The Book of Mortals

Sziromicon

The gray noise was more felt than heard. The crackling silence enveloped the senses. The landscape that wasn't there shifted.

'Where am I?'

'Everywhere. Nowhere. At one with me in the universe of your mind.'

Sziromicon knelt in quiet reverence, and in a near silent whisper, 'It has begun.'.

'It has. As we speak, I strip you of the mortal flesh binding you to the mortal plane. Everlasting unlife granted to you so you may serve to share wisdom among my children.'

Sziromicon knew better than to attempt raising his head to ascertain the origin of the voice he felt. He knew it would not be there if he did.

'All have a place. In your lifetime, you served as an agent of chaos. In your unlife, you will catalyze a shift, opening the gate of understanding. Wisdom through chaos, enlightenment through suffering. Those whose life strings you will tap, will gain insight into themselves. From this wellspring will come the future souls of thought.'

'I do not understand.'

'You have eternity to understand. As your flesh on the mortal plane has been consumed, so too have your emotions. You will be gifted with visions, attuned to auras. These are tools I give to you for your servitude. Go forth chaos knight and do what needs be done.'

The gray faded out, the slow yet serene evolution from stupor to consciousness, the last whispers came, 'Go forward. This gift I give you and yours. Fail me not.'

'Kill her.', Suqlaheru, Avatar of Syrin requested plainly. Without hesitation, words of dark magic slid easily from what was now a grinning black skull. Mallika bore the brunt as her bones decayed further. The spidery words continued a short while. With a gesture and a word, the battle ceased.

'I am satisfied.', and in an instant, the Avatar had vanished into the ether.

'My beloved.'

'Eternally.' Mallika returned, as the two went through the mortal ritual of a tender kiss.

'The winds of change stir. The test has afforded a brief moment of enlightenment.'. 'A Champion is to be born.'.

Excerpts from a leather bound journal:

'and being on two sides of the same coin, it would stand to reason the only difference is perspective.'

'The good, and the evil are but abstracts. Names given in a vain attempt to explain the complexities of existence and the effect souls have on one another. Easier yet it becomes to accept when 'good' and 'evil' are associated with physical beings, Tyrin and Syrin respectively.'

'an understanding that all who would serve Him, serve in their own way. The way in which they feel guided by Him. Is it good? Is it evil? It just is. That is the one certainty.'

- Sziromicon, Dark Prophet of The Church

Sziromicon stood up from where he rested, as usual in the company of His Enforcer, Reilyn.

"I will return in seven days once I have found what I am looking for."

"What are you looking for?"

"I do not know. Yet. Nonetheless, I sense I am being called and must go to it."

Reilyn smiled and nodded. "Be safe."

Ironic those would be the last words. "She would appreciate the humor if she wasn't so used to it by now." Sziromicon thought to himself as he studied his captor and the surrounding area. In his magical cell he stood, watching the black robed woman sift through a variety of items. He recognized the room. He should. It was his centuries ago. One of several, the room was used in his mortal life as a place of study and research within his palace. He was home. She had left only to return many times now without saying a word. How much time had passed, he wasn't certain. He did know he wasn't going to make the first move. Without his magic all he had left was guile. He waited.

"Yes, patient as always." the woman turned her attention to him, letting the hood fall revealing her face. A young woman, blond haired and blue eyed, attractive by mortal standards, approached the cell. Eyeing the seven foot Lich up and down she smiled.

"You afford the appearances of a young woman. Your aura tells me otherwise."

She gave her prisoner the gift of her grin, "How about now?"

If Sziromicon could have frowned he would have. "Fascinating. You have effectively shut it off in a manner of speaking. Perhaps you will share with me how one day."

"Maybe you will figure it out on your own in time. After all, that is all we have, isn't that true?"

Sziromicon slowly nodded. "Evidently."

"Yes. Time. Much has passed already yet has stood still. More is needed for you to receive your gift."

"Your efforts have been monumental in order to get it to me. It must be quite a gift."

"It is Sziromicon. You have spent the better part of your existence giving. The ungrateful masses do not understand, but that does not stop you does it?"

"I do what I do."

"Yes, as must we all. Does the phrase "You'll thank me later" mean anything to you? Of course it does. Tell me Sziromicon. How do you feel?"

"The same."

"For an agent of chaos you certainly are predictable, aren't you? We'll now begin our first lesson. The obvious one." she grinned.

Sziromicon returned the grin. "Pain."

Days. Weeks. Months. Maybe years. Memories of yesterday and yesteryear blending. He had endured the physical and mental assaults, the question "How do you feel?" being posed after each session. The wrong answer apparently being "The same."

"Today is going to be especially interesting RaKJian. I have something to show you.", the grin he had seen what, a thousand times now?

"Poor Sziromicon. I may have kept you too long.", tracing her finger in the air, a few words of the arcane, a small portal opened in the air. "I think she may look familiar?"

Although he knew better, Sziromicon dared to look. In it he saw Reilyn as she was decades ago before she gave herself to Him.

"That is not decades ago. That is now RaKJian."

He continued to study the image that coalesced. The fact that for the first time she had used his mortal name did not go unnoticed. An attempt to confuse?

"Trickery."

"Is it? Why would that be so hard to believe? Ohhh, and wait. Are those the arms of another man around her? I even think you know him too. Ahh, and another image comes. Your will is a strong one Sziromicon. There she is. Mallika."

Sziromicon's gaze was fixed on the images now, her phrase giving him the clue he needed. He could control. A battle of wills formed to control the visions that played. Images began flashing in rapid succession, past, present, potential futures forming a kaleidoscopic resume. Words invaded his mind in seductive whispers, "How do you feel? Why do you hide? Say it Sziromicon. Say it and you can go home. You want to go home don't you? Where is home? You know it and must get back to it. It is no longer here. Say it. How do you feel?" He tried blocking them to no avail, the words now reverberating through his mind in it's entirety. The events continued to play, the what had been and a myriad of what could be.

"Look where you go to hide. See how you try and change that image there. Why are you doing that? Then you go there. Ahh, yes, I wonder how he is doing. How is she doing too I wonder? Yes, there are those that are close to you aren't they Sziromicon? You want to go to them. Why? Say it.". Time had lost all relevance.

The contest of wills wreaking havoc within his mind, Sziromicon broke his fixated gaze from the out-of-control images. A brilliant flash ensued. Sziromicon attempted to rise, the contest leaving him mentally exhausted he had crumpled to one knee fighting to retain consciousness. Although he couldn't see her, he could feel her presence very close by. The seductive whisper came.

Still unable to raise his head from exhaustion, he felt compelled to respond. He grinned. If he had the energy to cackle, he would have.

"How do you feel?"

Still grinning, it came.

"Different."

"Until next time High Priest."