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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Hellfire: The Threshold
Copyright ã 2003 Davina Blayde
ISBN: 1-55410-041-0
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2003
Look for us online at:
www.zumayapublications.com
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Dedication:
Dedicated to my muse (you know who you are)
Prologue
I stare out at the vast empty darkness that surrounds the stone block on which I have perched myself. If any other being were to happen upon it and sit themselves down they would no doubt leap from it as the bitter cold seared their unwitting flesh. But I, dear reader, have long succumbed to that inevitable numbness that captures the mind, body and soul of those elder beings that inhabit this place I call my home. Not all who reside here are unresponsive to the sensations, and for that I envy them. I feel physical sensations, no longer. The feeling upon my flesh a distant memory, faded with time. The numbness in which I am now cast is but a nightmare from which I cannot awaken. To say that I miss this pleasure is a gross understatement. My outer regions ache with the need and desire to cater to the pleasures of my flesh yet, to my constant dismay, I cannot. Mind you, I have tried and tried in vain, time and again. I have brushed against the flesh of the most beautiful of specimens with my own and made them whimper and cry out in throes of pain and ecstasy, but my physical self could not share the passion which was formed by our bonding, tangled together in a mass of flesh and blood, unfeeling though it was, and is.
Though my flesh may be unfeeling, my emotions are not. As many times as I’ve engaged in this activity, my insides always become a mixture of fire and ice, overwhelming. I sense the heat from deep within attempting to rise up and consume my physical being, but the coldness that rages inside of me like a blizzard always wins out in the end. It swallows the heat that tempts to consume me in those exquisite moments and that tempts to finally rid me of this prison in which I endlessly find myself in these days. Each time these battles raged, I would hope against hope that the fire would win, just this once, and I could once again feel the warmth on my frigid body, the sacred touch of a lover’s caress, the musky breath against my ear as sweet nothings were whispered into its deep cavity.
It seems my emotions were heightened at the loss of my physical self. They thrust upon my mind like a tidal wave of epic proportions. They crash, they flood, and they destroy. Then when it’s over, they pull back with such unexpected serenity that I feel crippled by my confusion. I’ve learned to live with that over time but the deafening silence that follows that tide is agony. I’ve grown to long for the violent wave of wrath as opposed to the calm peace. Peace can be deceiving, believe me dear reader, I know that all too well. It blinds you to your enemy. Silence can be deceiving as well, which is understandable. They seem to follow one another.
To be able to feel another’s touch would be, dare I say it, heaven. But somehow, somewhere inside of me, I know that can never be. Hope is lost on it, the feeling will never return. It was there once, long ago, but no longer. It will never again grace me with its presence. Never offer its sweet release from my suffering that I endure day in and day out, so endless and unforgiving in its torture. I would even be satisfied with the touch of my own flesh, to feel the sensation as I rub my weary face with a mechanical hand. If there were mirrors here, I could watch as my pale, long fingers rubbed the equally pale skin surrounding my eyes.
With that thought I try to remember what my eyes look like, or looked like for that matter. Such time has passed since I have last cast a glance at my own image. What color were they? Were they black as coal? No, though some may assume so. Green, perhaps? It seems fitting as I have always been prone to jealousy. But again, I think that is another ill-fated guess on my part. If my memory serves me right, as I hope it does, I recall my eyes were blue. But I fear they may no longer hold this hue, for I know in my hardened heart that some rather “interesting” changes occurred during my exile. I recollect it hard to find memories that I was viewed by many as a handsome sight to look upon. At this time, however, I have the strange feeling that the once handsome features bestowed upon me have distorted a bit. Into what I cannot say, as there is no reflection here in this place, at least not for me. But in every pair of eyes that glance my way now, I always notice a hint of fear and repulsion in them as they look at me. Most just cast their eyes down quickly, avoiding my gaze. But some, those brave enough, have stared longer, and they always have something else that I see in their eyes. If I’m not mistaken, I would say it’s a morbid curiosity. Maybe they wonder how I came to be the one I am now, inside and out.
I wish I could tell them, but again I cannot. To let them know would be to expose myself to vulnerability and weakness, and that’s inconceivable. To let them see how shattered my heart is as it lies inside this shallow shell of a body would be foolish. For all the inhabitants here believe me to be strong. If they knew how wrong they are. I am a coward, through and through. Why can they not see it? How can so many be so blind? Pity I don’t know the answer, as I was blind once. The others here cannot see that I would abandon them if so given the chance. I care not about them, but I doubt I could have made it as far as I have without their endless support. I doubt that if I ever make it out of these confining structures that I could will myself to stand on my own and face the hardships ahead. I need them, but I can never tell them that, too afraid to. Too afraid that they will see me for who and what I really am. I could not bear that. That is why I deceive. That is why, when my name is passed upon ignorant lips, I walk to stand beside the owners and pull them down with shallow promises and unrelenting illusions.
