Knock Three Times

27. A Thought Within a Dream

                     MEREDITH RHOADS STEPPED OUT of the haunted catacombs and into a whole other world. She had been told the tunnels would lead to a grand temple of sorts, where her precious daughter and beloved sister would be waiting. James was close by, a third of her mission complete, but still had a ways to go to rescue the others. And so, when the world seemed to shift and stretch before she even reached the threshold of the tunnel mouth, nothing but confusion would greet her.

    She turned back perplexed, expecting to see her comrades, her son and his friends right behind her as they had been but a moment ago, but nobody was there, and the mouth of the tunnel had seemingly vanished into the night air.

    Had she fallen or stumbled and hit her head? Meredith wondered.

        Did she somehow lose consciousness, awakening in a dreamscape she did not recognize?

            Had Meredith caught a straight shot to the head, a death so quick she hadn't realized she was dead?

    'James!' she called out, a haunting echo in her own voice as though she were standing inside a hollow pipe hinted that she had stepped into a different type of atmosphere.

    The worried mother stared into a blood-red full moon hung high in the night sky, watching her like a predator with dripping teeth. The heels of her shoes clopped upon the glistening surface of cobblestone streets, noting the barricaded windows on the two-storey townhomes on either side of her. There wasn't a note of modern technology within view, not a single vehicle or electric power line in sight, the street lamps made of iron and lit with flames of gas rather than bulbs. It was as though she had stepped into a different time period altogether.

    'What is this?' perplexed eyes frantically searched about, no sign of her son anywhere. 'James!'

    Approaching a nearby intersection, Meredith looked downward where the road dipped to a full view of a large village, nestled amongst heavily-fogged forest and towering mountains, the skyline cut on all sides by their rigid grandeur. A river ran red at the base, splitting the town into two sections, joined by a single stone bridge. The crimson tinge of the water was mere reflection, she was positive, the light of the blood-like moon gently rippling upon the surface, but what truly disturbed her was the eerie silence of the large mountain town. Surely there would be someone awake, the occasional hoot of an owl—or barking of a dog even . . . any sign of life would have sufficed to remind her that she wasn't left in isolation.

    'Where the hell am I?' she asked not expecting a reply, but received one regardless.

    'Hamelin Germany.' replied a confident elderly voice.

    Meredith turned with a startled jolt of her neck, as an old bearded man stood before her. He wore a draping cloak of shimmering white fabric, and a long woolly beard. Removing his oversized hood, wise eyes glimmered like emerald coins in shallow water, beneath a finely embroidered cap that mocked a perfect hairline of freshly shaven scalp beneath. In his withered grasp he held a strange, glowing staff, where ancient words beamed a sea turquoise from its enchanted core, it's tip weaved like solid oak wicker, where the source of the enchanting light formed an orb of strange magic.

    'Who are you?' asked the bewildered mother, keeping her distance, unsure of his intent.

    'I am but many of your ancestors, but most qualified to lead you down your intended path. You may call me Nicholas—or Nick if you'd prefer the modern variation.'

    Meredith hesitantly reached an apprehensive hand forth, but the man merely glared at the gesture, as though shaking a hand was a foreign concept.

    'Strange custom.' he rose a single brow, reached forth and shook a firm pump, but it took a moment for him to realize when to let go.

    'Why am I here . . . what happened to the catacombs?' she asked, and the old man lowered his brow, unsure of how to explain, but put forth his best efforts regardless.

    'You are here at the request of one Jean D'Arc . . . a trapped essence of whom will require your assistance this very evening.'

    'Joan of Arc?' Just then, Meredith recalled the strange vision which had flashed before her eyes the day Cardinal Merrill was executed. A blood splattered face which mimicked her sister, Chelsea raged into battle, but then wept before an entire English Army. She remembered well how mere legend of the Arc woman had the fiercest of soldiers dropping their swords, but was unclear as to how this woman related to her current situation.

    'Legend has a way of skewing truth, Sister Meredith.' Nicholas smirked. 'Truth is in the eye of the beholder, where books and tales of old reveal but a fragmented reality of what was.'

    'What happened in the catacombs; where are my kids?'

    'You haven't left the catacombs, child. I have simply taken you out of the situation for a brief moment. Before you face what is to come, I thought it best we finally meet face-to-face. Your children are exactly as they were, and when our meeting is concluded you will also be as you were. This is a mere thought and nothing more—a fragment of memory out of space and time, like a thought within a dream.'

    'For what purpose?' she asked, not questioning how this was possible.

    'Acceptance and wisdom.' he replied. 'Much is about to unfold, and I fear you are not ready for what turmoil may come. Your role in the coming days is most crucial to a grander agenda—one that would spell disaster for your mental state if not properly addressed. Difficult times indeed lie ahead, and so you must be warned. Follow me; there is much you need see in order to truly comprehend what will soon come to pass.'

    Jean turned from the hauntingly still view of the blood-tinged Hamelin, and stepped beyond the houses at the edge of the village, into the thick fog which hugged the base of the surrounding mountains. Though Meredith's strange guide had claimed she was somehow dreaming, every bit of the experience felt exceptionally real. From the crunch of dead leaves under her heels to the distinct smell of autumn in the air, which warned of a coming winter's chill, dream seemed indistinguishable from reality.

    The fog enveloped her like a thick blanket of vapour, and the forest floor seemed all that remained for a brief moment, until the crimson tinge of the surrounding haze turned a bright blue, and the tiled rooftops of the old-fashion homes vanished out of sight completely. A slight glimpse of shimmering white fabric disappeared between to massive tree trunks ahead, and she followed the elderly Nicholas through the fog and into a strange new space.

    Meredith stood within a small wooded area, like a large room within the forest. Twelve towering oak trees stood perfectly spaced in a circular formation all around them, the massive trunks like a quaint shelter, where the earth dipped a foot or so onto a cobblestone floor. The expected red tinge of the moon had turned a bluish-white somehow, and bright beams of moonlight gracefully danced through the shadows of thick canopy above as the gentle wind played each leaf like a finely tuned instrument. At the center of the quaint and calming space stood two smaller but crooked trees branched outward and in, upwards and down, winding into one another like a finely weaved braid in sections. The moonbeams seemed to shine solely upon these unusual plants, highlighting the bark on the tree to the left with a ridged crimson, like dried blood in colour, where its brother to its right was a smooth ivory.

    'What is this place?' she asked, her wondrous gaze spotting a massive triangle of sticks and vines above her head, each corner tied to one of the surrounding twelve tree trunks.

    'Throughout history, the ancient Magi order have always kept their sacred grounds well hidden, a place where divine energy could be harnessed from the earth's elements. This particular temple is merely a projection of my own memories, a temple built centuries ago by our ancient bloodline on British soil . . . where the five houses first claimed rebellion against the false doctrines of Rome.'

    As Meredith studied the towering trees all around them, she noticed how each branch was lined in perfect formation. Oversized leaves spiraled around the trunks, and a steady flow of water streamed like countless tiny waterfalls, collecting dew and rain from on high and trickling into cement wells, cradled within the roots below.

    'What elements do you speak of?' she asked, eyeing the triangle above.

    'This temple was planted and built in homage to the Trinity, as you would probably guess. Twelve is a holy number for a reason, as there are four elements in total, each responding to all three sides of the Holy Trinity, Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Three trees for each element, each harnessing flow and creating its own unique energy. With this basic formula, our ancestors were able to call upon the ancient spirits of the earth, each unleashed by the Almighty in times of great peril.'

    'What spirits?' Meredith tried to grasp the basics of the beliefs of her bloodline, but the practice seemed complex.

    'The four Elementals that God had used to forge the earth at the beginning of time.' Nicholas moved to one section of the circular space and pointed out the emerald green tinge of the bark, and as she looked around, she noticed there were three of its likeness in total, amongst the twelve. 'The Earth Elemental we had come to name Tiamat; the Water Elemental we called Thetis,' he pointed to a Prussian blue tinged tree. 'The Air Spirit we called Halei,' Meredith studied the milky texture of this particularly strange looking bark and its matching two sisters. 'And of course, Aed: the spirit of Fire.' the orange-hued bark did not surprise her whatsoever, but what had caught her attention was the fountains at the base of these trees, the gathered water within their wells the only ones steaming amongst their brethren.

    'The Magi were known to have the power to summon these elements of creation in order to destroy what is unnatural and allow all that breathes life a fighting chance to survive. The Trinity itself is the source of our divinity, and the light our guiding connection to the Almighty. Through our faith, we pray and call upon the Creator to do their bidding, and protect those with crucial roles in the Pattern of the Grand Design. This temple was created to harness said power, and use their wisdom to see without seeing—to know without knowing.'

    'I see.' she kept her skepticism at arm's length. 'This is a far stretch from biblical religion, wouldn't you say?'

    'To the contrary, Sister Meredith, your perspective has been skewed by countless years of religious doctrine, dogma and outright lies. What you see here is the truest form of what mankind has come to call God, without the religious obstacles to blind you.'

    'Yes, but you're talking about worship of other gods, Nick. Now, I don't know much about religion, I'll grant you, but I do know this is in violation of a prime commandment, these four so-called spirits you speak of.'

    The Magi do not worship the Elementals, my friend.' he chuckled. 'We worship the Trinity, no more—no less. As it was in the beginning of all creation and the end of course, the four spirits are merely tools for the hands of our Creator, as are all Magi and the chosen divine.'

    'The last thing I need right now is a religious lecture, Nick. Show me what you came here to reveal, so we can move on—' she paused for a moment, a particular part of the conversation engaging her curiosity. 'Wait, what do you mean the end? What do these . . . spirits have to do with the end of creation?'

    'Everything.' Nicholas replied with a most serious tone as the orb within his staff shimmered a bit brighter. 'All things holy and unholy alike work in opposition to one another. What created the earth will be its undoing. The Elementals are Neutrals, forbidden to take a side in any conflict, lest they forfeit their power. It will be these key spirits that will bring about man's destruction.'

    'How so?'

    'Halei will be the first, the spirit charged with infecting the very air she once controlled, bringing about a Great plague upon the earth. Aed with be the second unleashed, charged with ignited the fire within each and every soul, causing a great divine in all nations, and brother with turn against sister. Tiamat will be the third, and she will take all nourishment from the earth, causing a great famine throughout the planet—'

    'And the Water spirit will be the last, I assume?' Meredith had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. 'This . . . Thetis; did I pronounce that right?'

    'No.' Nicholas replied, his eyes unblinking with a hint of fear. 'Thetis was called upon once before to destroy the earth. The Water Elemental was responsible for the Great Flood, and God had made a covenant with man that this would never happen again. No, the forth will be another . . . a Neutral not of the four, but an element nonetheless. We call the vengeful spirit Malach . . . or Death.'

    'Wait, you mean . . . the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?'

    'For a non-religious type, you seem to know much about scripture, Sister Meredith.'

    'The Four Horsemen are the Elementals, charged with undoing all of creation?'

    'In the end, after their work is through, they will combine their efforts as one and wreak havoc on the earth. Earthquakes, volcanoes, floods and tsunamis, hurricanes and violent storms will undo everything they have done—the reversing of creation in all its form and splendor. In my time, many evil men and principalities sought to trigger these horrible events,' said Nicholas. 'I was charged by the Almighty Trinity to prevent this from happening, just like Joan of Arc and our ancestors before us, and those who would later come after.'

    'What?' Meredith stood bewildered. 'You mean me, right?'

    'I mean, all of our bloodline, Meredith. This is the specific duty of our lineage, and the ancient and all but forgotten faith of our blood. Come and see what most have only ever guessed.' Nicholas turned to the center of the strange temple, where he focused on the unusual tree that seemed to thirst for moonlight at the center.

    'What am I looking at?' she raised a single eyebrow, staring at the strange winding tree that was much shorter compared to the towers around them, but was far more intricate.

    'This, Meredith, is the family tree of our ancient and complex lineage.' he pointed to the white tree. 'The bloodline of Abel and Seth.' As he gestured downward, Meredith spotted the base of the tree, thick and ancient. Its pink tinge she found strange, but just above, the trunk split into three—always three, it seemed the overall theme. The two white trunks on the right merged into one, firm and sturdy. She assumed they represented the House of Noah, when the two ancient clans merged proceeding the dawn of man, as Ashley had revealed.

    'I'd imagine the red trunk belongs to Caine?'

    'This is why I brought you here this night; to show you everything you need to know about our lineage, and why it is so important that you accept what is about to happen.'

    Nicholas gestured her closer with a slight wave, and the two distanced kin knelt upon the leave covered stone. He pointed to the roots protruding from the soil, within the garden-like stone border. Meredith noted their pink tinge once again.

    'They are the same tree, split into three?'

    'All of humanity has a single source.' he replied, and then took Meredith's hand and placed it upon the roots. 'See without seeing, Sister.'

