A story of immortal beings, psychic powers, the Endtimes, and feathers.
As soon as she had grown accustomed to
the lull of automobiles, the surplus of rain and propaganda posters, and lounging
around in a worn down parlor filled with two decades worth of readings, the
door next to her flew open as company barged through.
“Serepta, what are you wearing this
afternoon?” a nagging voice muttered over the tops of food crates.
Scarcely looking above her tattered
newspaper, the girl saw two uniformed men—an officer and chef—crossing the hall
into her kitchen. She looked down at a buttoned up blouse and pencil skirt in a
dull brown color as she folded away her collection of old news articles.
“The ensemble Odin bought me last
Sunday. Why? And what are you two up to?”
“We can’t tell you, or it won’t be a
surprise,” the auburn-haired chef currently called Paulo stated as he dropped
the crates sloppily onto the floor, scratching pieces of varnish away.
“We’re throwing you a welcome home
party,” the other man stated dryly.
“Damn it, Horus!”
Serepta felt little need to halt whatever
antics they were up to, for once stopped, they would only conceive a stranger
idea to subject her to.
“I know you’ve been back for a month
now, but we’ve yet to throw you a proper party to meet the neighbors and other
humans. Besides, we haven’t thrown a decent party in five years! I finally met
a girl worth my time, and I want to entertain her sometime before she dies.”
“You don’t need to throw a party every
time you want to sleep with a girl.”
Paulo turned to Horus, a tall, tan man
with brown hair always combed neatly back. While Horus concerned himself with
unpacking numerous jars and bags, he missed the livid expression his companion
struggled to withhold.
Without hesitation, Serepta continued,
“Has it really been five years since your last ‘conquest’?”
“Five years is NOT a long time!
Especially when neither of you seem to have EVER had any type of love interest
whatsoever!” Even when Paulo was frustrated or angered, Serepta only found his copper
colored curls and dotted freckles humorous if not slightly adorable. There was
a sudden tinge of anger in herself when he assumed she’d never loved anyone.
Crossing her gangly hands about her chest, she slumped back into her sofa and
spoke.
“Five years is a very long time for a
human, especially when they are
trapped in a sanitarium for three times that long…Nonetheless, I am here now,
though it has been a month. Why are we celebrating so late?”
Paulo picked up one of the many
newspapers lying about and smacked at Horus. Horus immediately raised a hand
and crushed the frail parchment.
“I told
you a month was too long!”
“Shut up, Paulo.” He replied sharply as
he showered the kitchen with newspaper confetti.
“Stop messing up my kitchen! And I have
not read that paper yet!” Serepta stood up and began to catch some of the large
floating pieces still with words and dates visible. This paper in particular
was from seven years ago.
“Yeah, well I bought this house for you
and all of those papers. I say you owe me the favor of vacating for a couple of
hours so Paulo can prepare his precious welcome home party or ceremony of
anticipated intercourse.”
“You can’t throw a party here. There’s
not enough room.”
Horus answered by picking up one of the
bundles of newspapers filling the room.
“No! I still need to catch up on
eighteen more years! There were a lot of happenings I was unaware of. And all
of the new technologies!” Serepta stepped in front of a paper column that
almost touched the ceiling. Horus extended his hands to her and his bronze eyes
had begun developing a green tint.
“Here’s all you need to know about the
last twenty years to save you from spending another twenty years trying to
catch up. There was a lot of new science and inventions and ideas that became
obsolete almost as soon as the humans developed them. Some people got angry and
killed each other. One of those people was very important to the humans, so
guess what? Say it!” Horus’s normally pursed lips had spread widely and his
excited eyes were even more iridescently emerald.
“There’s a war going on…” Serepta mumbled monotonously.
“Say it with more cheer! There’s a war goin’ on! And it’s a mighty big one
at that! I can feel it! You should be more excited. It could be the Endtimes!”
“Well it’s not the Endtimes if we
haven’t found the Other yet.”
Horus frowned like a small child denied
a fanciful wish. “We don’t have to
find him in order for the humans to mess things up further. And that reminds
me, go put on that white dress I gave you for the Sisterhood*.”
“What!” Serepta gasped and poked her
boney finger against the fastenings of his army jacket. “You promised that I
didn’t have to help out with your deceptive propaganda plots to send more of
those humans to their premature death!”
“First off, death is never premature. Just hand out those
damn feathers for two hours, read your card then come back here when we’re
ready. It’s up to those men if they join the fight or not,” Horus turned away
to yell at Paulo for dropping a basket of fruit before turning back to her, “I
know you don’t want to be out there alone again. But if you want the humans to
stop throwing you into sanatoriums, try acting like them for once. If anything
happens, I’ll find you. I always find
you.”
In one hand was a collection of crisp,
pure feathers the color of her gloves and skin as the other hand held a
linotype card. She looked at both angrily before stuffing them back in her
purse. Already, she could feel the searing heat of passing gazes. She had made
sure to distance herself from her home, but she made certain to be in sight of
a patisserie and florist called “Wrider’s Devine Gifts”. The family business,
technically. She liked laughing at the window signs reading “Famished? Eat Here!”
or “Floral Arrangements to Die For”. Reminded once more of Horus’s commission,
Serepta again glared at her purse. If it were anyone besides Horus asking her
to humiliate herself, she thought she’d have enough courage to refuse.
Obediently, she searched about for a
poor sap absent of a uniform. She could then hand them a wretchedly lovely
white feather and recite the quip Horus printed up for her. Almost as instantly
as she began looking, her eyes fell upon a young man seated at a café table
with his back turned to her. He wore a casual white suit and seemed fixated on
something in the street. Serepta hesitated briefly but decided to approach him
after considering he was a patron of a rival eatery, and she could at least
cause a loss in their business. As soon as she reached his table she quickly
placed a feather in front of him and struggled to remember what she was to tell.
Recalling her note card, Serepta pulled it from her purse, nearly spilling out
the rest of the contents.
“A gift for you, sir,” she read aloud
rapidly and once again pushed the feather towards him, “If you shall not honor
the gift of all those who fought in the army before you and you will not give
the gift of your service to the Crown for those you love then the only gift you
are worthy of is this feather.” When she recited it all, she remembered to inhale.
“A feather!” The man fumbled his hands
along the table until his fingers glided along the soft edges of the feather.
When he held it in his hands, Serepta watched a large, content smile fold open
from his lips. “What color is it?”
Her vision narrowed from his unkempt
shirt with wrongly paired buttons to a cane clutched in his hand. Following up
to his face, past his poorly kept brown hair and still beaming smile, she
finally noticed his eyes. These, too, were alive with curiosity and excitement,
but were shaded the same pure white as the feather he held.
This time when the front door slammed
open, it was from a swift kick of her boot. The crack of the doorknob against
the wall was loud enough to cause Paulo to stumble off of a ladder and into one
of the newspaper columns. The other two men left standing—Horus and the
recently arrived Odin—were met with a barrage of feathers as Serepta ran by
them.
“I hate
this world and its cruel irony. I hate that I try to listen to you guys and
fit in with a world that doesn’t want me. And most of all,” Serepta stopped in
front of Horus and batted away the remaining feathers floating around her, “I
hate feathers!”
She let loose another frustrated scream
through her tightly clinched teeth before Horus grabbed onto the white sleeve
of her dress.
“Did one of the men get mouthy with
you? Odin can make it look like an accident.”
“I will not have you volunteer me for
murdering someone!” the towering man trimmed in a powder blue uniform and white
apron spoke.
“No…I ran before he even realized what
I was doing,” she quickly exhaled and tried to compose herself. “I accidently
gave a feather to a blind man.”
Horus had now found himself joining
Paulo on the floor in manic laughter. Serepta barely expected a different
reaction, but she still wished for a version of sympathy. She took their
current distraction as a chance to breakaway into her bedroom. Still following
her mockingly was a single, floating feather.
