PS: Angels and Demons, to
the best of my knowledge don’t have sexes per se. I write ‘em as I
want ‘em. Call
it “creative license.”
PPS: All the red text is meant to be Rsurrix. I just didn’t translate it because I thought the reader wouldn’t want to read an entire paragraph of the language and then have no clue of what was going on until he or she read the end notes.
PPPS: Another thing about the angels – I’m sure they’re not as fucked up as I make ‘em out to be. Actually, I bet they’re all quite likable. It’s just that I needed an antagonist for the last bit. o.O;;
-- Chapter 10: “For What I Became the King of the Lost?” --
A gathering of the damned surrounded the Halfling general of the mortal forces. The lower demons crouched before their superiors, feigning submission as the others feigned disdain. Such roles were needed when the topic of conversation was so dire. Had the circumstances not been so severe, the situation may have appeared humorous.
One of the elder demons, Asmodeus [1], sighed and, using a clawed finger to scratch gently at a spot behind his ear, he inquired, “So…what do you want us to do?”
“He needs our help, obviously,” replied Mammon [2] before Gackt could get a word in. The diaboli knelt on the ground, trailing scarred hands through the parched desert earth outside of Hiro’s oasis.
“But with what, I wonder,” stated Belial [3], stretching her large, tattered wings. “After all, your men’s thirst for revenge flows more than all the damned into Hell.”
“I know,” Gackt answered, coming down to rest upon the ground, putting him below those about him. The subtle gesture did not go unnoticed. “I evoked you for guidance.”
“Guidance?” laughed Abaddon [4]. The Furiae lounged with two of her underlings on top of a pile of stones. Perhaps at one time the heap had been a burial mound, but now, with memories forgotten and a new game in play, the builder and for whom which the stones were lain were all but forgotten. “Whatever could a Halfing want with the Guidance of those screwed over by his God?”
The bitter tone in her voice worried him. Suddenly he was apprehensive. Perhaps drawing an assembly so close to the ruins was a bad idea…
“No…” Belial’s voice interjected into the Halfing’s thoughts. “It wasn’t a mistake.” As Gackt’s face betrayed his surprise, the Ambriel chuckled, touching an elongated finger to her temple. “You thought your immortal cohorts were the only ones with telepathy? Hardly. Your thoughts are as plain as day, Halfling. So don’t try to shield them, it only awards one with a migraine.” Mammon snickered from his place on the earth. With a sigh, the winged demon returned to the subject at hand. “So you need guidance and with guidance comes assistance and with assistance comes trouble for us and ours. What do you suppose will come of that?”
“I can only guess, Belial.”
“And what would that guess be…?” inquired Abaddon, absent-mindedly stroking one of her underling’s pale throat. The creature cooed.
“My guess would be…punishment.”
“You guess correctly. Although, I wouldn’t let it run to your head…” responded Asmodeus, taking a seat on a fallen tree.
“Punishment. Yes. Harsh punishment. Terrible punishment. Mind-bogglingly cruel punishment.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far…” replied Mammon light-heartedly, glancing up at the Ambriel with a grin. “She wouldn’t go that far. Not with us.”
“Speak for yourself, Adnachiel,” threatened Abaddon, shifting from her comfortable position with her minions to one of defiance and outrage.
“Let me assure you, Madam Furiae, I am and have been for the last eternity.”
“That must be why She doesn’t care about what slander you spread with that wicked tongue of yours…” mused Belial, groaning softly.
“Who? Daibolus? The Great ‘Accuser of the
Brethren?’ The so-called ‘Whore
of Babylon?’”
“Half those names I’m sure you gave Her, too…”
Glancing sidelong at Gackt, Asmodeus sighed, dejected. “No wonder Hell burns – what with all the hot heads living down there…”
The three other demons sent piercing glares before calming their rattled nerves and taking their seats once again.