    As her skin made contact with the strange roots, the world around her shifted, and suddenly she found herself standing in a much lusher forest. She could still somehow feel her fingers upon the course roots, but the tree itself was nowhere to be seen.

    They stood together on the rushing shore of a vast beach, where everything seemed to grow much larger in size. The palm trees that lined the shore were ten times the size as she had come to know, and for a moment she wondered if they had shrunken in comparison. As Meredith took in the crisp ocean air, her lungs felt cool, the very air she breathed cleaner than she had known was even possible.

    'Wow.' her jaw hung in awe, but then she was distracted as she turned to see a strange sight. Far in the distance she could see massive creatures roaming about, and one in particular caught her attention as several long prehistoric necks could be seen moving in a herd formation. 'Is that . . . a dinosaur?' she gulped nervously.

    'Technically it is what the Bible called a Behemoth, according to Job.'

    'There are dinosaurs in the bible?' she let out a sigh of disbelief.

    'The word "Dinosaur" was coined by man, Meredith, as was the word "Evolution." However, both existed regardless of man's definition of the word, and described in scripture if one were inclined to read.' he pointed below the tree line, and Meredith squinted her eyes as the sheer size and wonder of the living brontosaurus had distracted from the less breathtaking sight. Within the brush of oversized trees was a colony of humanoid creatures, suggesting that both dinosaurs and early man once lived together simultaneously—something she had been taught was simply not true.

    'Where are we . . . when are we?'

    'A time long forgotten . . . before the dawn of man.' Nicholas replied. 'Follow me.'

    The two stepped toward the towering tree line, and as they approached the strange tribe of would-be men, Meredith studied them carefully—a view that if indeed genuine, as Nick claimed, would rewrite the historic textbooks as she knew them.

    They walked on two legs like men, but their foreheads were much larger, their arms built and brawn, thick bodies mostly covered in hair.

    'What are these . . . creatures?'

    'They are beasts, the likes of which will one day will become man.' he replied.

    The colony of strange cavemen seemed to lack any sense of humanity or compassion. Their eyes were that of animals, not a shred of human intelligence or original thought within. Though their bodies suggested a far more advanced structure than any ape she had seen at a zoo, their eyes were no more human than a dog, their vocals no more than a series of grunts. Amongst the beasts, Meredith counted many females, many forced to mate against their will and out in the open, barbaric brawls broke out at random, some beaten to death with heavy stones. Their mannerisms were less than civil—even cruel.

    'Note the eyes.' said Nick. 'Before man's first original thought, man was what you see before you.'

    'So, we did come from apes.'

    'No.' he replied. 'Apes are a separate species altogether, but biologically, there is indeed a common link. That does not mean we came from apes. Rather apes came from a common ancestor, but biology alone does not make a conscious mind capable of original thought. These . . . creatures are not men.' Nicholas took her hand. 'Now, brace yourself.'

    In an instant, the two dream walkers seemed to be pulled off the shore, and zipped across a vast ocean and onto to another. Through countless towering trees and thick forest brush their essences traveled at the speed of sound, until Meredith felt her feet touch the ground once more, and her jaw dropped in awe of the magnificent sight in the distance before her.

    A single gargantuan tree stretched into the heavens before them, its massive branches hovering over mountains as strange prehistoric birds could be seen at their peak altitude, but could not reach the topmost part of the trunk. Meredith likened the anomaly to the tale of Jack and the Beanstalk she had read in her adolescence, where the peak vanished into the clouds above. The leaves alone were the size of dump trucks, its smallest of branches the size of the average modern tree, and the largest like grand redwoods stretching out in all directions.

    'What is this?' asked Meredith in utter shock and awe.

    'The Eden Tree.' the old man replied.

    Meredith pealed her gaze away with great difficulty, and noticed the lush forestry—strange unknown species of plant life at every angle, and unusual creatures she had never known existed until that very moment. Rushing waterfalls and trickling golden streams branched throughout the flourishing land, where strange-looking fruit and vegetables grew plentiful from every source in sight, both within the ground and above. As she squinted her eyes and looked into the distance, she could spot a section of a great wall that kept out the beastly would-be men they had watched but a moment ago, the great barrier joining mountains at their base.

    'We're in the Garden of Eden, aren't we?' she asked, recognizing the name of the tree and putting two-and-two together, but Nicholas let the experience speak for itself. With every passing second, what remained of her skepticism diminished to nothing, as the views seemed too fantastical to be mere imagination.

    Amongst the strange animals a single man could be seen roaming about—a man who was not like the beastly creatures on the distant shore. There was an obvious intelligence in his eyes, almost divine in nature. Though the surrounding beast's size and sheer weight would terrify most men, he did not seem worried in the slightest; in fact there seemed no need, as every animal seemed to have a certain grace about them, as though common predators had no interest in their prey. Meredith noted the man's blood-red iris and assumed she was looking at Lucifer or someone similar of demonic likeness. He seemed rugged, with long, unkempt golden blonde hair and an olive skin-tone, but exceptionally handsome. There was a charming demeanor about him, almost like a big brother, she noted instantly. As he turned to pick a ripe fruit from a nearby tree, she caught sight of two sharp bones protruding from his shoulder blades, where wings were once attached.

    'Who is that man?' asked Meredith.

    'His name is Samael, but some have come to call him the Traveler.'

    The name struck a familiar chord, mentioned as the mysterious man who had come to rescue Abraham's daughter, Urielle. That story had taken place within the Templar's lifetime, and so Meredith assumed this man was the immortal being the knight had claimed him to be, the very same creature mentioned by her daughter in the shady motel room that very evening.

    'This is the fallen angel; the one left behind after Lucifer and his demons were cast into Hell?' she asked, recalling Ashley's explanation. Rather than answering, Nicholas let the scene play out so that Meredith would see everything for herself and come to her own conclusions, but when she noted the lack of nipples upon his toned chest, she knew this being was not birthed from a human womb, but created.

    Samael studied the strange looking fruit, polished it upon his white garments and then turned to hand it to another—a woman that had been standing out of view until that very moment. Though her features were wonderfully breathtaking, she didn't quite appear completely human either, but far more so than the underdeveloped beastly men Meredith had seen on the shore of the distant continent. Her hair was a dark midnight black, long and wavy, and her eyes were a bright beaming hazel and haunting to behold. Neither two were entirely human, one an advanced species of beast or underdeveloped human, depending on perspective, and the other an angel once cast from the heavens above.

    As the Traveler Samael handed her the strange oversized fruit, he moved behind her and grazed his masculine hands lovingly upon her stomach bulge.

    'She's pregnant.' Meredith stepped forth to get a better look, and Nicholas kept at her side, rather enjoying her intrigue. 'Who is that woman?'

    'Samael called her Judith, first love and beloved mother of Adam.'

    'Adam was . . . part angel?'

    'You could say that, yes.' he grinned, a smile forming within his thick, cotton-like beard. 'Angels were created with the ability to think critically, you see. They were created with a natural sense of wisdom, where humans must earn their intelligence through growth, or adaptable evolution as your modern terms would suggest. Only through adaptation can any sentient being gain the gift of free will. Judith was the first of her kind—a female separated from her tribe at birth and brought within the walls of Eden, never once exposed to the brutality of prehistoric man. In the absence of such cruelty, she was the first of her kind to develop the ability to think, when no such man had yet to be known.'

    'We do develop quicker.' Meredith spoke of all woman kind, and Jean concurred.

    'Judith was like a breath of fresh air to Samael. You see, the fallen angel had been left behind for countless years, never so much as a single conversation until she came along. He taught her everything; how to speak—how to read and write in the first language. As time progressed, the lonely Traveler found himself falling in love—a uniquely human emotion he hadn't thought possible until after he had removed his wings.'

    Meredith watched them in wonder, knowing they were both the first of their kind, and keys the next chapter of their story to come.

    'Move your hand up the trunk.' Nicholas ordered, and as Meredith felt her fingers graze the roots and move onto an unseen trunk, she felt the coarse texture of the red tree upon her fingertips, and the world shifted again, as though someone had pushed a fast forward button.

    Samael was nowhere to be seen, and Judith had disappeared with him. Instead, the two dream walkers looked upon a young man with the same olive-skin tone as his father, the blonde tinge in his hair mimicking the Traveler, but Adam was a much taller man, broad shouldered and thick like his mother. He walked pleasantly next to his female counter part, the only other fully developed human on the earth.

    'Eve?' asked Meredith.

    'Indeed so, Sister Meredith.' he nodded.

    'I thought she was created from Adam's rib?'

    'The only part of the human body capable of cellular regeneration.' he smiled. 'Amazing, really. You see, Samael and Judith had created the first human man capable of original thought, but his divinity was unique, a direct result of his father's genetic make-up. The only way to replicate the first fully developed human was through what your modern terms would call a type of cloning.'

    'Cloning, really?' Meredith studied the hauntingly beautiful woman.

    'Again, just because modern science comes up with a new name does not mean they invented the process, as you can see.' Eve was indeed stunningly beautiful. Her complexion was much darker than Adam's, her midnight black hair more like Judith than the Traveler, and far less bulky or hairy. Most notable was her emerald green eyes strikingly similar to both her own, and Meredith suddenly realized that Eve had been the first to inherit the official Ellis trait. 'The beauty of selective replication is that the Almighty could tweak and perfect her biological traits, leaving out much of Samael's personal qualities, and accenting Judith's feminine likeness. God loves wondrous variety, after all.'

    Just then, a great roar echoed throughout the entirety of the lush continent, and Meredith worried that a dinosaur-like beast had somehow breached the walls of Eden.

    'What the hell was that?' her gaze roamed about in fear, but her train of thought would halt when she looked into the distance and noticed many of the massive leaves rustling at the base of the colossal Eden Tree. 'What hides in the brush, Nicholas?'

    'Hold on.' he replied, and within seconds they had whipped through the atmosphere again until they were back where they started, outside of Eden and upon the same shore roaming about with pre-historic man. Though they were in the same spot as they once stood, the once beastly men and women seemed somewhat intelligent in appearance. They cooked with fire and carved images upon rock, but still lacked a basic language.

    'What happened to them?' How much time has passed?' asked Meredith as she observed their newly developed skills.

    'The Great Leap happened,' Nick replied. 'The second Adam was born, every humanoid creature born forthwith was gifted with intelligence—though not nearly as advanced. The first cities were built within years, the population multiplying like never before. Follow me.' he gestured to a nearby cave, where a familiar family huddled around a fire for warmth within. Eve looked considerably more distraught, tired and underfed, though her stomach bulged with child. She looked exhausted, but was suddenly delighted with relief as a bloody Adam limped into the tiny cave entrance with a glistening spear in one hand, and a slain creature in the other.

    'Thank God, I am starving.' said Eve, rubbing her pregnant belly as her husband handed her the dead creature and she placed it within the flames, salivating with hunger.

    'I had to fight off another for it. These . . . beasts are vicious creatures; they know no compassion. We must develop some sort of defense if we are to raise our children in safety.'

    'What about Samael?'

    'Father is gone . . . resting in the long sleep after mother had died. We are on our own.'

    'This was after their expulsion I gather?' asked Meredith, noting the deep contemplation in their demeanour where only bliss and contentment once were. She could tell by the look of them just how desperately they wished they were still surrounded with countless species of fruit and bountiful prosperity, no threats waiting just outside their cave.

    'The taking of the forbidden fruit only amplified their intelligence, but at a terrible cost.'

    Nicholas took Meredith's hand and moved her fingers higher, and the world shifted once more as they looked upon a small camp made of wood, mud and stone, farm land within a lush forest barricaded by sharpened logs to keep intruders out. Two adolescent boys stoked the fire as a dog-like beast roasted over a fire pit. Behind them, both Adam and Eve's hair had a few streaks of grey hair, the former had grown a thick and wild main of hair and matching beard, and his wife was clearly pregnant with a third.

    One boy was noticeably graceful in his movements; a look of natural wisdom and charisma once seen in Samael's features as he studied the rippling flames, a quant smile on his youthful face. The eldest boy, however, seemed more meddlesome and mistrusting, as he seemed to be studying his brother's reactions every time he pinched him, or threatened to throw him into the fire and cook him alive. Abel was blonde like his father and grandfather before him, but his older brother wore the deep black locks of their grandmother, Judith and mother, Eve.

    'Caine and Abel?' Meredith studied the young boys, but quickly noticed that Eve was pregnant with their third child. 'Seth, I'd imagine?

    'The lineage of the chosen people, yes.' the elderly man concurred. 'After they took the forbidden fruit, Adam and Eve were expelled from paradise to live with their underdeveloped brethren, much to their dismay, as you can probably tell.' Meredith had indeed noticed their general vibe of misery, having tasted paradise and then denied it before they knew how good they had it. 'For their own good, the Almighty needed to separate them from Lucifer's influence.'