* *
*
Barely illuminated by a lantern
suspended in the window, Horus leaned forward to present a round box to Serepta
as she leaned against the wall of the carriage. She diverted her eyes from the
darkened city streets to the parcel: a hat box with pink and gold stripes.
“I had this made for you as a welcome
back present. I specially requested that the maker use gloves to assemble it
during the entire process. I told her you were sickly.”
“Thanks,” Serepta mumbled as she pulled
the lid off of the box. The gloves she often wore helped her to avoid the
constant bombardment of emotions felt every time her fingertips intruded onto a
surface. Whenever she was younger and forgot to hide her insight, she would
complain about seeing the memories of those who touched an object before her.
The normal response from the superstitious humans around her would range from exorcisms
to imprisonments to death for her apparent witchcraft. Never mind Serepta’s
second sight and ability to reincarnate were gifts from the same God her
persecutors believed in. Only two weeks prior, Horus managed to find her newest
incarnation days before her appointment with a guillotine.
“It’s the latest fashion, I hear.
Rococo, I believe. Something ‘coco’ anyway.”
Serepta pulled out a dainty pink hat
with oversized lace and gold adornments. It matched perfectly with the layers
of silk and ribbons they had crammed her into earlier. Even more amusing, it
matched Horus, whom she’d never imagined to see wear pink in any of her lives.
“Well, it’s certainly garish enough for
the style.”
“You don’t like it?” Horus frowned,
putting a crease in his white make-up. Another oddity was he was wearing
make-up when years of being locked away made Serepta too pale for it. She had
to laugh innocently.
“No, it is very lovely. It has to be
one of the finest pieces of clothing I have seen in my existences. But do you
not think it is a bit much? It seems frightfully exuberant to own such a hat
when before I was starving in the slums of Versailles’s shadow.”
“I suppose it is a bit much. I think I
like it because it is not very often when we are surrounded by such handcrafted
beauty. God will judge those with opulent spending, but I think He will always
admire the beauty His people create with the artistic skills He gives them. And
that goes for any era. Now what is that sour look you have on for?”
Serepta pointed at a large white plume
of feathers sticking out of the back of the hat.
“Feathers. I hate feathers. Now I will
be stuck seeing the memories of the poor birds these were plucked from all
night.”
“You can’t see a bird’s memories, can
you?” Horus asked befuddled.
“No, I’m just kidding. You have not
told me much about this party, though. What is the occasion?”
“Some rich person we don’t know’s
birthday. Paulo and Odin planned the food and flowers for this party for months
and managed to get us invites. I need the break myself and figured you would
make a lovely date.”
“Is that why you rescued me?” Serepta
asked as she finished pinning her new hat onto her over-curled hair, “Out of
interest , what have you been doing since there is no war for you to meddle
in?”
“I’ve been egging on a rebellion
against the Crown. The usual.”
Their carriage began to slow as it
pulled beside a large manor straddled by the city streets. Serepta lost herself
to studying all of the detailed stone masonry glowing from numerous luminaries.
Beyond the crowds and lights, shadows of other buildings and allies crept upon
the home eager to invade the jubilant party. Reminding her too much of the ever
present darkness of the prison, she shuttered and turned back to look about the
cab. Horus had already stepped from the carriage and was offering his hand to
help her out.
After much stumbling over her layered
petty skirts and bustles, Serepta fell from the cab and into Horus’s chest. She
pulled herself off of him and looked into his gleaming hazel eyes. Those eyes
had been a welcome refuge over many lifetimes. Some lives, he never found her
and she was left to live on wandering. But those moments when Horus and the
other two found her had given her the happiest feelings of belonging and a
family. However, she never felt the sense of completion as she and the others
knew a piece of them all was still missing.
“I have another question to add to my
list of inquiries,” Serepta began as she stood herself up straight. “You
haven’t heard any rumors of the Other have you?”
At first Horus looked shocked before
his expression faded into a look of indifference.
“I am starting to doubt we will ever
find him. Perhaps we weren’t meant to. He is the bringer of lies and sickness.
He is deception and anguish. And he is not like us. All four of us may be
united in purpose, but that does not mean we serve the same Master.”
“I do sense a truth in what you say…but
there is a feeling inside of me that you three need him. I cannot explain it.”
Horus nodded and begun to say something
in agreement, but he was distracted by the sight of Odin walking by. He
shuffled after him with his silk suit tails dancing behind him, forgetting her
at the entrance.
“Or at least, I feel that I need him,” Serepta sighed,
disheartened. Looking around her, she saw the flood of colorful fabrics that
cascaded in and out of the doors of the manor. Horus was right to say it was
all beautiful, but the human side of it made her uncomfortable. She had begun
to follow after Horus when the corner of her eyes caught sight of two guards
chasing a blind beggar into an alley. She could see herself as the one being
shunned and victimized by their yells and beatings.
Too compelled to observe the beggar’s
condition, she slipped by the guards and near the street. Horus’s voice called
out her name and she quickly waved to him and pointed at the shadow of the man.
He remained with Odin but watched her cautiously as she pulled a gold bracelet
from her wrist. The facets clinching gaudy jewels snagged against the smooth
fabric of her glove and pulled it loose from her fingers. She had entered into
the darkness of the street and found the blind man fallen over in the dirt and
gravel. His head raised when he heard the shuffle of her dress and her voice
ring forth.
“Here, take this to improve your
fortunes.” Serepta extended the bracelet out to him. Unable to see his form
from the dark shadows and cloak clothing him, she was startled when his grungy,
white hand shot forth and stumbled into hers. She quickly dropped the bracelet
into the street and recoiled her bare hand, fearful of encountering all of his
pained memories.
“Thank, you kind miss…thank you…” a
cold, raspy voice yelled out behind her as she briskly walked away. Horus’s
large grin appeared in approval a distance away before he turned back to face
Odin. Feeling silly for running away so quickly, Serepta slowed her pace and
looked over her shoulder. Instead of the fallen man, there was an empty void in
the street except for the glimmer of her bracelet now abandoned.
Baffled, she quickly looked around
before heading back into the street to retrieve the neglected jewelry. As soon
as she realized the street to be absent of any person, including the beggar,
Serepta felt her waist ensnared by a constricting grasp.
“I finally
found you, Phoenix!”
Serepta awoke from the dark dreams of
tortured faces and screams to realize these were memories. The warm clinch of
iron clasps played constant images in her mind of past souls chained to them
before. Now conscious herself, Serepta relaxed the bombardment of memories in
hopes of understanding her new entrapment. Beneath her, she felt worn down
floorboards of a wagon and the rolling of cumbersome wheels over an irregular
road. Her hands and feet were chained to a wall beside her, and her eyes were
covered by a taught hide. There was some give to the chains that allowed her to
move across the floor to the opposing, splintered wall. Outside, she could hear
the thunderous trots of heavily breathing horses and faint whispers that
sounded like wind through caverns.
The common feeling of imprisonment no
longer frightened her. It always came down to the captor. Focusing back on the
memories of those who were chained before her showed only memories of their
typical human lives. Memories made in this confinement were also blindfolded
and unaware of their situation. The only common factor to the hundreds of
flashbacks was the final sight of a white figure in a draped ebony cloak.
Seeing her fair share of death angels, she knew this figure to be of a separate
entity in the spiritual world.
Raising her hand, she dragged her
fingers across the walls of the coach trying to find a stray memory. Near the
seams of the door, there was a glint of red flames the danced into her mind.
Amongst the fire, she could see the numerous bodies still alive and forever
burning in incomparable agony. The vision was too much for her to handle as
Serepta quickly released her grip.
