Chapter 1 - Prologue
Submitted June 9, 2010 Updated June 9, 2010 Status Incomplete | The past present and future unfolds, of ancient God-like beings; immortals that live in our world still, as told from the point of view of "Reth", brother to the current ruler of Hell.
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Chapter 1 - Prologue
Chapter 1 - Prologue
.Prologue.
12:00AM - October 3rd - 2004
The smoke from the cigarette floated upward to the heavens, rain dampened streets stretched out ahead of me and my breath crystalized in the air. A rush of wind swept my hair back - a vivid red against a dull background of concrete and night. Here I am, 2000 years old, and what the frack do I have? Nothing. I'd spent my life spitefully and there was nothing to show for it. I stood up from the curb and looked around. Where would I drown my sorrows this evening? The zippers on my pants glinted in the neon lights of china town glaring at me from across the street. I could do with a shoot load of sake right about now.
Four or five hookers leaned against the outside wall of a bar I headed towards. Thick long black hair tied up in pigtails, ivory skin wet with rain and shaking from the chill. I shook my head as I walked by making sure not to lock eyes with any of them. I could feel their starving eyes staring at me with scorn. I wasn't so well off myself. But half an hour from now I'd be passed out somewhere and it'd be easier to forget. Hot sake always goes down easy on cold nights.
My name is Reth and the first thing you have to understand... if I had been out in the world for these 2000 years I would've killed myself long ago. Thing is, I only just escaped the shadows a couple months back. Doesn't mean things aint shoot anyway.
While my inebriation sets in, how about I give you a bit of backstory as to why I'm so bitter. Let's go back a-ways... back to my childhood... back to my brother and back to Rome.
I was born in a small back-alley district of Roma.
My parents were both dark occult practitioners and therefore we were never near much civilization. At a young age my brother, sister and I were branded in turn with the four-horned goat at the base of our skull; the very top of our neck. The head and facial regions are influenced by Aries, a sign of fire and war, therefore tattooing over the skull is a place of power for such a symbol. Hair grew in over it, but pieces could always be seen when the hair was parted. By the age of two, in the year 8 when my sister Ebony was born, I was already marked. Already I had a path set out for me. Yet, I didn't quite have a purpose. Alaric, my elder brother born in 4, before this place was even part of the great Roman Empire, was being bred to challenge the gates of hell, to take over the throne from its last owner so they could rest in peace. He partook in rituals down by the Mare Tyrrhenum daily with my parents watching over him. Ebony, at her birth, pleased my parents very much. A woman, who could continue the line through her body. Ebony would be taught seduction, and raise as many for our cause as possible, marking them with blood and ink and continuing the tradition.
Fast-forward past my misspent younger years, with no schooling other than the minimal amount I needed for survival, given to me by my parents. Fast-forward past the favoritism aimed at my brother - Ebony and I defending each other as she strayed from the path set out for her, and fast-forward to death.
It was a sunny day in June, just a week past my birthday. I was 16 and betrothed to a stunning girl from another family of our type. A little lower class, not directly connected with the legions of the underworld, but worthy all the same. Alaric was 18 and would soon be taking the throne. I was content to sit back and let whatever was going to happen, happen. At least my asshole brother would be off to another realm and I wouldn't be seeing him again until I was dead. Ebony, 14, had taken to spending much time on her own in the woods near our small home. I knew she had connections with the Fae. She had more interest in their trickery and mischief than the blatantly cruel acts our parents wished for us to perform. This was a week before the day that Alaric was to leave. The river would turn to blood, but only for the shortest time, and my brother would enter into it. It would boil. He would burn, choke, drown, but rise again beneath. He bore a second mark no one but my parents had ever seen. Another below his first, and he always wrapped a piece of fabric about his neck to keep it from view. That is the mark that would separate him from the other bodies.
But one final act was required before he would enter the Mare Tyrrhenum. He had to kill a human as a sacrifice. An innocent. Of the past few years I had gained a condescending attitude - acquired it from some passing nobles whose behavior I watched with great intent. I thought of the acts of my parents as "boorish" and ignored the whole ordeal. Until, I found it was Ebony who Alaric was meant to kill. This was the real joy for her birth. Yet, I was too late in finding it out.
