Spectral Ponderings

[satinkira 5978]

Music

 

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Darkness.

 

In a whirlpool, a soul reached, seized, gasped..

And the Ash-Knight returned to the world.

 

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“I wish for ye to build a settlement where we stand, and govern it in the laws I will teach ye in the coming nights. Soon, Almarisians will seek shelter from the destruction you have wrought upon their world. You must bring them here.”

 

“I?”

 

The hooded figure nodded.

 

“Should ye choose to accept, ye will be the founder. Ye will make peace with the peoples of the south, and ye will not tell people of me.”

 

"Then tell me; what are you?"

 

"An egregore."

 

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The first thought that the ghost pondered was;

Where is the An-Gho?

He sat up in the Failorian desert, and squinted at the sun.

. . .There he is.

He permitted himself a quiet chuckle at that. But the sun discontented him; its likeness to the Third Eye was too apparent. All seeing, all powerful, and it provoked a burning sensation within his gut.

The ghost ran and hid in a nearby cave.

 

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“You are the Black Hawk.”

 

An intake of breath - but Remon did not respond.

 

“Find the flock ye wish to save on your Ark. Travel between worlds... You have the ability.”

 

Remon looked upon Karkosa - and previous experience, memory, truth, was wrenched from him, displaced by hope.

Blind hope.

 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»———

 

Aevos was an odd place.

The spruce forest near Norland reminded the revenant of Karkosa. It was the smell of the air, yet untainted by man. For all Remon knew, he was the first living descendant to tread this wood..

Forests, as old as the world itself. Flowers, unknown to him, a World entirely beyond the comprehension of man..

Lost. He brushed fingers to grasp the flowers, only to watch them pass straight through.

 

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“One year from now, They will gather on the shore. Only you may summon them, by framing their presence between the pillars. Then, you will make them corporeal, and begin the conjunction. I will come and smite them, and liberate you of your curse.”

 

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Why did those events wrack his mind now?

Perhaps it was the proximity to the coast. The meeting with the egregore had taken place in a similar position, after all. 

But the being had lied. He had waited a year, sat by the pillars, waited, waited ever so long.. But nothing had happened. Night fell, the moon flew into the sky, it fell back to earth, the sun rose; and with it, the hopes of the Ash-Knight had fallen forever.

There was the An-Gho, of course, but the Nephilim simply could not match what the beings of Karkosa had. The promise of Salvation had given him strength, he knew, but it had come to nothing. He was dead, and could not become a Nephilim.

But..

 

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“You did well to reach this far, seeker. It seems this is one of the ends.” So the dread pronouncement was made.

 

Remon remained quiet, but he shook his head. Denial took many forms; some loud, exuberant, but he lacked the energy to make a pronouncement of his belief.

 

It was testament to its strength.

 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»———

 

Despondency, he decided. That is the greatest enemy.

Even now, he could yet feel the coil of the Prince; that eternal presence upon his soul, that stain, that taint.. That he would never be able to get rid of. He would live for some time as a ghost, and then, he knew, he would die, and be sentenced to Damnation once more. He had no memory of being damned, but - no matter. 

He would be made to remember soon enough, he suspected.

 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»———

 

Bezaleel inspected his dagger, then glared at Remon.

 

“You did what was required of you.”

 

His arm lifted and pointed at the ‘ker.

 

“It is done.”

 

And despite the protestations of the An-Gho, the strength poured out of Thrush..

 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»———

 

So what had brought him back? 

He had no more hope. He had no more fight left within him. He was damned. He had tasted Hell, fought to escape it, and in doing so, damned himself irrevocably.. but in the Azdrazi, there had been a brief flicker of burning hope that soon turned into a lasting war against his circumstance. He had treated with Demons, with Deities, with Prophets, Egregores, Beasts, Aenguls, and GOD. He had befriended, in his struggle, many elves and men; Alucard, the An-Gho, Luthriel..

But Alucard was dead, and the An-Gho no longer shone as brightly as he once did. Not to say that he had befriended the Prophet purely for his promise. There was good company to be found in the Prophet, but what was friendship to Damnation? What was worship to creeping despair?

And Luthriel, he knew, would abhor him if she knew the dread truth. 

Luthriel.. I am sorry. I will tell you the truth one day.

He lit a candle, and murmured a soft prayer for her.

 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»———

 

“Your name, Thrush - what is your name.”

 

His shirt, stained with blood, began to dissolve in the sheer quantity; the elf lolling, near death, yet.. Murmuring still.

 

“R - Remon.” Blood splattered upon sacred ground.

 

“Oh, Remon..”

 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»———

 

And then, suddenly - he knew.

Midway through the prayer, gazing at the flame, it struck him - he had been returned to serve; to fulfil a promise that he had exacted from the Third Eye.

If he was to die, it would be the An-Gho who would kill him. No one else. Either him, or Luthriel.

It could be no other way. He had sworn a vow, after all.
 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»———

 

“Can you not see? He lies! He knows what one says before he says it!”

 

Remon slumped against the chair, shaking in his inebriated stupor. He looked up, saw Alucard - but he was not there. Not truly. A small part of him knew this, but the larger portion chose to ignore it. After all, what was madness if not an eternal warring against circumstance? The Ash-Knight often wondered if all who attempted to defy destiny were mad. Certainly, their motivations were.

 

“He is not like the rest of us, Alucard! He knows us! He knows us! He makes tools of all peoples, all things. He manipulates, schemes..”

“How can I know this? It is what I do to my friends! To you, Alucard! For him! Always, sacrifices - for him! How many times have I given my life? Three times! Once in Kivdrona, where I was resurrected by Bezaleel.. another in Karkosa, where we both died, stricken by Unholy Lightning - and a third when I pacted with Bezaleel once more! Three times, and all for one man! You must see the truth of it! Nothing is worth that much suffering, Alucard! Nothing..!"

 

A pause.

 

"But that isn't true, is it? Not if he's a Prophet.."

 

Day broke, and Remon sat alone.

 

———«»————————————«»————————————«»——

 

Spoiler

Been meaning to post this for a bit of a while. Just some creative writing on the Ash-Knight returning as a ghost.

 

[Jentos 6895]

The An-Gho sat, eyes afire, and with a tongue of gold. His skin was as rock, his heart an actor. The creature remained implacable, unreadable. In the end, there could be but the Golden Path; Asioth, and the cruel price it demanded of the World, if but for its salvation. 

 

Beware the poet - so the timeless adage went. 

[High_On_Math 400]

A bronze clad elfess meandered across the southern beaches of Aevos on horseback.  She'd look up at the sun, taking in its warmth, "I wonder when Remon will show up again." She'd murmur to herself.