    Just then, a great roar could be heard for a second time—a monstrous cry that echoed over crashing waves and vast distances. Meredith's heart skipped a beat as she pictured the colossal tree rustling once more, and just like that she was standing before the towering trunk, but the view had turned sour. The great wall that once barricaded the Garden of Eden was in ruins, the once lust vegetation dried up and desolate. The once humble beasts that roamed the land had turned on one another, devouring each other's flesh until nothing but dusty bones remained amongst the mud and shriveled roots. All trees were made bare but one, the Eden Tree.

    It's once green leaves had turned a used motor oil black, it's bark a glistening red as though it had been coated with blood.

    'The Eden Tree was a portal to Hell, guarded by the innocence and divinity of the first man. It's evil was unleashed when Adam and Eve gave into temptation, and cursed mankind for all time.' Nick grimaced as they watched the black leaves rustle, a great and sinister beast dwelling within. Meredith's hands trembled with the might of its powerful roar, as she allowed herself to come to grips with what she was looking at.

    'Lucifer . . . wasn't a snake, was he?'

    'The Bible never claimed as much.' the Magi replied. 'He was always referred to as a serpent, the earliest translation meaning a scaled creature that crawled on its belly . . . at least when he wasn't taking to the skies, anyways.'

    'He was . . . a dragon?' she gulped nervously, and stumbled backward when a great stream of fire ripped through the darkened sky from the depths of the black brush.

    'Yes, which is why, much later down the timeline, Vlad the Impaler would reclaim the title to cement the nature of his lineage for all time, and crown himself infernal royalty of the Dragon Dynasty. You're missing the big picture.' As Nicholas inched her hand further up the course, unseen trunk of their ancient family tree, time moved forth faster than she could have possibly imagined. A vast city began to form where Eden once stood, and grand structures of stone and great pyramids replaced the dead greenery over the course of thousands of years. A massive cathedral began to cover the base of the crimson Eden Tree, as the ancient metropolis was built from the ground up before her very eyes.

    The sight was miraculous to behold, and Meredith watched with a slacked jaw, caught in the embrace of its wonder. Grand effigies were shaped and molded where the crumbled wall once stood, erect both between and carved into a series of mountains which once cradled Eden so lovingly, protecting them from a vast and unforgiving ocean. Faces of many soldiers who once fought in the heavens were now made gods, their likeness remembered before their expulsion from Heaven and exodus into Hell, and worshiped by the cursed citizens of the now thriving city.

    Suddenly they were standing within a grand cathedral of shimmering gold and silver, where pillars of black marble and strange patterns held up the palace-like room. The base of the Eden Tree was built right into the structure, the magnificent cathedral casing only a small section of its massive trunk at its rear, where doors and patterns were carved into its towering wall of red, bloody bark. Carved from an extruding chuck of crimson wood was a gigantic throne. Wood had somehow merged with flesh, bone and human tissue, and faces still somehow moved upon its vile structure, letting out great cries of sorrow and hellish misery. The living humans shared the Ellis eyes and basic bone structure, as she realized this infernal throne was comprised of the lost souls of her fallen kin, like a sickening trophy.

    Before the throne was what looked to be a shimmering pool of water—a fountain with a great dragon effigy at its center, and marble steps which rimed the length and width on all four sides.

    'What is this place?'

    'The pinnacle of Caine's creation—the great city of sin designed in homage to the great beast who lurks beneath its foundations.' Nick's seasoned features crinkled with disgust as he looked upon the horrible throne, and the tormented people trapped within it. 'The first born son of Adam returned to these lands to reclaim his birth right, forever laying claim to the cursed continent of Eden, but as God had banished all things holy from the land, the only way he could build his thriving city was to bend the knee to Lucifer. Caine was the very first Satan worshiper. The knowledge gained from the forbidden fruit was built right into his blood, and so he worshiped the Dragon as the granter of knowledge, later referred to as the Light Bearer. And so, the devil claimed this land for his own, turning the Eden Tree a blood red, and branding Eden with a new name . . . a title that would echo through legend for all time.'

    'Atlantis.' Meredith barely whispered. 'The Garden of Eden became Atlantis?' Meredith stood frozen, shocked as rippling flames burst from behind the throne, and the faces upon its horrible surface wailed and bellowed in ultimate suffering, as though anticipating an arrival of sorts.

    'The Atlantians hosted a great power unknown to the rest of the world, its legend still alive to this very day. That power was not of this world, but originated from Hell. After Lucifer and his fallen soldiers were cast into perdition, he had found a way to punch a hole through the very fabric of existence, and the Almighty managed to confine him to a single tree. When he managed to lure Adam and Eve into temptation, his evil was then unleashed upon the world. Humans collectively grew in raw hate, violence, and malice, so did this power flourish beyond all imagination until the entire world was bathed in the blood of war, slavery and utter submission to what are now called the Living Demonic.'

    Towering double doors suddenly parted at the front of the room, and Meredith let out a startled yelp. She quickly moved out of the way, worried she might be seen, but Nicholas was quick to stop her.

    'They cannot see you, child. What you are witnessing are merely memories of what was, unchanged or altered in any way. You were brought here to bear witness, and so you must.'

    A woman draped in black linen and not much else stepped past them. She left a trail of what looked to be black rose petals in her stride, tossing them freely on her way to the great wall of red bark, and the throne seemingly formed from its evil. She wore the black hair of Judith, but the emerald eyes Meredith had expected were a jet black iris, her skin pale rather than dark like her ancestor.

    A moment later, a towering man followed her from the outer hall. As his bare feet touched the flower petals they instantly shriveled and died, as though his slightest of touch would not permit life in its basic form, his very flesh that of raw destruction.

    Caine had grown to be a fine looking man from the troublesome boy he once was. Since boyhood, his eyes had turned red like his grandfather, Samael. His skin was pale, a slight tinge of vomit-green in his complexion, but most notable was the unique shape of his eyes, a familiar attribute that Meredith had seen only once before . . . in a young woman who had captured her son's heart.

    'That's gotta be a coincidence.' she muttered under her breath, but wasn't so confident as the striking resemblance to Miranda could not be ignored.

    The mighty king sat upon his throne, smirking with delight as he listened to the faces scream in horror, as though his very presence on the infernal piece of furniture was intolerable—almost torturous. As he sat back, his bare, toned chest glistened, his muscles solid and rippling with every movement. Meredith quickly noted a familiar symbol burned between his pecks like a brand, the unmistakable sign of Lucifer. He fiddled with his long, braided, black hair as he let out a bored sigh, the vibe of a man whose thirst for power could never be quenched.

    'Report, slave.' he ordered, and Meredith suddenly noticed his beastly teeth, sharp fangs like a wolf.

    'Your kingdom thrives in all corners, My Lord. The whole of the world trembles before your might.'

    'Yes, I know. On with it.' he pushed with a note of irritability.

    'The Pharaohs to east have all but completed the last of their obelisks.' she began. 'We should be able to harness the power of all thirteen locations before the rise of the last full moon of the century. The western region, however, they are showing some distain for leadership. Slaves in west seem innately prone to rebellion it seems. Our efforts lag behind.'

    'Then send more soldiers; put the fear of Lucifer into them.'

    'We have sent all who are capable. It seems the matter demands a more personal touch.'

    'Very well; I'll see to it myself.' he sighed. 'The circle is all but secured—twelve of the thirteen kingdoms now belong to me, and a few unruly slaves prevent our world kingdom from forging? Must I do everything myself?'

    'Forgive me, my Lord, but I sense your Grandfather's hand in this. He has interfered in our business before. Now I fear he instills hope of freedom in our most prominent of bred labour. Should we move against the Traitor, I believe open war to be the only outcome.'

    'We've been at war for countless years, Jezebel. What's a few more heads to roll?'

    'So, should I order them to continue? Perhaps send more troops to protect our workers from these . . . Neophytes from the north?'

    'Leave it with me.' Caine let out a great sigh, and leaned his chin upon his knuckles growing all the more bored by the second. 'Samael is not to be trifled with, but he cannot be left to idle either. I'll deal with the Traitor; you just get those obelisks erected and functional. Our kin grow restless in the underworld, and our master is not known for his enduring patience.'

    Just then, many inhuman faces seemed to stretch through the wall of red tree trunk, as though it were made of thin latex. Claws pushed against its surface, as a small army of hellish creatures seemed trapped within and desperate to be unleashed. Though Jezebel was a Living Demonic herself, the very thought of unleashing the fully fledged demons shook her to the core.

    'You cower before the might of the fallen, child?'

    'It's just,' she gulped nervously. 'They are vile, are they not? Do you not worry they will try to seize the throne?'

    'My throne is not my own, child. I am but a steward in a reserved seat of power, destined for the great Dragon. We are his children—his family, and so you must not fear. Loyalty is always rewarded, as you know. Besides, you were named of the Unclean Spirit herself . . . the Great Jezebel. What would you have to fear?'

    She had much to fear, but would voice nothing. Jezebel had seen far too many loyal soldiers rewarded only with death, torture and enslavement.

    'It's not like you have any real troubles—the excruciating boredom of ruling does not burden your shoulders, but my own.'

    'What then troubles you, Father?' she asked, finding great difficulty empathizing for such a ridiculous claim.

    'It's a simple matter, really.' he sighed. 'What remains after every kingdom is conquered—every corner of the earth subdued and under my thumb? What left is there to do but satisfy appetites?' his tone was indifferent. 'How I long for the triumph of war—to feel my brother's beating heart in my grasp once more before I squeezed the life from it.' his mouth salivated at the thought. 'Perhaps I should pick a fight with Samael and his Children of the Light, if anything to remedy this dull existence.'

    'Perhaps it is your brother's kingdom that troubles you so? Seth remain the one kingdom you have not laid conquest. They take in the wayward souls of Abel and misguide their paths, turning their allegiance from the Dark Lord. Your heart may rest once the last of the human race is under your rule.'

    'I struck the man dead eons ago; all of his people were captured and made example, their women ours to ravish and turn, their children forced into slavery to build our world kingdom. Abel was slain in every sense of the word. What more would you have me do?'

    'Those who escaped into the mountains in the north must be dealt with sooner rather than later.' Jezebel insisted. 'They marry and breed with your youngest brother's lineage, creating a hybrid kingdom on its own . . . this mountain city of Noah, they now claim to rule. If one kingdom remains independent it is open rebellion against the crown, and high treason, to say the least. The bloodline of Abel and Seth must not be allowed to thrive, lest war be our eternal fate.'

    'You don't think I've tried, servant?' Caine's tone grew irritable, and Jezebel's head lowered, eyes locked to the floor, terrified she had offended him. 'You believe me weak because I cannot step foot on their soil?'

    'You are the most powerful Living Demonic in the entire living realm, My Lord.' she bowed even further until her face pressed against the golden tiles and dead petals upon the floor. 'The king of all kings and Pharaohs alike. Both of your brothers have already passed if not by your hand than by old age. It is their lineage we must be weary of now.'

    'Their lands are enchanted, somehow.' Caine scowled. 'Theirs is a magic of divinity I know not how to control. The God of Old protects them; not even my mightiest of soldiers have been able to penetrate their kingdom's barriers. I've stationed troops outside their lands; your brother, High General Tubel takes anyone foolish enough to wander in the night. The Traitor guides them—I'm certain of it; his loyal knights keep them safe from his fortress in the bitter North.'

    'I mean no offense, My Lord,' she lifted her brow cautiously. 'But as long as their fortress stands, there will be no satisfaction. Those who would defy their king must fall before his might; there can be no other way.'

    'The world is of simple minds, most barely capable of rational thought. Ours and theirs are the only kingdoms capable of thriving in the new world order to come. The future is destined for great conflict—of a never-ending blood feud between two houses.'

    'That is why you must end this now, Father. Strike them down while they are few, before their multitudes are allowed to thrive out of control.'

    'You talk to too much.' Caine suddenly grasped the back of her head, and without hesitation she lowered herself upon his lap and began servicing him.

    'My God, is that really his daughter?' asked Meredith, knowing that he couldn't hear her tone of disgust.

    'You have no idea the evils of which had become regular practice in this horrible place; incest is just the tip of the iceberg.' Nicholas shook his head, sickened by the thought.

    'Do we really have to watch though?' she grimaced, watching the woman known as Jezebel become all the more aroused, as though pleasing her father was more than duty, but lustful want.

    'Something is about to happen.' the Magi replied as Meredith's eyes roamed about, rather uncomfortable for a few moments, and just when he was about to climax, the front door pushed open and another servant stepped cautiously into the room. There was a palpable sense of panic in his tone, though Caine didn't seem to mind an audience.

    'What is it now? Can you not see I am preoccupied?' as he finished his question, he let out a lustful moan, and Jezebel's head ceased to move up and down. 'Your technique is improving, child; almost as good as your daughter; but then I've taken more time to break her in, now haven't I—'

    'My Lord, the Traitor is here.'

