Histories of the Realm: The Book of the Damned Itself 7.0

New to all this? "What the heck is this?" Going through your mind? Start here:

http://ttdos-flamian.blogspot.com/2010/04/once-forgotten.html

Wondering where The Book of the Damned starts, what it's all about, and why I am writing it? Check out here:

http://logmeoutnow.blogspot.com/2010/04/histories-of-realm-book-of-damned.html

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 6

I have now overcome myself, realizing that my tears came not from emotion alone, but from the mental augmentation I have received from Helix. Helix. I will refer to the daughter of Sanshi as Helix, for just as the language of mortals dwindles Those Above names’ down to their parts, so will I, for I fear my ink supply is also dwindling. I will resume:
For a moment, watching this thing of pure beauty crumple and shed tears before me was excruciating torture; watching those unnaturally blue eyes sparkle. Her eyes were bluer than the tropical ocean, loftier than the deepest sky, and icier than the Glaciers of the Northern Keep. The blackness within them was more lost than the abyss, farther than the spaces between the stars, and more seductive than any mortal man could possibly imagine. I could stare into her eyes for ever, if not for being so moved by them.
One tear drop from her landed on the Demonrock whetstone, which then sizzled and burned. At this, she looked up at me, and it appeared as though all tears were gone, had never happened. Did I imagine that? She gathered her sword and placed it behined her. She has no sheath. Helix said:
“Ariadni, as you called her, mother of the Selemandairi, was full of envy and wrath because I was the first born of pure happening, the way The Mother intended for it to be. Ariadni bears the stench of Gainahtharrinisidious, and because of his forceful procreation, she bore the Selemandairi, the imperfect children of the unclean will of The Father. She was jealous that she, being most like The Mother, did not, nor could ever, bear perfect Children of Children. And so, with her power of The Mothers, the power of great force and binding with seals, she forged a seal comparable to that of Gainahtharrinisidious. Her seal she placed on me was great, but not as great as The Father’s, but far more powerful than the binds holding Xophaltez apart from Thyinairinn, even Alphairria. This seal happened after what you may consider a great expanse of time, mortal.
The Selemandairi are imperfect, but not like you, mortal Chiel. They were quite like us, save for their will, their lifespan, and their blood. You are an ancient offshoot of them, so ancient, that your lifespan is merely a tenth of what the Selemandairi maintained. Thyinairinn was made for your ancient ancestors as a place like Alphairria, where water runs clearly and wild grasses produce fruit.
But the will of The Father was in them, in the Selemandairi, because of Gainahtharrinisidious, and your world grew corrupt, your plants produced thistles, and your animals, fangs. The Mother’s design did not harbor these original traits, for she designed Thyinairinn in Alphairria’s respect. Sorrow plagued The Mother, and those above mourned at the bloodshed and suffering of our sister Realm, and so the Mother placed upon her Children that still resided in Alphairria the task of maintaining it, of keeping in control the insipid will of The Father that lingered like decay.
Upon my mother, Sanshiyhatyarres-Alellendenarres-Finditeismicalleandeas-Nmamorandastolophloian, she gave watch over The Mother’s A’mnilia, whom now were hunted for their sustenance and struck out at the Selemandairi. The Mother’s A’mnilia bore resemblance to some of Her children themselves, for all that comes from The Mother was to remind her offspring of Her.
Upon my father, Alphadeusmata-Toulindas, she placed the strength of mortals, for the will of The Father stained muscles and poisoned bodies, much like your arm, Chiel. Upon Alphadeus, she assigned the task of never letting the infighting caused by the Will of The Father to bring about the extinction of the Selemandari; my father governs war.
Upon my sealer, Ariadniattes-Sellophloytusmous-Rhetfeliosmosede-Kanerkesserenes, was placed the governing of the sky, for when the heat began to blaze and the cold began to kill, these things were of The Father’s will. She placed upon my sealer a means to outlet her wrath; for the storms were at her command.
Upon Darlanuss-Krotegre, she placed the governing of the land, for the soil of Thyinairinn quaked with fear of The Father’s will, and the blood of the Selemandairi smote the ground.
Upon Itesicies-Amarinailie-Seceiurleananno-Procondius, she placed the protection of the procreation of the Selemandairi, the greatest matter of the burdens of the Eleven, as you called them. For the Father’s power of procreation would attempt to contaminate the Selemandairi’s procreation though the stench of The Father, and the way the Selemandairi procreate is most like The Mothers.
Upon Mandarrolarianius, she burdened the plants of Thyinairinn with not becoming to ungainly because of the stench, and keeping the A’mnilia from destroying eachother, for the evil will crept even unto them.
Upon Alacandis-Sairinithis, who sympathized at first with the nine of The Father, she stripped of him his pure form, and made of him the likeness of a dragon, the first A’mnilia of Her construct. I see your eyes widen, Chiel, but it was not of the dragons of Thyinairinn, but of Alphairria, a kind of dragon you have never seen. She placed upon him the control over the sum of the calamities caused by extension of the evil will, and fire, which is most like The Father. Alacandis-Sairinithis bears a terrible wait, much like Itesicies-Amarinailie-Seceiurleananno-Procondius.
Upon Arayindanastelliana-Yhatadrianeas-Kallandousious, she placed the control of the evil stench residing within the Selemandairi.
Upon Alandindaotoureth, she placed the governing of the Selemandairi mind, for the ill remnants of The Father’s favoritism seeps into such places. And with him, she placed the task of keeping the mortals aware of our presence.
Upon Calaridinaas-Moulucentoan, she appointed the burden of maintaining the will of The Mother in Thyinairinn, for just as the evil will strengthens and weakens, so does the pure will.
Upon Nadarin was placed a special task, a task governing the balance between all of the realms The Mother had created. Mine and Gainahtharrinisidious seals are different from the sealing of a plane; of ours he has no say.
When the planes were created and the seals realized, the great voids and chasms between the planes filled with the evil will, for The Father’s will seeks out dark places.
Upon Nadarin was set the burden of maintaining these places, of balancing the separate realms. At the start, it was found that the evil stench could not be completely eradicated, for that was Nadarins original task. The Father is too powerful, and so only a minimum balance of pure and evil is maintained.
Thyinairinn, your home realm, was of special import, for because inside of it resided most of the pure and evil will at the same time, coexisting only because of the efforts of the so called “Eleven Above”. Your brow furrows, Chiel. Ah, I see. It is a question of The Mother: I will tell you this in answer. The Mother needs her Children to maintain all of these things because The Mother herself maintains The Father and the seals themselves, and us ourselves. It is why I am here, for if The Mother breaks her concentration to rescue me, we will all surely die.
I continue: And so Nadarin crafted a special will, a will of his own to maintain the balance surrounding the sealing chasms of Thyinairinn. The Mother saw that this was necessary and so it is called G’yckma. The G’yckma’s primary purpose was to aid Nadarin in maintaining the balance, but it had unintended results. It seeped into Thyinairinn itself, just as the Selemandairi’s lingering stench of The Father corrupted the plants and . The G’yckma will manifested itself with the Selemandairi themselves, giving them powers likened to Nadarin’s himself, powers of The Eleven Above and therefore of The Mother. It began to manifest in everything in your realm, for your realm consists of a near perfect balance that begins to tilt. Trees, A’mnilia, grasses, crops, water, blood, metal, wind. Everything. It took hold stronger in some creations then others, forming entirely new A’mnilia and Selemandairi out of former ones. Nadarin himself showed this to The Mother, and they were called Selementaili, beings that had strong influence with the G’yckma will.
We watched in sorrow as great mortal time passed, and only we could do so much, as to not upset the balance. For if we intervened too much, or if Nadarin himself tried to eradicate completely the evil will from the chasms, the evil will would compensate, leaking into Thyinairinn and even filling more of other chasms!
The Eleven Above watched and did what they could over a great period of mortal time, maintaining the balance as much as they could by upholding their tasks as appointed by The Mother. But over time it all built up, up to a point where certain Selementaili lorded the G’yckma will over the vast majority of Selemandairi. Not long after, several powerful Selemantaili all began to want more power, more control. They felt that they could rule better than the kings and queens of their lands, and so, they rose up and slaughtered them. They then turned on each other, for favoritism is of The Father and is a corrupting force. The war that ensued was cataclysmic. The land itself was changed and scarred. Whole mountains were leveled, while new ones were raised up. And this is how it was for a millennia in mortal years.
We feared the worse, and alas, due to my banishment, I could not join in the effort to stop it. I have sensed it. It was not long ago now, that the mortals became so powerful as to forge their own sealing, a sealing in which was sealed the G’yckma of Nadarin himself. I mourn and weep for Thyninairinn, for I know what is happening. The balance is tilting far to one side, and will do so, I fear, until its complete oblivion. If not for the curse of Gainahtharrinisidious, I fear that the M’rachtachtken would already fully inhabit your realm. It is how you are here, no? A great and ancient force brought you here, Chiel.
When a mortal dies, their souls become of the will, a will in which most resembles the thing of its affinity. Pure willed souls, souls that tilted past the balance towards The Mother, become apart of the Mother, and enjoy an everlasting eternity with her. Evil souls, of the stench of The Father, seek out dark places. Most seek to join The Father, but are rejected, for the sealing of The Mother’s was great. They return here, where they are twisted and bent by the followers of Gainahtharrinisidious, the eight of The Father. Of them they are well known, for their will is great, and becoming the greater. The mortals knew them even in the time before my banishment, and of their full names I will not speak, for within names is the power of The Father: Maldis,Truncarr, Samask, Graindianeth,Beraneathan, Llarth, Stlomemor, and Zxypher. Upon them, the absence of The Father left them great deformations, of which they used for power to exert upon Thyninairinn. I fear that in time, a M’rachkenta itself may enter your realm.
I earnestly pray that Nadarin, overseer of the balance, will overcome this great obstacle with the will of The Mother. For if not, the will of his G’yckma will surely wither and dwindle and the seals themselves will become as glass, and the destruction of your realm as well as mine will come about. For because of this, the sealing of the G’yckma in your realm, there will come a time when The Father himself may muster the strength needed from his overpowering balance to break free.”
And when she finished, I stood shocked and awed that I now knew more than any other mortal man could dream of, more than the brilliant scholars, more than the user of magycks, which is actually G’yckma. I alone have knowledge that is of utmost importance and must be spread. At that moment, I decided I had to recount my every step, my every struggle. I must record everything that has happened to me, for in my hands is a book that could save all of creation. I, Chiel, am The Realms only hope for survival.

