Chaos 17 & 18
Jul. 2nd, 2007 05:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrAlmost done. Am kinda sad ^^;; I have no other epic series unless I dig out Legacy of the Blossom, which is better of buried
Ugh, stupid Mondays.
Enjoy ^^;;;
Seventeen
Fritz stared, wide-eyed.
Welcome to the lost city of Sonnenstrahl, home of Licht and Teufel, the heart of Schatten.
"Welcome indeed," Fritz muttered. He could not look away from the strange, horrific scene before him.
In a thousand dreams he had looked from the top of the Citadel down upon the beauty of Sonnenstrahl. When he slept, it was a beautiful city; a flawless blend of black and white, silver and gold, combined in a way that somehow worked. A perfect balance of light and shadow.
This…this was a nightmare.
Instead of black and white, silver and gold…it was nothing but dull gray stone mostly obscured by more of the terrible black thorns…except where they’d been bare before, these sported thick, deep violet roses. They looked like some twisted, contorted version of a real rose. Awful and sickening.
Here and there, as he continued to look, he could see bones, scraps of fabric, things he could not identify. It made him cold all the way to his bones.
The ones who did not get out fast enough after Teufel succumbed to his fury and pain.
"That’s not right. These were children of Licht…"
Who in Teufel’s mind betrayed him, hurt him. Teufel sees nothing but Licht, and that Licht was lost because of people who should have helped rather than harmed. That is how Teufel sees it.
Fritz frowned. "I want Sonnenstrahl, not this hideous Verlorengehen."
"Yes," Sasha agreed, and his whip made a jarring crack as it bit the air, striking as quickly as a Sent as Sasha struck one of the vile purple roses. The lurid petals fell to the cold stone, looking like dark smears of spilled ink.
Grimacing, Fritz turned away and looked down the only portion of the grim stone city which was not buried in thorns. The path from the gate led them straight through the city, along a narrow street and up various short flights of stairs.
"Where’s Killian?" Stefan asked, voice ever so slightly shaky.
Sasha scowled. "There doesn’t seem to be many places he could go. No doubt we will find him at our destination – and hopefully alive and well, though a good scare and some injuries would do that boy some good."
Though Fritz hated the look that put on Stefan’s face, he could only nod in agreement. Killian was a brat, and he suspected they were all in agreement that the lad should have stayed at home.
"I suppose if we hear the brat screaming, we’ll know he found something dangerous at least," Stefan said with a grimace. "Doesn’t he know the Holy Sentinel is around here somewhere?"
"Yes…" Sasha said with a frown, flicking his whip in the air again, the crack of it jarring, startlingly loud in the dead silence of Sonnenstrahl. "If it is as large as the legends say…it must be in the Citadel. If it were here in the city, we would have seen some indication of that already." He looked up.
Fritz followed his gaze, to where they could see the towering black and white Citadel looming over Sonnenstrahl. "That is where we need to be," he said heavily, "so I suggest we go before our thoughts and fears prevent us. Anyway, we must find Killian before the boy does something stupid and I see no other place he could have gone."
Stefan and Sasha nodded, and Fritz led the way though his feet felt heavy as lead.
On and on they traveled, wending their way through the tangled street that had been opened for them. Here and there he caught more signs of people who had not been able to flee before the poisonous thorns killed and devoured them.
He shivered and stopped looking more than strictly necessary to be certain something living wasn’t skulking about.
At last they turned a corner and came into full view of the towering Citadel of Sonnenstrahl.
It, unlike the rest of the city, was still beautiful. White and black stones alternated in layers, with images that Fritz did not recognize carved deeply into them, half gold, half silver. The steps to the Citadel were wide, high, alternating in black and white. As they reached the open archways which gave entrance, Fritz felt Drache shudder in his head.
I love you, other half. And the images carved into the walls are the other gods in the human forms they once favored. No other temple in the world shows them thus.
Fritz nodded, and tried to explain that to the other two, but found his mouth was too dry, his tongue too thick. He tried to swallow and longed for a gulp of wine, but finally managed to speak.
His words caused the other two to stop, and Fritz halted alongside them, taking a longer look at the images carved into the temple. There were nine total – one in the very center, carved into the high wall above the archways, with four on either side of him.
