The Ballad of Saul & Julia

[Saulite 52]

Spoiler

 

THE BALLAD OF SAUL AND JULIA

Saul (L), Julia (M), Horen (R)

In our fabled lands of old, where a moment is worth all gold, the Spire of Pamon stands with secrets to unfold. A leader’s heart, so fervent, yet in darkness, he’s entwined, a pact with Aenguls, dread and woe, a fate for all mankind. Horen’s tale, a storm so fraught, where devotion’s deeply bought, in pools of mystic waters, a soul’s true cost is sought. The Aengulic voices in shadows whisper, dark and deep, their promises of power, and the price that one must keep. Julia’s tears and Saul’s despair, the children’s cries, the heavy air, a boy concealed, a daughter fair, in secrecy and prayer. Horen’s wrath, his darkened scheme, the dreams of power, a wicked dream, yet in the dawn’s first gentle gleam, fate unravels at the seam. From temple’s silence to the blood-stained rites, the clash of light and shadow in the darkest nights, Saul, a vessel lost to dark and dreadful might, Julia’s grief in shattered hopes, a mournful plight. The temple stands in quiet dread, as shadows dance and hopes are shed, Saul’s return, a spectral dread, a path where angels fear to tread. Julia’s rage and heartbreak, fierce, her hands with swift resolve do seize, she hides the horror of betrayal in the coffer’s silent peace. So sing the tale of Saul and Julia, a legend dark and dire, of pacts and shattered hopes, and hearts consumed by fire. In echoes of the bardic song, where life’s tea doth softly steep, remember well the price of dreams and the secrets that they keep.

 

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ACT I

Horen summons the Aenguls in Pamon.

In the dead of night, where whispers roam, within the Spire of Pamon, cold and alone, Horen stood in robes of scarlet and white, a golden rune shining in the flickering light. He traced a circle on the cold stone floor, a ritual bound by an ancient lore. With incense burning and chants of old, he sought eternal power, a crown of gold. “Hear me, O Creators,” Horen's voice did cry, “grant me endless reign and never let it die. Give me immortal rule, my legacy to span, that I may lead forever, as the ruler of Man.” The chamber filled with a thick, spectral haze, a mist swirling with an unnatural daze. Not of light but a shadowy, ghostly veil, as if dark forces began to unveil. A voice from the mist, with command and might, declared Horen’s path would shift that night. “No blessing here will seal your fate, journey east, and there complete your state.” Horen’s hope faltered, his fervor turned to dread, as visions of power began to shed. The misted voice, with a chilling tone, foretold the journey he must undertake alone. Thus began the tale of ambition’s cruel twist, of Horen’s dark pact and the fate it missed. In the Spire of Pamon, where shadows conspire, a leader’s dreams faltered in the cold, dark mire.

 

Spoiler

At the dead of night inside the dimly lit confines of the Spire of Pamon, Saul observed with trepidation an abominable ritual performed by Horen. The vast chamber was pervaded by the scent of burning incense and perfumed oils. This atmosphere was laden with a perverse sense of solemnity.At the chamber’s center, Horen stood within a circle inscribed onto the cold stone floor. His ceremonial robes were arrayed with white and scarlet color, with a golden rune hanging from a chain around his neck. Upon his head were horns of gold that caught the flickering light of the surrounding candles. These candles cast long, distorted shadows that danced unsettlingly across the chamber's walls. In a commanding voice, Horen began his incantations, invoking the powers of the Aenguls:

 

Horen: Illustrious and eternal creators, receive this my wish. I will that I may be the immortal leader of my race and lineage.

Horen lowered himself to the floor, pressing his forehead against the cold, unfeeling stone. His body quivered under the intensity of his devotion and the weight of the pact he sought to establish.

Horen: Grant me an everlasting life to ensure that my rule may endure perpetually.

As Horen uttered these words, the chamber was suffused with a thick, unnerving mist. This spectral fog, glowing with an unnatural light, signaled the arrival of the Aenguls’ presence. 