Once Forgotten 2.3

Kadrin sat in a corner of the tavern they were staying. He reached into the deep folds of his cloak and carefully brought out a small, worn, and crusted book. He carefully opened it to a particular section and began reading. He held the book carefully, almost what could be called reverence. If he had not had a mask, one would have seen an unreadable and far away expression upon his face.

Rya sat down across from him, digging into her plate of food with gusto. Kadrin lowered the book slightly. “If you keep eating like that, you’ll end up choking like a garnic on a chacart.”

Rya took a gulp of her drink and swallowed. “What is that?” She asked, gesturing at the book.

Kadrin went back to reading. “It so happens that this is The Book of the Damned.”

His apprentice frowned. “That looks like a very old copy. Very old. For all I know, it’s probably the original.”

“It very well could be.” Kadrin answered.

She rolled her eyes. “I need to get to the Library. Brint has things to do, so I planned on reading all day.” Kadrin simply nodded, lost in the old book again. “I was…threatened yesterday.”

Kadrin carefully closed his book. “By whom?”

She shook her head. “I…I don’t know. His face was hidden by a hood, but he was young. I would say late twenties.”

“I was wondering when he would reveal himself. I have not seen nor heard from him in several years.” Kadrin murmured. He reopened his book. “Be careful with your research. He approached you because you were being too open with your opinions and discussions apparently.”

“I was only talking with a librarian.” Rya said defensively.

“And I suppose that you were discussing it in the middle of the restricted section?” Her jaw clenched. “I thought so. That would be your second mistake.”

“And my first?” She asked tersely.

“Your first would be employing outside help. When doing the type of research you’ve been up to, it would have been better to have done so alone.” Kadrin answered. Rya nodded. “However, I believe I know the librarian you mentioned. Elderly man, long white beard, shuffles about like a trisca?” She nodded. “Then fortune does indeed smile upon you. Very fortunate indeed to run into him. He will be of use to you; I suggest you take everything that he offers.” He returned to the book.

Rya glanced at the book. “Just how powerful were the Rajacta?”

Kadrin stiffened. “First of all, the correct name is Mrachtkenta. Here, I made this for you.” He pulled out a rather new looking book.

Rya opened it and frowned. “I’ve already read The Book of the Damned.”

Kadrin shook his head. “What you have read is the equivalent of watered down, inexpensive wine. That book in your hands is a direct translation of the true Book. I expect you to read it and reeducate your knowledge of the Eleven Above and the M’rachtkenta.”

She shuddered. “M’ra…how can you say that name? I get chills every time you say it.”

Kadrin nodded gravely. “Then you are a very smart girl. Chills mean they have no hold on you. The M’rachtkenta are powerful. They are the true Demons, having fallen with their Father, a demon whose name I dare not even mention.”

She nodded. “I think it was one of them.”

Kadrin burst into laughter. “No, young one, no. He is not of the M’rachtkenta, though he certainly wishes and dreams that he was. He is powerful to be sure, but he is not one of them.” Kadrin grew serious again. “However, he is powerful. Though he may not be one of them, he is now of them.”

Rya’s face paled. “You mean…that he was…him??”

Kadrin nodded gravely. “You have nothing to fear, Rya. Not yet, at any rate. He cannot harm you, for now at any rate.” He picked up the old Book again. “Now, away with you! I have said enough of this matter. Be cautious and on your guard, but fear him not. Fear is the force by which they come.”

Rya nodded and finished her breakfast. She left without another word, the Book Kadrin had given her tucked under her arm. A young man, almost a boy in appearance, took her place. His look was one of slight remorse. “I take she told you what happened?”

Kadrin didn’t bother to look up. “Indeed she did. You slacked off.”

The boy nodded. “Yes, yes I did. I had no idea that he was even in the area.” He sensed the question that was on Kadrin’s mind. “I was checking on something. I sensed something and went to investigate it. It was just a ploy of course, and by the time I returned to the city, Rya had already encountered our enemy.”

“We are fortunate that he is still unable to attack us directly, though that could have gone worse than it did.” Kadrin said, still reading.

The man frowned. “You don’t seem to upset with me.”

“Why should I? We will not always be there. If she must, she can fight. Her training is going well; she is already as strong as her predecessor. She just needs…exposure to awaken it. She still does not realize her potential, but when she does…” Kadrin replied.

His companion nodded. “Many would say that a God has come down. Yet her power wouldn’t even be a fraction of Those Above. Especially Ariadni.”

Kadrin lowered the Book slightly. “Her affinity is derived from the Goddess Ariadni, the Goddess of Wind and Rain. The Storm Bringer.”