Alaric came upon her in the woods where she sat in a faerie ring, speaking to creatures I had never been able to see. He had a sacrificial knife, I pictured his eyes a cold hard emotionless black. They were never anything else. I pictured him doing it quickly, to get it over with and proceed to his destiny. The little mind games played with him all his life had made it so he would be able to perform this one last deed for his parents - and I suppose he in his own way had tragedies.... No matter. Her blood was spilled in the sunlit grass and I could never bear the light again.
On nights like this I can't help but remember the way the river looked in the darkness. What little light there was, reflecting onto my betrothed's hair, in a ghostly silver. I spent hours that night contemplating my life and the meaning of it all by that very river after my sister's death. Little did I know, another pang was yet to come. The next morning, Albina, the girl I was meant to marry, vanished along with my brother. My parents were furious. They alerted everyone they knew of the disappearances and a search party was sent out.
My head began to swim as I thought of my past. I couldn't remember how much I had to drink and I did not recognize the colour of what I was consuming right now. The bar tender gave me a toothy yellow grin, his eyes slits in a sallow face, black hair plastered to his forehead. Christ, it really was hot in here. My pants were clinging to my legs and I suddenly wanted to be home very badly. I felt a tingle rise from the base of my spine to the back of my neck and I shuddered. A moment later I realized there was a woman standing behind me, her hand touching the shaved part of my hair, the part which revealed the mark from so many years ago. I turned to look at her, squinting to try and straighten out the world around me.
"Hot tattoo... there some kind of story behind it? Or am I ... over analyzing"
She purred, stroking my hair.
"Stop that. Don't touch me right now - you want me to fracking vomit?
She removed her hand as if it had been burned on my scalp. I just wanted to sit. Sit and think of her. Albina. The one I lost to my brother.... and as I turned my head back to my drink, the rest of the world phased out and the girl must have moved on, as I couldn't tell if she was there or not anymore. There were plenty others who would take her in on a rainy night.....
Albina and Alaric returned two nights later, together. Alaric acted as if he did not know her and Albina sulked. She had given him something she could never give again. Something that was meant to be mine, and she was ruined now. My parents would not allow me to marry her. Another had already "claimed her". But she could not follow where he was headed. I never saw her again after that, I was told. And I knew my brother had done it just to spite me. He was not anywhere near interested in her. From what I had witnessed he was interested only in himself and his destiny - which really was just another part of himself. It was simply the way he was raised. My parents would dash my only hope for some sort of life to pieces without a second thought but did not care what Alaric did. Any deed he committed was part of his path to greatness. He had a "get out of jail free" card for life, the spoiled bastard.
The day the river turned red, I sat at its bank. I sat in a spot where I would not see my brother. Of course my parents wished for me to help with the right, but I ran off at dawn and the ritual was to happen in the black. I heard their voices... they did look for me, but not for long. You have to understand, though Alaric was chosen, everyone in this family had power to manipulate shadows. I suppose I forgot to mention that earlier but you'll have to forgive me, the alcohol is thinking for me at the moment. In fact, I believe I had a better understanding of them than Alaric because he was so goal oriented and I could not see anywhere into the future. I worked with what I had. But, Ebony and I hardly used our power whereas Alaric was performing little tricks all over the place every chance he got. He had to show off what little he had to make it seem like he had more… or something like that. Anyway, I twirled the speckling of shadows which fell from tree branches, around with a finger. They'd pull up from the ground and become something physical, like smoke. Then they'd float away with the wind into another patch of dark. After hours of thought and boredom, the clear moonlit water gained a tint of crimson and gradually the pigment was complete. The river was indeed red.
I guess up to that point part of me had thought maybe, just maybe it wouldn't happen. My parents could have been suspicious folks, doing insane things to their own children for something that would never happen... but the red came and went and I made my decision. I would never go home again. I would not be trapped in whatever life my parents would set out for me next. I decided to join the Roman army. Become a soldier. And maybe die doing something good.