The light from the ritual circle grew more intense, casting rays that revealed the corrupted nature of the entities surrounding him. These were not divine beings but perverted imitations of the celestial.

Suddenly, the chamber was pierced by a feminine voice, not of divine origin. The voice seemed to emanate from the very walls of the spire:

Voice: No benediction can be performed in this presanctified camp. You shall journey east, where your anointing will come to completion.

The voice boomed with an unassailable certainty, its words reverberating through the chamber with a force that seemed to shake the very foundations of the spire. Horen’s body stiffened, his fervent supplications faltering as the authoritative proclamation washed over him. His hands, which had been raised in supplication, fell to his sides, and his face, illuminated by the erratic candlelight, was a mask of anger.

 

 

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ACT II

Saul blesses his children.

In the still of night, 'neath stars’ distant gleam, Julia rested with her children, a tender dream. Symeon and Salome, swaddled and warm, their cries soft and sweet, a comfort from harm. Yet peace was shattered by Saul’s hurried stride, his face marked by shadows and a desperate tide. “Julia,” he urged, his voice strained with fright, “darkness encroaches, threatening this night. Horen has forged a pact with powers unknown, and our son may be caught in a fate overblown.” Julia, weary and anxious, heeded his plea, her heart burdened by what might soon be. “A boy could be seen as a threat to his throne, Horen’s wrath could bring peril unknown.” Saul fell to his knees, his voice a hushed prayer, “Almighty Creator, hear my plea, hear my care. Protect these children from the encroaching night, guide them through shadows and grant them Your light.” With trembling hands, Saul kissed the babes, his heart heavy with the danger that loomed and swayed. “Hide Symeon well, from the dark that draws near, I will face Horen and confront this fear.” Julia, her resolve firm despite the night’s chill, prepared to shield their son from the darkness that will. In the quiet of the night, where shadows loom, a mother’s promise and a father’s doom. In the dead of night, where peril draws nigh, A prayer for protection beneath the sky.

 

Spoiler

The tent’s interior was illuminated by the soft, flickering light of an oil lamp, casting a warm, soothing glow over the ornate bed where Julia was reclined. The air was filled with the rhythmic sounds of newborns’ cries and the gentle rustling of fabric. Julia, exhausted but radiant, lay propped up with pillows, her eyes soft with the joy of new motherhood. Beside her were two tiny figures swaddled in cloth—Symeon, a boy, and Salome, a girl. The tent flap swung open abruptly, letting in a gust of cool night air. Saul burst in, his face a mask of frantic urgency. His eyes darted around the tent, searching for Julia, but as he spotted the newborns, his steps faltered. He froze momentarily, his gaze locked on the sight of the children.

Saul: Julia… I—.

His words caught in his throat as he dropped to his knees beside the bed, overwhelmed by the sight of his newborn children. The urgency in his eyes softened into a mixture of awe and profound concern as he reached out to touch the swaddled infants.

Julia: Saul, we’ve two beauties, fairer than my happiest of hopes. Our son and daughter—Symeon and Salome. You’ve missed their arrival. The most important day in our new lives. I’ve been lonesome.

Saul’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of both children. His hands trembled as he touched each of them, his emotions a tumult of wonder and anxiety. He looked up at Julia, his expression a blend of relief and deep-seated fear.

Saul: Two… Symeon and Salome. I thought... I did not expect— Two. Almighty Creator, I offer my deepest gratitude and plea. Bless these children, Symeon and Salome, with Your guiding light and protection. Grant them strength and courage as they journey through life. Shield them from the darkness that surrounds me and ensure they grow up in peace and joy. May Your wisdom and love be their constant companions. 

Julia’s expression shifted as she observed Saul’s demeanor. She sat up slowly, her voice taking on a sweeter tone.