Hell? Perhaps. She never had the
opportunity to see any location beyond the Purgatory she ascended to whenever
her mortal body died. However, her life was often virtuous—even more so than
the immortals she guided on Earth. While some psychics would use their gifts to
profit from gullible humans, she diligently remained with Horus, Odin, and
Paulo. Her dreams of foresight and ability to find memories only were used to
help the men carry on until their true callings in the Endtimes approached.
Nearly out of places to search, Serepta
remembered the hands that had wrapped around her before she had blacked-out.
Quickly, she raised her hands to the bodice of her dress and only saw darkness.
At the moment she almost dismissed these memories on another blindfolded
person, she heard a voice call out in her mind.
Here, take this to improve your fortunes.
It was her voice. She had a feeling the
beggar from before had assisted in her capture, but Serepta didn’t expect that
he was actually blind. She listened to his memories longer when the black image
started to dissipate into a blue, gray haze. It was the atmosphere of the
Purgatory. It was like a shadowed glass reflection of the human world, silent,
pure, and still. Here, all spirits, angels, and demons could be seen in a
constant veil of cerulean fog. Apparently, it was also the only realm her
captor could see in.
His eyes looked upon a caravan of black
shades walking along the world with a cart lead by black hellpet horses. The
skin of the horses was like hardening lava that would crack when moving to
reveal the illuminated molten rock beneath the surface. Serepta had seen these types of travelers
before. They were Satin’s Soul Collectors that travelled about the Purgatory to
enter the human world. There, the collectors would settle the debt of a
promised soul a human had surrendered. The caravan her captor saw consisted of
eight demons riding or walking about the wagon. They all listened to the
commands he gave and actually feared his approach. When he did engage in
conversation with them, they called him Bene or the White One.
His recent memories only consisted of
his casual encounters with the demon caravan or entering the human world blind
to claim a soul. The more Serepta watched his memories, the more angered she
became with her wrongful imprisonment. She had never entered any deal with
Satin and failed to find any reason to justify the need of her capture.
Frustrated, she threw her chains angrily against the walls of the coach.
“Sounds like someone’s up,” a shrieking
voice echoed outside.
“Start taking bets on what she’ll gripe
about now that she’s awake. I say she’ll ask for mercy and forgiveness,” a
different voice with the same shrillness replied.
“She’ll just say it’s all a mistake.”
Facing where she thought she heard the
voices, Serepta angrily spewed, “It is a mistake!”
“You owe me.”
“We didn’t even set an amount yet!”
“I never sold my soul! I’m not even
dead yet! See, I’m still mortal,” Serepta whipped one of the chains into her
shin just to verify and ended up hurting herself more than expected. But as she
intended, she drew some blood that the demons immediately smelled.
“You better save that blood, girl. Bene
wants a large amount of it.”
“Don’t talk to her about Bene!” the
first voice snarled. “We don’t need your soul; we just need that body,
Phoenix.”
The two voices began to cackle loudly,
piercing Serepta’s ears.
“I’m not just any Phoenix!” she
interrupted their crazed laughter, “I’m the psychic guide to the Horsemen!”
All sounds suddenly stopped, even the
steps of the pulling horses.
“The War, Famine, and Death of God’s
wrath will be upon you for taking me! And they will show you no mercy! I can
sense it now that they are already searching for me!”
Rubbing the pain from his opening eyes,
Horus cringed at the sound of someone stumbling around the room. Angered that
someone had entered his bedchambers, he sat up suddenly only to discover he was
under the kitchen table. After nailing his already pounding head into the
underside of the table, he fell back down onto the brick floor. Looking out
from underneath the tablecloth, he saw two pairs of bare feet dancing about the
oven. He lifted up the corner of the cloth and saw his partially clothed
laundress dangled around an even less dressed Paulo.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Belatu!” the maid
replied way too cheerily.
“Damn it, why do I have to wake up to
you, Paulo? And how the hell did I wind-up here?”
“I was a little too busy last night to
keep an eye on you, if you know what I mean,” Paulo mumbled jokingly as he
pointed his thumb to the laundress.
“Why do I get the feeling that even
during the Rapture, you’ll find yourself ‘too busy’.” Horus’s eyes expanded
suddenly as he blurted out, “Where’s Serepta!”
“Stop asking me that! You asked me that
ten times last night. ‘Where’s Serepta, where’s Serepta?’ First, I don’t know.
Second, she’s a grown woman in both the spiritual and human sense. It’s not
like she’s the wide-eyed, newly created Phoenix we found some millennia ago.
She’s her own spirit so if she wants to go wandering off to explore, drink, or
Horus forbid, use her body while it’s still as voluptuous as it is, let her!”
“What’s a Phoenix?” The laundress asked
curiously.
“An exotic dog from the Orient,” Paulo
growled. Satisfied with the answer, the maid returned to her chores.
“You’re right, you’re right, you’re
right,” Horus moaned while clutching the sides of his head, “I need to let her
be her own person. Now where’s Odin?”
“He’s in the dining room waiting for
lunch. Feel free to go join him while we cook.”
“How long until lunch?”
“Probably an hour,” the laundress
giggled and placed Paulo’s arm around her.
“Please darling, I only need twenty
minutes.”
“Leaving.” Horus darted out from under
the table so rapidly Paulo couldn’t catch him.
“I’m a chef, damn it! I can cook quickly!” Paulo yelled down the hall
after the fleeing man. “Why does everyone assume I’m talking about sex?”
“I thought you were talking about sex,
too,” the laundress sighed disappointedly.
After wandering around the halls of his
manor, Horus found better suited clothes than the dirt stained, pink and gold
atrocity he wore from the evening before, and then found Odin reading at the
dining room table. The man was always taller than most of the crowds and
dressed sharply through the eras. His face was round with a constantly furrowed
brow but had soft blue eyes and features. Seeing Horus enter the room, Odin
toyed with the idea of rising for him, but had lost all feelings of propriety
for him after the night’s drinking.
“Goodness, I barely expected to see you
standing today.”
“That’s why I tell you two to watch
what I drink. As soon as I start drinking, I won’t stop. What all did I do last
night?”
Odin flipped his book open and closed a
couple times before deciding to shut it completely and look to Horus.
“You actually behaved well at the party
while you were mingling with the upper crust and enticed them to support your
anti-political agenda. Then when you stole away to party with the servants, I
lost track of what you and Paulo were up to.”
“So you were on the main floor the
whole evening? Did the whelp make an appearance at all or did she go into
hiding?”
“Serepta wasn’t with you? I didn’t see
her since she arrived with you.”
Slightly nervous, Horus dug his nails
into the lace cloths covering the table.
“I know Paulo says she’s probably out
enjoying herself, but Serepta’s never been one for parties or people. I could
have sworn I saw her during the night, but I only can honestly recall seeing
her give her bracelet to that blind fellow.”
Odin suddenly stood up straight, “What
blind fellow?”
“It was just some beggar man intruding
on the party. Serepta saw him and pitied him. I didn’t think much of it because
she’s always helping others. Why?”
“Whenever I’m in the company of Death
Angels, I’ve had the unpleasant experience of seeing humans who had promised
their souls to Satin. When Satin wishes to collect on that bargain, he sends
his demon Soul Collectors to settle the debt. As a curse to prevent these
especially evil sorts from tampering too much with humans, Soul Collectors are
blind in human form.”
“So you just go around fearing blind
people?” Horus laughed uneasily and got a piercing look from across the table.
“Sorry, but Serepta built up a tolerance to demons long ago, and they now fear
her. If the blind man from the night before was a Soul Collector, he wouldn’t
linger around her.”
“Perhaps. But not all Soul Collectors
are simple demons. They are some of the craftiest henchmen known in the Spirit
Realm. They even have persuaded angels to join their ranks. Speaking of the
Fallen, an Ancient also patrols these parts. Rumors say he is Satin’s right
hand, the Anti-Christ. Bene. I’ve seen him on many occasions, always marked by
his pure white clothes in both Human and Spirit Realms.”