My glass was empty. I tilted it, looking to see if there was something in it I was missing. Nope. Ah, it would be best to take a trip to the washroom right about now anyway. I would harass the barkeep when I finished. I took a smoke in the stall, clouding up the whole room, finished my business and exited. God I love d'jaurms... even the smell they leave behind is good. I closed my eyes and breathed out as I reclaimed my seat at the bar. I looked up at the bar tender from my slumped position and after a moment he served me another bottle of sake. Good, he was learning. Now where was I.... oh yes, the Roman army. You would never see a bigger bastard than the general of that endeavor....
Titus Markas of Roma was second to none. He had risen in the ranks to lead a large part of the army and was currently training the latest to sign up. Which, I was one of. He'd lead us around, beat us, let us know that we were lower than the dirt he walked on, but once we cleaned up he'd claim to others we were the finest. His eyes were cold and black like my brother's and so I always had a hard time trusting any aspect of him. Not really the best way to think of someone who is to lead you in to battle. Then again, I was right to tread with caution, as he betrayed us in battle. Fled. I can hardly remember the day or the circumstances. It's been so long now. But I know he had the chance to be a great leader and threw it away. After that, I grew tired of fighting. I was good at it. I was born strong and could defeat any opponent. I was clearly not going to die honorably in battle. And so I retired to Egypt in the presence of a few lovely court ladies. One in particular, dressed in green, adorned with emeralds, with long thick black hair - Tahira - I took a strong liking to and stayed at her side for a number of years. We never married, as she was one of the King's. But she was good at sneaking away on occasional nights, those of which were the most enjoyable times I had in Egypt.
"You been babble on on on for hour now, you pay tab, you go! We closing now!"
The bar tender awoke me from my thoughts. Rudely, I might add. I stood shakily and staggered out the door
"You be back! You pay! Or I call cops on your @$$ right now!"
"Do what you want, Chinaman"
I was out in the street again, sheets of rain still falling from the sky drenching the pavement black. These people, in this world... they hadn't changed since Rome. Little things always getting on little peoples' nerves. ...
My apartment was on the other side of a subway tunnel. I would walk down the tracks, ignoring homeless people and avoiding gang members. The tunnel was rank and entirely littered with garbage. At least the train was loud enough that even when piss drunk I would know to get out of its path.
It wasn't that nice of an apartment... really. Bad side of town, Break-ins everywhere... typical. I couldn't be expected to be entirely self-sufficient in a new era right off.
I lay on the torn futon folded out on the hardwood floor. The ceiling spun, the wall spun, when I saw the floor out of the corner of my eye, it spun too. I closed my eyes but it didn't stop. I was still spinning, just in a void now. And I remembered. The reason I am here now. The fourth major woman in my life - though I never learned her name or saw her face.
I left Egypt when my affair became too dangerous. Tahira felt the Pharaoh was catching on. She would be found missing many mornings, so often that all the other ladies expected it. She wanted to stop seeing me. Either that or I had to steal her away from the Pharaoh - yet I faltered, when it came down to it I really did not want to grow old with her. And so one night I disappeared. She must have come to my home that evening and would then know she would never see me again. I left no message.
Thirty or so moons later I heard of a female scourge causing a panic in Egypt. It was rumored she would attempt murder on the Pharaoh himself. Word of her spread like fire through Egypt and Rome. I wondered where she had come from, how she had this power... and a flame inside of me began to burn. I wanted to be known. I always had deep in my heart. I wanted power. The power my brother had had.
Many nights my dreams were littered with faceless women, masked women, all of whom had thick auras of the shadows, sin, and my sought after power. In all these dreams I was helpless. The simple idea of this person drove me mad. Drove me to the river. The river where I had always found my peace. I threw myself upon its banks begging for a calm mind and the strength to gain acknowledgment. I had aged. I wanted to be remembered when I died. Or - never die. My brother, would never die.
Black tangled shadows of tree branches twined together and flowed along the ground, mimicking the water near it. It began crawling over me, seeping in to me. I felt better, I felt incredible, until something began to feel wrong - the emotions turned negative. To anger, to despair... I watched as my own skin began to grow darker, translucent. I was turning into a shadow myself, and as I faded, whatever I was, was pulled in with the other shadows, and down below the ground. Through the dirt and roots, into Hell itself.