Julia: The midwife will only report the birth of Salome to Horen. She insists that only the girl will be acknowledged. A boy… a boy could be seen as a threat. We have only recently separated. Horen might see Symeon as a rival and... The midwife’s actions are meant to protect him.

Saul’s eyes darted around the tent, his panic evident. His gaze returned to Julia, filled with desperation and concern.

Saul:  I have witnessed something terrible, Julia. Horen— He intends to make a pact... The danger is beyond—.

Julia: A pact? What?

Saul’s face was a mask of anguish as he tried to steady his voice, his eyes reflecting the horror of what he had witnessed.

Saul went silent though his face revealed a blend of tenderness and worry. He gently placed Symeon and Salome back in their swaddling clothes, his actions careful but his mind clearly preoccupied with the dark events he had witnessed.

Saul: Sleep, my love. I shall wake you in the morning.

The oil lamp’s warm glow contrasted sharply with the tension in the air. Julia watched Saul with a mixture of concern and confusion.

 

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ACT III

Julia in her tent.

As dawn’s first light through the tent did creep, Julia lay with her children, in a fragile sleep. Symeon and Salome, cradled in her care, their cries gentle whispers in the morning air. Saul burst through the flap with a look of dismay, his face etched with shadows of a looming fray. “Julia, heed my words, for dark deeds are near, Horen’s pact with the Aenguls brings peril here. He failed last night, but he’s set to try again, and if he discovers Symeon, our son may face pain.” Julia, with concern, met his anxious plea, “Saul, what do you mean? Explain it to me.” “Horen’s mind is twisted, his goals unholy, hide Symeon from sight, keep him safe and solely. Alert the scribes and priests, let none else know, prepare for his return, as trouble may grow.” With trembling hands, Saul placed Symeon close, hiding him well where no one could impose. At that moment, Horen entered, cold and stern, surveying the scene with a look of concern. “Ah, Saul, you’re here. I see you’ve made a bed, Julia, what is this? A daughter instead?” Julia adjusted Salome with trembling grace, hiding Symeon’s form from Horen’s sharp gaze. “There is no boy, only Salome,” she lied, Horen’s gaze grew steely, his anger implied. “Why are you here?” Horen’s voice cold as ice, “A man cannot see his wife? Is that a vice?” “I’ll return soon,” Horen said, turning away, “and when I do, Julia, you’ll heed what I say.” As Horen left, Saul stepped forward in haste, “Horen, we must speak; our time cannot be wasted.” “I have no time now,” Horen’s voice was firm, “You will answer me later, as I return.” With Horen gone, Saul’s gaze lingered, filled with dread, he urged Julia to act, for the danger ahead. “Gather the scribes, the priests, and reveal the truth, of Horen’s dark pact and the threat to our youth. Seek the Creator’s protection, for our children are dear, prepare for the storm that draws ever near.” Julia nodded with resolve, her heart heavy with strife, “Act according to your wish, and protect their young life.” In the silence that followed, Julia’s task was clear, to hide Symeon from view and prepare for the fear.

 

Spoiler

The first light of dawn filters through the fabric of the tent, casting a gentle, diffused glow over the interior. Julia, weary yet resolute, lies in bed with her newborn children, cradled in her arms. The soft, rhythmic sounds of their cries fill the room, creating a poignant contrast to the tense atmosphere. Saul bursts into the tent, assessing the situation. His eyes lock with Julia's, and he moves towards her with a mix of relief and anxiety.

Saul: Julia, hearken unto me. Horen sought to make a pact with the Aenguls. He failed last night but he intends to try again. He speaks of dominion and—.

Julia: A pact with the Aenguls? Saul, what are you saying?

Saul: We must act quickly. Horen’s actions will bring ruin upon us. You must hide Symeon. If Horen discovers him—. Do as I tell you, hide my boy. Horen is not in his right mind. There’s no time to explain everything now. Just trust me. Keep Symeon hidden and tell no one where you send him. I will confront Horen and try to reason with him. You need to alert the temple scribes and priests about his apostasy. Tell none but the scribes and priests, gather with them and await my return with Horen.

