The following story is an original work. It may not be reproduced or published elsewhere without the author's permission.
To obtain permission or to get more info, contact Scuttles@ScaryPlace.com.
A Story in 4 Installments:
Lost Souls: Reckoning
Installment 4by David Brookes
Copyright 2002 All rights reserved
davidbrookesuk@yahoo.co.uk
He longed for a mirror, or a still pond, or a shop window. He longed to see his reflection once again, but he knew that he never could. Not anymore."What do I look like, Angel, in your eyes?' he had asked. He hadn't received a proper answer. "Tell me, what do I look like?!"
The Angel had given him a blank look, and shrugged. "You appear to me as normal, Mikhyl Rhuzovich."
No mirrors in the realm between realms. No light: no reflections. It had gotten visibly darker in the Netherworld, light had all but vanished. Little could he see. The murky blue that had plagued his vision for so long now existed only in an ever-hanging black mist over his eyes. Over everyone's eyes; himself, and the Angel.
And the beast.
He hadn't seen the beast in over a year. All that time, nothing. One encounter; how was he supposed to slay the creature if he never saw it?
Time had passed lazily. Nothing much happened, and the Angel ... The Angel was as normal, quiet, sometimes bemused in only that person could understand. Nothing had been said for weeks: obviously the Angel was beginning to see his true form. His invisible form.
Mikhyl Rhuzovich now had no skin. This skin is a vessel for the soul. Mikhyl Rhuzovich now had no soul. He felt enraged; how could he be the Messiah, the Righteous One, if he couldn't even see what he looked like? How could he stop the beast that roamed the land he occupied? Destiny was a bitch.
And he still wasn't convinced about the Prophecy.
"Tell me again about the story, and how it goes.' The Angel had stared back at him. It wasn't obvious, but the being had grown tired at repeating the Prophecy over and over. As they walked over the barren lands of the Netherworld, they talked, and he explained.
Rhuzovich was still not satisfied, but satisfied enough that he could rest and sleep without troubled thoughts in his dreams. The night was one without dreams for Mikhyl Rhuzovich.
The morning came peacefully. The Angel, wings fluttering slightly in agitation, stood over him and watched. "You must awaken quickly, Rhuzovich."
"What is the matter?"
"The beast roams near."
They stood and peered over the horizon. Light from the Sun in the earthly plane pierced the blue veil of the Netherworld as they did, and for a short while during sunrise the orange glow washed over them. A deathly black shadow crept along the horizon, silhouetted against the light. It stopped and appeared to look at them.
"Quickly!" the Angel cried, "Hide yourself! The monster grows, and now it thirsts for your strong soul!"
"But I thought I got weaker the longer I stayed here?"
"No, your form just vanishes ... You will always be a part of the Netherworld, for all eternity or until you complete the Prophecy. Invisible and silent you will be, but more powerful than God you shall become."
"More powerful than God ... " he murmured.
"Hide yourself! Flee! You must not be caught in your state."
Mikhyl turned and fled, raced away from the bright autumn colours of the sunrise. His shadow stretched out before him, weak and transparent; his mass was dwindling and the light passed through him. He heard the flutter of wings as the Angel took flight in his wake ... The noise became quieter; the Angel was moving in the opposite direction.
Towards the beast.
A sphere of light radiated from the collision between the Angel and the Beast, rays of colours revolving around the point of contact as the shadow-like form of the Beast slashed out in black claws at the silvery armour of the Angel. White blood spilled to the ground.
Mikhyl turned and saw as the Angel defended itself. It was bleeding.
Actually bleeding, he thought. Angels can bleed . . ?
He didn't know what to do. Should he try to save the Angel? What could he do? He wasn't powerful enough ... He couldn't defeat the Beast. He wasn't a Messiah!
Decision time, Rhuzovich ... Save him . . !
He ran towards the battle.
You can't beat me! the Beast roared at the Angel. I am infinite!
"You are nothing!" replied the Angel. "The Messiah will defeat you, you cannot win ... " Just then a talon of raven-black clawed its way through the chest of the Angel, knocking it down to the ground, silvery flood spilling out of its back like liquid mercury. Blood flowed from its mouth, and its eyes began to bleed, the wings began to fray at their edges.
Rhuzovich fell to his knees by it's side. "Angel!" he cried.
"Slay the Beast!" it stammered. The wings had lost their feathers now, and straight bony protrusions stuck up from its shoulders. It couldn't speak properly through the blood in its mouth. "The touch of the Beast is enough to slay an Angel ... But you ... You are the Messiah ... "
He left the body where it was, and stood to face the Beast, which laughed in his head. "Prepare to perish, Beast! You will not live through this battle. You have sucked your last Lost Soul!"
Ha ha ha, do not pretend you can conquer me, Mikhyl Rhuzovich! Your after-life is nothing to me. Not even a meal!
"Then fight me, Beast!" At this, Rhuzovich saw the shadowy monster freeze for a second. "Fight me if you believe you can win, monster!"
He launched at the hulk that had frozen in front of him, and in his launch the split feathers of the Angel spun up in a flurry of dust that revolved around the fighting titans as Rhuzovich tried to summon the light that had hurt the Beast in his first battle, but it would not come. The Beast wrapped its jaws around his shoulder and bit down hard, dark teeth sinking into his semi-transparent skin. The Lost Soul screamed in pain as the skin was ripped - half-invisible blood flowed from the tear.
He made a fist and attempted to punch the monster, but it just passed into the form, slowed as it did so, but the Beast made no noise of pain. The teeth crunched down harder and he felt it touch bone. Then the jaws released their grip on him, and he stumbled backwards in pain. Only too late did he see the claws streaking out towards him ... Slices were cut across his face and chest. He felt a burn inside him.
The light returned. It burned now from his mouth and his eyes, dripping white flame, and from his ears, and he looked down to see it from his wounds, then through his skin. Light radiated all around him and he dropped to his knees, light spewing from all around him, and through the light he saw the Beast recoil, heard the voice again inside his head but not the words . . .
He saw a shaft of clear light fall upon him, and for the first time he saw the Earth for what it was, all the colours, not the diluted blue of the Netherworld. Through the clarity of the Heavenly light he saw the Beast melt in his light. It turned to a shadowy puddle as his vision distorted.
He felt himself being pulled upwards, through the light.
* * * * *
Five months later.
His white armour glinted in the blue light, and he stood straight as the beam left him. He felt his joints creak as he stood, lifted his light lance that glittered like his armour. Behind him the armies of Heaven waited patiently for their leader to direct the battle.
"Forwards!" Mikhyl Rhuzovich. "Onwards to victory!"
The armies ran across the battlefield, taking out the shadow spawn of the Beast that had been born of his corpse. The battle would not last long.
For the Angel, Rhuzovich thought, as his light lance pierced the shadow creature, the first of many.
FIN