End Prologue
12:00AM - October 3rd - 2004
The smoke from the cigarette floated upward to the heavens, rain dampened streets stretched out ahead of me and my breath crystalized in the air. A rush of wind swept my hair back - a vivid red against a dull background of concrete and night. Here I am, 2000 years old, and what the frack do I have? Nothing. I'd spent my life spitefully and there was nothing to show for it. I stood up from the curb and looked around. Where would I drown my sorrows this evening? The zippers on my pants glinted in the neon lights of china town glaring at me from across the street. I could do with a shoot load of sake right about now.
Four or five hookers leaned against the outside wall of a bar I headed towards. Thick long black hair tied up in pigtails, ivory skin wet with rain and shaking from the chill. I shook my head as I walked by making sure not to lock eyes with any of them. I could feel their starving eyes staring at me with scorn. I wasn't so well off myself. But half an hour from now I'd be passed out somewhere and it'd be easier to forget. Hot sake always goes down easy on cold nights.
My name is Reth and the first thing you have to understand... if I had been out in the world for these 2000 years I would've killed myself long ago. Thing is, I only just escaped the shadows a couple months back. Doesn't mean things aint shoot anyway.
While my inebriation sets in, how about I give you a bit of backstory as to why I'm so bitter. Let's go back a-ways... back to my childhood... back to my brother and back to Rome.
I was born in a small back-alley district of Roma.
My parents were both dark occult practitioners and therefore we were never near much civilization. At a young age my brother, sister and I were branded in turn with the four-horned goat at the base of our skull; the very top of our neck. The head and facial regions are influenced by Aries, a sign of fire and war, therefore tattooing over the skull is a place of power for such a symbol. Hair grew in over it, but pieces could always be seen when the hair was parted. By the age of two, in the year 8 when my sister Ebony was born, I was already marked. Already I had a path set out for me. Yet, I didn't quite have a purpose. Alaric, my elder brother born in 4, before this place was even part of the great Roman Empire, was being bred to challenge the gates of hell, to take over the throne from its last owner so they could rest in peace. He partook in rituals down by the Mare Tyrrhenum daily with my parents watching over him. Ebony, at her birth, pleased my parents very much. A woman, who could continue the line through her body. Ebony would be taught seduction, and raise as many for our cause as possible, marking them with blood and ink and continuing the tradition.
Fast-forward past my misspent younger years, with no schooling other than the minimal amount I needed for survival, given to me by my parents. Fast-forward past the favoritism aimed at my brother - Ebony and I defending each other as she strayed from the path set out for her, and fast-forward to death.
It was a sunny day in June, just a week past my birthday. I was 16 and betrothed to a stunning girl from another family of our type. A little lower class, not directly connected with the legions of the underworld, but worthy all the same. Alaric was 18 and would soon be taking the throne. I was content to sit back and let whatever was going to happen, happen. At least my asshole brother would be off to another realm and I wouldn't be seeing him again until I was dead. Ebony, 14, had taken to spending much time on her own in the woods near our small home. I knew she had connections with the Fae. She had more interest in their trickery and mischief than the blatantly cruel acts our parents wished for us to perform. This was a week before the day that Alaric was to leave. The river would turn to blood, but only for the shortest time, and my brother would enter into it. It would boil. He would burn, choke, drown, but rise again beneath. He bore a second mark no one but my parents had ever seen. Another below his first, and he always wrapped a piece of fabric about his neck to keep it from view. That is the mark that would separate him from the other bodies.
But one final act was required before he would enter the Mare Tyrrhenum. He had to kill a human as a sacrifice. An innocent. Of the past few years I had gained a condescending attitude - acquired it from some passing nobles whose behavior I watched with great intent. I thought of the acts of my parents as "boorish" and ignored the whole ordeal. Until, I found it was Ebony who Alaric was meant to kill. This was the real joy for her birth. Yet, I was too late in finding it out.