The young man sighed. “If only the balance would allow them to interfere. We could use their help.”

Kadrin set his book down. “Do you honestly believe that they are not helping?”

The man shook his head. “Of course not! I know that they are helping the best they can without causing more harm; I just wish that they could help a little more directly.”

Kadrin raised his hand. “We will speak no more of this. You and I both know that certain…powers are drawn to such talk. Not all of them are limited.” Kadrin began reading again. “It is good to see you again, Nadar.”

“Likewise, Kadrin. I am glad to see you active again. We missed you during your years of wandering.” Nadar said.

Kadrin chuckled. “I could say the same of you. Goodbye, for now.” Nadar nodded and left. Kadrin settled back into his chair, the old Book raised before him again. “Ariadni, so full of envy and wrath….”
*************************************************************************************

Rya entered the Library. She scanned the area, looking out for anything suspicious. She approached the reference desk. She absently scratched her back and flexed her shoulders. The young woman at the desk looked up. “How may I help you?” She asked.

Rya nodded. “Yes, is Jerard around? Yesterday, he said he would help me with some advanced research.” The young librarian nodded and checked her ledger.

“Yes, he should be in the Traveler’s guide of the Realm.” She answered. “It’s two aisles down, and three aisles on the right.”

Rya nodded and headed in the given direction. As she turned down the second aisle, she scratched at her back again. Jerard looked up from a volume and smiled, then frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I just have an itch today. I think I slept on my back in the wrong way.” She answered.

Jerard shook his old head. “That’s not what I meant. There was an…unsavory figure seen about the restricted section. Did he approach you?”

Rya closed her eyes and reached out with her senses, feeling for any dark auras. Sensing none, she opened her eyes and lowered her voice. “It was our…enemy.” Jerard’s eyes widened. She shook her head. “I am perfectly alright. He just threatened me is all. Master Kadrin said I was being too open about my research.”

Jerard nodded. “Yes, that would draw his attention. I fear he may have someone watching you now. Your powers are well developed; he will begin to truly take notice of you before long.”

She flexed her shoulders again. “I am well prepared for any attacks. I pause every now and then to check for anything Darke.”

Jerard nodded. “That is a wise decision. Although, I suggest you learn to do it without stopping or closing your eyes.” She nodded. “Now, after you left, I found some more volumes that may be of some use to you.”

“I also have this.” She showed him the Book Kadrin had given her.

His eyes widened. “Eleven Above! The Book of the Damned?! I have not seen such a translation in fifty years! They are extremely rare and valuable.”

Rya frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jerard lowered his voice. “About two to three millennia ago, a sect of priests claimed that the translation of The Book of the Damned during their time was heresy. They claimed that they had the original; what they had was a distortion. It was nothing like any of the others. There was an enormous dispute that ensued, but eventually, that sect won out, claiming the Gods themselves told them they were in the right. They even presented a sacred relic long thought lost as proof of their claim. And so, the Book was changed. A few, only a handful really, of the original texts survived. We had the last copy in our possession up until fifty years ago when it was found by a priest and destroyed. But this…” He opened and read a few lines. “This is nothing like that copy! This…why it’s almost like a direst translation! Remarkable!”

Rya took back her Book. “Kadrin said that I must read it. That I must know its contents.”

Jerard nodded. “Very well. Now, how about we get back to your research?” She nodded and followed him silently, itching her back.

