‘Only if I believe you —’ I unsheathed my weapon ‘— and I don’t.’
‘I realise that at this stage of our evolution humanity is repulsive to you,’ it reasoned, ‘but in the next universe you will not find it so.’
I had heard enough. Its words were poison to my ears, thus I raised my sword and set the death swing in motion.
At that moment, the shape of my target transformed into the most beautiful creature I could ever hope to lay eyes upon — with long white hair, facial features akin to my own, and a body that was more shapely and comely than any I could have imagined.
My aim was true and the momentum of my intention was such that, a second later, the head of the paragon flew from its shoulders and rolled across the floor. Its alluring form collapsed in a heap and resumed its former hideous appearance. The cell fell into darkness as the light that the human being had been exuding dissipated, and I was left rattled in the wake of the freak episode.
Had my eyes deceived me? And if so, how had such an inspiring vision taken form in my mind? The image of the paragon was implanted upon my psyche with such blinding clarity that I felt I would never forget it.
That glimpse of what might lie beyond the Eternity Gate, immediately turned into a festering obsession within me. I felt a fire burning in my chest, and a stone of doubt swelling in my belly that demanded vindication. The risk to my existence suddenly paled in comparison to the chance to behold such an elegant manifestation at length. The human had succeeded in its plot to enchant me unto my death from beyond the grave, and I was now proceeding in the full knowledge that I had been manipulated by its lies; but the human’s lie was far more fascinating than my truth.
A very large doubt had taken root in my psyche and with it a desire to test the human’s theory. I had been tempted to consider that which I had avoided until now. If its claims held any validity, then the torment of our fate had been directed upon the wrong target for all these eons, and the emperor himself was responsible for our extended sentence in this dead-end realm of hate, death and manipulation. Our crusade on the emperor’s behalf was all but over, and so too his use for the Grigori would come to an end. If Samyaza knew that we were not truly of the Fallen, we would be the next to be sacrificed to the hungry virus; and if the creator had not forsaken us, then the timing of his messenger’s arrival was truly divine and not something to be mused upon at length.
It did occur to me, as I entered the chambers that we Grigori used as a place to congregate between campaigns, that I had taken leave of my senses, or been infected with some yet unknown human virus, although it felt more like I was emerging from a long, dark fog.
Inside the chamber, my brothers were all looking very solemn as they listened to Araqiel, who had the floor. ‘… I fear that this will only make matters worse!’
‘What will?’ I queried the most scientific amongst us.
Araqiel turned my way, his stern frown unwavering. ‘The latest strain of the mind-eater virus to spring from the emperor’s laboratories.’
‘Why do they waste their time creating new strains when they should be working on a cure, or means for immunity at least?’ The news was frustrating to me, and from the looks on the faces of the Grigori, many of them shared my sentiment.
‘They believe this strain will be a cure,’ he countered, ‘as it cannot replicate nor leave its host before death, whilst at the same time consuming and reprogramming the past two strains of the virus.’
‘A virus that consumes a virus?’ Sammael scoffed. ‘What madness will be sprung on us next?’
‘My main concern is,’ Araqiel added, ‘whether this virus will be safe to use on those of us closest to the emperor.’
The shock of the premise sent a wave of discontent around the room, and a prickly chill down my spine.
‘Have you seen the state of those who are taken over by the virus? They rot away from the inside out; they don’t think or do anything apart from what the emperor tells them to. And they stink!’ Sammael was really up in arms, and many around him were unnerved by his directness. ‘I’d rather be human and die, than be subject to one of those etheric creatures!’
‘Sammael,’ I called to caution him to simmer down. ‘I’ll see you in my chamber.’
He winced as he complied with my instruction, assuming he was in for a reprimand; I did not let on that I was in complete agreement.
‘Armaros and Araqiel, if you could join us.’
Those named, nodded and moved to trail Sammael into the meeting.
‘The rest of you … ensure we are not disturbed.’ I was aware this was a curious directive, as we Grigori usually discussed any topic en masse — something I could not risk in this instance.