The color in Horus’s skin drained away
and he quickly rose from the table.
“That man last night, under his cloak,
was wearing only white.”
Leaning against the cart’s door,
Serepta could only hear faint whispers as the demon caravan had stopped. Before
any hopes of being set free, an ominous stomp of hooves approached from the
distance.
“Why are we stopped!” An unexpectedly
melodious voice sang out. The abrupt difference between the demons’ shrieks and
this oncoming tone worried Serepta enough to recoil away from the wall.
“Sir, we were aware your captive was a
Phoenix, but you failed to mention she was affiliated with the Horsemen.”
“She’s what!” There was a sudden impact
on the door of the wagon, “Phoenix, what is your name and who do you serve?”
Serepta forced the words from her,
trying to hide her increasing terror. “I am Serepta. I serve God, Horus, and
Odin in that order…I stopped serving Paulo a couple centuries ago because his
requests were ridiculous.”
A couple demon snickers ruptured before
their commander spoke over them. “You could be lying to save yourself. What are
their professions?”
“Odin has always been a florist, Horus
is—”
“He meant their sacred professions,
girl!” one of the demons interrupted.
“No, I meant their worldly professions.
If she knows that little hobby of Odin’s then she’s with them. I don’t care
though who she serves. We need her taken to Rome quickly, especially now that
those horsemen will be looking for her.”
“Are you not afraid of what the
Horsemen will do to us if they catch us?” a demon asked nervously. Serepta
remembered how cowardly demons often were, having little power towards those
besides human beings.
“Maybe you should fear more what I will do to you if you do not move,”
the commander replied quite nonchalantly. Before he could return to his
scouting as the caravan began to move, Serepta hollered after him.
“Are you Bene, the Soul Collector?”
“How do you know that?” the voice
responded coldly and very close to the door.
“I can see your memories from when you
grabbed me. Why did you take me captive? I have no business with your kind.”
“You…can see my memories. How far
back?”
“To your creation if I focus enough.”
The smooth voice suddenly growled,
“Great. The Phoenix is also a memory sponge. One of you find clothes no one’s
worn and one of you girls need to take care of the old clothes.”
“Thank you for the female consideration.
You’re such a gentleman. I must tell Horus to kill you quickly,” Serepta
replied very sarcastically. The shuffle of hooves outside came close and a cold
chill fell upon her.
“I will tolerate your bluntness and I
will listen to your pleas, but it will do nothing to quicken or spare your
fate. And Serepta, you may be quick to think you have no business with my kind, but you may eventually
understand that those you serve are not too different from my kind.”
Sleep became the only escape from the
Hell-bound memories of the chains and frigid cart floor Serepta was entrapped
to. Though the foresight she gained in her dreams were never of herself or
anything especially positive, they gave her hope that the world will still
flourish even if she did not. For two days, she was kept by darkness with
little word of why she was captured. She wasn’t even certain if Bene kept her
to torment the Horsemen or for her agony alone.
Slightly emerging from a restless
sleep, her hand reached against a cold, rough surface she was unfamiliar with.
Her groggy state told her to ignore the encounter until a stray memory entered
her thoughts. She saw the downward gaze of a tall figure who watched the
shadowy floor of an enclosed room. His eyes looked to his own feet, feet that
were ivory white hooves, and saw a small hand stretch out of the darkness to
touch him. Realizing she was seeing herself, Serepta jolted awake and retreated
to the wall.
“Who’s there!”
“I’ve never understood why humans sleep
so much,” it was Bene’s tranquil voice whispering in front of her. “Even when I
am human, I find sleep comes infrequently to me. But since you are awake, I had
a question about the headpiece you were wearing.”
Serepta’s foot was hit by a flying hat
Bene tossed to her. She felt along the floor for it until clutching it in her
hands. It was the hat Horus gave her.
“What are those white pieces draping
down from it?”
Gliding her fingers along the brim, she
realized he spoke of the feathers. When she held them, she saw a flood of
flashbacks of when Bene had intensely studied the feathers for the past two
days.
“They’re just feathers,” a chuckle
slipped from her.
“JUST feathers? I’ve lived since before
the creation of mankind, and I have never seen an angel drop a feather. Did you
know one personally? Or was it a gift?”
Serepta felt her mind empty as she was
startled by his curiosity.
“No…they’re just bird feathers.”
She heard a nervous sigh come from in
front of her. “Birds, of course. I had forgotten about birds. I mean, I knew
they existed, but I forgot they had feathers, too.”
“How can you not know that?” Serepta
blurted suddenly. She cringed and held her hand to her mouth when she realized
her mistake. Bene once again remained indifferent to her retorts.
“When you live a lifetime in darkness,
as I have, would you know a bird by its feathers or by the song it sings?”
As Serepta agreed, she realized she
only knew her captor by his voice and not his image. When she briefly noticed
him as a human, she did not see his face enough to recall. And from her brief
encounter with Bene’s hoof, her imagination was left to fill in the details of
how this demon appeared.
“Those feathers seem much less
miraculous now that I know the truth. Give me the hat back before you learn too
much.”
Instead of waiting for her to extend it
to him, Bene stole the hat quickly from her anyway.
“If they were angel feathers, what
would it matter to you? Do they not terrify you?”
“No. I lived amongst them for a while
before the Great Spiritual War. They’re like old acquaintances you never see
because you’ll have nothing to talk about and it would be awkward.”
Serepta laughed loudly this time
without trying to hide it amongst fear or guilt.
“I’ll never understand why you’re so
brave and boisterous to laugh at me so often. And if you say that cliché ‘God
gives me courage’, I will leave now out of nausea.”
Serepta almost said it to get him to
leave, but the conversation had with it the memories of ridiculous debates with
Horus and the others. It made her forget the chains that blistered her skin or
those holding her in these confines.
“Well, He does give me everything,
including courage and a loud mouth. But when I am humored, I laugh. When I am
hurt, my heart and spirit will break. When I am angered, the Horsemen know to
go hide. I have been persecuted for my abilities, my emotions, and even the way
I look. So if I want to enjoy the brief lives I have, I will do so honest to
myself. Those persecutors will meet their end soon enough. I have to live with
myself for eternity.”
“Those are some interesting words,”
Bene replied after a considerable pause. “I take it you have been through a lot
of imprisonment then to not be afraid of your current situation?”
“Try being reincarnated during the
Spanish Inquisition. The only way I stay positive is the hope for the current
lifetime, Horus and them might find me again.”
“Which reminds me,” Bene’s soft tone
switched to one with a tinge of an upbeat mood, “We are making fast time into
Rome. I felt out of sincere obligation to inform you I will be sacrificing you
on one of the ancient blood alters in the name of Satin to be his slave when
you die. It’s to settle a debt I have with him. I hope you don’t mind.”
“WHAT!” Serepta ferociously screamed at
him. “You can’t do that! You can’t force me to serve him! I’ve never have nor
will I ever choose to serve him!” Serepta realized Bene had slinked away during
her tirade after she flailed her hands angrily at the darkness. Missing her
target, she hit the opposite wall clumsily with her fist. In frustrated pain, Serepta
desperately searched the floor where he stood for any remnant of a memory. His
steps however proved too faint as she surrendered her search. The moment she
crawled back down onto the floor, the tips of her finger touched a fallen
feather.
Cautiously opening the door to his
brick oven, Paulo peered anxiously into the miniature inferno at a soufflé nearly
completed baking. Content his confection was safe, he gently shut the door. His
green eyes went to a wind up clock on the wall then back to the door his hand
hadn’t even left yet. He again carefully opened the door, investigated the
soufflé, and then closed the door. No sooner had the oven door closed did a
loud disturbance echo around the kitchen. Paulo braced himself angrily against
the oven and watched as a dark form assimilated across his prep table.