Histories of the Realm: The Book of the Damned Itself 6.0

Chapter 5

Where was I? I am now safe, and set aside for chronicling. It has been quite some time since my last entry, as I tell “time” not by the astrological sequencing of the heavens, but of when my stomach contorts and I need sustenance. I simply cannot do so by sleep, because there is no way in which to tell how long I have been asleep. One takes for granted things one is accustomed to. Day, night, grass, air, water. How I long for each.
When I awakened, I once more could scarce believe my eyes. There before me, sharpening her bright blue sword upon a whetstone made of the black Demonrock(similar to their weapons and steel), was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. A liquid that I briefly considered could be water adorned the whetstone, but my musings vanished as once more my eyes were drawn to her face, and down her incredible physique, like Ariadni herself was she! Her first words were soft.
“Who are you, I have examined you, and you are not of M’rachtachtken. You are mortal.”
Though she spoke softly, I caught the ancient word. Know of it, I did not, but I had heard prophets and magyckers speak with similar syllables from the mortal realm.
“I see you are unfamiliar. I refer to those who wish to slay us.”
“Demon-kind.”
“And so the time changes. Just so. What are you called?”
“I am Chiel, my father is unknown, for I was raised orphan-wise. Only a mother raised me, and I name not her maiden name, since she was unmarried.”
“I see. Much time has passed.”
An empty silence crawled between us then, and to this moment I remember it. Everything about her is so easy to remember, when all is not being clouded by her attractiveness. I find myself drawn to her more and more; the curse of all women. But lo! she is no mortal woman.
I managed to find words, which I once again recall with startling accuracy; I suspect she may have some supernatural ability which is augmenting my memory, for what she spoke and exactly what she said seems to be imprinted upon my thoughts.
“Who are you?”
“I am Terennjsiah-Ellessene-Yhtavierv-Hlixhyphorates-Syehilomraaken, firstborn of Sanshiyhatyarres-Alellendenarres-Finditeismicalleandeas-Nmamorandastolophloian. I was cast down for my unparalleled beauty to that of Ariadniattes-Sellophloytusmous-Rhetfeliosmosede-Kanerkesserenes, sealed here within Xophaltez by her herself.”
Of her dialogue, she spoke my language and I had previously pondered how this was so; I had assumed that she was from my time and from my people. The truth is this: She is of immortal caste, of born immortal, not made, and therefore all of her ways cannot be understood by us mortals. I presume to think it, her understanding of my language, that is, has to do with her eyes, and the way she seems to look at my soul, not at me.
Although I was mortally distracted by the movement of her lips, I managed to try and comprehend what was being said. I tried.
“You are…immortal? The daughter of…Sanshi, Goddess of the Huntsman’s Fortune, who bears six wings of light?”
“You are man. Much time has passed, and through the ages, my mother’s true name has been remembered. I am pleased with this.”
“You said…you were cast down as the result of your beauty? Jealousy from…Ariadni, Bringer of Storms? Cast down…? In Xophaltez! That is this places’ true name! Where am I, Mighty One, Daughter of The Eleven Above?”
As I said this, I fell to my face on the floor before her, for I have seen this done by the Priests of Twin River countless times, although I am not a religious person. I feared then that this would be known to her, just as she knew my language. I was terribly fearful, facing the firstborn of one of the Eleven Above.
“Rise, mortal. I am not to be bowed to, as the M’rachkenta commend.”
I rose back up to my feet, watching as she continued to sharpen her blade upon the whetstone. I suddenly wondered if that blade was of Those Above’s construct…yet it still needed to be sharpened….however, it was not being sharpened by mortal means, but by the Demonstone of black. These were my thoughts; I will append more of them later.
“M’rachkenta…” I struggled to say it, as if saying it brought upon darkness, “Could you mean Demon Lord? Earlier you referred to the Demon-kind as M’rachtachtken.”
“Just so. You listen well.” Is what she said, and then followed by:
“In the time before the M’rachtachtken War, all existence was immortal, crafted by The Mother herself. Everything was in tandem, serene and perfect, and all existence existed on one plane. Twenty children bore she, from The Father himself.
Now it came to pass that The Father was a proud and contemptuous Father, selecting and favoring certain children that caught his eye, my mother not included. Nine of them he selected in total. Among them he bestowed gifts of his power, a power not available to the other children.
With this power, certain children became as The Father himself, for the power was of him. They began to favor things and to hold in contempt The Mother herself, for they were now more of The Father than of The Mother. They began to strike against the other children, to assault and bear hatred.
The other children fought back initially with their own powers, but found that the other children, the ‘Children of The Father’, possessed still the attributes of The Mother herself, as well as the gifts from The Father. They were more powerful. With their power, they created others amongst themselves, just as through The Mother, The Father created my mother, as you called ‘Sanshi’. They possess the power of procreation. From their hands were wrought the M’rachtachtken, whom they named, a naming only possible through the power of The Father. In the language of gods, those you refer to as ‘Eleven Above’, ‘M’rachtachtken’ is but a word stemming from a root word, which is what we, the immortals from birth, call ‘M’rachkenta’, which is what now is to, as you said, ‘Demon Lord’, as ‘M’rachtachtken’ is ‘Demon-kind’.
Among the M’rachkenta grew a masterful agent, one who displayed more gifts from The Father then the other eight M’rachkenta. The Father was secretive, allotting more gifts to his primary favorite. With his power, he vastly multiplied the M’rachtachtken, so much so, that The Mother herself expressed disapproval to The Father. Of the Mother’s Children, Ariadniattes-Sellophloytusmous-Rhetfeliosmosede-Kanerkesserenes, named by you as ‘Ariadni’, was procreated to be most like The Mother, because The Mother so requested to have one set aside for this reason. And so, The Mother asked of her to consult with Gainahtharrinisidious, the M’rachkenta whom was favored most. Gainahtharrinisidious, who knew of her approach because he was most like The Father due to his reception of gifts, beckoned the multitude of M’rachtachtken to leave her be, and agreed to be consulted.
The result of this meeting was cataclysmic, for when she came to meet him, Gainahtharrinisidious forcefully procreated with her against her will, creating the first of the Children of Children. These children were many, a great number which immediately began to combat the M’rachtachtken, children called the Selemandairi, of which you are a long descendant of. The Children of The Mother began to fight with the Selemandairi, against the M’rachtachtken, because Gainahtharrrinisidious’ procreation had failed him, for the Selemandairi were more of The Mother than the Father.
The Mother herself was furious when she saw what had occurred. It took her much will, but she began to craft a solution, a prison in which every bad thing The Father had instilled would be sealed, and the M’rachtachtken War would cease. In your mortal years, the war lasted longer than what would be a millennia, for the crafting of her will was the extension of the gifts she could give; her attribute. They were long in making.
She sealed away The Father, sealing along with him his influence. The gifts of his he had once bestowed upon the M’rachkenta grew corrupt; for this was the curse of The Father.
The nine became twisted and deformed, the beauty they once inherited from The Mother completely vanished, and Gainahtharrinisidious, who was most like The Father, he became the most twisted. The Mother quickly forged for him a prison much like that of The Father’s, for with his corrupted power the M’rachtachtken grew insane and much more powerful.
Gainahtharrinisidious’ last gesture was to utilize his procreation to make all of the M’rachtachtken immortal till slain, and set upon them a curse defiled by his likeness to The Father, a curse of favoritism. They would never wander far from him for long. Because of this curse, The Mother sealed away them with he; for all hope for them had been lost.
The death of the Selemandairi and the M’rachtachtken was many. The Mother saw that all was not in order, and that the Selemandairi, an extension of the will of the The Father through Gainahtharrinisidious, were not to be cohabited. For them, she sealed them away in a place in likeness to that which they came, the place where you are from, Chiel, because they had done no wrong. She separated us, who reside in Alphairria, from you, who reside in Thyinairinn, which in your language, probably means, ‘The Middle’, because you were partially procreated from Gainahtharrinisidious, who received that power of procreation from The Father himself.
A problem still existed in Alphairria, for the residue of the tragedy remained, as did the eight who were the Children of The Father. The Mother sealed a part of Alphairria to Xophaltez, where we are, the prison of Gainahtharrinisidious, along with The Children of the Father.
Now through the course of great toil and war during the M’rachtachtken War, Alphadeusmata-Toulindas had consummated with my mother, Sanshiyhatyarres-Alellendenarres-Finditeismicalleandeas-Nmamorandastolophloian, in the way that the Mother designed. I was born.
Ariadniattes-Sellophloytusmous-Rhetfeliosmosede-Kanerkesserenes, whom bore the stench of Gainahtharrinisidious, mother of the Selemandairi, turned away from The Mother, and out of her likeness to The Mother, sealed away me within the realm of Xophaltez.”
At long last, she ceased to speak, and I watched as the daughter of the gods began to shed tears. I apologize for my own tears on this paper, for the scene was heart wrenching and still brings heat to my eyes. I must write more later, for I am overcome with emotion.

Once Forgotten 2.2

Rya entered the Library, questions buzzing through her mind like annoying flies. She wanted answers. She needed answers. If her master was as old as she believed him to be, or even older, there would be some sort of a record of him somewhere. And what of the Fallen God? She shook her head. There would be absolutely no way to validate that story. Besides, Nadarin “vanished from all sight” after he cast himself down. Still…there would be no harm in looking, right?

She casually searched through several of the sections she had found the previous day, finding a few books of interest. She settled down to read, immersing herself within the pages of history, legend, and myth.

After several hours of careful reading, she closed the last book with a sigh of frustration. An elderly old man shuffled up to her. “Is something the matter?”

Rya gave him a smile. “I suppose so, but I’m not sure that anyone could help me.”

The old man chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I happen to run this establishment, and I also happen to know every single article, book, volume, novel, story, document, and record here. Now, what can I do for you?”

Rya blinked for a second, then went into a description of what she was looking for. The elderly man nodded sagely. “Yes, there are a not so surprising number of students and people who take such an interest in this character. However, I do not just let everyone know such information. Kadrin, and the things surrounding him, are all part of a dangerous world.” He fell silent. She felt his eyes pierce her soul, inspecting every inch of her. “However, you, I believe, are not everyone. No, you have been touched by power. True power at that. I wonder….” He fell back into silence.

Rya decided to lay all her cards on the table. The way this conversation was going, it was just like a game of *drakes and jargas. “What do you know of the Tragedy of Nadarin?”

The old man’s eyes widened. He glanced about nervously and gestured her to be silent. “Confound you, child! Keep your voice down!” He took a deep breath. “That story is not at all a very popular one. One of the Eleven Above casting himself down? The vast majority believe such a tale to be heresy. They believe they’re Gods and Goddesses to be beyond such things. However, how can we, mere mortals that most of us are, ever hope to truly understand their divinity?” He grabbed her arm and began leading her. “Leave those volumes, but keep hold of that scythe.” He chuckled at her look. “Oh yes, I know who you are. Now come!”

He led her deeper into the library, deeper than what she knew was allowed for common folk. The sections they were in now were meant only for the master scholars, wizards, engineers, and other masters of crafts. He pulled up short and turned to Rya. “Now, miss, you, if I am correct, are the current holder of the Windcleaver. Though it changes form to fit the person that holds it, there is no denying its identity.”

Rya’s eyes widened. “You know of the Overseers?”

The elder stroked his beard and nodded. “I know of them at what I believe to be a basic understanding of them. In all honesty, common folk like myself don’t really know that much about them. Even you, new as you probably are to that world, may even know more than I.” He paused. “Now, what can I help you with? Would you like to start with your more…questionable research? or do you wish to continue your search for Kadrin within the history of the Realm?”

I think I will continue my search for Kadrin.” Rya answered.