Julia:  I will do as you say. But be careful, Saul.

Saul held Symeon in his arms, kissing his head before placing him under the sheets beside Julia so as to conceal him from sight. As he does so, the tent flap is pushed aside, and Horen strides in, his face a mix of cold determination and irritation. He surveys the scene—Julia in bed with the baby and Saul standing tensely nearby.

Horen:  So, you’ve arrived. I see you’ve made yourself quite comfortable.

Julia:  Horen, it is as you see. I have given birth to a daughter, Salome.

Julia adjusts the swaddling around Salome, her movements careful as she ensures that Symeon remains concealed beneath the blankets. Her hands tremble slightly, revealing her anxiety.

Horen: A daughter, you say? Not a male heir? 

Julia:  There is no boy, only sweet Salome.

Horen’s gaze sharpens, and he steps closer, his eyes searching the room. His attention briefly shifts to Saul, who stands nearby, trying to remain calm.

Horen:  Why are you here?

Saul: A man can not gather together with his wife? 

Horen:  I shall return soon. When I do, I expect things to be… resolved. And when I return, Julia, you will recognize me as your husband.

As Horen turns to leave, Saul steps forward, his expression a mix of urgency and frustration.

Saul: Horen, we must speak.

Horen: I have no time for your concerns now. You will answer to me later. Julia, stay here in the camp, rest. You are not to leave this camp under any circumstances.

As Horen’s footsteps recede, Saul’s gaze lingers on Julia and the hidden Symeon. The tension in the tent is palpable, marked by the soft cries of Salome and the urgency of their situation. Julia carefully hides Symeon once more, making sure he remains concealed from any potential prying eyes.

Saul: Gather the scribes and priests. Inform them of Horen’s pact with the Aenguls. Keep it discreet. I must act quickly to prevent the disaster that Horen’s actions will bring. Seek the Creator’s guidance and protection for Symeon and Salome, for their lives are now at risk.

Julia: I will act according to your wishes. Be careful, Saul.

The tent falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint sounds of the baby and the preparations Julia must now undertake. Saul exits the tent with a final, troubled glance, determined to confront Horen and stop the impending catastrophe. Julia leaves to hide Symeon and then to alert the scribes and priests, her heart heavy with the weight of the secrets she must keep and the danger that looms over them all.

 

 

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ACT IV

Horen is anointed in Gamesh.

In the Grotto of Gamesh, solemn and stark, Saul watched in horror from a shadowed mark, as Horen approached the pool’s glowing sheen, where fate’s heavy hand was cruel and keen. Horen entered the pool, calm and profound, seeking a power where new rites abound. A Voice from the Mist spoke, cold and clear, to Horen, whose rule drew ever near: “O Horen, a leader in dominion grand, Your people’s loyalty we understand. We offer a boon for your lineage and line, A gift that ensures your power will shine.” The mist grew dense with an eerie glow, As Horen considered the offer below.“Is this gift free, or is there a cost? What do you seek for such power to be embossed?” The Voice declared, with a promise severe,“To be a Son of Aeriel, honored here. You’ll teach your kin our sacred writing, and replace old customs with our modern rite.” Horen, captivated by the power laid bare, accepted the pact with a fervent prayer. “Cleanse me and mine to join you in grace, grant me immortality, a divine taste.” Unable to contain his dismay, Saul cried out, “Immorality!” in disarray. The Aenguls, having completed their dark design, turned their gaze on Saul, their target enshrined. “Your Iblees is beneath, but first, you must see, how we shape mankind’s future, through you, our decree. You hold forbidden knowledge, a burden and blight, we’ll ensnare you and leave you in darkness’s night.” Saul struggled, desperate to flee,“Release me from this torment; set me free!” But the Aenguls’ grip was unyielding and tight, as darkness consumed him, swallowing the light.