    Upon mention of the nickname, Caine pushed his daughter off of him, and she fumbled to the floor.

    'Clean yourself up, and see my Grandfather in.' he scoffed upon the sight of her, as she wiped her chin of his fluids and went about her task.

    'I can see him in, My Lord.' said the male servant with a confident straightening of posture, as Caine approached him.

    'No, my daughter will have that honour for her loyalty to my pleasure. You, on the other hand,' he placed his arm around the young man in a friendly manner. 'You should know better than to not let me finish before interrupting me with such mundane news.'

    'I was only thinking of your—'

    Without another word Caine tossed the boy into the shimmering pool that stood before the throne. What was thought to be water was something far more lethal. The teenage boy let out a horrible scream as Caine smirked with delight, watching with great amusement as his flesh melted off his bones. Hair singed and sizzled as the acidic fluid stripped the man down to a skeletal form within seconds, and the pool turned a sickly, milky red.

    Jezebel stepped past her king, trying not to watch as many ribcages and skulls bobbed to the surface, the latest servant, one of hundreds that rested at the bottom, slowly breaking up over time.

    'Let us entertain the Traitor, shall we?' he straightened his composure, and prepared himself for a game of wits.

    'What the fuck is wrong with this guy?' Meredith and Nicholas followed him out into a grand courtyard, where a full view of the magnificent city could be seen. Below, for as far as the eye could see were countless structures and monuments, great sculptures of demonic soldiers and deities erected all over the city. Flying machines moved in and out of view, far more advanced than the rest of the world, its likeness found only within the shores of Atlantis. More gargantuan carvings of satanic deities were carved into the surrounding mountains, like grand sentinels protecting the metropolis within, seen only by a strange sea-coloured glow that seemed to power the entire city beneath the night sky.

    'This is Atlantis?' Meredith's jaw dangled in awe of the grand city, specifically its modern appearance. 'What technology did they have back then?'

    'The source of their power is a substance they called Vril, a mixture of demonic blood and chemical compounds.' Nick replied. 'Demonic alchemy was rather common practice in ancient times, and Caine was no stranger to the secrets of a modern society. Of course, nothing inspires the Living Demonic like the inability to withstand sunlight.'

    'Incredible.'

    Standing within the grand courtyard, within the glow of the blue-green light visible from several nearby lanterns, was another man with blood-red eyes. 

    The so-called Traitor dressed like a commoner, though he wore a unique symbol that pinned his linens together upon his left breast. Samael had not aged a day since Meredith had last seen him, before the grand city was even a thought. His skin was much more vibrant, as he commonly thrived in the daylight, unlike his grandson who only walked in the cover of night. The handsome man nodded, his long blonde locks tied behind his head, adding to his humble demeanor.

    'They look the same age. They're both immortals?' asked Meredith.

    'The Black Matter Chromosome preserves that which naturally expires.' Nicholas replied.

    'Grandfather, you honour me with your timeless presence, once again.' he bowed respectfully, which didn't seem in his nature. 'Have you nothing better to do with your time?'

    'We both know I don't, and neither do you. Caine, M'boy . . . you've looked better, if I may say.'

    'It is a high crime to insult your king, regardless of blood ties.' Caine's tone was semi-serious, though the Traveler didn't seem vexed in the slightest.

    'Shall we?' Samael gestured to a small nearby table made of black volcanic stone, where two seats faced one another. Upon its surface was a red and white marble chess board, its pieces seemingly carved by a master craftsman.

    'Chess existed back then?' Meredith wondered.

    'Indeed, it remains the oldest and first strategy game known to man.' answered her seasoned guide as they observed the two red-eyed men.

    'I don't see why not. I must warn you, I'm getting rather good at this . . . Game of Kings, as you call it.' Caine accepted his challenge.

    Grandfather and Grandson sat down opposite one another, and without hesitation, Samael made the first move, playing the white side of the board.

    'You are a curious being, Samael, I must say. No matter the turmoil in the world, you never fail to meet me for our regularly scheduled match.'

    'The Game of Kings is well named, you should know.'

    'And you are its inventor?' asked Caine, moving his pawns into place.

    'Do you really want to know where it comes from?'

    'I asked, did I not?' the grandson seemed irritated.

    'The first time this game was ever played, Lucifer sat in your place, and the Almighty in mine.' he smiled.

    'God Himself invented the game?' Caine scoffed in disbelief.

    'How do you think your master knows how to manipulate the way he does? Lucifer was trained and taught in the strategic sense since his inception. Only when a child is raised with the basics of critical, strategic thinking may they learn to rule with both humility and grace. Didn't do much for him, unfortunately . . . not in the way the Father had hoped, anyway.'

    'It is my understanding that Lucifer was made to rule . . . to take His place.'

    'Nobody really knows.' Samael shrugged. 'I would imagine Lucifer was being groomed to lead Heaven in God's absence, but never a permanent solution. From what I know of the Father, he likes to rest from his duties every Sabbath. I believe this game was designed to teach Lucifer how to be a noble Stewart in His stead. But that's just my guess; I wouldn't presume to know the mind of our Creator.'

    'Is this why you have come, to bring out the humble ruler within me, Grandfather?'

    Samael paused, considering the would-be Dark Man.

    'I remember one of the last conversations I had with the Creator, before I was charged with keeping an eye on Lucifer during the Great Rebellion.' he began. 'He warned me our dark friend would always be several steps ahead of me at all times. Only with proper training could I learn to keep up. In essence, this game was created to make great kings out of peasants—to understand the value of sacrifice. No move comes without cost, or exposure and great risk of failure. One wrong move can destroy the mightiest of kingdoms if its ruler knows not the strategic mind—or the noble heart of even the youngest of soldiers.'

    Samael moved a rook across the board taking out one of the red rooks, which Caine quickly retaliated, and took his piece with the use of a pawn.

    'Is this yet another one of your metaphorical lessons, Samael? No matter my deeds, you always seem to believe there is another side to me—ever searching for the good.'

    'Take what you will.' he replied, moving a white pawn forward. 'I'm merely pointing out the significance of the game, answering your question. Unless you are looking for a deeper meaning, I have nothing else to say on the matter.'

    Caine smiled, knowing the fallen angel well.

    'I'll humour you. I know you far too well to expect a straight forward conversation. What would you have me learn from this so-called Game of Kings, outside mere strategy?'

    Samael obliged, returning the smile though he knew his grandson to take in very little of his wisdom. Nevertheless, he knew what was to become of him, and beneath his calm and reserved exterior, he silently hoped Caine would heed a dire warning, subtly written between the lines of his words.

    'One who studies the Game of Kings will understand life, far beyond mere strategy.' he began as the two opponents took each other's pieces out, one-by-one.

    'How so?'

    'Consider the board itself, made of both light and darkness. These squares represent our born status in life. Some of us are born, and begin our life cycle on either a dark or light square, regardless of wealth or poverty. Your dynasty, though powerful, are all born in darkness. Even yourself, a king, sit upon a dark square of your own choosing.'

    'And my brother's lineage?' Caine grinded his teeth.

    'Quite the opposite.' Samael replied, feeling his hateful eyes upon him. 'You see, your red pieces are well suited, your entire dynasty born in blood lust and sexual perversion. You are still a king, however, the most protected, but a lesser piece as far as power is concerned.'

    'You think me weak, Grandfather?' asked Caine, his unimpressed glare as though his opponent was dirt beneath his heel.

    'Not at all.' Samael moved his pawn up the board, accompanied by several of its brothers. 'A wise king can only ever move one step at a time. A good king must consider every move, as a strike against the weakest of soldiers is a strike on his authority. As such, the ideal king would see his subjects as an extension of himself.'

    Caine moved his bishop across the board and took out the white queen. He grinned, knowing the importance of the deadly piece, but his opponent would not give him the satisfaction of reacting.

    'The foolish ruler underestimates the power of his pawns, and attempts to win the game with sheer strength, not seeing the value in the heart of his soldiers.' Samael moved one of his pawns forward and took out his bishop, which seemed to boil his grandson's blood. 'The pawn's strength is in numbers, a lesson you have yet to learn, I dare say.'

    'What are you implying?' Caine looked up from the board, watching his grandfather closely, studying where his eyes moved.

    'If you underestimate the power of numbers and the heart of a loyal soldier, a pawn can quickly turn into the most powerful piece on the board.' As his pawn reached the opposite side of the board, he replaced it with the queen he had lost just a few moves prior. 'Check.'

    Caine's jaw muscles tightened as he moved his king out of harm's way. In that moment, Samael was but a few moves away from checkmate, but the lesson was far from over.

    'Each piece upon the board represents a distinct type of personality, each we can tie to every human being on earth. You consider the queen the most dangerous because she is straight forward, as you commonly wish I was.'

    'Anything but straight forward.' he forced a laugh.

    'Sometimes she moves diagonally like a bishop, but straight like a rook. She has a personality that always veers back and forth, from light to dark at will, but is easily predictable. Then you have the pawns; always underestimated and the first to be sacrificed, usually for a purpose they were never meant to understand. But like a king, they can only move one space at time.'

    Caine was beginning to lose patience, as one of Samael's pawns took out his queen.

    'So, if the queen isn't the most powerful piece, what is?'

    With the one question he had been anticipating, Samael moved his white knight into position.

    'Checkmate.'

    Without hesitation, the Dark Man began moving his pieces back onto the board, his frustration growing by the second.

    'Another; this time I move first.' he demanded

    'Very well.' Samael humbly agreed, joining him in replacing his fallen pieces back onto the board.

    'Get to your point, Traitor; this conversation is boring me.' he sighed.

    'It is not without merit, I assure you.' he replied, allowing Caine to move first, even though it was technically breaking the rules. 'Just like in life, when a piece is killed, it is then sent to the sidelines to watch the living until a new game begins.'

    'You speak of archaic ideas, Traveler. Reincarnation is a forgotten belief, and outlawed in my lands.'

    'Laws cannot change fact, no matter how much you try to silence them, Caine. As I said, understanding the Game of Kings is to accept the rules of life, and most importantly, the afterlife. I say this because you are clearly concerned with the carnal wants of this world. Though you are an immortal being, like myself, you miss the beauty of expiration. Life itself is meaningful because it must end—every moment precious because there will never be another of its likeness. From one immortal to another, trust me when I say your boredom will only get worse, when all you have is time. There is little meaning in playing the game in the first place, if the king can never be killed.'

    'I see mourning in your eyes, Samael.'

    'Do try to understand, Caine. I was there when you were born, the first of your kind.' As Samael raised his brow, Meredith spotted a glimmer of moisture in his eyes. 'I held you in my arms with the greatest of intentions, your life full of endless possibilities. God has granted you the gift of free will, and the tools to thrive and prosper, if you would only walk away from your empty faith. I see a damaged soul before me, one of bloodlust and rage where potential once dwell.' his red eyes lowered, lost in despair. 'I see a lone chess piece upon an empty board . . . and it breaks my heart.'

    'My God gives me everything I want, why would walk away from that?'

    'Because Lucifer was so concerned with giving you what you want, that he never concerned himself with what you need, and nothing he does is without great personal cost. You have gained a kingdom, servants and material, lustful want; but tell me, Grandson, can you trust a single one? Can you put your faith in just one servant—ensure the loyalty of a single soldier? When was the last time you laid eyes upon the sun?'

    The questions seemed to hit Caine harder than Meredith had expected. The look in his eyes was that of a hollow, lonely man.

    'And my brother?'

    'His lineage fights for something greater than want. God grants them what they need as long as their hearts remain loyal, and the want is of their own making. The line of Seth and Abel is not your enemy, if only you would listen and learn to co-exist. Your greatest threat—your real enemy, is not the humble farmers who want nothing more than peace, but the creature that dwells at the root of the Eden Tree.'

    'Finish your lesson so that I may be free of your insufferable arrogance.' he replied.

    Samael let out a sigh of despair, knowing what must be done. He straightened his composure and continued the game.

    'What problems have you with the way I rule my kingdom?'

    'It's rather simple, really. You pity the less powerful citizens of your kingdom, and you do so for a very specific reason.'

    'And what is that, exactly?' Caine's eyes narrowed.

    'Your pawns, though they are red and born of evil, they are still capable of moving from light to dark at will. Your people, slaves born with the blood of Abel work during the day and sleep at night, whist your dynasty—their rulers know only darkness. Happiness—contentment is but a simple step forward for them, regardless of their enslavement. You see, I used the word pity, when I should have said envy.'

    Caine's red eyes narrowed.

    'Tread carefully.' he warned. 'Our bonded past is the only thing keeping you alive, lest you learn to mind your traitorous tongue in my presence.'

    'I stand by my statement.' he sat back, awaiting his grandson's response.