“Horus! I told you to stop warping in
my kitchen! Go do it in the lobby like a normal spirit!”
The form gained more distinguishable
features beginning with his round face and closed eyes. His eyes suddenly
flashed open revealing a stabbing green glow that began to fade to their common
copper color.
“I found where they are heading!” he
screamed excitedly. He quickly ran out of the kitchen and into the lobby of the
store. Seeing it empty after the day’s customers, he ran back into the kitchen
and began for the stairs.
“He’s in the greenhouse. Just stop
running,” Paulo pleaded after investigating inside the oven again. As soon as
he closed the door, Odin ran in from the other door, his streaming blonde hair
covered in leaves and twigs.
“Where is she?”
“Stop running!” Paulo screamed.
“I will tell you more later, but they are
headed to Rome to the sacred alter. Prepare the horses; I’ll fetch our weapons.”
As Odin ran past him anyway, Paulo
began to pull his red curls angrily. Frustrated, he tore open the door and
grabbed the pan with his bare hands.
“It’ll be alright soon,” he cooed to
the soufflé as he gently cradled it in his arms. The metal pan began to singe
his clothes, but he never diverted his attention from his creation.
“Will you be ready to ride in ten
minutes?”
“Can you give me twenty-five?” Paulo
asked hesitantly.
“Get one of your damn assistants to
finish making it. We hire them for that reason…not to sleep with when you get
bored.”
“Fine. Let me go place her in the
outside oven so you two won’t kill her.”
Seeing how absolutely slow Paulo dragged away, Horus decided to leave for the lobby.
The store had already closed for the
day and had the blinds drawn and lamps extinguished. Horus felt along the glass
displays until he was in the center of the room behind the reception desk.
Unlatching the back of the shelf, he ducked down to peer into the draped
display. From the front window, passerbys could see the colorful creations
Paulo had prepared for the day while beneath the velvet covers was a stash of
sacred items. Recoiling his hand, Horus produced a crossbow and staff.
Elsewhere around the room, he recovered four swords and a quiver.
The weapons placed on a glass tabletop
were crafted of fine metals with celestial details in their hilts. Horus
admired how his bronze sword and bow had a soft jade illumination seeping from
the sacred etchings scrolled across their surface. All of the weapons could
sense when their master was near and would radiate with the anticipation of
blood. Odin’s silver staff and sword had a pale blue hue while Paulo’s gold
knives seeped with black shadows. Horus wrapped the weapons up in a bag and
began to leave the room. As his eyes did one final search about the room, they
saw a white glow coming from the base of a display.
“Odin! How long has the White Saber
been glowing?” Horus hollered through the stables. Running through the path
towards him was a red bronze stallion happily whinnying from his clever escape.
Jumping out of the way, Horus watched as the giant creature raced past him.
Chasing angrily after the animal, Odin stumbled out of one of the stalls
holding a glistening copper saddle.
“I hate that wild beast. He knows every
possible way to deceive me!”
“Really? I love his cunning nature,”
Horus turned to where he heard Paulo give a livid scream, “He seems to do
everything I wish he would do.”
Out near the brick oven, Paulo fell to
his knees glumly to mourn the loss of his beloved soufflé, dropped during the
horses charge. The finished treat had now scattered along the grass and Horus’s
horse was inching closer to try to eat the remains.
“You’re right. That animal is remarkable,”
Odin smiled deviously. “What were you saying about the White Saber?”
“It’s glowing. It’s a faint glow, but
that still means the Other was near recently.”
“I sensed that, too. Look at Blanc,”
Odin gestured to a strikingly white horse prancing anxiously about his stall.
“He’s been like this for the past week. He is anxious to meet his master.”
“Interesting…but I cannot investigate
that now. I encountered a couple angels in the Purgatory that told me they saw
a demon caravan lead by a white satyr on the road towards Rome.”
“Why would Bene be going to Rome? If he
intended to bring Serepta to Hell, there are many other portals in close
proximity.”
“There is a holy alter their left over
from the times before Christ. I think he intends to kill her there. For what
gain, I do not know.”
“Horus, that leads me to ask a question
you may not wish to hear. Is it worth us to risk our lives to go save her, when
death will save her in the end? Bene is an Ancient long corrupted by Satin’s
grasp. He will show no mercy to us.”
“Nor will he show mercy to her!” Horus
replied fiercely. He was not angered by Odin, because he knew the truth to his
words. His furry was a boiling hatred towards Bene and the harm he had caused.
“Even if she will be alright in the end with a new life, I will never be able
to face her again. How can I tell her I abandoned her? She is my family as much
so as you and Paulo. I will not let any
harm befall her as long as I have the strength to rise against it.”
“That’s the answer I wanted to hear!”
Odin grinned maniacally. “Go fetch Rouge and Paulo. We ride tonight!”
The rolling motion of the cart Serepta
had grown immune to came to a halt, jerking her awake. Picking herself up from
the floor, the sound of the door opening could be heard beside her. The cold
sting of a demon’s grasp pulled her aside as others approached her. The rustle
of chains vibrated along the floor before dropping at her sides. An elated
breath escaped her chapped lips as she raised her blistered wrists. The moment
of relief quickly escaped as the demons picked her up from the floor and walked
her out of the cart.
Her bare feet drug along the frigid,
gravel ground through a crowd of shrill voices.
“Where am I going?” Serepta asked
trying to ignore the pain of each step.
“We’ve made it to Rome. Where do you think you’re going?” a demon replied
snidely.
“Where’s Bene? I demand to speak to him
now!” she growled suddenly. Despite the ferocity she faked, the demons remained
indifferent to her attitude. “Take me to Bene!”
“No. He demanded we take you and not
question.”
“Bene! I know you’re out there! Answer
me!” The dull roars of demon speak and whinnying horses echoed over her cries.
She still could sense Bene was near, but refusing to address her. After
inhaling in a final, bitter breath, Serepta screamed angrily, “Benevolence!”
The demons finally ceased their banter
and she could feel their hollow gaze upon her. The cold air of the Realm
whispered as it blew through the road and her matted orange hair—the only sound
made. A clomp of hooves approached from close by.
“Who used that name around her!” Bene hissed lividly. As his steps neared, she
heard the sounds of demons being pushed harshly aside. A warm grasp ensnared
her chin and yanked Serepta forward. “We don’t use that name anymore under
strict penalties of punishment. Which fool here told you that name?”
“You did,” she replied happily and
presented him with a feather. The light touch of the plume was lifted from her
hand to be examined by a startled Bene. Through the hand still clinched around
her jaw, she could see how briefly he looked at his once precious feather.
Instead, he was fixated on her face. As the demons assumed he was in a
meditative thought, only she knew how engrossed he had become with every detail
of her. His vision flitted from the dirt and tear stains on her cheeks, to her
scabbed lips, and finally settling on her blindfolded eyes.
“Bene?” she whispered awkwardly.
“Right!” he quickly released her and
took a step back. “I never realized how filthy you’ve gotten. If I recall
correctly, there was a stream over that hill.”
“Do you wish me to take her there,
Bene?” a female demon spoke.
“No, I can do it,” Bene wrapped his
hands around Serepta and tossed her effortlessly onto his shoulder. The impact
of his metal paladin knocked the wind completely from Serepta’s lungs before
she could curse angrily at him. “I’ll just go toss her in a couple times until
she stops reeking…and don’t think about following me. Guard the caravan.”
After a rough gallop over a boulder
covered hill, Serepta felt herself picked up and dropped into a puddle.
“Damn you, again, Bene! What was that for!”
“I changed my mind. I’m letting you
go.”
“Great!” Serepta rolled onto her
stomach, lifted herself up, and made a sudden dart in the other direction.
Despite still being blindfolded, her attempt to escape went unhindered until
she stumbled off of the side of a rock and rolled down into a tree trunk.