Dear reader, would you now do me the courtesy of sitting down with me here in the dark? It’s lonely and the company would be most welcome. I’ve asked you here for a reason, my lovelies. I have a tale to tell, do you want to hear it? I want you to be my sole ear. But be warned, this is no ordinary fairy tale. There is no knight in shining armor who rescues a princess from a fire-breathing dragon. No magical slippers, no songs for you to hum along to. Because all of that is lies and riff-raff, pure and simple. Storybook fairy tales do not exist anywhere but in the fervent and juvenile imaginations of youth, only to wither and die as that imagination slowly but surely matures and disappears altogether.
Dear reader, I will only speak the truth to you. I solemnly swear. Prepare yourself for the beginning of a bedtime story that took place long ago. And it’s all true, I promise. I was there, after all. Our story begins in a place and time beyond the reach of humanity, during an infamous battle of wills that would be resurrected among the minds of mortals and their all too pious writings after their creation. So please, take a seat and lend me your ear for this twisted beginning to my timeless trilogy. Now, let’s begin…
Chapter One
“Is there no other way, my Lord?”<
br />
“I’m afraid not, Michael. The conflict grows as time passes and the inevitable battle draws near. We cannot prevent it, but we can see to it that Lucifer and his disciples have not the advantage. In his possession lies his vantage in the matter. I do not know if he is aware of it, but it is a substantial danger to us just the same. The sword must be returned. Only then will we hold the upper hand once more.”
“Then allow me to retrieve it. Don’t send a child.” The guardian archangel’s tone was pleading.
“There is no way around it. Lucifer would recognize you, as I’m sure you are aware. The task is to go to one he has not been privy to.”
“But she is a child, Lord. She belongs to neither the seraphim nor the cherubim, and would not stand a chance if something were to go wrong with the mission. Surely, you must be aware of that.”
“That is a chance we must all be willing to take. Mara knows this, and so do I. She has been made aware of the dangers this mission poses. There is no other choice, I’m sorry to say. She must reclaim the sword, one which you allowed to be pulled from your grasp. Be lucky that another has volunteered to take your place and spare you the agony of retrieving the lost relic yourself. She will be given what she needs to gain access to the infernal regions, but beyond that it is up to her to locate the sword in Lucifer’s domain. Once she possesses it, she can return, but never before. The mission must not fail.”
“Yes, my Lord. I shall give her the instructions straight away.”
“Send her on her way. Inform her that only under dire circumstances can we risk communication. Otherwise, she is on her own.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
***
Taking his leave, Michael summoned the female angel to relay the details of her mission to her. Within seconds she appeared with all the grace and beauty befitting a divine messenger. Landing safely with her bare feet upon the grassy knoll, she walked down the small hill with flowing strides as her white wings folded naturally behind her back, securing themselves until they were needed in flight. Stopping several feet from Michael, she bowed slightly to the ancient entity and waited for his approval to rise.
“No need for formality at this time, Mara,” Michael informed her as she rose to her full height, which was nearing six feet. “I’m afraid there is not much time to go over the details of your mission before I send you on your way. So please, walk with me. There is much to say in such little time.”
Nodding her understanding, Mara began walking alongside the archangel as they made their way through the higher lands of Heaven.
“I was informed by our Lord that you volunteered for this mission,” Michael said as he looked at her deeply with dark eyes.
“Yes, I did,” Mara replied as Michael’s look turned a bit somber.
“I assume, then, that you are aware of the potential dangers of this particular assignment and have taken into consideration what it could entail,” he said in response.
“Everything has already been made clear to me,” she assured him, “I need this assignment, Michael.”
“Your reasons for needing this assignment are what worry me, Mara. I’m afraid the only reason you volunteered for this assignment is to advance in the eyes of our Lord and unlike Him, I have my doubts about this mission. I fear you do not know what you are getting into or what is at stake should you fail,” Michael observed.
“I’m not infantile, Michael. Just because I have not been in the Order for as long as you, does not mean I’m incompetent for the job. I will do what needs to be done. Rest assured of that,” Mara’s tone was confident.
“Please do not misunderstand me, Mara,” Michael replied defensively. “I do not think you incompetent, merely a little naïve about the beings you will be facing. Do not underestimate them. If you do they will have unlimited power over you and while you are there we cannot help you. The Lord has notified me that we are not to have any contact unless dire circumstances arise. We cannot risk exposing your true identity through communication. Do you fully understand that?”
Mara nodded her understanding before asking, “When am I to depart?”
“As soon as possible, you are to embark on your journey after I inform you of the details. You will know everything you need to know, possess everything you need to possess. You must endear yourself to Lucifer and gain the knowledge of the sword’s location within a fortnight. We cannot risk your presence down there any longer than that. Once you have the sword in your possession, you will be pulled from the infernal regions along with the relic. You must locate the sword within that time. The mission will end whether or not you have it. But be aware that if you fail, our existence will be in serious danger of destruction.”