“Right…back to why I brought you here…” Gackt began, desperately attempting to return the mood to one of action and decision, “I need you to create a disturbance --”
“What kind of ‘disturbance…?’” asked Belial. Fiendish glee flashed behind her snakelike eyes. The same mirth glowed in Abaddon’s as well.
“Anything. Absolutely anything. So long as they are thrown of guard.” Pointing to Mammon, Gackt continued, “I need you within those lines,” throwing a gesture over the hills, indicating the enemy. “I need you to sew discord among the troops.” The Adnachiel grinned. Looking over at Asmodeus, the lone mortal stated, “I need you over there as well. I need you to be my eyes and ears behind enemy lines. I need you most of all.” With a nod, the Muriel accepted the assignment. Standing, Gackt murmured, “We should disband before night falls, they have spies as well. We must be wary. Away with you all.”
“When shall we meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?” inquired Asmodeus, a smirk resting upon his lips.
“When the hurlyburly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won,” replied Mammon, standing.
As Belial stretched her wings, she answered, “That will be ere the set of sun.”
“Fair is foul, and foul is fair,” Gackt murmured turning his back to the departing demons and strode towards the barracks. “Hover through the fog and filthy air…” [5]
*****
Rigid. Hot-wired. Anxious. Enraged. Ready.
Such were the ranks as Kozi walked through them.
Bound in armor and wrapped in bandages, the warriors gripped stolen or
mended weapons and nicked blades. Those
who had been lost were honored by those living.
Lovers, brothers, friends, bore their fallen companions’ war paint,
branding their faces in the semblance of the deads’.
We will have our
vengeance. We will have our blood, he
thought.
“I don’t know about you…” murmured Ken as he gripped his halberd, strangling the hilt, “but I suddenly had the worst case of déjà vu…”
“You get used to it after the first dozen times…” replied Kozi, taking his place in the ranks.
*****
Will this end it all? Gackt thought as he raised akugyou aloft.
Expectant silence impregnated the ranks.
God in Heaven…if you even
care…save us, deliver us… The blade
came down and a harrowing cry flew from the Halfling’s lips.
They charged.
*****
Ami staggered down the dimly lit corridors of the ruins. Dust drifted down from the ceiling as the foundation of the ancient castle rocked against the waves of the battle just outside. With one hand hovering over her bulging abdomen, she slowly made her way to Inoran’s post in the sick bay.
After what seemed like a bitter eternity, the young woman reached her destination, albeit dazed and covered with grime from the stone passageways. “Ino…” she began, struggling to find her voice. When the man’s eyes fell upon her, she continued, “I hope in that book of yours there’s a section on delivering babies…”
She watched as he paled considerably. “Why?”
“Because my water just broke…”
The healer groaned and marched up to the young woman, taking a moment he stooped down and confronted her belly, “Couldn’t you have just waited another 20 minutes?!”
Koji came up beside them and, taking Ami’s elbow in gentle hands, he pulled her back out of the door. “She can’t have it here – it’s not clean. Come on Ami-san, follow me…”
With a grimace and a muted sigh, the woman followed the man to the spell room…
*****
Ryuichi’s giant paws pounded the ground below him as he ran through the swarms of combatants.
A griffin leapt out of the mêlée and landed before the Mimic, who skidded to a halt. The monster screeched, flapping it’s disproportionate wings. Snarling, Ryuichi bared his canines. The duel was on.
*****
Yumi twirled her twin blades, dispatching a random hell spawn. Turning to her right, she called out to Nanase. The mage made no indication of acknowledgement, but rather continued her spell. Thrusting her arms out before her, the slobbering hell hounds, which were bounding towards her, were enveloped in a searing white light. Their rubbery skin blistered and bubbled, melting from their charred bones. Turning to her comrade, Nanase saluted and bolted back into the chaos of battle, leaving the remains of the hounds to the crows overhead.
*****
Ami lay, exhausted. The delivery had been swift, but excruciating, as there were no pain-killers in the Marrshrieq. Cradled in her arms lay the smallest being she had ever seen.
“You have a name for her yet?” came a croaked inquiry.