“I was jesting, you obnoxious little
Phoenix!” Bene called down after her. As she heard his hooves rustle through
the dying grass and weeds, she tried to hide the pain she had afflicted on
herself with a proud grin.
“Can we at least remove the blindfold?”
“No.”
“I’m pretty sure you have revealed to
me enough information about your plans to kill me through your own words or
your memories, so wearing this for secrecy is now useless.”
Bene picked her up from where she had
fallen and calmly carried her away. Through his eyes, she could see a small
river that flowed beneath an arched bridge. In the Human Realm, it might have
been a serene place, but the shadowed vale of the Purgatory made it look like a
desolate dream one can never fully recall. As they passed the murky waters,
Bene looked over the edge and saw the pale outline of his reflection and
Serepta’s form.
“I didn’t blindfold you for your
benefit. I did it for mine.” Bene rested Serepta down gently at the side of the
stream, ending her ability to see. “Someday when this ordeal has passed, when
you have reincarnated, and I have begun my new life, I do not wish for you to
encounter me again only to remember me for my past. For what I did to you. I
want you to see me as what I have become. I brought you here to tell you this
away from the demons. How far did you see back into my memories?”
“I am not certain on time because of
your blindness in the human world. Perhaps a thousand years ago?”
“Then you did not know who I was before
I was Satin’s slave?” Serepta heard the sound of his armor and rustling clothes
settle down near her. Bene breathed in and out slowly as he contemplated his
next words. “I was not always evil…nor can I say I was good. I was created to
bring about a great change in the world that would cause a great amount of pain
and suffering. I did not question this purpose because I believed it was why
God made me. But over time, Satin deceived me into believing that God would have
never created me to bring something so cruel to the world He loved. He told me
that I was meant to be evil, and there was no redemption for me. When I finally
accepted that this was true, I became Satin’s servant. I excelled quite well
with my position of collecting other’s sold souls.
“But I cannot help but think that even
if my purpose in life is to bring chaos to the world, maybe there was more to
my life. I know that Satin causes a large amount of evil in the world, and I
know God has the power to stop it. But He doesn’t. Maybe it is because it is
His wrath to punish the evil ones in the world. Maybe it is the unfortunate
consequence of living in a sin filled world. But sometimes I believe God allows
evils to persist so a greater good can come. So perhaps God created me to cause
some evil so a greater good could also come from me.”
When Bene did not respond for some
time, leaving the only answer to be the blustering winds around them, Serepta
began to speak.
“You wish to return to serving God now
instead of Satin?”
“I do. I truly do. But I have already
made my pact with Satin. There is only one path of redemption for me: a
replacement.”
“A sacrifice.”
“Blood must be spilt and a life given
up. The new soul will take your place of slavery and allow you to be free.
That’s actually a rather clever exit procedure. Anyone who wants to be good needs to kill someone,” Bene
laughed dryly.
“Bene, you do realize that even if you
kill me, I won’t go take your place in Hell. I’m not allowed to enter any
kingdom until the Rapture.”
“Those damn loopholes. It’s like I
planned it all along,” he sighed rested his head on top of her shoulder. A type
of headdress or helmet he wore brushed up against her hair, and Serepta felt
the soft gusts of his breath at her neck. She could not see anything as she
realized Bene’s eyes were now restfully closed. “Can we stay here a while?” he
asked tiredly. “It’s peaceful here.”
Looking at the shadows of the
Purgatory, a demon mounted atop a hellhorse followed the shadowy horizons of Rome’s
silhouette. The entirety of the land was cast in a dim, blue hue except for a
glint of black grazing over the hills. His horse breathed in the misty air and
began to prance after inhaling a foreign scent. The demon bent forward to pat
the stone skin of the beast with his smoke-like fingers then raised his head
when he heard a quick wisp of wind in the distance. His hollow eyes fell upon a
dark figure racing towards him. Before he could stretch his fingers to clasp
his sword, his face met the sting of a golden blade.
The horse and rider stopped when the
saw pieces of the demon fall from his animal. The black remains of the demon
fell to the grass where they seeped into ground. The rider clad in dark armor
swiftly leapt from his charcoal steed before landing his clawed feet into the
earth where the demon fell. His tufted gold fur swayed about his toned limbs as
he patrolled along the hilltop. Still clutched in his pawed hands were two
knives radiating with a haunting black glow and dripping with silver blood. His
fanged jaw flew open as he trumpeted a frightening roar.
The ground in front of the creature
trembled and a smoky form began to rise. The scouting demon reassembled, poised
for an anticipated attack. The rider removed his metal helmet, revealing a half
human face with black eyes and woolen, round ears like a bear. When his mouth
remained closed, the demon could see three fangs that would still protrude from
his lips.
“Take me to your commander, Benevolence,
and I will show you mercy.”
The demon angrily looked at the dual
cuts still seeping silver blood from his torso then back at the rider. “There
is no mercy you can offer me unless it is Bene’s death.”
The rider chuckled lightly before
pointing a sword at the demon. “Let’s then compromise with your death.”
From his outstretched blade, a
spiraling black force expelled forth and into the demon’s skin. Like a
parasite, it quickly drained the strength and flesh from his body. The
remaining bones fell into the ground in a smoldering pile as the rider lowered
his weapon. Almost happily, he skipped over top of the bones to see the other
side of the hill.
Beneath him he saw a fiery red horse
racing along the road towards a cluster of demons and wagons. Its rider was
clad in bronze armor and excitedly opening fire on the group with a crossbow.
His hands, too, were covered in fur and were the paws of an animal. He,
however, was more catlike and had two giant wings on his back. Following him on
a light-colored horse was another feline creature with jaguar spots and four
flowing wings. When the red rider would strike a demon, the silver armored
creature would raise a staff omitting a blue flash. The light brought forth
would dissolve rapidly any demon touched by its glow.
When the final remaining demon met the
sting of his bronze blade, the red rider kicked the corpse off of his sword
with his lion feet. Silver blood stuck between his paws and he quickly wiped it
against the stones in the road.
“Odin, check those carts for her.
Paulo, remain on guard. That Benevolence cannot be far from his demons.” When
Horus walked, the tips of his wings dragged against the ground, and in every step,
his claws would wrap around the road’s gravel. He watched as Odin pranced from
the three carts, peering into the chained windows of the black wagons.
Frustrated, he parried around to face Horus, his pawed arms crossed.
“She’s not here. Do you think he has
already brought her to the alter?”
“Maybe we attacked the wrong caravan,”
Paulo shouted from the back end of the pack.
“Watch, you pathetic imbecile, and do
not omit another sound!” Horus screamed. “Where is the alter?”
“I’d ask the one you just shut up. It’s
near one of his old pagan temples,” Odin chuckled as he gestured to Paulo.
Horus felt the blood surging through him come to a higher boil as he looked
back behind him and saw Paulo grinning assertively.
“Follow
the river to the
Apollinar temple. That’s one of my many temples
in Europe they built me. And how many did they build you, oh, great war god?”
Paulo replied as his horse glided across the terrain to the rapidly approaching
city.
“If
I recall right,” Horus hollered over the rush of the thunderous trots, “You had
one extra before I decided to talk a
volcano spirit into laying waste into it. I told him it was blasphemous that so
many people worshiped you as a god and he agreed to flatten the place*.” [referring to Apollo's Temple at Pompeii]
“You
did that!” Paulo screamed aghast, “My wife’s family lived there! She was
inconsolable for months!”
“Yet
I spared you from a mother-in-law. You should thank me."
“They
really let the place go,” he sighed disappointedly.
“So
that’s the great alter…that rock,” Horus growled frustrated as he looked down
at a diminutive slab at the edge of the river.