Alaric came upon her in the woods where she sat in a faerie ring, speaking to creatures I had never been able to see. He had a sacrificial knife, I pictured his eyes a cold hard emotionless black. They were never anything else. I pictured him doing it quickly, to get it over with and proceed to his destiny. The little mind games played with him all his life had made it so he would be able to perform this one last deed for his parents - and I suppose he in his own way had tragedies.... No matter. Her blood was spilled in the sunlit grass and I could never bear the light again.
On nights like this I can't help but remember the way the river looked in the darkness. What little light there was, reflecting onto my betrothed's hair, in a ghostly silver. I spent hours that night contemplating my life and the meaning of it all by that very river after my sister's death. Little did I know, another pang was yet to come. The next morning, Albina, the girl I was meant to marry, vanished along with my brother. My parents were furious. They alerted everyone they knew of the disappearances and a search party was sent out.
My head began to swim as I thought of my past. I couldn't remember how much I had to drink and I did not recognize the colour of what I was consuming right now. The bar tender gave me a toothy yellow grin, his eyes slits in a sallow face, black hair plastered to his forehead. Christ, it really was hot in here. My pants were clinging to my legs and I suddenly wanted to be home very badly. I felt a tingle rise from the base of my spine to the back of my neck and I shuddered. A moment later I realized there was a woman standing behind me, her hand touching the shaved part of my hair, the part which revealed the mark from so many years ago. I turned to look at her, squinting to try and straighten out the world around me.
"Hot tattoo... there some kind of story behind it? Or am I ... over analyzing"
She purred, stroking my hair.
"Stop that. Don't touch me right now - you want me to fracking vomit?
She removed her hand as if it had been burned on my scalp. I just wanted to sit. Sit and think of her. Albina. The one I lost to my brother.... and as I turned my head back to my drink, the rest of the world phased out and the girl must have moved on, as I couldn't tell if she was there or not anymore. There were plenty others who would take her in on a rainy night.....
Albina and Alaric returned two nights later, together. Alaric acted as if he did not know her and Albina sulked. She had given him something she could never give again. Something that was meant to be mine, and she was ruined now. My parents would not allow me to marry her. Another had already "claimed her". But she could not follow where he was headed. I never saw her again after that, I was told. And I knew my brother had done it just to spite me. He was not anywhere near interested in her. From what I had witnessed he was interested only in himself and his destiny - which really was just another part of himself. It was simply the way he was raised. My parents would dash my only hope for some sort of life to pieces without a second thought but did not care what Alaric did. Any deed he committed was part of his path to greatness. He had a "get out of jail free" card for life, the spoiled bastard.
The day the river turned red, I sat at its bank. I sat in a spot where I would not see my brother. Of course my parents wished for me to help with the right, but I ran off at dawn and the ritual was to happen in the black. I heard their voices... they did look for me, but not for long. You have to understand, though Alaric was chosen, everyone in this family had power to manipulate shadows. I suppose I forgot to mention that earlier but you'll have to forgive me, the alcohol is thinking for me at the moment. In fact, I believe I had a better understanding of them than Alaric because he was so goal oriented and I could not see anywhere into the future. I worked with what I had. But, Ebony and I hardly used our power whereas Alaric was performing little tricks all over the place every chance he got. He had to show off what little he had to make it seem like he had more… or something like that. Anyway, I twirled the speckling of shadows which fell from tree branches, around with a finger. They'd pull up from the ground and become something physical, like smoke. Then they'd float away with the wind into another patch of dark. After hours of thought and boredom, the clear moonlit water gained a tint of crimson and gradually the pigment was complete. The river was indeed red.
I guess up to that point part of me had thought maybe, just maybe it wouldn't happen. My parents could have been suspicious folks, doing insane things to their own children for something that would never happen... but the red came and went and I made my decision. I would never go home again. I would not be trapped in whatever life my parents would set out for me next. I decided to join the Roman army. Become a soldier. And maybe die doing something good.