    'I am a king . . . according to your theory, I am indeed capable of the same. What reason have I to be envious of a common pawn?'

    'Because you lack perspective.' Samael replied plainly. 'A pawn need only reach the end of the board, and it could be whatever it wants, its potential limitless. You, on the other hand, were born of stature, and have learned to take your gifts for granted. You lack respect for the gifts you have been given, where your citizens know only possibility and potential. From a broader view, in this game, I represent the Almighty and you Lucifer. That makes us mere game pieces for either power to use at will, doesn't it? You worship your Devil, and I follow my God. I find the knight the most valuable piece simply because it can do what no other piece is capable. That's how you lost the last game, Caine. From the perspective of your king . . . you never see me coming.'

    'You profess yourself a knight?' Caine laughed, always underestimating the wisdom of the Traveler, but when Samael pointed to the silver crest upon his breast, his eyes widened.

    'That is the great meaning of your crest, your precious knights in the North?'

    'We are but a chessboard full of knights—an army of swift death that you will never see coming.'

    'Are you threatening me, Traitor?' Caine's eyes burned red like hot coals in his skull, but Samael let a few tense seconds pass to let the moment stew.

    'No.' the fallen angel replied humbly, which seemed to calm his nerves. 'I'm merely pointing out God's love for the game, and the clear purpose for which I am destined to roam this earth until the End of Days, regardless of how tiresome the life of an immortal may seem.'

    'Then it is you who remains a lone knight on an empty chessboard.' Caine smirked, moving his queen across the board, and a moment of silence lingered.

    'Though I consider the knight the most valuable piece on the board, and in life . . . your greatest flaw is the inability to see the value of the pawn. If a pawn only finds a way to survive and endure, it can become anything we deem necessary, with the exception of one.'

    'A king.' Caine assumed.

    'That is the value of humans, Grandson. Though you may see them as weak and useless . . . mere food for the draining, you have no idea of what they are capable. Suppress the freedoms of the people, and you'd be surprised how quickly your pawns will turn to dangerous pieces, one at a time. The suppression of freedom demands the anointment of purpose. I need not lift a figure against you, for your people will turn without my assistance; it is only a matter of time.'

    'Why are you here?' Caine let out a frustrated sigh, his patience wearing thin. 'For once in your miserable existence, just be a rook, and be straight forward with me.'

    Samael considered his grandson, hoping that the last of his warning would be well received. After all, he did not come to the great city that night of his own accord, but for a greater purpose—one of hope, if there was any that remained in the heart of the Dark Man.

    'There is a coming new era, Caine, as you have been forewarned. Your plans for world domination and a coming new world order are asinine and futile. Your . . . way of life, the lustful and murderous ways of your people thrive with the seven deadly sins. The defiance of His natural law are set in your very foundations.'

    'Yet look how we have thrived, Samael!' Caine gestured to the grand metropolis before him in all its form and glory, as impressive as it truly was. 'We built an entire kingdom, a pinnacle of the earth which far exceeds the underdeveloped minds of the rest of the known world. My brother's descendants farm the land, and refrain from their own god-given desires, afraid to live, damn you.'

    'Hurting others is not living, Caine.'

    'Do what thou wilt . . . that is the simple theory of a free society capable of true progress. Look what we have built!' he gestured again to the well lit metropolis beyond.

    'Where you see prosperity for the few, I see torment for the many.' he sighed, looking to the grand city in all honesty. 'I see a kingdom built on the backs of slaves; mothers forced to bare the children of their rapists; human life snuffed out, of such little value to anyone with social merit. I see the blood of the innocent consumed like a natural resource by creatures that stalk the night like a common parasite . . . I see a tyrant rule with an iron fist over those whom would be truly free, if they were only taught to follow divine law rather than the laws of Caine, and a false god who preys upon his gullibility.'

    'Hold your tongue, Traitor!' he stood up, towering over his grandfather with a burning wrath in his bones. 'I will not warn you again.'

    'I do not tell you this for my own personal gain, please see this.' Samael remained humble but genuine.

    'You will leave now, or I will see to it your immortality is put to the test this night.' Caine spoke through gritted teeth, his brow lowered, eyes searing with rage. Just then, many guards moved in to seize Samael, but the king raised his hand to stop them.

    'You are permitted to leave with your dignity and your heart still beating . . . this time. Next time, I won't be so lenient.'

    'There won't be a next time.' Samael lowered his brow, and for the first time there seemed a genuine look of sorrow in Caine's eyes.

    'What do you mean?'

    'Listen to me carefully, Caine.' he stood and approached the man cautiously, well aware of his renown temper. 'You are no king, and were never meant to rule. You are but a dark bishop, stuck on a never-ending path of dark spaces. Forfeit this evil dream of yours before it's too late. Your ritualistic sacrifice, the slaughter of innocence, your Devil worship, all of it must be abandoned for the sake of your people. Such evil will not be tolerated in the new world to come—'

    'ENOUGH with your insufferable arrogance!'

    'This is not your board, nor mine—or even Lucifer's.' Samael yelled with a note of desperation. 'The board is, and always has been God's. The game is no game at all, if no one sits down to play. The game only exists under His guidance; cannot you not see? For the last time, abandon this!'

    'And if I refuse?' Caine's spine straightened.

    Samael reached forth, slipped his fingers beneath the board and flipped it over, sending the pieces everywhere, both red and white alike.

    'Then the game is over.'

    As Samael stepped away, Caine looked to Jezebel with worrisome eyes.

    'He's planning something big. I want efforts tripled immediately. Get those obelisks fully functional as soon as possible, and tell Tubel to expect an attack from the north. These . . . Neophytes of his will not tread carefully.'

    Suddenly, Meredith could feel her free hand being place on the other tree, and as her fingertips moved along the smooth, white trunk, Atlantis, Caine and Samael disappeared completely, and were replaced with the sight of a beautiful mountain landscape. Nestled high above the surrounding land was a large wooden boat in mid-construction. Strange looking animals of all sorts were making their way up the long winding trail up the mountainside, as the sound of banging hammers could be heard echoing off every stone.

    'Noah's Ark?' Meredith smiled, watching from a bird's eye view. 'It's smaller than I've seen in paintings.'

    Nicholas watched with her as the view shifted closer to the strange-looking animals that gathered.

    'You know what makes human's particularly unique, Sister Meredith?'

    'What's that?' she asked.

    'We are the only species that has not adapted since the Great Leap. Once Adam and Eve arrived, that was it for us. The only remaining journey on our evolutionary path is inward . . . spiritual evolution if you will. Animals, on the other hand, have been in a constant state of fluctuation, for the most part. A common mistake among scholars is thinking that the Ark needed to house every single species and subspecies in order for them to thrive in the new world. All that was ever needed was two of each basic creature, and countless subspecies would thrive. Noah wouldn't need every species of dog, just two in early stages of development, capable of crossbreeding. Quite obviously, no room was needed for aerial creatures, which all fled the area long before the waters rose from the sea.'

    As he finished his sentence, Meredith spotted a strange looking creature, like a tall horse with slender legs and a longer than average neck. The beast looked as if a horse and a giraffe had been bred, but she now knew this specific breed would later split into two species, once the waters subsided.

    'Adaptability according to atmosphere shapes all kinds of different subspecies. The giraffe get's it primary source of nutrients from the tallest trees in Africa, and a horse from the grass, which grows everywhere.'

    'I thought scripture and evolution were at odds with one another?' Meredith grimaced, now questioning everything she knew about faith and science.

    'Again, just because there was no word for it, doesn't mean evolution wasn't always present; just not in the way one would think. Science is simply the explanation of God's work—what has always been. To speak of one is to speak of the other.'

    'Why are you showing me this?'

    'I'm not.' Nicholas replied. 'You control this journey by means of your own given abilities, Meredith Ellis. I am merely showing you how to use it.'

    'Use what? I don't understand.'

    'Your gifts, of course. You are, after all, of the Abel bloodline, like myself.'

    'I'm . . . an Oracle?'

    'Oh heaven's no.' the Magi laughed. 'No, an Oracle is guided by God Himself; a puppet for the divine to relay messages to the living in times of tribulation. You are simply capable of seeing your entire lineage . . . the two sided tree is your guide through time. Like Father Jeremy, whose spiritual lineage dates back to Robin of Locksley, you have been a key piece on the chessboard many times in the past. You die, and just like a chess piece you watch from the sidelines, and because of your enduring faith through every cycle you have been permitted to return to a new game, every time. Your belief grants you everlasting life, Meredith. You are an old soul, like that of your daughter.'

    'I need to get back to the catacombs, Nick. I can't just leave my kids—'

    'Do you not understand, child? This place is out of space and time. Your daughter has spent the equivalency of decades roaming through the past, trying to figure out a way to stop the end from coming. Only when she is in need of mental rest does Ashley return. When she opens her eyes in her own bedroom, your daughter forgets she is but a mere chess piece, and the game is still in progress. Common faces become like strangers. The child has spent so much time wandering inward, that her life feels more like a dream, and not the other way around.'

    'Why are you showing me this? What purpose could there possibly be, now of all times?'

    Just then, Meredith felt her hand move higher on the tree trunk seemingly of its own accord, as though her subconsciousness was now guiding her through the crucial events of human history. Before her wide emerald eyes, massive waves swallowed the land, and Atlantis was buried beneath an entire ocean, along with most of the earth. The waters quickly subsided as her view pulled away. From high upon the earth, she watched human progress like an ant farm, thriving and falling, building and crumbling. In seconds, countless lifetimes passed, and hundreds of perspectives and stories rushed before her all at once. The fall of Babylon, an epic battle of giants and sorcerers, the crumbling defeat of Sodom and Gomorrah, the freeing of slaves and a mass exodus from Egypt, the information just kept coming until she could feel the two trees intertwine.

    Suddenly, everything went silent, and she found herself back where she had started, on the cobblestone streets of Hamelin Germany.

    'STOP!' She screamed, unable to take any more. The rush was like overloading a hard drive on a computer, and her mind was beginning to stretch to capacity and overheat. She pushed Nicholas away, looking to take a simple breath and let her mind rest. 'Why are you showing me this?' she asked again. Like Caine, she merely wanted a straight answer, but the Magi named Nicholas was no rook.

    'Because your journey has only just begun, and you need to learn everything you can about the entity you know as the Dark Man . . . Caine. More importantly, it is what is about to happen to Ashley that you must come to grips with before you return.'

    'Ashley . . . what about her?' Meredith tried to catch her breath, and a vision of a pawn reaching the end of a chessboard flashed into her mind's eye. All blood drained from her face, her heart shattering with the mere thought. 'No.'

    'I'm so sorry Meredith; I truly am—'

    'NO GOD DAMN IT! You can't fucking have her!' she screamed with a rage that would rival Caine himself.

    'You must understand; she has reached the end of her journey.'

    'She's just a kid, Nick!' Meredith broke in every way imaginable, tears streaming down her face like never before. Her Magi ancestor wanted to comfort her, to embrace the loving mother in her time of need, but he knew any attempt would be met with wrath.

    'Ashley's purpose was to reach the end of the chess board, so that another may take her place. The pawn must become a queen.'

    'Who?' she straightened her composure, though her tears streaked her cheeks and glistened in the crimson moonlight. 'Who is supposed to take her body for their own greedy fucking use?'

    'The less you know the better—'

    'I will not blindly lead my daughter to slaughter, do you understand?!'

    'She will not be slaughtered, Meredith.' Said the compassionate man with the kindest of eyes. 'Her essence will simply be taken to Heaven, and replaced with another. She will have the same memories, and will essentially be the same girl you've always known, but it will be another in the driver's seat.'

    'Take me.' she yelled in her most insistent tone. 'I carry the same damn lineage, Nick. Take my body in her stead—'

    'It doesn't work that way, Meredith. Prophecy states that a child must lead—'

    'To Hell with your bullshit prophecies . . .'

    As Meredith lost her temper, a look of mourning overcame the ancient Alchemist. The sleeve of his bright white cloak suddenly rose, and with a flash of blinding white light from the tip of his magical staff the Magi was gone, and the sorrowful mother sobbed alone. Knees buckled, and she lost her balance and fell upon the cobblestones, sobbing in the dim red moonlight.

    There, in her solitude, she thought of her husband and his unfaithful actions, how their family was torn apart by one moment of weakness. She longed for the days of white-picket fences and daiquiris on her back porch, a subtle spring breeze to set her nerves calm. More than anything she wished she could put things back the way they were, when her husband still desired her, and her children had no definite fate.

     As she thought of these things, she could feel her hand move up the tallest part of the tree, and for a moment she stood in her own back yard. Meredith raised her brow and longingly gazed upon a time that once was. Her much younger children frolicked in the back yard, her loving husband grilling steaks and hot dogs on their old barbecue, whistling as a much healthier looking version of herself kissed him on the cheek, and proceeded to lay out condiments and utensils upon the patio table.