“Well,
how about you mention the lack of design intrigue to the holy beings who
constructed it 6000 years ago. I’m sure aesthetic style was on the forefront of
their minds when they built it.” Odin spoke as Horus and he looked down at the
circular disk with two huge gashes that intersected the stone. Faintly, there
were runes carved into the surface often mistaken for common erosion. Extending
one of his claws to the pale pieces, Odin traced the outline of the crossed
tears. As he bent over, Horus’s ears flattened at an approaching whistle.
Instinctively,
he dived after Paulo and threw him to the ground. Rolling into the side of a
building, Horus pinned Paulo low to the ground and watched a white arrow lodge
into a nearby post.
“I
told you to watch the road,” Horus whispered as he watched the edge of the
horizon. The startled Paulo lifted his head from the grass to follow his gaze.
At the edge of the road, a bright figure illuminated amongst the smothering haze.
In his poised hands was an aimed bow that shimmered from a white glow escaping
from the ancient engravings etched into it.
“Bene!
I had wondered when we may encounter you!” Horus shouted as he leapt back onto
his feet in a sudden run. When each pounding stride proved too slow for his
taste, his wings began to catch the wind to carry him nearer. His emerald eyes
focused only on the returned stare as he reached for the sword held to his
side. When he closed in upon Bene, he became blindsided by an attack from the
alley he passed. Horus toppled over to the bank as a burst of energy exploded
into his wings.
“Leave
him alone!” a shrill cry came from above him. Horus looked up from the pain
surrounding him to see a small, dark figure lurch out from between the
buildings. Dancing between her fingers were pulses of blue light almost lost in
the surrounding atmosphere. Horus’s eyes widened as he recognized the attack to
be a retaliation of Phoenixes. When he made the connection, he saw Serepta
stumble across the road and was caught in Bene’s outstretched hands.
“Serepta!
You’re alive!”
“Horus?”
she asked nervously before an elated smile spread across her face, “Horus!”
His
excitement quickly subsided as he looked to her and Bene’s pale arms bracing
her in front of him. Why was she still alive? Why was she defending Bene?
“Benevolence!”
Horus bellowed as he returned to his feet. “You have three seconds to release
her and explain yourself before I embed this sword into your neck!” He watched
as Bene’s face remained unperturbed as the edge of Horus’s bronze blade cut
into the ground it dragged across.
“Horus,
wait!” Odin shouted as he ran over to them. In his hand was a retrieved arrow
still glowing with a white sheen. “Look at what he’s holding! The bow!”
Behind
Serepta, Bene held a white bow that glowed like Horus’s sword and Odin’s staff.
Horus halted his approach and rested his sword. He watched as Paulo, too,
caught up, holding his knives. There was a ring of illumination brought by the
Horsemen’s gleaming weapons and piercing eyes. The same light was cast out from
Bene.
“You
are…one of us? You are the white rider,” choked Horus dryly.
Bene’s
grip around Serepta was released as he pulled his hands tensely to his side. As
his eyes cautiously watched the hesitation of the others, Horus swiped his
claws around the crudely constructed bodice of Serepta’s dress. When his ears
filled with the sound of strained fabric, Bene immediately looked to her, timid
to take her from Horus’s grab.
“You’re
who!” Serepta spouted as she was
pulled to the other horsemen. Unaware of the numerous poised weapons around
her, she flailed her hands into the air trying to find Bene. “You’re the Other!
You didn’t think to mention that at all!”
“I
gave you plenty of hints! It’s not my fault you’re too dense to catch on,” Bene
huffed. As the two bantered, the Horsemen watched on awkwardly.
“You
keep throwing all of these twists and turns in the ridiculous persona that is
Bene. As soon as I believe something, you find some odd way to toss it back to
me!”
“Serepta,
you’re yelling at a wall…” Paulo mumbled as she continued ranting to the side
of a shack.
“Unbind
me so I can yell at him properly! And how did a Horseman get in a deal with
Satin? Doesn’t that defy some physically impossible rule to being a Horseman?”
As she yelled still in the same direction, Horus reached over and began to
untie her blindfold.
“Maybe
you should have felt up that feather longer and learned something significant
about me.”
The
first light that entered her long closed eyes was a gray glow from the stone
wall she still faced. Serepta blinked painfully as the details of the hovel
came into focus. Her vision lowered to the blue figments of grass that blew
against her bare feet. She realized the only clothes she wore were frail rags
that draped from her skeletal frame to the ground though she had long grown
familiar with the numbing cold. Her head hovered to peer at the figures beside
her. Their glowing glares were no longer upon her as they watched the white
creature across from them.
“How
could you possess the cruelties to sacrifice an innocent!” Odin yelled. His
feline eyes narrowed as he crouched down into an attack. Serepta felt a sudden
gust of his wings as they expanded across the road. Shielding her face, she
turned to the river.
Before
her were terrified garnet eyes fixated on her. His face was sculpted of the
palest marble with grey lips downturned in a sullen frown. Colorless hair fell
beside his glowing eyes and onto his glistening white armor, weaving between a
spindled headdress. Contrast only came from his black cloak stretching to the
earth. Through the blue mist, she could see two large hooves and pale silver
tufts of fur. Startled, she quickly looked up to his face and realized his
adorned crown was actually ten horns rising from his head.
“Serepta…”
he whispered pitifully.
“Answer
us, Benevolence! Why have you committed such heresy!” Odin cried.
Bene’s
only answer was the lowering of his bow and the extending of his wrist. Clad
around his wrists were iron shackles that left gaping tears and blisters on his
hands.
“If
I had the choice anymore, I would choose a life of grace. But I surrendered
that life long ago when I was deceived into slavery.”
“He
is the anti-Christ,” Horus hissed bitterly.
“Am
I? Or am I sickness? Am I deceit? Am I the blindness humans will believe when the
end comes? I do not even know the answer, but I know I am Benevolence. I was ordained
by God to bring the Endtimes to this world. I may be the bringer of the
Rapture’s darkness, but I am also the bringer of the end to a world of sin.”
When Bene uttered this, he suddenly smiled, “And even if so much destruction
comes from me, I will take comfort in knowing I am fulfilling God’s will for
me.”
“You
do not serve Him! You are of Hell and you seek to deceive us! You cannot hide
from your actions by false righteousness,” Horus shouted. His claws clinched as
he raised his sword. When he began to approach the satyr, he felt the gentle
cling of fingers on his arm.
“Horus,
you do not understand! He was deceived by Satin and, yes, he did serve him, but
he seeks redemption now!”
Horus
looked at her angrily at first, but his scowling features suddenly softened as
he heard the sympathy in Serepta’s voice. “Serepta…you cannot believe this.
There is no redemption for us. Our purposes were forged for us long ago and
cannot be escaped. Benevolence may have once been on our side, but he is
fallen.”
“He
will redeem himself through a sacrifice, though.”
Paulo
looked to her and spoke, “Serepta, I don’t know what he has convinced you of,
but your blood will not make him perfect.”
“He
only means to gain freedom from Satin’s ensnare. Without the obligation to him,
Benevolence is free to bring further harm. His evil was not Satin’s choice,”
Horus said calmly as he looked up to Bene, “It was his.”
The
corners of Bene’s mouth twitched as he tried to withhold his rage. He had only
to look to Serepta to find ease.
“Then
it still is my choice to turn away from this life. I see what I have done, and
I wish to change. I will not tolerate the likes of you telling me I cannot be
saved when you three constantly commit fallacies with no remorse. Paulo with
his pride and lust. You, Horus and your violent persuasion. Odin, even. Your
indifference to helping others will be your downfall. Perhaps by human
standards, serving the dark lord is worse, but we will all be judged in the end
and all of our sins will be the same black stain in God’s eyes!”
“Even
so,” Odin humbly spoke, “You may speak the truth, but how can we simply
surrender a girl we care for and love to pay your ransom?”