 

Spoiler

The scene opens in the Grotto of Gamesh, a somber and shadowy place of twisted devotion. Saul, who has secretly followed Horen, watches in horror from the concealed wilderness. The vast chamber is dimly illuminated by flickering torches, casting unsettling shadows on the stone walls. The air is thick with the acrid scent of burning incense and perfumed oils. Horen stands within a natural pool of glistening water. His demeanor is one of intense focus and reverence. Horen lowers himself into the pool, his body half-submerged in the glowing, enchanted water. 

 

Voice from the Mist: Horen, a sagacious leader you have been: guiding your kin and establishing dominion over them. We have been ever so watchful of your leadership and have observed your people’s devotion to you as your wife Julia is so devout.

Horen remains relaxed in the pool, accepting the benediction. The mist in the chamber thickens, glowing with an unnatural light.

Voice from the Mist: We see it right that among your flock, your line is to be established with generational dominion over these souls unlike that of Krug, Malin, and Urguan. Verily, it can not be by your own hands that this comes to pass. Yet, it can be so accomplished through our intercession. We shall grant you many sons of spirit akin to ours who we shall visit and guide in all of our ways, consoling you and your kin through the generations.

Horen listens, his gaze falling to his reflection in the water. His ego is momentarily sobered, and he questions the offer.

Horen: Be this your own desire, or be it that you desire some service from me? Never has it been known to me that such a gift would be so freely given. What then do you desire that such a gift is to be bestowed upon me and among my generations?

The lights in the chamber descend, and Saul, hidden in the wilderness, rustles as he conceals himself further.

Voice from the Mist: O Horen, you are to be as our Son, a Son of Aeriel. Blessed are you that receive such a gift never bestowed among any people. For you shall learn our tongue and instruct your kin to venerate it. You shall impart this water and bathe all to come after you in it. We shall give you the ability to enact it in all lands, replacing the Wine of Sacrament. This shall mark your people, that they be baptized to us, through us, and for us following their expiry. If you keep this commandment and mark the souls to be claimed by us, we will give your line a place nearest to us in our domain.

Horen is captivated by these words. His resolve wavers as he contemplates the power offered.

Horen: Cleanse me and my line that I might join you in immortality.

Saul, unable to contain his horror, exclaims “Immorality!” The word echoes through the chamber, inadvertently revealing his presence. The Aenguls, having completed their dark pact, turn their attention to him.

Saul: Woe is me who has been caught by servants of the Denier!

The Aenguls laugh in unison, their voices resonating with sinister unity.

Aengul Voice: Your Iblees is below us, and we will rid this earth of Him when we are finished with you. For we had knowledge of your presence and a will to use you for our own pleasures.

Saul struggles against the Aenguls’ hold.

Saul: Remove your unclean forms from my personage. Let me depart from you and my kin whom you did tempt.

Aengul Voice: You shall be an example of our rule to come for mankind. You have knowledge which was not meant for you. For this, we shall ensnare you and have you bear witness to our deeds.

Darkness overtakes Saul, and he is consumed by the Aenguls’ power, losing control and consciousness as the scene fades to black.

 

 

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ACT V

Saul ravages the temple.

The morning sun, with cold and steady gleam, casts harsh light on a place once serene. The temple, still and hauntingly bare, awaits its lord with anxious care. Julia paces, her face a pallid hue, her heart a storm, her fears anew. The scribes and priests in worry stand, for Horen's fate rests in their hand. At last, the steps of Saul are heard, a disheveled man, his speech disturbed. "Where is Horen?" Julia cries in dismay, as Saul's lost gaze seems far away. "Horen comes, but my time is through," Saul’s voice a whisper, a bark and blue. "Forgive me, let me be free," He draws a blade, his plea was weak. The priests and scribes, caught unaware, Face Saul’s unnatural, fierce despair. In the temple's hallowed, sacred space, Chaos unfolds, an unholy grace. Julia, with heart pounding, sees the dread, The truth of Saul’s words fills her with dread. “No! This horror is not our fate,” she cries, as the temple’s silence waits. Desperation drives her, swift and keen, she grapples with Saul, a fierce scene. With sword in hand, she strikes a blow, and hides his form where none shall know. Into a coffer, Saul is stowed, his deeds concealed, his story enclosed. Julia's heart is torn, her spirit fraught, as she returns to find the cost he wrought. Bloody sheets, a heart’s lament, the weight of loss and dark events. Enter Horen, the stage now set, gor the grim truth, Julia cannot forget.