Turning to the right, she looked upon a bandaged archer. Smiling, she shook her head. “I’m not very good with names…that’s Teru’s job…” her smile faded instantly as she looked down at the babe in her arms. Letting her eyes slip shut, she cried.
*****
Chaos twisted and contorted in the air above the battlefield. Her large jaws snapped at the griffins dive-bombing the warriors below, a multitude of feathers and claws already lodged between her large teeth.
The crows however, were the real annoyance. They were everywhere, innumerable and elusive, avoiding her jaws, simply to squawk and flap their feathers indignantly at the dragon.
But an annoyance can always be the worst enemy, as the
dragon soon found out. The black birds
swarmed her, pecking, snapping, clawing. Their talons and beaks found the weak spots
in Chaos’s otherwise impenetrable armor and tore through the scales to the soft
flesh beneath.
*****
Ami whirled Ayu’s blade between her small hands, dismantling one of the many skeleton warriors. Turning, she thrust the blade through its hallow abdomen and ripped the blade out the other side, successfully tearing the corpse in two. Looking about, she realized there weren’t any enemies to fight – they were all otherwise preoccupied.
Kissing enshou’s golden handle, she sprinted across the battlefield.
*****
There. Standing among a horde of hellish, dancing monkeys, he stood. The one that took him. The one that took him every. God. Damned. Time.
Shuse withdrew two blades from their sheathes under his cloak. Walking forward, he saw nothing but his target.
He walked through time, through the past, the present, the future. He saw it all. He walked this path. He had chosen it because it was different: this path shone with light.
The monster turned and saw its attacker, but all too late – the blades had fled Shuse’s hands long ago. With blood sputtering from between its lips, the creature fell backwards, squashing many of its minions.
Shuse stood, watching the remaining monkeys scatter at the sight of their fallen overlord. Falling to his knees, the Seer cried. Levin…Dearest Levin…find peace now… The man’s head tilted back as his eyes rolled back into his head and darkness took him. He collapsed, pale as death, sprawled on the bloodied earth.
*****
Archers lined the ruined stone outcroppings. Arrows flew unchecked. Shoot to kill. Shoot to kill. As were the orders.
You led the snipers in their attacks, burying arrow after arrow into the innumerable foe.
Why
Twang
Won’t
Swish
You
Twang
Die
Swish
You
Swish
Mother-fucking
Twang
The enemy lines collapsed as the last was felled by a bleeding heart.
*****
Jiro stood on shaking legs. His body ached, his mind was sore…but…alive? He was alive?
Really?
Looking around, he found soldiers disentangling themselves from the sea of bodies while others aided the injured. He glanced down at his own hands. Blood-stained. Calloused. Used. Abused. Shaking. Free.
Free of the madness that was the Marrshrieq.
Free of the gods’ chess game.
Free to live.
Free to die.
Free to be mortal.
Free to be alive.
Alive.
“So what happens now?”
“I don’t know…” responded a weary Aiji who leaned upon a stolen blade.
Nanase scrubbed grime from her face and muttered, “This ought to be interesting…”
*****
In awe of the winged creatures who strode towards the remnants of the small army, the survivors fell to their knees. Those who did not, stood in blatant defiance. Among these few were the leaders – the fallen, the abominations, the damned. Feathers drifted on the wind as they approached. The trisagion [6] could be heard faintly on the breeze, sung over the horizon and chanted by the setting sun. The warriors watched as the choir chiefs gathered about the cluster of survivors. Blood-stained and weary, the mortals – or immortals in the case of some – awaited what would come next.
Seraphim and Archangels, their very beings aflame with deific fire. The Thrones, with their scales of justice. The Powers, the weight of the universe balanced precariously on their winged backs. The Cherubims, the Dominations, the Virtues, the Principalities, the Innocents…all gathered before the cluster of men. All gathered to deliver justice, to carry out Creation’s plan.