On the far left side was a broad-shouldered man with a mass of long hair, much of it done up in small, delicate braids, the whole strewn with trinkets and ornaments. He was handsome, with an almost mischievous smile on his face. He was colored silver. Beside him was a gold figure with the same mischievous smile. He was more slender than the first man, and his long hair spilled in a single long braid over his shoulder. Just as handsome and stunning, as was the third man, done in silver like the first. His hair was just as long as the other two, but loose and strewn with even more decorations than the first. All three figures wore a great deal of jewelry, and wore only wraps slung low on their hips, chests shamelessly bare.
Last on the left side was a man done in gold, tall and slender, shoulder length hair falling feathery soft around his head. Unlike the first three, he was completely dressed in robes that fit tight across the chest to spill into wide sleeves and loose skirt, and for some reason Fritz was convinced those robes would be red. Like the first three, he wore a mischievous smile, as though all four were up to something.
The Dragons of the Three Storms and Holy Zhar Ptitka.
Fritz nodded and looked at the right side of the temple. Here there were no mischievous smiles, though the figures were by no means grim, more…solemn. The nearest to the doors was in silver, a tall, stick-thin man with chin-length hair and bandages wrapped around his eyes. His robes clung to his bony frame, and there was something melancholy about him. Beside him was a tall, proud looking man with long hair tied with a simple ribbon spilling over one shoulder. He wore an intricate, ankle-length tunic with a belt tooled to resemble vines and flowers slung low on his hips. Next to him was a woman with hair down to her feet, so delicately pretty she looked as though she should be made from glass, not stone. On her back was a pair of shining butterfly wings, and Fritz sensed they should be as colorful and bright as a rainbow. She wore a beautiful, clinging gown and smiled like a mother watching her children. Beside her was a sterner looking woman, even with wild curls spilling around down to her waist. Like the man beside the delicate woman, she wore a long tunic cinched with a vine and ivy belt.
The Basilisk, the Faerie Queen, and Guardians.
"Most impressive," Fritz said. "This is how they all once looked? They look…so simple for gods, even in their grandeur."
The gods loved their world, their children, and wanted to be with them, not above them.
"I see," Fritz said softly. "That is…reassuring, somehow. I do not think I’d want to be apart, either." He laughed sadly. "In fact I know I would not. I’ve spent my entire life apart, and I do not even like many of the people I have met. I cannot imagine keeping myself separated from those I loved."
Sasha grunted. "Indeed. It is no way to live one’s life, apart from loved ones. The gods are all idiots, but they occasionally get something right."
Fritz laughed. "You must know the gods well, to call them idiots so casually – and after invoking their power as often as you have."
"I know a few of them, and I assure you they are idiots," Sasha said with a snort. His eyes flicked to the four stone figures on the left. "Especially the dragons and bird."
"I see," Fritz replied, laughing all the harder at Stefan’s slightly horrified look – the poor lad could never quite get used to Sasha’s complete lack of respect when he talked about the gods.
He looked at the figures again, this time tilting his head up far enough to examine the image of Licht above the entryway.
A tall man, not quite as bone-thin as the Basilisk, with shoulder length hair spilling around his head, dressed in simple breeches and a loosely-laced shirt. Licht was, compared to the others, quite simple and unornamented. Fritz rather liked it.
Licht liked beautiful things, and adored the way Teufel dressed, but did not prefer to be anything but plain himself.
Fritz looked again at the image. "I doubt he needed ornamentation to outshine the rest of the room."
Very true.
The words would have been easy to misconstrue, but he knew neither of them meant it that way. Licht, at one point, had been the god whom they’d served as the highest priest in the land. Fritz sighed and finally looked away, the beating of his heart increasing to a fierce pace. He stared at the entranceway a moment longer before making his feet move. Sasha and Stefan followed, all three in some silent agreement that Fritz should continue to lead the way.
Inside, the temple was cool and pleasantly dark, like dusk in the peak of summer, when the air cooled to comfortable temperatures. The floor was a mixture of black and white tiles, and the whole of the entryway was host to all manner of nooks and crannies in which Fritz thought statues and other such things must have been displayed.