The elder began leading her through the section, handing her the odd volume or book. “Now mind you, you have quite a bit of reading ahead of you. Kadrin has a tendency of disappearing completely from the records, so there are many gaps. As for your other search, you may as well give that one up. If indeed Nadarin did cast himself down, he certainly left no human record of it other than his story. But the real question is why did he spread the tale of his fall? Why would he do such a thing? Would it not be better if he kept it all secret?”

Rya shrugged. “He wished the mortals to see his side of things. To see what he saw as the truth of things. What the other Gods disagreed with him on.”

The old librarian froze in his tracks. “Beg pardon?”

Rya turned to him. “I mean, if he did see the world as stagnating because of the Sealing, wouldn’t it make sense that he would try to persuade us that what we did was a mistake? That it wasn’t the solution?”

The librarian was silent for a long while before finally nodding. “Yes, yes. It makes perfect sense! Why did I never see this before? Both the mortals and the other Ten were against him. If his brothers and sisters would not listen to him, why not go to the mortals?”

Rya nodded. “Plus, from what we know of the Gods, they decided long ago that they would not directly interfere with our decisions. They would provide us with guidance, but it is ultimately our choice of what we do. But in that case, wouldn’t Nadarin be going against that?”

“Not necessarily.” The librarian replied, shaking his head. “If the legend is true, he gave up most of his divinity. Therefore, he would not be using divine powers to sway the hearts of the people. No, he would simply be teaching truth to those who will listen. Besides, perhaps some of the other Gods have begun to question his motives. His side of things.”

Again, Rya nodded in agreement. “Well, I suppose I should get to reading through all of this, but it’s getting late.” She said, glancing out at the fading light outside.

“I will keep your books separate. When you come in tomorrow, just ask for Jerard. That would be me.” The old man smiled. “I thank you, young miss. You have given me much to ponder over.”

He took the books and shuffled off, leaving Rya to find her own way. As she did, a hand reached out of one of the aisles and grabbed her. She found herself staring into the eyes of a young man wearing a long cloak. “Researching a God is a dangerous thing. Especially a Fallen one. You best be careful, Rya, Keeper of the Wind, lest you end up face to face with the Immortal.” He hissed. He released her and vanished around a corner.

Rya stood there for several minutes, taking deep calming breaths. Trembling slightly, she picked up her fallen staff and hurried on her way. She was more cautious now, glancing down the aisles for any signs of her oppressor, but there was no trace of him. Somewhat calmed down, she made it back to the main section of the Library and exited the ancient building. Brint was waiting for her.

He frowned when he saw her, noticing her involuntary flinch when he touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong? You’re face is pale like you’ve seen the Dead.”

She shook her head. “I-It’s nothing.”

Brint’s frown deepened. “Not, it’s not nothing. Something happened. What?”

She looked away. “I…I think I was just threatened…”

“What?!” Brint cried, alarm flashing across his face.

She gulped. “I…I was coming back from the restricted section, when…I was grabbed. This…strange man…he….pulled me down an aisle and pinned me against the shelves.”

“What did he do to you? Did he harm you?”

She shook her head. “No, he didn’t…he just…threatened me. He said, ‘Researching a God is a dangerous thing. Especially a Fallen one. You best be careful.’ But what really got me…Brint…he knew who I was! He knew exactly who I was, Overseer and everything!”

Brint pulled her into an embrace. She clung to him, trembling. “It’s going to be alright.” He whispered. She clung tighter. Brint stared at the Library, frowning. ‘Who was it that threatened her? He knows much if he knows who she is.’

*************************************************************************************

Kadrin strode through the city, blending in with the darkness the night brings. During the day, his movements were somewhat limited, but at night, he had free reign. At night, the city was much different than it was during the day. The taverns were filled with people getting off work; homes were lit up with the fires of homes, spouses returning to their families.

And night is also when the more…unsavory crowd was about. Guards made regular patrols of the majority of the city, but like all cities, there were a few places that drew those considered unsavory. And it was to one of these places Kadrin now made his way to. He turned down an alley, leaving behind the clean, lighted main area and headed into the darker side. As he moved, the buildings around him became grimier and more run down. Garbage began to litter the ground, a foul stench rising from the gutters. But Kadrin didn’t take notice of any of it. He continued on.

“It has been some time, has it not?” A voice asked from the shadows.

Kadrin froze and slowly turned to the shadow as a snik caught in a hunter’s lamp. “You…I can’t believe it’s you…”

“Yes, it is. I almost wasn’t going to speak with you, but I must.” The voice was feminine, light yet held a power of its own. A small wave of power rushed over Kadrin, causing him to stumble back a step. “I have taken a…interest in your cause.”

“Why?” Kadrin asked.

A sigh came in response. “Because there may just be something to all of this. Darkness has grown too powerful. Much more than I thought it would. That and I am not blind. Every day, I see the demons growing stronger. I see what they are preparing for. They intend to destroy the Realm as it is and remake it as they see fit. I will not let that happen.”

“So what do you intend to do?” Kadrin asked, more cautious than he had been in more than five hundred years.

She was silent for a long while, the air heavy with her answer. “I give you my…support. But I will not interfere. You will be the one to…get your hands dirty.” With that, Kadrin knew she was gone. The shadows were empty, bare of any signs of life. Kadrin gave a weary sigh and trudged on, his burden heavier than ever.

Histories of the Realm: The Book of the Damned Itself 5.0

If you wish to just read The Book of the Damned Itself then check it out at:

http://logmeoutnow.blogspot.com/
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 4