A winged-one stepped forward, nodding a brief acknowledgement to Gackt before he addressed those gathered. “Congratulations,” he stated, eyes grazing those gathered. “You’ve won a strong victory for The Almighty and though your initial losses were worrisome, your final triumph out-weighs your initial dilemma.” He paused for effect. “That was the message I was ordered to deliver. But from the look on your faces, that was not the message you wished to hear.”
“Can we go home now?”
All eyes turned to Ami Suzuki, Ayu’s sword still clutched tightly in her hands. Her voice seemed so small next to such a presence as the glowing, winged being before them.
“Home?” The angel seemed perplexed. “How do you mean? What is home?”
“Stop playing games.” The angel turned to meet Gackt’s eyes, dark with hatred.
The angel merely smiled. “Of course, Gakuto…Do you wish to go home as well?” Gackt
tensed at this inquiry. The speaker
circled round the Halfling. “But what’s this I see…? Scars?” he traced the pale, marred
skin on the other’s shoulder blades. “Whatever from…?” Propping himself against the mortal’s
shoulder, he stated, “Oh yes, I remember…You lost your
wings. Had them torn from your back for
all to see. It hurt, didn’t it?” Leaning closer, he whispered, “Perhaps you should have thought of their worth before you
fucked her.” But he didn’t stop
there. The power-tripping angel turned
his attention to Masa. “Do you want to go
home as well Cassandra?” The youth was silent. “Do you wish to see
the arches and the gardens and the waterfalls again? All the beauty that is
Masa lowered his eyes as the tears fell.
“That is quite enough, Zadkiel.” [7]
“But --”
“I said enough.”
The angel sighed and returned to the ranks as another stepped forward.
“It has been a long time…my
sister…my brother…my children…”
*****
Something important was happening. Something very important. But Hakuei couldn’t figure out what it was for the life or death of him. One angel had stepped forward, silenced Gackt in an instant, and now Masa was in tears. Then that angel had stepped back and another stepped forward.
Their mouths didn’t move. None of them. There was no sound – no bells, no heavenly choir, nothing – or at least none he could hear. As far as he could tell, nothing had happened for the last ten minutes.
It was so silent…so very silent…
*****
Masa didn’t dare look up; he was shaking too hard. All he wanted to do was to curl up and hide, to die then and there on the parched earth. Maybe he’d accept me, then…He fell to his knees.
That voice in his head again. Reluctantly, he complied, hesitantly letting his eyes flutter open. He gasped and jumped up.
He was no longer with the others. He was alone. So alone…
“Not quite ‘alone,’ Masa…”
The youth whirled to face the speaker. Before him stood one of the most radiant creatures he’d ever seen. “Cassandra…?”
The being nodded. As she moved closer, the bright light that surrounded her began to fade and she stood before him. Her billowing wings were tattered, her translucent garb was in rags, her face was marred by torture endured eons ago. Despite the agony she had to have been suffering, she offered up a weary smile. “Do you know where we are?”
Masa began to shake his head, but stopped. Do I know… He looked around, spinning in slow circles. “I…” In the distance, there stood a funeral pyre. Smoke still rose from the ashes, twisting and writhing in the wind. There were no mourners. Or at least, there were none left alive… “I died here.” The celestial gave no answer. “You came to me here…in the flames. You took me away.” Once again, the celestial made no comment. Masa turned to her.
Her face was downcast, matted blond hair hung in front of her eyes. “Why did you bring us here?”
Shoulders shaking, she brought her face up to look upon him. “Even here is a safer place for the mind then back there.”
Masa blinked, confused. Turning on his heel, he took a step towards the pyre. There was the swishing of fabric as the angel grabbed his arm. “Don’t…please?”
“I want to see it. I want to see if it’s mine…” he took another step, dragging her along.
“No, don’t.” She wrapped her slashed arms around him, clinging to him. “The memories are to sad, Child. It’ll hurt so…Stay here with me and rest. And then we’ll face them together.”
“Which? The memories or the archangels?”
“Both.”
******
Masa had slipped into a catatonic state hours ago. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. It was hard to tell if he was even breathing anymore.