Destroyed by Teufel.
"I rather figured," Fritz muttered.
He knew that high above, at the top of the Citadel, overlooking Schatten, were the rooms reserved for Licht and Teufel, as well as those for their priest. Which once he and Drache had been – whole, they had been the Priest of Night and Day. Now they were each half of that.
So close…so very close to finding his other half, after so many centuries…
Yes.
There was happiness in that one word, but it was all but drowned by misery. Fritz frowned, feeling an ache in his chest. Drache was supposed to be happy – why wasn’t he? Even after all they’d said…
I love you other half, and want to see you…but you will not want to see me, and no matter how much I try to believe otherwise, and want to believe otherwise…it is not to be.
"Scorch off," Fritz muttered, growing angry again. Determination renewed, he abandoned the entry way and stalked down the first hallway he saw, eyes lingering only briefly on faded paintings, worn tapestries, blowing by rooms that ordinarily would have caused him to stop and examine for hours.
This was Sonnenstrahl, the lost city no one in Schatten had seen for more than a thousand years. He should be relishing it, remembering it, that he might record it should he survive this bold and foolish quest of theirs.
You have no idea where you’re going or where you need to go.
"Mocking me now, you aggravating voice, will get you nowhere but in a lot of pain."
The voice was silent, and Fritz realized a moment too late how not amusing his comment had been. "I’m sorry – that is not what I meant."
Of course not. You are drawing close. Turn left.
After giving the brief instruction, Drache fell starkly, painfully silent.
Fritz drew a deep breath and turned left. Halfway down the hall he could see a massive set of double doors which had been opened, pale, silvery light spilling from them into the dim hallway. Trembling, he steeled himself for some horrific sight, reminded himself there was still plenty of danger and even meeting Drache should not let him forget that – and approached the double doors.
He stepped through them, eyes immediately captured by the ceiling.
It was made entirely of glass, with a full moon shining down, so bright and clear Fritz could feel tears sting his eyes.
A startled cry from Stefan, the sound of Sasha unsheathing his sword, brought Fritz’s head down.
He gasped – Mercy of the Lost Light they’d walked right into the trouble. Drache was here somewhere?
No, beloved other half. I am right before you.
"No…" Fritz whispered, but knew it to be true as the enormous figure before him moved, lifted its ponderous head.
The Holy Sentinel took up nearly the entire sanctuary, immense body stretched across the floor with barely enough space for a man to fit on either side. His scales were not black, but a deep, rich indigo, shining like wet ink in the moonlight. His eyes blazed pale lavender, a shade that Fritz knew all too well, had seen in every one of his dreams.
Beloved other half.
"You…you…my other half…is the Holy Sentinel?"
I am sorry, beloved. I would have told you if I could.
The fact that Drache sounded as though he were crying was what finally broke Fritz’s paralysis, and he sank to his knees with a moan, burying his face in his hands. "Drache…"
Lost half of my tortured soul, I am sorry. Please, do not hate me.
Hot breath washed over Fritz, smelling like Sent and the awful black thorns. He looked up, hating the agony he could feel in his mind, and stared into the swirling, pale lavender eyes of the Holy Sentinel.
I could never hurt you, other half. Even Teufel does not have that power over me.
Fritz reached out and slowly, gingerly, touched the dark snout of the Holy Sentinel, startled by the heat of him, how oddly soft the scales felt. He gave a low, pained moan, the sound blending with a rumble from Drache that made the entire room shiver. He smoothed both his hands across the long, wide snout and then lowered his head until it rested upon Drache, and sobbed.
There was a rushing sound, the feel of a wind rising up, then Fritz vaguely saw the room go dark – a second later he realized Drache had brought his massive wings up and around to cover them, hide them away as they grieved.
Some time later, Fritz finally sat up and wiped his face. "You dumb Sent," he said with a laugh. It was shaky, weak, but a laugh all the same. "No wonder you were never bothered when I threatened to wring your neck." He slowly stood up. "This isn’t fair," he said, voice cracking. "No one deserves this."
Drache gave a low, rumbling sigh and pulled his wings back, forcing them to rejoin the others.