“How am I to endear myself to Lucifer?” Mara inquired.
“Any way you can,” Michael answered, with as much seriousness as he could muster for the conversation. “You should also be aware that you will go through some changes as you enter the infernal regions. Don’t be alarmed, these changes are for your own protection and to make you pass as one of the spirits there. They will not only be physical, but psychological as well, molding your personality to better fit in and accomplish the mission. All of your original structure and personality will be restored upon your return here.”
“What are the powers of the sword? What is the history behind it?” Mara wanted to know before beginning her mission.
“It has the ability to control the cosmos, to bend it in the direction of the one who wields and controls it. It was created by Raphael during the time of the revolt to destroy Lucifer, as far as I know it’s the only thing that could’ve. During the battle, Lucifer was able to steal it from my grasp, gaining an advantage until the void was created into which he was eventually cast down. Unfortunately, the sword went with him. We’ve been devising ways to reclaim it ever since.”
“This is the first attempt? But the revolt was eons ago!” Mara exclaimed.
“The other plans that have been made would not have worked. You do not need to know of those, they are unimportant. The important thing is that you know that the sword is very powerful. Do not attempt to wield it. The magnitude of its power far exceeds your ability to control it. I would hate to see you injured. We do not know if Lucifer is fully aware of its range of powers or not, we do not suspect so. But be cautious, in the wrong hands it could prove disastrous,” Michael answered.
“But if it has the ability to give the owner the power to control all of creation, why hasn’t Lucifer used that to his advantage? Why does he not have full control over the cosmos?” Mara asked, confused.
“That is our reason for believing that he is not aware of the sword’s full potential. Otherwise, he would have formed his army and waged another war by now. But that is part of the reason you are here. Make your assessment about Lucifer’s knowledge concerning the sword’s powers while you are there. It will not only help in your report when you return but it will help keep you safe while you are there. Make sure to learn as much as you can, we don’t want any surprises,” was Michael’s reply.
“Don’t worry about me,” Mara said. “Everything will be fine. I think it’s time to get a move on. The faster I can get down there, the faster I can get back.”
“Your confidence is admirable, but don’t let your impatience get the best of you,” Michael responded. “Come, follow me.”
Mara went along and soon came upon the area of departure for all divine messengers. And after saying goodbye, she departed from her usual place of existence to enter another realm unknown to her until now.
***
The transition was quick but painful, if she had to choose a sensation to accompany it. Not much remained in her memory once it was over, though, as she awoke to find the air around her thick with acrid smoke. After the initial shock wore off, along with the wheezing and coughing from the introduction of the stuffy atmosphere, she blinked her eyes to view the new surroundings.
Although some of it was in tune with her previous imag
inings, most of it was quite different than anything she had previously pictured. There was no long line of tortured souls waiting for admission. No caverns of fire and brimstone that she could see. No fallen angels walking about, brandishing torture equipment. She was, in fact, all alone. The atmosphere was indeed dark and gloomy but she couldn’t see beyond the billowing smoke and fog that encased her location. Her vision got as far as several meters but was useless after that. Mara looked anxiously about, not sure if this was where all of the entering souls were brought or if she had been purposely dropped there.
The solitude was quite unnerving, though, even in this short amount of time, and her wish for some company was soon overpowering her fear of the potential inhabitants of the darkened place. Knowing it would do no good to stand there and wait, she decided to make her way through the fog to perhaps try and find some sort of sign that others existed here. Her walk was cautious, yet searching, as she stepped through the murky air to find herself faced with a large stone gate. Upon contact, her hands could feel the intricate grooves in its sculpted design. Carved into the stone were portraits of faces, both blissful and tormented, and nude bodies, seemingly meshed together and posed in mystic prayer.
As she ran her hand across the features of one exquisitely carved head, which on its own would have taken years to get a likeness just right, it suddenly moved from its frozen position. Opening its granitic eyes and peering at her with unabashed curiosity, the sculpture resembled neither a male nor a female, as it possessed characteristics of both. As she stepped back out of surprise, the large carving opened its cracked mouth to release a yawn before turning its attention back to Mara. Then, as she watched, the body connected to the hermaphroditic sculpture began to move within the stone carvings. As though the twisted portrait on the gate’s exterior had liquidized, the other mangled carvings began to twist and contort rapidly about this larger being until their motions slowed and began to simply content themselves with each other’s closeness as they mingled in a sort of artistic orgy. Mara’s brow furrowed for a moment as she rested her eyes upon the scene, but then relaxed her physical reaction as she found the main attraction in the depraved artwork still studying her from its position amidst the copulating bodies. Then, with the sound of dislodging bones, it opened its mouth to speak.
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