Gackt’s lips formed a grim line. Something was wrong. So wrong. Had been wrong.
It’s over, we won.
Then why is something wrong?
“Perhaps it’s because it’s been so long since you did win that you’re doubting yourself?”
“Stop reading my mind, please.”
“Why not? It’s rather interesting listening in on your thoughts. The process is so illogical…It’s quite like a jigsaw puzzle.”
Gackt sighed. “I’m not doubting myself. I know that much. I think…I think it’s because…”
“Because they’re alive,” murmured Michael. [8]
“…Yes…”
“It feels odd because he survived this time around. He always tries to be the hero, doesn’t he?”
“…And she.”
“…Yes…and she.”
Gackt turned to look upon the Seraphim, his voice choked within his throat. “They’re in pain.” The other nodded. “Why?”
“You are their lover. Don’t you know?”
Gackt’s eyes slipped shut as bitter tears slipped from between dark lashes. “Masa’s tired, weak, sick, dying…He can’t do this anymore. He’s…fading…”
“And Cassandra?”
“She’s…homesick.” Gackt buried his face in his hands. “She…He…They…They’re so sad…” A strangled sob broke from between his lips.
The archangel moved to stand before the Halfling. “Yes, they are sad. Their souls are in agony.” Michael knelt before the weeping man. “But you can change that.”
“How?”
The other seemed to be struggling with words. “It has been decreed…that she is forgiven.”
“What?” Gackt inquired, startled and confused. He searched the celestial’s silver eyes.
“She is saved. She can
come home. She no longer has to suffer
the fire. She can return to
“She’s saved…?”
“So it has been decreed.”
Gackt dropped his eyes. Saved… “There’s a catch isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
Michael sighed. “She must never again see you. Living or dead, mortal or otherwise.”
Tears once again brimmed in Gackt’s eyes. “And what of Masa? My understanding of Crossovers is that…if one leaves, the other dies.”
The Seraphim nodded. “‘Tis true.”
“He’ll fall…?”
“No. The Father has
also decreed that your Masa will be lifted. He’ll follow Cassandra to
“…He’ll get his wings…” [9] Gackt whispered more to himself than anyone. Meeting the archangel’s eyes again, he requested, “Let me talk to him…when he recovers…”
The other nodded, and ducked out of the room, the doorway far too small for his armor and wings.
*****
“I want you to go.”
“Nani?” Masa turned to look at Gackt. His lover stood on the balcony, looking out at the night sky of the Marrshrieq. The starlight painted the landscape with complex patterns of hues of silver and blue. All was silent about the ruins. “What do you mean?” The other’s back remained turned to him. When Gackt spoke next, his voice was strained.
“I want you to go…I want you to go home…”
“Iie!” the other jumped up and bounded to his lover, wrapping his arms about the other’s waist and pressing his face against the bare skin of Gackt’s back. Under the soft touch, he felt muscles ripple, yearning to fly but forever grounded. “I’ll never leave you. I told you so long ago that our paths were the same, that I’d follow you for eternity.”
“But I don’t want you to follow…” the other replied, turning in the embrace to wrap his own arms around the dark-haired man. “I don’t want you to have to suffer here any longer…”
“But --”
“You’re not happy…I see it in your eyes…You never were happy and you never will be.”
“As if you are happy…” Pulling away and taking his hands, Masa led him to the bed. They collapsed in each others’ arms once again.
Wrapped in the heat of Masa’s body, Gackt continued his argument, “But this is all my fault. I caused your condemnation. I caused your fall. I…” He hid his eyes, glittering in the darkness with tears, in the crook of Masa’s neck, clinging to the smaller man. “I caused all of your sorrow…all of your pain…”
“Hush…” the other whispered, taking his lover’s face in his hands and looking deep into the grief-stricken eyes. He hesitated however when he saw what resided there. “You really want me to go…”
Those simple words were all it took to break him. Gackt buried his face in the other’s neck. “Yes…Forgive me, but yes…I want you to go. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. I want to know that you will never have to want for anything ever again, that you will never suffer ever again…Forgive me, Masa…Cassandra…please…”
The youth cradled his broken lover in his arms long into the night. He waited until the other was unconscious before he shed his own tears.
