate wrist frills are pigmented with vivid color, red, blue, green, orange, black, yellow, purple, brown, and lastly white. Clan rank is determined by the intensity of the color, a darker richer color meaning a higher rank in the clan.
‘Their frills are activated by emotion, for example a neck and wrist frill lying flat with the color subdued on the chest or arm means that the person is in a calm, relaxed state, or the opposite-the frills extend up with the color brightly pulsating, and the frill quivering, means this person is angry, or at least excited.’
‘Sounds vaguely like us…we just go red in the face,’ I comment with a smirk.
‘Mmm…We are going to follow the story of a few key individuals and see how things pan out for them. First a short review. Back in the beginning of their development of civilization, of course, they found or made gods to worship. Eventually the old gods were killed off along with a huge slice of the population in the “war of the gods”, as it became known, cities are destroyed and new cities built on the ruins of the old.
‘Creator worship now takes the place of the old gods, three main faiths demand that they are each the right religion approved by God. They are quite willing to slaughter each other, plus all nonbelievers, heretics, and infidels that get in their way. These are tortured then murdered. Their murders are explained away as atonement sacrifices for the souls of the dead.
‘So-called Holy books are now written to justify this abomination, as well as war and all manner of disgusting filth and oppression of the people, especially the females. This is now justified in the name of their creator Azeebar. To top it all off, they venerate the instrument of torture and death, ‘the Lance.”’ They hang this horrific symbol on a gold neck chain and wear it as a symbol of their faith and also as a charm to protect them from evil!’
‘Hell that’s a bit heavy pops! Are you sure all this actually happened?’ I ask, a bit shaken.
‘I ask you one single question, son. Have I ever lied to you?’ his clear, piercing gray eyes boring into mine.
‘No…,’ I answer sheepishly.
‘Then listen closely as I introduce you to the main players…’
Chapter 2
‘In the beginning The Word was, and The Word was with God, and The Word was a God.’
The sun sparkles off these words, embossed in gold thread under three golden crocodiles facing each other, standing upright in a semi-circle. The symbol of the ‘Most Holy Righteous Empire’ is emblazoned on the scarlet cloak that hangs from the shoulders of one of the most evil Mazubans ever to walk planet Thera.
The one who now dares to call himself ‘The Word’
He stands only 102 centimeters tall, long, thin spider-like limbs hang from his equally thin torso. His raven black neck frill stands erect, quivering, pulsing to scarlet red then back to raven black. His facial features are scarred and hidden by a black veil. His cruel eyes are dark, foreboding, menacing. His wrist frills also stand erect and quiver, his long, slender hands are almost feminine, with bony fingers resembling claws. His shoulders are hunched over, as if carrying the weight of all the blood that he has spilled. Chalky-white skin with thin blood-red lips complete the personification of this evil, diabolical monster.
He stands high on the execution platform, looking down on the three prisoners below on skull rock, secured to the three giant golden crocs. He is like a repugnant, ravenous vulture, his head bobbing up and down as a smug, evil sneer crosses his face.
The Sky Lion, in the form of a Mazuban, is secured to the central Croc, the other two prisoners are positioned one at his right and one at his left. They are spread out, standing upright in an X shape, each of their feet fettered to the spread legs of the giant golden croc behind them, their wrists also fettered by chains emanating from the spread arms of the croc. These are pulled tight to keep the prisoners at full stretch. Under each naked prisoner the point of the lance is positioned to pierce their anal passage, thrusting up through their body, piercing vital organs and traveling through the throat to exit the mouth. As the lance is released to shoot upwards, the foot clamps are released, allowing the lance to impale the prisoners high off the ground, ensuring a horrible slow death.
The prisoners are able to see each other; they have endured eternal weeks of unspeakable torture and abuse at the hands of the tormentors. Their bat
tered, broken bodies stink of burnt flesh and festering, weeping wounds.
They embrace their imminent death with a sense of relief.
‘The Word’ raises his arms skywards, screaming in a high pitch hellish voice.
‘Impale the false angel and the children of the necromancer filth! Impale them! Impale them!’
Chapter 3
Sheona guides Prospecting Vessel PV 6098 into landing position on asteroid number -SF 2986-12926-5628-00788, a distance of two week’s flight (3,563,982 kilometers) from Sky Jewel, the asteroid capital city, which is now home to more than 1 million people. Slowly the large vessel eases its way down onto the surface using the auto land sequence. Rocks and debris spray out from under the thrusters mounted high up inside each of the six feet of the vessel as she gently touches down. The six legs fold at the center elbow, lowering the body of the massive craft to just one meter off the surface of the asteroid.
The Mark XII is the latest model prospecting vessel, with all systems fully automated, manual flight mode is an option rarely used now. Sheona just love’s piloting the vessel herself, feeling its awesome power through her hands.
Much smaller crews are now possible, Bill and Sheona are the only crew aboard. Back when prospecting first began out on the asteroid belt, crews could number anywhere up to 12 people per vessel. Now with the fully automated on-board systems, crews as small as two are now possible. The Mark XII is a much faster craft, covering the distance to and from their home outpost city of Borazik in a fraction of the time it took the first original models.
Sheona has recently turned 146 years old. Bill is now nearing 147 years old, with just a couple of months to go. Normal lifespans out on the belt have now risen to 160 years. Bill has been talking to Sheona about going back to his birthplace on the little blue planet Thera.
Bill’s knee is playing up again as he tries to stand up. This is the fourth reconstruction job, and it’s done quite well over the last 12 years. Arthritis and all the other aches and pains are ganging up on him. Once tight, hard muscle has started to sag, his skin too has gone a bit wrinkly. His once luxurious neck and wrist frills have thinned and faded. He struggles into his coveralls, which are a high tech electro muscle suit, it supports his weight and gives him the strength of a 20 year old Mazuban.