‘Is something amiss, Commander?’ Penemue, another curious scholar who worked closely with Armaros as a record keeper, asked.
Penemue was sometimes called my ‘little shadow’ for it was the opinion of the other Grigori that with our straight dark hair and dark eyes and chiselled facial features, we appeared rather alike. Although, as the nickname denoted, Penemue was quite a bit shorter than myself.
‘I shall meet with all in turn,’ I granted.
Penemue was still frowning, no doubt wondering what topic could not be explored openly between us. In figuring there was only one such taboo subject, he merely said, ‘Right you are, Commander.’
For as far back as my memory stretched, I had served the Imperial agenda, despite my dislike of the emperor and his methods. It was true that I felt a stronger affinity to the Grigori in my charge, all two hundred of them. Outside our task force, there was not one of the Fallen that I trusted, and I suspected all the Grigori felt the same.
Those present in this meeting were my closest allies, who I felt had a stronger allegiance to our task force than the emperor, although I had never had cause to test that assumption. The human had claimed our bond to each other was stronger than that of any of the other Elohim and it was time to test that theory.
Once the thick metal door of the stone chamber was sealed closed and I was satisfied that we could speak without being overheard, Sammael beat me to the mark.
‘I know I should not openly show my disdain for our emperor’s methods, greed and insane paranoia, but am I the only one who sees it?’ he appealed to escape my reprimand.
I had quietly opposed the emperor’s use of mind-eaters since their conception, which did coincide with the picture the human had painted of my true destiny. I had always been quite content to slaughter every last human being myself, just like every member of my task force! Could this be because we had subconsciously known that this was the only way to save humanity from Samyaza’s damning intent?
I shook my head in response to Sammael’s postulation, as did the other Grigori in the room. ‘Such things are best spoken in Lux.’ I hinted at the true purpose for this private gathering.
Lux was the Grigori’s code word for the place of light through which we passed when teleporting from one place to another. We had learned over time that we could take pause in this light-field, just prior to when the teleportation of our body took place. We could even meet there, if those Grigori attending all travelled together at once, for we remained completely lucid throughout the experience.
One problem was that such visits left our bodies in a coma state for the duration of the event. If such a scene of slumbering Grigori was to be stumbled upon by any of the Fallen Elohim, it would raise questions as myself and my cohorts never slept. If this pastime were to be reported to the emperor, he would surely ban the practice that was beyond his control and we would lose the one place where we could think and speak openly, and the only place of light we had found in all our existence. The illumination of this light-field was as all-encompassing as the darkness of our usual existence, yet it was not as harmful to behold as the weakest light was in our reality. This state of Lux brought with it a peace and repose that could not be found anywhere in the physical universe. This was why the Grigori went to
great lengths to ensure the enigma remained a secret.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ Sammael rubbed his hands together, and keen to oblige my suggestion, he took a seat along with the rest of us, who linked hands and focused on reaching a state of Lux.
‘Does this summit have something to do with that human you questioned today?’ I heard Sammael ask.
My senses adjusted to the intensity of the light-filled lucid dream state and I was able to focus on Sammael’s curious expression.
‘The immune one?’ Araqiel queried, from my other side.
‘That human was immune?’ Armaros chimed in, from his opposing position in front of me.
‘Affirmative on all counts.’ I desired a chair and one appeared at my rear, so I took a seat. ‘How did you know about it?’ My focus came to rest on Araqiel.
My white-haired companion had conjured forth a staff to lean on, as was his preference, whilst Armaros took a seat on the floor and Sammael made a hammock appear, which swayed back and forth as he lay upon it. Our forms seemed as solid as they did in the dark universe, yet they always appeared at their best — well groomed, free of armour and bloodstains — and attired in white, as opposed to our usual black, grey and metal.
‘I was the one who set the human aside from the herd for study,’ Araqiel informed. ‘Glowing like it was, I was curious to know why.’