    Meredith didn't miss the house, nor the space in the back yard—not even the more extravagant furniture. They could all burn for all she cared, as the heartbroken mother simply missed her family—the way they once were. Her life was now cluttered with turmoil and threats from a time stretching to the beginning of human civilization. Hers was now a life of angels and demons—of the chosen and fallen, her significant place in the Pattern of the Grand Design unwanted—even loathed.

     Suddenly, the sounds of slow footsteps could be heard as the sunlight quickly vanished from the sky and she found herself back in Hamelin once more. Meredith lifted her brow and wiped the tears from her eyes, as a dreadful sight replaced the serene and heartfelt memory. Fear suddenly stole the air from her lungs as countless Black-eyed Children approached like hordes of the damned moving like zombies from the core of the mountain village.

    'It's a memory.' she told herself, scrambling to her feet in utter terror. As the small army of possessed children walked in a trance-like state toward her, Meredith kept her composure, silently praying they could not hurt her. Alas they stepped passed, ignoring her presence when she noticed a particularly broken young lady moving past her amongst the crowd. The girl's leg was snapped at the shin, her nose clearly broken and an oozing gash upon her head. Still the young teen limped forward, unable to react to the pain of her serious injuries. The young lady was significant, she was positive, for one reason or another. Whoever she was, the young girl was connected to her, this much was certain, though the long lost descendant couldn't quite place as to why.

    The mass of children kept walking, past the cobblestone streets and into the depths of a treacherous mountain path, vanishing in the thick of the creeping fog beyond.

    'What the hell is this?'

    Amongst the crowd she noted two young children—the only two who seemed to be moving of their own free will. The resemblance was strikingly familiar to a scene shown to Meredith but moments ago. The young girl shared the eyes of the young Abel—the uncanny likeness of the Ellis line, and the boy seemed the perfect replica of Caine in his youth, though his hair was a silvery gray. It dawned on her that the meeting of the two branches of the tree represented every time the two bloodlines of each house had come together, as if the story of Caine and Abel was being told over and over again, in newer flesh, with each passing generation. Her memory flashed back to the stories of the same lineage, Caine and Abel, Moses and the Pharaoh Rameses, David and Goliath, the examples just went on and on, each story but a new conflict of light versus darkness told throughout history. Only now could she see the big picture, and her family's role in the tribulation to come.

    'It must end like it began.' the young girl approached her, the spitting image of herself when she was just a little girl. 'As it ever was, and ever will be, our lineage must be the last to stand against the coming darkness.'

    Emelia took her hand, and gestured to the young boy who was the spitting image of the young Caine, at the beginning of human civilization, though there was no trace of black in his hair.

    'Who is this boy?'

    'He is the last son of Caine, Charles Orlok, the grandfather of Vlad the Impaler, Elizabeth Bathory, and countless more. Our lineage has always grown in parallel with theirs in order to keep the darkness at bay throughout human history. Our bloodline birthed Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, Joan of Arc, Achilles, Robin of Locksley, Van Helsing, Wyatt Earp . . . Jesus of Nazareth.' the last name took the broken mother by shock. 'We are the first line of defense against the rise of Caine and his Black Matter soldiers. Yes, it must end where it began.'

    'How . . . how do I stop this from happening?' she sniffled with the thought of losing her daughter, regardless of the historical relevance of the task before her. 'All these examples are mere attempts to end the world, right? I mean, every single time their plans to bring about the apocalypse had been thwarted by someone of our bloodline?'

    'Caine's plans had been thwarted mostly due to his own errors, Meredith. He has become quite the strategist in his immortal state, finally learning from his grandfather Samael, all those years ago. This time around, they have followed scripture to the letter. I'm afraid there is little hope.'

    Meredith watched the countless children march passed her, trying her best to think through the problem. She had always been a problem solver—even when she was a child. There just had to be a way, she was certain.

    'If I find a way to stop this thing . . . my daughter's life will be spared?'

    'If there is no End of Days, there would be no point in taking Ashley. Having a child lead Heaven's rebellion in the end times is prophesized. If prophecy is not fulfilled this night, then by all accounts your daughter's soul should be spared. It is a long shot, but our lineage is full of stories of lesser odds. However, I do not wish to lead you down a path of false hope, you understand.'

    'Wait . . . you are the 666th child, right?' she recalled her daughter's explanation in the motel room earlier that night. 'I mean, the only obstacle in Caine's way was the fact that you couldn't hear the Piper's hypnotic tune that night.' she paused for a moment. 'I thought you were supposed to be deaf?'

    'This a dream, Meredith.' Emelia reminded her.

    'Right.' she gave her head a shake, her thoughts scrambling as the slightest glimmer of hope could be felt deep within her heart. Like the chess player, the mere roots of a complex strategy began to form.

     'Caine's plans went forward regardless. As you know, a single child was sacrificed each year on Halloween night, tonight being the unholy jubilee.' she concurred what Meredith already knew.

    'Yes, but only 665, right? He ran out of children to sacrifice last year. You were supposed to be the 666th, if I recall correctly.'

    Meredith's thoughts ran ramped, and it suddenly occurred to her what was about to happen.

    'That's it!' her eyes widened with realization.

    Emilia listened carefully.

    'The last child to be sacrificed was supposed to be tonight, if you had been taken as planned during this event. Because you were spared this night, Caine needs to sacrifice someone of our lineage to represent your life, the one that got away . . . right?'

    'Yes; had I not been born deaf, Joan of Arc and countless more never would have been born, and the world would have been brought to ruin in my lifetime rather than yours. Caine's error allowed his own downfall time and again throughout history.'

    'So . . . who will be sacrificed? I mean, it has to be a first born of our lineage, right?'

    Her own error suddenly dawned on her.

    'James!' she barely breathed. 'He's the only one not baptized and protected. This all comes down to baptism. Hamelin was a protestant town, the only area untouched by Catholic rule during the Papacy's insurrection of Europe. That was why Pope Innocent left the town alone, so that the last of the unbaptized could be sacrificed. The target was never Ashley, but James. All Caine needs to do is take his life at the proper moment, and the Antichrist will be allowed to be born, and the Apocalypse will begin. I can just have Abraham baptize him where he stands—'

    'Very good, Meredith—very good indeed.' young Emelia clapped her hands together impressed. 'However, Caine has already pulled out all the stops. Your risen husband already had him baptized in a satanic blood benediction.'

    'Wait, what? Jason has . . . come back?'

    'Necromancy is but one gift of the satanic sorcerer, I'm afraid. The reason Jason Rhoads had been resurrected in the first place was to give your first born child to Lucifer. The time for baptism has long since passed, I fear.'

    Meredith pushed aside the atrocity that her husband was somehow walking dead amongst them, and recalled James storming out of her apartment when they were lining up to get baptized.

    'He ran away . . . when Father Theron was baptizing us, James ran away.'

    'Had he stayed, he would have revealed Caine's most strategic move.' Emelia concurred.

    'Then we hide him . . . take him far away—'

    'He is already trapped in the catacombs. For better or for worse, your son is betrothed to the darkness.'

    'Is it possible . . . I mean, tell me there's a chance I can stop this, Emelia?' she pleaded, appealing to their blood bond, her great grandmother and then some.

    Just then, the child suddenly grew to meet her at eye level, dressed in old-time clothes with a humble expression on her face. She took Meredith's hand and looked into her eyes, like staring into a mirror.

    'All is possible if the Trinity wills it so, child.' she managed a hopeful smile, now a grown version of the child that once stood before her. 'As of this moment, time stands still inside your mind. You have the ability to look through your lineage at will.' Her vision suddenly blurred into a haze of fog-like memory, as though the entire world was made up of mist, and before her stood the tree in the moonlight, surrounded by the twelve thick trunks of what Nicholas had called a Magi temple of sorts. This strange, twisted tree of her vast lineage was the key to everything, Meredith now realized. 'There is one man in particular you must observe if you are to be successful this night. You have nothing but time in here; it is an advantage. Study his practices; learn everything you can about defensive strategy both light and dark alike. When you are ready, the fight within the catacombs will be waiting for you.'

    'Who is this man?' she pleaded, the slightest spark of hope turning to blazing fire. 'What can I possibly learn from him that will help me defeat Caine?'

    'Move your hand down the red side of the tree, and you will find a human who lacks the Black Matter Chromosome, as he was not a first born. To make up for his lack of biological demonic power, he devoted his life to the practice of both demonic and divine magic. Learn from him, and face your enemy with all the collective knowledge of one Aleister Crowley.'

    As she did what was instructed, Meredith skimmed through many life cycles of countless distant relatives, many she did not know—or even recognize, but as she reached the late 1800's, her fingers grazed upon a thick branch of both red bark and white, the only branch of its likeness. As she looked without seeing, before her stood a young Aleister Crowley, before his journey had truly begun. He looked strikingly similar to an adolescent Caine, and it was then that she realized that both of sides of the tree carried the same likeness—an unblemished resemblance that echoed through time with each passing generation. She was just one of many Eve lookalikes, and Crowley one of many that mimicked Charles Orlok, Vlad the Impaler and Caine, himself.

    Meredith took the time to study his movements—to read what he read, and mimic his divine spells as closely as possible. She paralleled his life, watching, learning everything there was to know about the strange man, and the unusual beliefs he had so zealously dedicated his life to perfecting. For what felt like years to her, was no time to the rest of the world. When she had learned all she could, more in-depth memories rushed through her essence as she could recall more from her strange lineage, the controversial life of her guide, the Alchemist Magi named Nicholas Flamel and even the legendary Merlin. By the time she was confident enough, a new woman would awaken inside her own mind . . . a holy Magi of divine practice, ready to stand against the ever enduring might of Caine and his relentless legions of the damned.

                                                                ~

        A smile formed in the darkness. Though the young girl was restrained, she could feel her mother approaching from far below, a seemingly magnetic pull through time and space, as though every voice of her linage called to her from beyond the veil. Within her deepest level of subconscious Ashley could sense Meredith's divine power surge like a beacon within a blink of an eye. The woman she once knew was no more, at least the timid version she had come to know throughout her short lifespan. Her mother was never about strength; her father, Jason, always the protector for as far back as she could remember . . . until now. Something had changed in that moment; the will of another coaxing her to divinity, adapting her very being into something else entirely.

    Ashley could sense the presence of Aleister Crowley through the darkness. An evil man he was—no doubt, but his knowledge and education in spiritual matters was matched by no other. His understanding of the realm behind the veil was unlike any who was, is—or ever will be. No mere human throughout history had learned the secrets of both demonic and divine rite, or were capable of summoning these great powers from beyond the living realm, save one. Nicholas Flamel had shown her much in her own dream walking escapades, the opening of forbidden portals, alchemy on a level few would ever master, and protection from the worst creatures hell could unleash. She had walked through every branch of her family tree, the Magi Temple of the Trinity was no strange place to her, but a second home of loving faces and heartfelt guides. And so, Meredith and Ashley were finally on the same level, but were destined to remain out of reach for a very long time.

    It would be this sacred place where they could meet, the tiny space within the towering twelve trees the only safe place that would remain in the coming days. It was here that she had been warned of the many things to come, but much was still to be determined, as even an Oracle of God could not know every outcome. Help was on its way, as the so-called White Witch and her two Magi companions approached from above, and a fourth newly birthed from below. This was no mistake, Ashley was aware. Only three Magi were prophesized to reach the temple this night, and so one must fall, though who would meet their end she did not yet know.

    She had seen the famed singer in her dreams, but as she had yet to parish, Ashley could not yet meet her in the beyond, as only the dead dwell in such places. Stevie Nicks was of her kin, a descendent of the five great houses of the Magi Order, as were many on their way to the fight that very moment. The last of the finest now moved forth in the darkness, a moment that would be forever cemented in human history like the Great Flood, the fall of the walls of Jericho, or the cursed cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. Future history would be made that very night, each and every soul a vital piece of an epic story that had yet to be written, but would one day be whispered from the tongues of storytellers the world over for thousands of years to come. All they had to do to ensure their legend was win the battle against all odds.

    Just as the Shadow Man had planned over six centuries ago, his pawns were now moving into checkmate, each and every move carefully orchestrated just as his Grandfather, Samael had once taught him long ago. Amongst the team approaching from ten different directions were the nine Templar Knights prophesized to stand, and a significant number of warriors left to survive their journey through the catacombs, each death a necessary sacrifice as only a specific number were permitted to arrive at the temple according to demonic scripture, though many more would come.

    As Meredith's power surged like an unseen lighthouse flashing within the hazed fog of the veil, few would sense her coming.

    'And the pawn has proven herself a knight.'

    'Ashley; is that you I hear?' said a soft, elegant voice in darkness.