She has healed my wounds as I cried out in agony, and I am thankful to her. I will soon explain her. Forgive me the bloodstained parchment on which this is written.
As I descended into the vast white pit, my blackened arm began to burn and tingle as if stricken by fire ants. A curse was my arm on the mortal plane, a blessing it is now.
Yes, the blackened limb of mine from the cursed blood of the Netherealm frothed and broiled with power, and my muscles on that limb became enlarged like great Toulind himself. I fell from a great height indeed, and, with arm outstretched and myself falling facing earthbound, I put what little hope I had left into that arm.
I slammed into the white stone with smashing force, but held fast. My accursed arm became entrenched in the stone as deep as my shoulder, but, to my amazement, bore no injury, and no scar, even still.
Shocked, amazed as I was, I remained fearful of the Draixla. Amazingly, I furled my arm into a flex, and uprooted more stone in the process, taken aback to see it coming forth unscathed. A quick rotation of the head around me showed that this new imprisonment was ancient and deadly. I was surrounded by the stone of demon construct, alone in the blazing white sanctuary. Wherefrom the light dwelt that made the stone glitter with brilliance is still mystery to me.
Runes were upon the stones of this place, in script indecipherable by my eyes, the eyes of man. I bolted under one such rune carving, and it immediately turned into a corner. It led up and twisted forward oddly, because there were no stairs. I hurried and hurried as if death followed me close, which it might have. I was led to a large balcony with a lone bridge opening above a great expanse. I was reasonably discouraged, be it the harrowing width of the bridge or the immense drop-off, but things of that nature have little effect on me now. I continued my flight across it, and caught glimpse of what lie below.
It appeared as a great serpent lie beneath, sleeping soundly. I could not gaze a head or tail, but rather just the blinding sheen of coils of skin, folded upon one another in what looked to me like slumber. To me, it was distinctly serpentine. I pressed on with new fear at the forefront of my thought.
I wound my way up the Runestone Labyrinth, as I now refer to it as, faster and faster, for my fear took over me. My legs moved as fast as they could up the stair-less spirals, the narrow corridors, and the strangely fashioned intersections.
I walked then, for my fear had subsided and I was panting heavily. I let my hand run along the smooth white wall, and for a moment lost myself in thought of the mortal realm. Things like the beauty of a woman, the comfort found in soft grass, the sound of running water…
I halted when I found myself at the edge of a sheer precipice. I looked about my surroundings. Upon the ceiling, along the walls, and far below, there were entrances to tunnels, each one with different combinations of runes above them. If they were intended for passage, the passage was not for mortal man.
A sudden terror gripped me and I began my flight once more, taking the precipice to the sharp left, for an inset ran along the wall, leading up to the highest tunnel. A surprising gust of wind rattled my nerves for a moment, and then passed, but my nerves stayed on the edge of a sword.
A disparaging cold shuddered over me, for in the next moments, I was surrounded by the living dead. Souls of the damned flooded the tunnel I was climbing, rushing ephemerally past me, above me, through me. They are shaded beryl, faceless and nameless entities of former selves, roaring down into the Runestone Labyrinth constantly, although the ways they enter are many.
It was like a river of dead, flowing on all sides of me and through me. And just like clear water compared to clear water, each soul was indistinguishable from one another. In death, we all become one.
The souls are hard to describe, but I shall try my best. They are opaque, and indeed, quite like water, blurry and glossy and green as the surface of a winded lake.
Suddenly I was beckoned away, cast about. The runes became lit with a pale yellow fire and the winds rushing from the Those Above know where blasted me through their tunnels. The stones began to sing a mournful lament, howling with high-pitched cacophony. I was flung, beaten badly, slammed into stone after stone, flying mid air through the tunnels and stretches. This subject is but one, out of an infinite category of memories that I retain that pains my body to reminisce about. The feeling of having every bone shattered and every inch of my body in bruises makes me wince with the remembrance of the agony. I will not write of it much.
Being tossed about like a rag doll, and crashing into wall after wall, I was disoriented surely, but even so and not knowing my whereabouts, the directions seemed random; but with my last waking thought I saw the bright crimson red of day before all was black, and I counted myself lost.
I awakened what I figure to be a long time later. My whole body ached. To move was to be tortured, as if the ever present scalding hot air and presiding foul stench of it was not enough to hinder me already. A long time passed, in which I drifted in and out of blackness.
I believe I have been robbed of dreams here, for I cannot recall even one.
I awakened. I rolled onto my back. The twinkling starts gleamed down upon me. I swore and gasped upon the harsh air that swearing so required.
I somehow gathered the strength to climb to my feet. I trudged on, not knowing anything about where I was at or anything. I remember my mind being blank, my eyes unblinking. The ice was no longer under my feet. The ground I walked became a fine homogeneous blend of grayish gravel and the blood sand. Things that could have been small plants tufted into balls of prickly bristles, of which I avoided. I call them Weedsnares.
As my conscious mind drifted more to the brink of insanity, I came upon a field littered with dead bodies––those of demons. Some demon-kind I deemed recognizable, some were of a caste I have not yet witnessed, yet others were too mauled and unidentifiable for even I, who had slain my hundreds.
As I crossed the littered field, I came to a lee in some crag orange stone. I exhaled the stale stench of dead breath that had contaminated my soul, and looking back behind my shoulder, felt inexplicable remorse for the slaughtered demons.
I stumbled on some fang-like stalagmites jutting out of the cave, coughing as I did so; the air that funneled from the mouth of the entrance was harsh. Some rocks I kicked skittered and made a splashing noise. Water!
I looked up. That’s when I saw her. It was the most vivid thing I have ever experienced.
She slumped against the cave wall. Her clothing was in tatters, her rags ripped and torn, strewn across her body showing many patches of beautiful, fair skin. She was not covered much either, her whole upper body was mostly exposed, except for her breasts and up to the neck. And even that was in tatters as well, ripped and showing her skin, the color of pure ivory.
Her bare legs stretched out before her, a thing of cold death between her knees. The hilt was inclined so that the blade contrasted with her, running at a ninety degree angle against her with the blade’s point above her shoulder, resting on the cave wall as well.
She looked up at me. A lock of her blood flecked hair fell in front of her face, between her eyes. I felt a darkness suddenly grip me; like that feeling one receives when in a sinking boat.
Her eyes captured me and threw me into an empty well where I plummeted endlessly. In her eyes was a luster from the cave entrance mingled with the silhouette cast by me standing in front of her, creating duotone shininess across her irises. They were indigo, splayed with black.
The seductive vibe I got from her was incredibly intense, she perpetually radiated with a dark voluptuousness, coupled with natural physical beauty. I froze as a buck upon sighting the arrow intended to land between the eyes.
“Give me one good reason not to kill you so fast that you don’t even have the time to think a single thought before I finish this sentence.”
I began to think a thought.
An icy cold pressed against my throat. I blinked. Her face was inches from mine. “I…did you…” The blade scratched against my throat which moved whilst I spoke. I was completely and utterly amazed, that this thing of beauty lie in wait amongst such calamity, that another human was in this Netherealm, and that I was no longer alone. I fainted, and when I awoke, I was in the cave with her, as I am now…but I fear we may be leaving soon, and my writings will have to wait. Many questions I had for her, and many answers had she. These I will go into upon my next entry.

Once Forgotten 2.1

"A Fallen God? But why would he give up his divinity and come down here? Why not just stay a God and go about his work?" Rya asked.

Birnt frowned. "Because, the other Gods were angry that he struck Amari in anger. She is the Goddess of Life and Children. She is the gentlest and kindest of the Gods. The most forgiving. She probably even tried to convince the other Gods to forgive Nadarin."

"It doesn't matter. Alacandis would be the one to cast judgment upon Nadarin. And as he is the God of Fire and Providence as well, he would have cast him down anyway." Rya said. Kadrin appeared from an alley.

"And what have you two been up to this fine day?" He asked.

Rya gave him a smile. "Oh, we just came from the theater."

"Ah, the theater. It has been quite some time since I saw a performance. Is there anything of interest being put on?" Her master asked.

Rya nodded. "Yes, a very interesting one. Master, you know much about the myths and tales of the Realm. Have you heard the Tragedy of Nadarin?"

Kadrin nodded. "Now that's a tale that I have not heard in a long time. I'm surprised they even managed to find such a story. It is not a very popular tale. To think that one of the Eleven would cast himself down, give up on his very divinity, is just unthinkable. It's inconceivable for most to think that their God would do such a thing. However, it is good that it has resurfaced. Perhaps I'll go see it." He turned and walked away, leaving Rya and Brint alone again.

Rya suddenly felt the chill that comes from being watched. She quickly glanced around and just caught sight of a cloak vanishing into the crowd. Brint saw her frown. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I thought I saw something, but it was nothing. Now, how about we get some lunch, then go about our business. What time do you have to meet with your...associates?"

Brint glanced at the sun. "Not until later. Come, I know the perfect place. They have the best fried gullas!"

They headed off, their previous discussion forgotten for the moment. Some distance away, a young man watched them, a cloak drawn about them. He had watched them for a while, and now he was sure of it. Rya had the Windcleaver; he could sense it's aura. He darted away, leaving them alone for now.
******************************************************************

Arden was not having a very good day. He had spent the whole of his morning trying to communicate with nobles from a far away kingdom about creating a trade route, but the main translator was ill with a bad set of the chills. The translator's apprentice tried his best to fill in for his master, but it all ended in disaster. The nobles ended up becoming incredibly insulted (he wasn't even sure what it was the boy had said to them), and they stormed off to their quarters. Kurel had to do her best to calm them down, which was rather easy for her as she happened to know their language. However, she was then furious with Arden, as she and Roylen were now busy planning their wedding.