My glass was empty. I tilted it, looking to see if there was something in it I was missing. Nope. Ah, it would be best to take a trip to the washroom right about now anyway. I would harass the barkeep when I finished. I took a smoke in the stall, clouding up the whole room, finished my business and exited. God I love d'jaurms... even the smell they leave behind is good. I closed my eyes and breathed out as I reclaimed my seat at the bar. I looked up at the bar tender from my slumped position and after a moment he served me another bottle of sake. Good, he was learning. Now where was I.... oh yes, the Roman army. You would never see a bigger bastard than the general of that endeavor....
Titus Markas of Roma was second to none. He had risen in the ranks to lead a large part of the army and was currently training the latest to sign up. Which, I was one of. He'd lead us around, beat us, let us know that we were lower than the dirt he walked on, but once we cleaned up he'd claim to others we were the finest. His eyes were cold and black like my brother's and so I always had a hard time trusting any aspect of him. Not really the best way to think of someone who is to lead you in to battle. Then again, I was right to tread with caution, as he betrayed us in battle. Fled. I can hardly remember the day or the circumstances. It's been so long now. But I know he had the chance to be a great leader and threw it away. After that, I grew tired of fighting. I was good at it. I was born strong and could defeat any opponent. I was clearly not going to die honorably in battle. And so I retired to Egypt in the presence of a few lovely court ladies. One in particular, dressed in green, adorned with emeralds, with long thick black hair - Tahira - I took a strong liking to and stayed at her side for a number of years. We never married, as she was one of the King's. But she was good at sneaking away on occasional nights, those of which were the most enjoyable times I had in Egypt.
"You been babble on on on for hour now, you pay tab, you go! We closing now!"
The bar tender awoke me from my thoughts. Rudely, I might add. I stood shakily and staggered out the door
"You be back! You pay! Or I call cops on your @$$ right now!"
"Do what you want, Chinaman"
I was out in the street again, sheets of rain still falling from the sky drenching the pavement black. These people, in this world... they hadn't changed since Rome. Little things always getting on little peoples' nerves. ...
My apartment was on the other side of a subway tunnel. I would walk down the tracks, ignoring homeless people and avoiding gang members. The tunnel was rank and entirely littered with garbage. At least the train was loud enough that even when piss drunk I would know to get out of its path.
It wasn't that nice of an apartment... really. Bad side of town, Break-ins everywhere... typical. I couldn't be expected to be entirely self-sufficient in a new era right off.
I lay on the torn futon folded out on the hardwood floor. The ceiling spun, the wall spun, when I saw the floor out of the corner of my eye, it spun too. I closed my eyes but it didn't stop. I was still spinning, just in a void now. And I remembered. The reason I am here now. The fourth major woman in my life - though I never learned her name or saw her face.
I left Egypt when my affair became too dangerous. Tahira felt the Pharaoh was catching on. She would be found missing many mornings, so often that all the other ladies expected it. She wanted to stop seeing me. Either that or I had to steal her away from the Pharaoh - yet I faltered, when it came down to it I really did not want to grow old with her. And so one night I disappeared. She must have come to my home that evening and would then know she would never see me again. I left no message.
Thirty or so moons later I heard of a female scourge causing a panic in Egypt. It was rumored she would attempt murder on the Pharaoh himself. Word of her spread like fire through Egypt and Rome. I wondered where she had come from, how she had this power... and a flame inside of me began to burn. I wanted to be known. I always had deep in my heart. I wanted power. The power my brother had had.
Many nights my dreams were littered with faceless women, masked women, all of whom had thick auras of the shadows, sin, and my sought after power. In all these dreams I was helpless. The simple idea of this person drove me mad. Drove me to the river. The river where I had always found my peace. I threw myself upon its banks begging for a calm mind and the strength to gain acknowledgment. I had aged. I wanted to be remembered when I died. Or - never die. My brother, would never die.
Black tangled shadows of tree branches twined together and flowed along the ground, mimicking the water near it. It began crawling over me, seeping in to me. I felt better, I felt incredible, until something began to feel wrong - the emotions turned negative. To anger, to despair... I watched as my own skin began to grow darker, translucent. I was turning into a shadow myself, and as I faded, whatever I was, was pulled in with the other shadows, and down below the ground. Through the dirt and roots, into Hell itself.
End Prologue
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