    The young lady recognized her nurturing tone immediately. Teresa remained in the dark but a few feet away, just now waking, though the dense darkness had yet to reveal if she was still dreaming.

    'Sister Mary-Thomas . . . Teresa, at last you have come.'

    'I have something for you—'

    'Mind your tongue, my friend; we are most certainly not alone.' Ashley revealed.

    Teresa held something of great value—the very essence of Joan of Arc kept like a sacred trinket deep within. Her hands and wrists were bound tight, and had she been able to simply reach out and touch the child, this gift could be given.

    'Can you move, child?' she asked. 'I am bound to a vertical cement slab of sorts . . . can you reach out to me?'

    'No.' Ashley replied. 'I too am bound tight.'

    'Are you harmed?' asked the would-be nun.

    'Not yet.' said a male voice through the blackness. A lighter sparked but a few feet between them, and a handheld torch revealed a familiar face by the amber light of rippling flames.

    'Hello Charles.' said the Oracle as he placed the flame upon one of six golden lamp stands, and torch light suddenly ignited all around them. The two prisoners looked upon the grand cathedral in awe, revealing its grandeur and the countless eyes now upon them. The five-sided stadium-sized temple mimicked the topmost platform in which they were restrained, many storeys from the temple floor below, and an equal distance from a domed ceiling above.

    All five towering sides were lined with massive cogs and gears, their teeth intermingled though they remained still, but Ashley knew them to be more than mere décor. Behind these colossal cogs were many balconies that mimicked each of the five storeys in height, where the cloaked soldiers of Caine watched, armed and holding black candles in anticipation for the coming dark messiah. Every surface of every structure sported the strange symbols of demonic power—ancient lettering meant to conceal their deeds from the divine.

    It was here that Lucifer had fell from the heavens at the beginning of time, and it was this cursed space that would spark the end of all creation.

    Beneath the stone platform in which they were bound were many other levels, each storey connected with winding staircases throughout and held up by hydraulic stone pillars below. The mechanism had been built long ago, left compressed since Higgins Molding and Concrete Co. had first constructed the monstrosity, only now erected with the darkest of purpose.

    Upon the main level at the base of the five-sided temple was where the nine points of the catacombs would meet. Their stone archways mimicked human teeth, where many of the chosen faithful would soon pushed forth from the hellish mouths to meet their fate as one.

    Ashley looked to her friend next to her, the once devout nun now bruised, her lips cracked, swollen and beaten within a main of flowing black curls. Like herself, Teresa had been mounted upon one of two stone slabs made slanted and vertical, where leather straps kept her wrists and ankles taut to their surfaces.

    'Six hundred and sixty-six years we have been awaiting this moment.' said the eerie-looking Charles Orlok as his black iris scanned the entire structure with a sense of wonder. 'Just look at what we have accomplished—what great strides we have made, right here where Lucifer once fell.'

    'It is an impressive structure.' said Ashley. 'Quite a lot of effort for one night, wouldn't you agree?'

    'Not just any night, child—the beginning of the end.' he sighed with relief as though welcoming the prophesized destruction of all that was.

    'You think us ill-prepared?' the Oracle's gaze remained as stone. 'There is nothing you could build that our Lord God cannot break. Like the walls of Jericho, your efforts are but a means to an end—destined to crumble.'

    'Ah, yes; you speak of your child savior, this . . . Joan of Arc in the flesh.' his lip curled rather humoured with the thought. 'You really believe Caine had not foreseen your grand move, Ashley? Our master would not let some ancient sprit of a naïve child-soldier disrupt our plans.'

    'You know as well as I that a child is prophesized to lead the final rebellion, Charles.'

    'Too true.' he grinned. 'And we have followed both sides of the ancient scriptures to the letter. The question remains, however, will you march forth with the fire of D'Arc in your heart . . . or by your lonesome—a confused a naïve kid with no real power?'

    Charles Orlok stood before her, his silver hair and black-eyed stare unnerving to most, but the young oracle would not be vexed. Only when the slight moan of a familiar voice was heard did her ice cold features melt. Ashley looked down upon the next level below, where her loving Aunt Chelsea could be seen stripped of both clothing and hope, her flesh cut and bruised all over with nothing but a few tattered rags to cover her private areas. The battered woman lay unconscious and bound upon a black-stone alter of sculpted horns and claws.

    'What have you done to her?' Teresa gasped at Chelsea's defeated state, the Ellis woman much worse for wear than herself. Though Ashley's heart broke with the sight, she expected no less from such sinister creatures.

    'If I have to tell you, you haven't been paying attention, nun.' he replied, though Charles seemed to keep his eyes from roaming too close.

    'The Infernal Harvest.' she answered aloud.

    'It's not like I wanted her ravished and beaten so mercilessly. Our Dark Lord demands her utter submission before the soil can be sewn, you understand.'

    'How the mighty have truly fallen.' Ashley grimaced. 'History has recorded your failures well, Charles Orlok. What makes you believe this night will be any different?'

    'Again, we have followed your book to the letter, Oracle. This night will not be like the others, and you would be foolish to underestimate just how far we have come. I will bring about the end where my kin had failed in the past. The Pharaoh Rameses, Hitler, Napoleon, Goliath, Nero and Khan . . . none have ever come this far.'

    'You're a madman.' Teresa barely whispered, and Charles looked to her for but a second. He quickly turned away, a noticeable hesitation surfacing for but a heartbeat, trying his utmost not to see the woman within—to ignore the shimmering brilliance that once caught his heart long ago, in a time long forgotten by everyone but him.

    'Great visionaries have always been skewed with madness,' he replied, with a lowered brow. 'Wouldn't you agree, Your Eminence?'

    From behind the stone mounts appeared narrowed, sinister black eyes, as Teresa's face turned ghostly white. He wore not a cloak like the countless soldiers around them, but a flowing black cassock and matching mitre headdress which sported a crimson inverted cross; the Black Pope in all his insidious glory.

    'Cardinal Merrill?' she gasped.

    'Soon to be anointed Pope Innocent IV, once the white smoke rises from the Papal Palace on the morrow.' he replied as he looked upon her with thirsty eyes.

    'You . . . you're dead—I watched you die.' Last she had seen of Merrill, she was injecting him with bleach as he was strapped to a chair in Ashley's bedroom. 'How are you alive?'

    'You think us ill-prepared for your pointless little rebellion, Sister?'

    'He performed a ritual—a spell to grant him the title of Living Demonic.' Ashley informed.

    'Indeed; for quite some time I've waited for the hand of this chosen warrior to strike me down. I need but die at the hands of an enemy to complete the transformation in full. I never thought in million years it would be you, Sister.'

    'But—' she looked to Ashley, as it had been the child Oracle who had instructed her to take his life. 'I don't understand. Why would you tell me to kill him if—'

    'It's all a part of prophecy, Sister.' Merrill grinned. 'Darkness is always shrouded from light, and vice-versa. Caine counted on your need to take me out . . . he saw you coming from miles away, you little bitch.' he spit at Ashley's feet, then turned his hateful glare to the would-be nun. 'It must pain you, Sister . . . to have come this far and still not understand the complexities of spirituality—to devout your entire life to a set of principles never once commanded in your scripture—blind leading the blind, just like your fool of a Pope.'

    'I understand enough.' she lowered her brow conflicted, unsure if Ashley had deceived them all and forced her to break a vital commandment, or was simply playing her part in a complex strategy she had yet to fully comprehend. Either way, Teresa felt inadequate and defeated in every sense of the word. 'Had I but known what you truly are, I would have seen to it that you were disposed of properly—'

    Merrill gnashed his teeth at her, his horrible breath unbearable, a forked tongue brushing against her cheek as she quivered with fear.

    'Leave her be.' ordered Charles, somehow uneasy at the sight of her suffering. 'The nun is mine for the twisting.'

    Backing up, the Black Pope considered Teresa for a brief moment, his mouth salivating with thought of revenge. He remembered the moment she jabbed him with a needle full of bleach as his hands were bound, along with every time she had interfered in his affairs throughout the years, and rage seemed to take his focus off the grand plan.

    'No.' he leaned forth, his teeth somehow growing sharper by the second. 'She is mine.'

    The Black Pope reached inside her shirt, drooling as he groped her breasts. Ashley turned her gaze and lowered her brow, knowing how unpredictable Merrill had become.

    'I said leave her be, Ben.' Charles demanded, but would make no move, as his power had grown substantially—possibly even greater than his own. He reach further down in defiance, and slipped his wrinkled hand beneath her belt, and she squirmed holding back tears, sickened as she felt his fingers push past her hair and onto her lips.

    'Stop this!' Charles stepped forward, but his searing eyes turned like a beast with the slightest move.

    Merrill grinned with delight, knowing he could do nothing to stop him.

    Teresa had never been touched by a man before, and so a part of her broke with the thought of her virtue taken by such a vile creature, and before the eyes of countless fallen no less. Just before his fingers could reach into her, a cry came from below.

    'Don't fucking touch her!' Chelsea Ellis suddenly belted out with utmost wrath. No one had even noticed that she had woken and had been watching the unknown woman squirm uncomfortably above. Though she had never met the woman before, she knew that look all too well, having been ravished by these creatures one too many times, and couldn't stand the sight.

    The unforeseen disruption had thankfully startled Merrill, enough to jolt his fingers from Teresa's jeans. He turned to Chelsea with a menacing glare, licking his fingers with his serpent tongue.

    'Behold the Chosen Womb.' as the Black Pope stepped away from Teresa, Charles suddenly felt a relief he did not quite comprehend, and it took him a moment to shove his unexpected emotions back down his throat and focus on the task at hand. 'That was quite the outburst; is it possible you yearn for more, Ms. Ellis?'

    'Fuck you.' she replied with a scowl, her rage rising with his greedy eyes.

    'Don't let him get to you, Aunt Chelsea.' said Ashley, and her heart suddenly shattered into a million pieces as Chelsea had not seen her niece upon the platform above until that very moment. 'Fear and hate is fuel for the demonic.'

    'Ashley? What are you doing here—'

    'Shut your mouth.' said a cloaked man who had been standing by the alter, and she froze in terror as he covered her lips. 'Or it will be my pleasure to ravish your niece in the same manner.' Chelsea looked into the eyes of a handsome but familiar man, a politician she had seen many times before. Without warning she sunk her teeth into his hand, biting down as hard as she could, and he let out a yelp of unexpected pain.

    'How could you?' she spit in Justin's face, but he merely wiped his cheek, unbothered as he then looked upon the bloody teeth marks on his hand, smiling as they vanished within a few seconds.

    'Feisty are we?' Justin chuckled as the Black Pope continued.

    'How easy was it to fool you into submission? Your so-called noble lineage reduced to winey children, the lot of you. Your want—your need for carnal desire so simple to deliver. Caine played you like a finely tuned instrument, whilst you could do nothing but quiver like the callow weaklings you truly are.'

    'I do not fear the Shadow Man, stranger.' Chelsea lied, and as Merrill stepped aside, Charles' face suddenly shifted to that to a darker complexion. A sinister grin formed on the man she knew as Damien . . . the only one she had come to trust in her world of celebrity elite, with the possible exception of Harris Hangman. The limo driver she had come to know—the Cajun friend who physically brought her to the airport the night prior had played her all along. It seemed Caine truly had pulled out all the stops.

    'Don't take it so personally, Cher; your kind have always been easy to manipulate.' his Cajun accent didn't seem charming anymore, but dangerous.

    'What do you want, beast?' yelled Teresa, and Charles seemed to lose any compassion he once held for her, as though the use of his Black Matter ability somehow subdued anything remotely resembling a human soul. He lowered his brow, his glare darker still.

    'We all have our parts to play, Marion.' Charles watched her squirm to break free. 'Of course, this isn't the first time I've had you in shackles. In another life, you were to be my bride, if your God would only allow you to remember.'

    As though his words somehow triggered a response, Teresa suddenly recalled small fragments of her past life—one where her captor had not concealed his identity at all.

    'Yes, you were the Sherriff of Nottingham once; son of a Black Witch and renown Devil worshiper.'

    'There it is.' he sighed, pleased she could remember something. 'Your Maker finally granted you the slightest of recollection, has He? You see, nun, my master allows me to remember everything. He requires no rebirth, over and over again, constantly forgetting who we once were—'

     'You miss the purpose of the process, Charles,' Ashley interrupted 'As does most of your lineage.'

    'Please, Oracle . . . enlighten me.' he checked his watch, making sure they were still on schedule. 'We have a bit of time to kill, after all.'

    'You must be very pleased with what you have done in your time.' she sighed. 'I mean, you haven't a morsel of guilt for the lives you've ruined, the mistakes you have made in your ongoing life cycle, right? You are indeed a perfect being, impervious to regret, I assume?'

    The slightest glimmer of humanity could be seen in his eyes, but vanished with a curl of his lip.