‘Understandable,’ I granted. ‘And did you speak with it?’
‘Most surprisingly, yes,’ Araqiel replied, ‘and quite the orator it was too.’
I was excited by his confession, as coming from Araqiel, one of the wisest of us all, this was a compliment. ‘Did it show you anything unusual?’ Out of the corner of my eye I noted Sammael stop swinging and sit upright in his hammock to learn the answer; perhaps it had shown him a vision too?
Araqiel appeared both delighted and horrified as he nodded in response to the question. ‘A blessed vision, of life beyond the Eternity Gate.’
‘Me too!’ Sammael jumped to standing, he was so inspired by the fact. ‘The most ravishing and exquisite thing I’ve ever seen, and apparently it was human!’
‘You too, Commander?’ Araqiel garnered from my query.
I nodded to confirm this.
‘It seems I am the odd one out here,’ Armaros was disappointed in light of Sammael’s version of events.
‘I believe it would have shown you too, had I not ended its life before your audience with it had taken place,’ I enlightened. ‘But I feared it had already beguiled Sammael in some way, so I didn’t want to risk that happening to you too.’
‘It gave you the message from our father?’ Araqiel ventured.
‘Our father!’ Armaros echoed in shock. ‘The Sovereign Integral?’
‘That was its claim,’ I admitted, answering them both.
‘What has the creator got to do with anything?’ Sammael objected to the detour in the conversation.
‘The human didn’t mention to you its belief that the Grigori had been brainwashed by Samyaza since our arrival in the dark universe?’ I posed.
‘No!’ Sammael was adamant. ‘But that would explain why I never did like Samyaza much. Or any of the Fallen.’
‘And I believe our usefulness to the emperor has just about come to an end,’ Araqiel jumped to his conclusion.
‘What has happened today? Have you all gone mad?’ Armaros was appearing a little overwhelmed by it all.
‘No, my brother,’ I attempted to reassure him, ‘I think I have finally found my sanity, for I feel at peace within myself.’
‘Hey, me too!’ Sammael seconded that premise.
‘Me three,’ Araqiel placed a hand upon the disbeliever’s shoulder.
Armaros was disposed to believe us, but was very quick on the uptake and knew he had reason to fear our intent. ‘You are contemplating volunteering the Grigori to attempt passage through the Eternity Gate?’
‘Not attempt,’ I corrected. ‘I will lead us safely through it, as I suspect that our options in the universe are fast running out.’
‘And how do you intend to get the emperor to agree, when he has never allowed any of the Grigori to attempt passage through the Eternity Gate before?’ Armaros postulated.
‘If, as the human claimed, Samyaza knows who we really are and what we are capable of, he may even command it himself,’ I surmised. ‘For we are not the only ones running out of options in this universe. If he does indeed remember the Fallen being cast from the side of the creator, then he will also remember the conditions of their imprisonment. The most interesting of these is that Samyaza and the other Fallen can only depart this universe with their memory intact if summoned by one of the others by name and then set free by their summoner. But the Grigori minus all weapons are not bound to their fate and can move freely between universes.’
‘We can?’ This was news to Armaros.
‘According to the messenger,’ I replied.
‘You wouldn’t summon Samyaza through into another universe after you have seen the damage he’s done in this one, surely?’ Sammael was alarmed.
I shook my head in response. ‘We only need the emperor to think that is our intention. All the Grigori are free from infection, and we will ensure that remains the case, for none of the mind-eaters must be allowed through with us.’
‘Agreed.’ Araqiel felt strongly about that, as did Sammael and Armaros.
‘And if one of us does become infected?’ Armaros seemed wary of the answer.
I served him a look that implied the response to that query was elementary. ‘If what we have learned is the truth, then it was our father’s intention that the Grigori escape this universe intact. We will take every precaution to see that it is so.’
Our discussion was cut short, as I was drawn back towards my oppressive existence, where my presence was being demanded.