Serepta
looked into all of the eyes of the creatures around her before stopping at
Horus’s concerned watch. Nervously yet certain, she lifted his paw from her
shoulder.
“You
will not have to surrender for the choice I have already made.” Stepping away,
she faced the three guards and companions she had known for countless
lifetimes. “I will be restored to a new body and life when I die. That is why
he chose me. Bene does not wish to see me take his place. I am to only suffer
for this one moment to give him his freedom.”
Horus
looked from her decided face to the alter behind them.
“You
do not know this, though. We will never know if you will be reborn or if the
dark powers will control you when you die. Even if Bene’s motives are true and
not a clever deception, he may not even know what outcome your death will
bring.”
Serepta’s
head bobbed as she listened before responding with a broken voice. “I have
considered these things, Horus. And there is a part of me that really wishes to
not die again. But I have thought about it enough to give this final answer.
Even if Bene is false, even if I will be deceived into Satin’s ensnare, I
believe Bene was meant to lead all of you to the Endtimes to fulfill your holy
commissions. If my death will spare him from slavery and he still chooses such
a life, I sincerely hope my sacrifice will resonate one day with him to seek
true salvation for his sins.”
Beginning
to turn to Bene as she spoke, Serepta was interrupted by a thunderous crack
coming from the river. All turned to the already broken alter to see the two
intersecting cracks tremble uncontrollably. As the fragments of stone sunk into
the earth, a rich, crimson seeped out onto the ragged remains of the alter. It
was blood blanketing every flaw and surface until the alter had disappeared
beneath the sea of scarlet.
Startled,
Serepta turned to Bene. His face was entranced upon her only though the
cracking of stone and pouring rush of blood echoed around them. From his eyes,
a single tear trailed down his cheek, leaving an ink black stain. Before
concern could resonate within her, the stain on his face began to glow silver.
Small cracks began to extend from the line and stretch to his neck, ears, and
horns.
“Bene?”
As
the cracks grew, they fell to his chest and through his armor. Pieces of his
horns glowed with the silver faults until collapsing within themselves. Bene
had begun to see the brakes slash along his limbs and looked up to Serepta
remorsefully.
“Serepta...”
he moaned pitifully as his knees buckled beneath him. His hooves and fingertips
had now begun to crack. All his horns were nearly crumbled along with his armor
when he extended a closed fist towards her. More of him began to break away and
dissolve into white dust. Frightened, Serepta ran to him helpless to the
increasing decay. In final desperation, she dived into his chest and clung tightly
to him. In her hands, his body still disbanded away as more of his skin
ruptured with a metallic glow.
“Bene,
what’s happening!” she sobbed as she looked up at his face, nearly covered by
the devouring fractures.
From
nearly disintegrated lips, he whispered mournfully, “See me as I have become.”
The hand not yet broken away reached into hers, placing something in her
grasp. “A gift for you…Ser—” his words were choked away from him as he was lost
to the wind’s passing gust. His entirety had faded away without any remnants to
testify to his existence, except for the small white feather resting in
Serepta’s hand.
*
* *
In
the sanctuary of her room, Serepta threw her purse onto her bed before slumping
in front of her vanity. She looked up to the crookedly hung mirror at her
reflection. Despite her appearance changing from lifetime to lifetime, she
still had the same dull blue eyes forever weary of waiting to be found and her
own unsuccessful searches. Perhaps the only reason Horus was able to search
countless faces in attempt of recovering her was the hope he would encounter
her eyes amongst the stares. Every pair of eyes that would wander past her
sight, Serepta often would hope they belonged to Bene.
Becoming
enchanted by a silver box resting in front of her, she cracked the lid open to view
the frail contents within: a decrepit feather now nearly dissolved to dust from
age.
“I
suppose every part of you, from your gift to your faint recollection will
eventually fade from me.”
Serepta
was interrupted by three loud sets of knocks at her door.
“Can
one of us come in?” the three meager voices chimed. The men had already opened
to door part way to gawk at her. Looking between the three faces, Serepta
pointed at Odin’s narrow, collective face.
“You
can. I’m still mad with you other two for laughing!”
Odin
grinned tauntingly at Horus and Paulo before slamming the door on them.
“Go
focus on that party! I listened too damn long to Paulo’s complaints about
lacking a lover to have this party fail.”
Serepta
looked awkwardly at Odin as he walked to the foot of her bed and gracefully
sat.
“I’m
not for certain any more if you Horsemen act prone to every human temptation
out of boredom or if you men really are that stupid.”
“Oh,
give us more credit than that,” he laughed warmly. “Yes, we are very much
tempted to sin, but that is the consequence of living in an imperfect world. We
truly do repent, but it is only a matter of lifetimes before we weaken to
temptation again. Were you around when Paulo was a Cardinal?”
“Did
he stray for a sultry girl at confession?” Serepta rose from her chair and sat
down next to Odin. She rested her head against his tall frame, closing her eyes
peacefully.
“No,
he just converted to Protestantism. But before I distract you with his antics,
I want to offer you some assurance. Even if we begin with the holiest of
intensions and guard ourselves from every evil, we will still never be perfect
enough for Heaven. And if we falter, a future amongst the holy is not lost. An
atonement of blood must be made so we may enter the gates. This has been the
price for hundreds of years until the day Christ’s blood was spilt. He was the
ultimate, final sacrifice.”
“Save
the excuses. You three are still horrible,” Serepta laughed as she placed her
head into her hands.
“I
wasn’t talking about my salvation.” Between Odin’s fingertips, he produced one
of the feathers abandoned earlier. Flustered, Serepta snatched it away from him
and observed it nervously. “Is that why you’re upset? Did it remind you of him?”
“After
I got over the initial embarrassment of the faux-pas, I was overcome with his
memory. Some days progress into months were I can forget all that I witnessed.
I like the reprieve.” She then hid the feather in her clinched hands. “I like
not feeling the guilt for his destruction.”
“I
still do not believe Bene was destroyed. He still has a part to play in this
world’s future.”
“Well
he’s not been around to testament.”
Odin
released a frustrated sigh and turned to her slouched form. He could not see her
face through her hands but caught her surrendered expression in her vanity
mirror across from them.
“I’m
shocked with how easily you have given up the notion that Bene may still be out
there. Back when we first searched for the Other, you were the only one of us
who maintained hope of finding him and that he still retained some good. I
think your hope in him is what caused him to be saved.”
“Saved?
I don’t think dissolving into dust is what most new believers sign-up for when
they convert.” Odin interrupted her with a moan of annoyance. “I remember what
you told me when we were still in the realm of Purgatory,” she spoke as she
began to rise from her spot. “You pointed to the bloodied alter and you tried
to comfort me by saying Bene was deceived. He believed when he had chosen to
serve Satin, his soul was now forever bound to Hell. But Satin has no authority
to claim a soul. It is our choice,
Bene’s choice, if we want to seek salvation or turn the other way. We have only
to repent, and we will be restored. It was a truth we had forgotten and I had
reminded Bene of as I offered myself for the chance he may change. And the
blood needed had already been sacrificed nearly 2000 years ago.
“But
it offers me no reprise to know he is still out there. Has he continued to be
righteous? Or has he fallen? Is he at peace? Does he remember me?” Serepta bent
down and looked at the feather she had hidden. “My memory may fail me at times,
but I have yet to forget what he said to me. ‘See
me as I have become. A gift for you, Serepta.’ Sometimes I wonder if he could
see his end was approaching. Or did he see something else?” Spinning the
feather between her fingers, she began to trail off. “A gift for you, Serepta.
A gift for you…Ser—”
“Personally,
I think Bene still exists. We will find him before the end…Perhaps we should be
looking for more blind people with an affinity towards feathers?”
Odin
looked up to see an empty room. The door was open and swinging, an echo of
racing steps rang forth before exiting the house, and the white feather was
floating in the air.
“But
it seems you have already thought of that.”
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