[1] Asmodeus
= the Ruler of the Ultores scelorum,
which are Revengers of wickedness in Hell. This “choir” is made of Agrippa spirits
called “Muriel.” (Gnostic Witch Bible)
[2] Mammon = the Ruler of
the Tentatores maligenii, a
“choir” which includes Tempters & bad genii, and the Agrippa spirits, Adnachiel, among its members. They are “diaboli,
or devils, who generally do foul work. They will slander either Lucifer as the
Yin, or Ialdabaoth as the Yang at any opportunity,
having no respect for any authority not within their immediate presence.”
(Gnostic Witch Bible)
[3] Belial = the Ruler of the Vasa Iniquitatis, which are vessels of iniquity and of anger. The Agrippa spirits of this “choir”, Ambriel, “are inventors of mischief and all wicked arts.” The Grigori (aka “The Watchers”; they guard earth and space and Karma) (Gnostic Witch Bible)
[4] Abaddon
= the Ruler of the Furiae (or, more commonly known
as, Furies), which sew “mischief and discord. They bring war and
destruction.” The Agrippa spirits in
this “choir” are the Zuriel. (Gnostic Witch Bible)
[5] “When shall we meet again…Hover through the fog and filthy air.” = Act I, scene i, lines 1-5 and 11-12 of the “Scottish Play,” aka the-play-with-a-title-no-one-speaks-because-it’s-so-unlucky, by Shakespeare. The first line of the scene is really “When shall we three meet again” but since there’s more than three characters, I left that adjective out. And before you holler at me for ruining the phrasing, let me remind you that Asmodeus could have just added on “In thunder, lightning, or in rain” for a bit of dry wit…or something. In any case, the adjective “three” isn’t important. Not here at least.
[6] “trisagion” = “Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh” or “Holy, Holy,
Holy” (Gnostic Witch Bible)
[7] Zadkiel
= the Chief of the Choir of Deific Sovereignty, Dominations, which contains the
life forms, “Hasmallim.” The “choir is made up of
spirits of wisdom. They have executive free will to manage the daily
functioning of universes. Dominations are elevated from earthly desires and
yearnings.” (Gnostic Witch Bible)
[8] Michael = Chief of the Choir of Deific Light, Seraphims, which also include Galgalim. They are spirits of love and they regulate Heaven. They may make covenants and accept vows and are the caretakers of the Divine Throne. In this role, they are known as "the burning ones" for they are aflame with the love of Creation. (Gnostic Witch Bible)
[9] “…He’ll get his wings…”
= reference to QUICK dialogue that I didn’t have room to put anywhere which
took place back in the “real” world:
Gackt turned to Masa. “What do you
want most in the world?”
Masa sat for a bit, nawing on
his lower lip. “Wings,” he finally
decided.
This took the other
aback. “Wings? Why wings?”
“‘Cause
you can fly, Gaku. What’s better than
that?” Mischief danced behind the dark
eyes.
“I can think of a few
things…”
“Oh?” the younger man
inquired, playing naïve.
“Yes…” Gackt whispered,
creeping closer to the younger man. Masa grew apprehensive, fleeing backwards as his lover
stalked him. Finding his back suddenly
pressed against a wall, Masa let out a shuddering,
expectant sigh. The older man crawled
between the youth’s legs and taking the pale face in his hands,
planted a hungry kiss on swollen lips.
“Such as…” he began when
they parted, “Cars…” he accented the word by tugging at the younger man’s
earlobe with his teeth. “Music…” He ran his tongue along the base of his jaw line. “…and you…”
“Me…?” came the
whispered question.
“Yes…” Gackt took Masa’s face in his hands again, stroking the flushed cheeks
and bruised lips. “You.”