In the dark audience chamber, I stirred from my repose, along with my companions, to find Penemue gravely worried. ‘Apologies for the interruption, Commander, but Vassago and Amon are here to summon you and Araqiel to a meeting with the emperor. They await you in the outer chamber.’
Vassago was one of the better natured and better looking of the Imperial Legion; he had charisma, a talent for seeing the past and future, and a knack for finding things hidden or lost. Amon, on the other hand, was stern and spat fire from his mouth when angered. He prided himself on appearing formidable, with sharpened teeth like a canine and dead black eyes. Amon also had a talent for seeing the past and the future and for ending feuds by whatever means possible.
‘An interesting choice of escort.’ Araqiel was wary, as these two were no mere messengers, but principal prelates of the emperor.
I had never felt panicked when summoned to the emperor in the past, but then, I had never held any hope to be thwarted, or a fear of losing an opportunity before this day. Nor had I knowledge of the emperor’s possible trespass against us. Was I up to the task of concealing information and suspicion from the emperor and his legions of psychic warriors? Ready or not, I was about to find out.
In the outer chamber Amon was pacing out his annoyance at being kept waiting, and snarled at my arrival. ‘About bloody time!’
‘Is there some pressing urgency I am not aware of?’ I replied upon approach.
As smoke began shooting from Amon’s nose, Vassago placed a calming hand upon his shoulder and assumed control of the verbal exchange. ‘It is not wise to keep our emperor waiting.’
‘Then let us forgo the idle banter and make haste,’ I suggested, heading for the corridor. Araqiel, Armaros and Sammael moved to follow.
‘Just you two!’ Amon pointed to Araqiel and myself.
‘I go where Azazèl goes,’ Sammael protested.
‘Not today, midget,’ Amon ribbed Sammael, who was shorter in stature than most of us.
Sammael waved away the smoke and foul smell of his opponent’s breath. ‘Why don’t you do us all a favour and self-combust?’
As Amon lashed out, Samm
ael vanished.
This was the ultimate Grigorian taunt, as only one amongst the emperor’s legion could vanish, and that was Bael — Samyaza’s right-hand man — and he could only make himself invisible. He could not teleport.
All the Grigori present had a laugh at Sammael’s antics, so Amon’s fury turned towards Armaros.
‘Do you want to argue, pretty one?’ he snarled in the record keeper’s face.
‘I’ll pass,’ Armaros conceded, looking to me. ‘I shall finish recounting our day’s work to the rest of the Grigori.’
‘Gratitude,’ I replied, and fell in beside Araqiel to follow Vassago’s lead. Amon brought up the rear — no doubt to ensure we did not vanish anywhere en route.
As the huge doors of the emperor’s throne room parted, I was forced to activate the retractable helmet of my armour along with the eye shield, to protect against the glare of the fires within the chamber. The emperor, and those closest to him, had grown used to the constant light and heat, but we Grigori, having lived our lives in the cold and darkness, always found the throne room uncomfortably warm — although temperature had little effect on any of us beyond being pleasant or not.
Inside, most of the nine of the Fallen — those the emperor had appointed his overlords — were present, doing what they did best: tormenting and torturing uninfected humans with their monstrous shapeshifting skills for our liege’s amusement. All except Paimon, who preferred to sing and compose music than kill. He sat to one side of the stairs that lead up to the emperor’s golden throne, strumming on his harp, his calming tune in vast contrast to the events unfolding in the chamber. I noted that the emperor’s invisible spy, Bael, was also absent, or making himself seem so.
Vassago and Amon took up posts inside the chamber doors as they closed, and Araqiel and I advanced down the aisle towards the throne, between the burning pits around which the emperor’s overlords amused themselves. These overlords had all been appointed to oversee different segments of the dark universe, but one by one had been forced to flee back to Tartarus in order to fortify themselves against the virus they had administered to their subjects — some of whom had turned rogue after catching the hybrid strain of the brainwashing disease. It had become too dangerous to slay anyone infected with the mind-eating virus, for fear the freed entity would latch onto the butcher of its host.