    'I feel no guilt, child.'

    'You lie.' she replied, her beautiful green eyes locked on the sinister man.

    'Do I?' his evil glare narrowed with hate.

    'We forget our previous lives so that we may begin anew; a fresh beginning is often the only means of inner peace. The soul needs to rest—to learn to forgive, and find a way to push forward. Like the refresh of a new day's dawn, rebirth without recollection ensures a life free of traumatic memories. You were not born without a conscience, Charles . . . I know because I have seen Emelia.'

    Orlok suddenly seemed intrigued, the name triggering a memory he had so desperately tried to forget.

    'What would you know of her?'

    'Emelia was of my kin,' The Oracle gestured to her aunt. 'Of our bloodline. I've looked into your terrified eyes that night, long ago in Hamelin. You have learned to silence your guilt since then, each time you feed, burying the weight of your deeds even deeper, until only a shell remains. You were not always an evil man, Charles; just a misguided boy neglected and abused by an absentee father who cared nothing for you, or the lives you destroy.'

    'I am a king, like my father before me. Caine has given me everything—'

    'He has denied you the gift of starting fresh, Charles.' Ashley pushed. 'What is great power when there is no one to share it with—no one to love you, and hold your hand at the end of the day? Caine has never known love, favoured least by his family, the first to draw blood in an otherwise holy world. Your father was only ever concerned about giving you what you want, and didn't know where to begin fulfilling that which you need. That is why you fled his castle in Hamelin when you were just a boy.'

    'You know nothing!' he yelled.

    'Remember, Charles. You were just a small child when you ran from him. A humble family took you in, and loved you like you were their own. You honestly believe that Caine couldn't have found you at will? You fled through the mountain paths of Hamelin, a brave child you were, and he couldn't even be bothered to come and find you, at least not until he needed something from you, anyway.'

    Shut . . . your . . . mouth.' he leaned forth and glared threateningly into her unyielding but compassion eyes. His hand raised only just, looking as though he was about to strangle her, but he lowered it before he lost his temper.

    'You fled his castle because of what they did to you.' she continued, unbothered by his fierce glare. 'For all you boast about how your master allows you to remember, somehow you have blocked out what they did to you.'

    Charles' blood boiled as many horrific memories rushed into his mind in flashes of despair. He remember his mother, Morgana, the Black Witch who forced him to do things so terrible—so unnatural that he had gone to great lengths to forget.

    'It is not uncommon in a satanic household to suffer such abuse. You were just a boy; how could you possibly know right from wrong after what she did to you. And your father . . . it's no wonder you haven't known the love of family. All you've ever known is pain.'

    'SHUT UP!' he screamed.

    'But that doesn't mean you haven't the ability to feel human emotions, no matter how black your heart may be, Nasferatu. Look to your beloved Marion, remember what you once felt for her—the only woman you've ever loved . . . at least, the closest thing to love your tainted heart could manage.'

     'What do you know of it, stupid child?' he barked, the vein in his forehead pulsing as tensions rose.

    'She's right.' Teresa forced a smile. 'Throughout your immortal existence, why was I the only woman you insisted on marrying?'

    The once named Sherriff of Nottingham turned his gaze from her.

    'Answer me, Charles.'

    The immortal man seemed at a loss for words. He remembered well trying to marry the fair maiden, many years ago, but was interrupted by his nemesis, the famed Robin of Locksley. They were to have a son, another first born immortal that would rule England in King Richard's stead. His memory of Marion was more vivid than he was prepared to reveal, but he clenched his teeth, remembering their union denied so many lifetimes prior.

    'What must I do to prove your assumptions wrong, child?' Charles managed to calm himself. The flash of bright steel could be felt before seen, as a razor-sharp blade pressed against Teresa's neck. She closed her eyes, unsure of just how much more time her Maker would gift her. 'What do you want me to say, exactly; that there is good in me, if I only convert?' his sarcastic words echoed through the temple as Caine's many followers laughed. 'Love is always the fucking answer, isn't it? I mean, what use is it even talking to you people, when we already know the answer, don't we?'

    'Forgive me.' Teresa pleaded.

    'Forgive you?' he laughed, pressing the blade with even more force until she could feel her delicate skin being opened above her collar bones. 'We tried this dance many years ago, Marion, and you made your choice. Well, you can have your fucking boy scout. Tell me, nun: what should I care if I slit your throat where you stand?'

    'I wasn't talking to you.' she replied.

    'Ahem.' a fourth voice cleared throat from below, breaking the silence amongst spectators, and a sinister grin formed on his face. Somehow feeling the approach of man he hated to his very core, Charles lifted his brow.

    'Locksley.' he spoke through gritted teeth, but he managed only the slighted glimpse of a fierce and piercing glare before Charles felt the sudden hardened steel of a dripping arrow head pierce his eye socket, right through his head.

    'Motherfuc—'

     'Jeremy!' Teresa let out a tearful cry as the blade lowered from her neck, and her captor fell to the floor.

    The hooded crusader rushed forth from the dense darkness of one of nine tunnels, his bow string pulled and ready to fire a second shot at will. Detective Dawson and a Templar Knight moved swiftly behind them, a two-handed grasp of an encrypted sword in one grip, a standard issue Beretta in the other. As they quickly approached the base of the first staircase, many hooded figures stepped before them, blocking their way up the winding path.

    Without hesitation Dawson lifted his firearm.

    'Get out of our way, or I'll put you the fuck down!' there was no hesitation in his piercing eyes, the detective utterly through with questioning anything supernatural, or balancing ethics within the boundaries of law; a black and white fork in the proverbial road was never more clear, and he had made his choice. But one path remained, and God help anyone who stood in his way. He grabbed the first soldier who got too close, pulled him inward and jammed the barrel of his gun into his forehead. 'Does it look like I'm playing? Ya'll step aside before I hollow outchyo head like a fucking canoe.'

    The weasel-like man in his grasp dropped his blade, and quickly ordered the others to follow suit, but no one complied—not a single one of his comrades concerned for his life. Hesitant eyes panicked behind his eye glasses, as the man realized just how little respect or admiration his brethren held for him. Flashes of countless blades could be both seen and heard all around the trio, each hooded soldier armed and ready to kill in the name of their coming Antichrist. The balconies cleared as an army of Satanic soldiers rushed onto the main floor and surrounded them. The three crusaders stood back to back, Leonard pulling his hostage in, his gun still pressed against his forehead.

    'Somebody do something!' yelled the hostage, his hands in the air as he felt the cold steel barrel of Dawson's gun press tight into his brow.

    'You did this to yourself, Podesta.' said an indifferent comrade, 'Go ahead and shoot, Detective.'

    The weaselly man's eyes narrowed with hate, shifting his evil glare to his captor.

    'You have nowhere to go, Detective.' the man named Podesta calmed his demeanor, positive a law man would not execute an unarmed civilian, most certainly among so many eye witnesses.

    'I would not speak if I were you.' Jax warned the man, his wise and composed glare within a main of long hair, still unkempt from the attack of Black-eyed Children but moments ago.

    'There he is,' said Cardinal Merrill as he stood many floors above, but the acoustics within the temple somehow allowed his voice to be heard perfectly clear from the ground floor. Jeremy's jaw clenched at the sight of him. The black garb and inverted cross upon his brow made clear his allegiance to the darkness. 'The rogue vigilante finally unlinked from the poisonous chains of your mentor.'

    The priest wanted desperately to rush up the stairs and tear the demonic clergyman limb-from-limb, but every which way there stood a sharpened blade or firearm, ready to slay him where he stood.

    'So it is true; you have sold your soul to Satan.' his eyes narrowed as he pressed his back against Jax and Detective Dawson, the three standing as one, surrounded by enemies. Meanwhile, several surviving crowds of onlookers peaked around the corners of their tunnels, not quite ready to make their presence known until the proper moment.

    'And you have turned from the faith Father Jeremy, now willing to kill, I see.' The crusader scowled at the sheer audacity of his claim, standing there in the garb of the Black Pope. 'Oh, how easily you have allowed yourself to be lead astray. Can't say I'm surprised really; Father Theron had always held a traitorous influence on those he takes under his wing. If you cannot devote yourself to the cloth, I must insist you be removed from service immediately. The papacy has no place for rogue vigilantly killers amongst its ranks.' he shook his head in mock disappointment. 'Unless of course . . . you care to join our noble cause?'

    'I hold neither want nor desire in my heart for a place in your demon hordes, Cardinal Merrill.'

    'I am no Cardinal, Father Jeremy.' he straightened his posture with a note of arrogance. 'Henceforth you shall address me as Pope.'

    'You're not the Pope.' Jax' eyes narrowed. 'You were not elected.'

    'Formalities in the public eye are merely a faux performance, Templar.' ensured Merrill. 'True elections are decided behind the proverbial curtain, as you should know well. The whole of the Papacy, and soon the entire world will belong to me.'

    'I cannot follow such blind evil, Your Eminence.' Jeremy's sarcastic tone was not well received. 'There is nothing you could possibly offer that could turn my allegiance from the light.'

    'Good,' he beamed with a sadistic grin. 'That certainly simplifies any decisions regarding your wellbeing. So, I suppose we can stop putting up such exhausting pretenses.' Just then, as the Black Pope finished his sentence, the elderly man's appearance began to change before their very eyes. Spots upon sagging flesh suddenly vanished, leathery skin tightened, and his white hair turned hue to a youthful dark brown. A much younger man, clearly in his prime stood in the old man's stead, as a familiar face was now recognized, particularly by one Leonard Dawson.

    'Shackleton!'

    'Good evening, Constable . . . or is it Detective now?' he grinned as he mockingly applauded his efforts. 'I believe I'll have your badge by morning, if not your life. You might want to unhand our comrade.' he gestured to his hostage. 'None of us have much admiration for Podesta, I assure you, but the murder of an unarmed civilian must not be tolerated in the eyes of the law, most certainly from Belleville's finest.'

    Dawson released his grip from the man's collar, but stretched out at arm's length, keeping the barrel tight against Podesta's forehead. He pinched the steel of his newly acquired detective's badge.

    'You want it, Shackleton . . . come and get it.'

    'You've been . . . living a double life?' Jeremy put the pieces together in his mind. He had never like Cardinal Merrill as a person—even less so as an employer, but he never would have imagined he was a Living Demonic. Suddenly it made perfect sense why he'd never seen him leave the confines of the indoors during the day, the creature of the night never once seen standing in direct sunlight.

    'Benefits of a god who actually gifts his believers with useful abilities—a true deity who actually answers prayer. Can your God say the same?' he looked to Father Jeremy.

    'You lower the knee to no god, Merrill. A lifetime of studying scripture should tell you everything you need to know about the abomination you seek to birth this night.'

    'Funny thing about scripture,' the youthful man smirked. 'Biblical prophecy merely guesses the victor, if you had bothered to read the original scrolls. The end of this conflict will see the Heavens burn, and a new era of freedom will emerge at the unyielding feet of our coming savior. Christ's time is at an end; now it is our turn.'

    'Freedom for your ilk, I'm sure . . . at least for a short while.' Jax replied, his demeanor calm and collective. 'Slavery for everyone else, as is the known hierarchy of the damned.'

    'And your so-called gifts—these parlour tricks, though impressive . . . will not save your soul.' Jeremy added.

    'And you have turn your back on the church, Father—turned your back on God, just like Sister Mary-Thomas.' Merrill tisked in mock disappointment. 'Such a shame.'

    'God knows what atrocities you'd have to endure to gain immortality.' Jax watched the sinister man in disgust, semi-educated in such ritualistic practices. For a brief moment, Merrill had a flash of a horrific image, that of a blood soaked pram he had tried to shake from his mind for years, but he shoved it down before the image was allowed to curdle.

    'Sacrifices are made on both sides, Templar.'

    'Call it what you must,' Jeremy braced his bow, not yet lifting it to the fallen Cardinal in fear of starting the battle prematurely. 'I am no longer at the mercy of your corrupted faction. I answer to God alone, so you may consider this my letter of resignation.'

    'You are alone, Jeremy; and you will lose everything this night.' he replied as a deafening scream of fury could be heard.

    Frantically flailing about after yanking a dripping arrow from his smoking eye socket, Charles Orlok's good eye seared with raw hatred. Black blood spouted and sizzled from his head as a satisfied grin formed on Jeremy's face—one not unlike the Robin Hood of common legend.

    'You see.' gloated Dawson's hostage with a cocky grin, and the detective only tightened the barrel against his head. 'Your words are but empty—'

    BANG!

     The shot rang out as brain matter splattered about the crowd, and the executed body of the perverse Podesta collapsed to floor like a ragdoll.

    'KILL THEM ALL!' screamed Orlok with utter rage.

    'Let's get this party started.' said Leonard with a cocky smirk, and chaos ensued.