 

 

Spoiler

The sun rises over the camp, casting a cold, unforgiving light on the tranquil scene. The temple, usually a place of peace, stands in eerie stillness. Inside, scribes and priests gather, their faces etched with concern and anticipation as they await Horen’s return. Julia, her face pale and anxious, paces near the entrance.

 

Scribe I: What could be taking Horen so long?

Priest I: The reports were urgent. Saul was to inform us of something sinister. I hope it is not too late.

The atmosphere is tense. Julia’s eyes dart nervously toward the entrance as she hears the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Saul, disheveled and unsteady, stumbles into view. His expression is vacant, and his movements are jerky, as if he is being controlled by an unseen force.

Julia: Saul! You’re back! Where is Horen?

Saul: Horen... is coming... my time is over...

Priest II: Saul, what are you saying? Where is Horen?

Saul’s gaze shifts, and he raises his head with a sudden, unnatural intensity.

Saul: No will... forgive me... let me be free!

The scribes and priests exchange confused and alarmed glances as Saul draws a blade from within his cloak, its edge gleaming ominously. The reality of the situation dawns on them as Saul's expression morphs into one of grim resolve.

Julia : Saul, what are you doing? 

Before she can react, Saul moves swiftly. The priests and scribes attempt to defend themselves, but they are caught off guard by Saul’s fierce, unnatural strength. The commotion is brief but decisive, and soon the temple falls into an uneasy silence.

Julia, horrified and frantic, rushes toward the entrance of the temple, but her path is blocked by Saul.

Saul: Creator save me... There is only darkness in my eyes...

Julia’s heart races as she realizes the grim truth of Saul’s words. She looks around the temple, seeing the aftermath of Saul’s actions.

Julia:  No! No, you fallen horror! You’re wracked with chaos! How could you?! 

Saul: I can not escape... I am a mortal man...

Julia, her eyes filled with tears and desperation, pushes past Saul as he stands disoriented and tainted by his recent deeds. With a sudden burst of determination, she seizes his sword and uses its hilt to knock him unconscious. His limp body collapses onto the ground.

Without hesitation, Julia rolls Saul's form into a large coffer meant for temple donations of gold and fine clothes. She secures the lid with a final, resolute shove, hiding the weight of betrayal beneath the elegant exterior.

Julia rushed to her tent to find Salome. Instead, she stood before bloody sheets, her face a portrait of devastation and dread as the reality of her new life sinks in.

Enter Horen.

 

 

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The echoes from Pamon’s Spire fade, as night’s dark hand the dawn invades. A tale of trust and shattered dreams, of silent screams and hidden schemes. Saul’s will, once noble, then ensnared, a vessel which dark forces bared, Julia, in grief’s tight embrace, buried the betrayal in sacred space. Yet from the ruin, through the pain, a tale survives, a mournful strain. Of dreams that faltered, promises broke, and the silence where the shadows spoke. For even if you’re doomed to fail, and your foe’s a force beyond mortal scale, remember those who the Creator’s heart does guide, shall find salvation, though the storm may rage wide. So rise with courage, face the dawn, for every end’s where hope’s reborn. The path ahead is fraught with strife, but within the struggle lies the essence of life. In every whispered, twilight breeze, remember well, the price of dreams.

 

Edited September 4, 2024 by Saulite

[framalam 837]

"HEREEEEESYYYYY!!!! SAAAUUULICAN!" cries the man imprisoned for heresy in his cell.