In the end, Arden went on to his next agenda: taking care of a new shipment of imported items. It was all going well with the inventory, that is until he discovered that it was the wrong shipment. He then had to spend several hours tracking down the correct one, finally finding it in the hands of a merchant who had already sold most of the items. To make matters worse, he then discovered that the true shipment was a set of crates full of Tachara crystals, which were incredibly hard to grow, much less find, and were used for countless purposes. Together, he and the merchant had to track down every single customer, retrieve the crystals, give back the money the merchant had made, and then exchange shipments.

He sighed as he sank down onto his bed, smiling with relief of being able to lay down for a while. His day couldn't possibly get much worse. A small knock on his door forced him to sit up. A servant girl entered and curtsied, blushing slightly.

"Her highness and her fiance' wish to meet with you to discuss what they will need ordered for their wedding along with all the expenses." The girl said. Arden nodded to her and stood with a sigh. He was right. His day didn't get any worse. It became downright dreadful.
******************************************************************

Kurel was simply glowing as she and Roylen went about their planning. Arden's foul mood didn't even put a dent in her spirits. She was finally marrying the man she loved above all others, almost more than her kingdom. But only almost. As queen her main priority and duty was to all of her people. But still, she was getting married!

She finally gave a slight frown as a nervous servant approached. "Your Highness, I hate to interrupt, but Flamian has come and wishes to see you right away."

Kurel frowned. Flamian was known to wander. He had visited Salcar many times, but he never requested an audience with her before. She excused herself from Roylen and Arden. She followed her servant to a small meeting chamber, where Flamian stood where he usually did when he was inside a building, near a window. He bowed in respect to her. She nodded her head, acknowledging him as the warrior he was. "Lord Flamian, this is an unexpected honor. But to what do I owe this pleasure?" She asked.

Flamian gave a sad smile. "Nothing good, I'm afraid. I have come on the behalf of Kadrin."

Kurel's face fell. "What is it?"

Flamian turned to face her. "A new storm is now coming. The demons are rising again and they are more plentiful then ever. I have seen them for myself; they are growing stronger. The Six Nations is already preparing, but we cannot face them alone. Will Salcar stand with us? The draigon clans have already responded. We have been sending messengers throughout the Realm, contacting all clans everywhere."

Kurel was silent for a long time as she contemplated what this meant. Finally, she nodded. "Salcar will stand by her ally. If the demons are indeed returning, then we need to put a stop to whatever it is they are after."

Flamian nodded. "Thank you, dear queen." He paused by the door. "I am sorry to have brought such news when you are preparing for your union with Roylen. Truly, I am. I promise you: I will do my best to stop them."

"Flamian." Again he paused. "Thank you." He nodded and left. Roylen entered soon after.

"What was it? What did he have to say?" He asked. She stood by the window, staring out over a world that could be burning within a year.

"The demons are returning, their numbers growing along with their strength." She buried her face in her lover's shoulder. "Oh why must such things be happening now?"

Roylen kissed the top of her head and caressed her back. "Because something is about to happen, my love." She pulled back and frowned. "I can't really explain it. Ever since Kadrin began moving publicly, I have had this feeling that something is coming. Something that could be either good or bad. With Sari going off as his apprentice, I received a confirmation more than anything. Perhaps...perhaps this is a return to what was before?"

She frowned. "Surely you don't mean that myth? A Golden Age in which all the Realm is in peace? Come on, Roylen! How can you believe such a thing?"

"It's called hope." He fell silent, looking out at their kingdom. He lightly kissed her lips and caressed her cheek. "We'll be alright, Kuri, we will be. The best we can do is be prepared to aid and to do battle. Now, come. We still have a wedding to plan."

She smiled and nodded, taking his arm. He was right. With the Overseers on their side, they would triumph.

In a tower, Kadic stood, watching the world below him. The time was close now. Soon, he would have to shed his disguise and take his true place. Lirand would have to fight again.

Once Forgotten 2.0

The Great Celestial Temple stood on the outskirts of Calrin, a mile outside the north gate. It towered over the surrounding countryside, overlooking the city. Spires rose from it's great dome. Statues of winged angels stood guard around it, swords in their hands. Within, relief carvings and mosaics of angels and demons fighting covered the surfaces. Eleven great statues stood about the inner chamber, each one different from the others. A cloaked man. A six winged angel. A giant. A child. A great maladorn. A celestial dragon, its body coiled, its head raised. A woman clothed with clouds. A man leaning upon a great sword. A girl with the wings of a dragon. A centaur. And last a young man with two wings: one was the wing of an angel, and the other the wing of a dragon.

A priest entered the sanctuary. As he walked about his work, he noticed a solitary figure, kneeling in reverence in the very center of the great chamber. He paused and watched. To him, it was as if the figure was listening to each of the Eleven. He frowned. The vast majority always paid respects to the god of their craft. To see one paying respects to all Eleven was very rare indeed, save upon certain annual festivals. At last the figure stood and turned. The priest froze in a mixture of fear and awe. Kadrin approached him slowly. He stood before the priest and bowed in respect, then reached into his cloak and pulled out a large pouch. He presented it to priest. "For your charity for the needy." As Kadrin left, the priest drew the string and glanced in the pouch. He gasped at the amount of coins within. He looked about for Kadrin, but he was gone. Overjoyed at the offering, he ran back to the other priests, telling of their joy.
******************************************************************

Rya sat near one of the great fountains, munching an apple she had bought. She looked about, waiting for Brint. At last, she saw her friend coming and waved. He waved back and ran up to where she was seated. He sat down and reclined against the fountain. "So, what are we up to today?"

Rya took a bite of her apple. "Today, we are going to the theater, then I'm going back to the Library this afternoon. I saw some interesting sections, and I didn't get to see all of it yesterday."

Brint nodded. "Alright. While you're at the Library later, I will be at the Guilds. I am supposed to meet up with some acquaintances there." He was silent a moment, then asked. "What did you think of Careen yesterday?"

Rya's face darkened somewhat. "I think that she is dealing with people and matters she shouldn't be." She took another bite and tossed the core to the birds scattered about. "She always was horrible at acting, but she thought herself good at it. I just never had the heart to tell her that, and apparently, so did the rest of our friends. There was something...Dark about her. A foul presence, like air gone stale. Plus, the air was colder about her."

Brint nodded. "I felt it too. I fear she may be working with our enemy."

Rya sighed. "Why? Why would she...I see no reason why she would betray us. We parted on good terms...I just don't get it."

"It's the same as when I left." Rya frowned in confusion. "I ran into Kadrin, and now look at me. I lead the Freedomists, though not many know it. She most likely fell in with the wrong crowd, or was approached by one of our enemy's many servants."

"And just who is this 'enemy' anyway? I keep hearing all this talk about him or 'our enemy', but..." Brint clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Pipe down, Rya! Don't speak of him lightly. Now, I am not permitted to tell you; that's something you will have to ask Kadrin. The less you speak of him the better. He knows when he is spoken of. That is why we never speak his name. Saying his name will summon him here, and that is a catastrophe we cannot afford right now." Brint said, speaking in her ear. He released her, and she stood staring at him. He surveyed the area around him.

Rya dropped the subject. "Come, let's get to the theater, or all the good seats will be taken." She grabbed her scythe, and they headed off.

Kadrin watched them go from the shadows of one of the various buildings. He turned and watched as another figure darted into an alley, having clearly been watching the two. Kadrin followed slowly, knowing every single inch of the city. The figure was talking with someone, his voice low.

"I don't think we should go through with this. They seem far too wary, more so than Careen said they were. She slipped up; she had to have!"

"Would you shut it! I am sick of you blaming your failures upon others!"

"Does it really mat..." He was cut off as he was slammed against the wall. The other figure joined his fate. Kadrin chuckled and fully entered the alley.

"Since you insist upon meeting in broad daylight, might I suggest you work on your subtly? Really, the way you idiots dress, everyone with the eyes to see could tell who you are with." Kadrin laughed as the two froze with terror. "Come now, relax. I am not here to kill you. Not yet, at any rate. I have a message for your master." He released one of them.

The man collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath. "And what would that be?"

"I want you to tell him that the time is approaching much sooner than he thinks. Things have been set in motion that were not seen to happen. Tell him that message. Do you understand?" Kadrin asked, his voice a deadly hiss. The man nodded, trembling at the power rolling off Kadrin. He turned to the other man. "And as for you. Watch, but do not harm them. For if you do, nothing will save you from the fate that I will inflict upon you. Is that clear?" Both of them nodded. "Now, begone from my sight." They were gone in seconds. He sighed and stood at the edge of the alley. Brint and Rya were long gone, off to their destination.
******************************************************************

"Hmm, I don't recognize this performance." Brint said, frowning.

Rya glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"I'm familiar with most of the stories that are behind the performances, but this one, I'm not at all familiar with." Brint said.

Rya shrugged. "Well, sooner or later everyone finds a tale they haven't heard before."

"Not when they've read everything in the Library!" Brint said defensively.

Rya lightly punched his arm. "Will you be quiet? It's starting!"

The crowd fell silent as the narration began. The narrator stood off to the side, his voice echoing loud and clear:

"Long, long ago, in an age now forgotten, the people of our world waged a war, a war unlike any other. Mountains were leveled, while others were raised up. The Eleven Above looked down and watched as the world they cared for was torn apart by men and demons. And so, they watched and waited for the conflict to cease..."

And they were sucked into the story. Rya's eyes widened as she watched the tale Kadrin told her play out in the performance. The actors and actresses made it come to life more vividly than she thought was possible. However, they didn't end with the Sealing, but they continued the story...

"And so, the Eleven Above saw what the mortals had done and thought that it was best. All save one." Everyone sat up straighter at this. "Lord Nadarin, God of Balance, looked down in dismay at what had been done. He fumed with rage at what the mortals had done. The other Gods were content with sustaining the Realm, saying that it was preserved. Nadarin argued otherwise." The actors portrayed what the narrator said, showing the Gods arguing with Nadarin. "And finally, Nadarin lashed out and struck Amari, the Child Goddess. The Gods were outraged. They gathered together and healed her wound, but a terrible scar remained. Nadarin, out of shame and fear at what the other Gods would do to him, cast himself down. Abandoning the majority of his powers, he threw himself down to the Realm below, our world, the world of mortals. And he vanished from all sight...

"And so ends our tale from long ago. There is a lesson to be learned, perhaps, in that were right in Sealing away all power? Our own God of Balance did not think so. But whether or not we were right or wrong, the point remains as thus: we all must learn to live in harmony." The crowd erupted in cheers as the actors took a bow.

Rya and Brint left in silent contemplation.

Histories of the Realm: The Book of the Damned Itself 4.0

Chapter 3
I am writing now more out of thankfulness of breathing and thinking conscious thoughts than of anything. It was terrible. The techanns came with a great force of xla, and each was heavily armored. Only the grizzly horns that protrude from the helm of the xla were not armored; the techanns, which I named after a venomous snake from Twin River, had fully armored backsides save where they crawl along the ground with their bellies, those remained uncovered. I feel as that we will not reside in this cave much longer. Too many times have demons attacked us, and it is now clear that they were sent with a fell purpose, or knew that we resided here, and did not just chance upon us.
I am hurt badly, but she is very powerful, birthed from the immortal herself I begin to assume. I suspect she will heal me whereupon I make a noise through suffering.
I must now continue, though I dread the following. I began my trek on the icy plain, wandering without celestial guidance or map or aid. The stinging of my eyes, caused not from the blood and grime of the battle with the demons, but from the putrid air and harsh winds, had begun to cease a fraction, but still it felt like twigs in my eyes and sickles in my chest. My lungs suffered. I remember at one moment, thinking of my body as a great exploding mountain, one that rains down lava and sulfur. A volcano, I believed they are called in the Realm, that world that is so distant to my soul now.
I trekked on. Foot after foot, with my head lowered so that the lights in the sky might not witness the life in my eyes, I trekked on. The weather here never changes. It is always red with lazy purple clouds that spew lighting from time to time, that drift from the evil winds of the south, if south is indeed where it blows from. There is no sun here.
It is always hot, hot like midsummer under the direct sunlight, not in the shade of a willow, or by the creek, or in the meadowlands with the wild birds singing and pruning, and with the fawns leaping…I apologize for the tear drops on this page. This parchment is crude and does not take to substances well.
It was in fact on my hike through the immense ice that I discovered a notebook was on my person. In my breast-satchel under my mail and above my heart, I found it in there, amongst some candles, feather, and ink bottled with glass and stopper. At once a sense of joy flowed in me, as if this notebook, of a palms length, could be a savior. I know not why I felt that, now as I write, I write because she has spoken words to me, words that lead to a salvation. I digress.
The ice stretched forever forward, and as a mountain becomes a hill in the distance, so too did that skeletal cliff of bone, which I now name The Living Wall, for I fell from it, and was thus saved. The peril was away from now, here in this land of white ground and red sky. Once I stopped and observed all around me. Nothing but white below and red above, a testament to the alien nature of this plane.
Suddenly a great roaring such as that from a tall flame began to fill my surroundings. A lengthy shadow spread over me, and instantly I thought of the draigons of the Realm. Oh how I’d rather be in the maw of one such creature than where I am now.
Woe is me! A great peal of thunder resounded in the horizon and flashes of cerulean lightning blinded my vision. The brilliant stars of the heavens swam as minnows beneath my eyelids, until all was clear. What I beheld thereafter my mind is scarce to recall, for the moment was terrifyingly surreal.
A demon like none other took me in from not thirty paces. It was in the form of a draigon, but certainly not one such beast, for it was far smaller than any draigon I have heard tell. From its back sprouted six ghastly wings, three in parallel with three, of a shade of cinder. Its neck was elongated and serrated like the teeth of an ocean leviathan and its teeth just so as well. It seemed to lumber towards me for a few steps, reminding me of a newborn infant.
It, which I later dubbed the Draixla, burst into black flame and abounded skyward in a single thrust of its drawn wings, circling skyward and vanishing from sight behind a glossy violet thread of cloud. I had not realized it, but my sword was in hand, and beneath my leather gauntlets, I am sure that my knuckles were of pallor.
The four curved horns of the Draixla burst through the clouds first as it spiraled down towards me. Black goblets of slag shot forth from its mouth, and I found myself yet again in danger from a black rain of fire.
A note on this. Black fire I have witnessed from several of the demon-kind. To be burned by it is likened to the feeling of extreme cold, as ones limbs turn to black and fall off.
The Draixla came down to make one pass on me, tarnishing the ivory of the ice around my feet. In my other hand rested this very notebook, which now bears the scorch marks from the insipid fire. I did what I thought best and landed face first on my stomach, as to avoid mortal injury. Intense heat licked my whole entire backside as I prayed to the Eleven Above. It is humorous how one can go from cursing to begging so quickly.
Although the ice is not ice, it melted from the fire. It makes ironic sense to me that such a thing would happen. With the sound of a shatter of glass, I went tumbling down to the white stone dungeon that lay in wait beneath me.