"What is going on?" Sasha asked slowly, looking between them, gaze finally settling on the Holy Sentinel. "You…are Drache?"
"He is," Fritz said softly, stroking the soft, midnight scales, taking strange comfort in how hot they were.
Stefan stared at them with wide eyes. "How is that possible? The—Sents are evil."
Not quite.
"What was that?" Stefan asked, jumping, looking wildly around.
Sasha quirked one brow. "So this is what it’s like to have a voice in one’s head?" he asked. "Why can we hear you now?"
Because Fritz touches me. It makes our power as complete as it can be. It also breaks many of the bonds restraining my words.
"Then you can tell us what happened?"
I can certainly try. Drache shifted, rippled, fanning his wings half out, filling the sanctuary, then settled more comfortably upon the floor.
Once, when we were one soul, our name was Ehrlich and we were the Priest of Night and Day, he who oversaw the Holy Citadel of Sonnenstrahl and all of Schatten in the name of Lord Licht.
A little over a thousand years ago, Licht determined to save his children and all the children of the world. I never knew the precise details, only that it involved first destroying the world.
He died. Teufel and I both felt it. Teufel flew into a wild rage. I tried to calm him. Instead, we got into an argument. I said that perhaps Licht deserved it for trying to do such an awful thing.
In retaliation, and I believe because he was no longer in his right mind, as mad as Licht had become, Teufel cursed me. He tore my soul in half and cast one half into Schatten to be reborn over and over.
The remaining half he transformed into what you see, the first and greatest of the Sentinels. I have been in this chamber since that time, unable to do anything but feel the lost half of my soul every time it was reborn…as well as the Great Sentinels, who were made from my very flesh.
He lifted his head, sliding free of Fritz’s touch, baring his throat.
Fritz hissed. Across Drache’s throat, like an ugly gash, was a bare strip of pale gray skin. A moment’s examination and he realized that thirteen scales had been roughly torn away.
Drache lowered his head and pushed once more into Fritz’s touch.
I felt it each time they killed, I felt each one die. The Sentinels do not mean to be as they are; it is simply that they were made with hate and anger and grief, and so know of no other way to act.
"I see," Sasha said softly.
They were not sorry to die. No one wants to live such a cruel existence. I do not believe Licht truly wanted to continue living either. It was saying that which sealed the punishment we are still enduring.
"So…" Stefan stepped forward cautiously, eyes still wide but filled with a surprising amount of anguish. "Can you…be put back together?"
No. Drache made a low mewling sound that in a human would have been an anguished sob. Too many years apart. The two halves have each become a separate, if weaker, whole. Like a stone broke in two, one half carried away in the river, smoothed and shaped by the water, while the other lay on the bank, unmoving. They still belong together, but no longer fit properly.
Fritz fought more tears, fingers pressing hard into the dark scales, wishing the words were not true, that something could be done. But he knew it was true – they were meant to be one, but never would be again.
"That is the cruelest thing I have ever heard," Sasha said, voice cracking out like his whip. "Something can be done. Sacred Razrusheniye would never let a soul exist in such a terrible state. That is not how it is meant to be. How could a mere shadow have that much power?"
Teufel was beloved of Licht, precious and dear. He was created by Licht to be his companion, the protector of his heart, the only one who saw Licht as something other than a god. Unlike his brothers, Licht did not feel right being so intimate with one of his children. He thought it an unfair burden to place upon his creations. So he created Teufel, and bestowed upon him as much power as one who is not a god can handle.
In his turn, Teufel loved Licht to the point of blindness. Nothing was brighter or more perfect than his Sunlight. They were beautiful to watch, in their undying love for each other…but then everything fell apart, and even their bond grew contorted. It was heartbreaking.
"I would imagine so," Sasha said softly. He drew close, coiling his whip and returning it to his belt. "May I?"
Drache nodded his head slightly, and Sasha reached out to run his gloved hand over the scales, stroking with them. "You seem to burn."
Yet all I ever feel is cold. Less cold, now, for I have my other half even if I cannot be with him.
"As if I’d leave you," Fritz said softly. "You are my other half, even if you are a Sent. I did not wander for a thousand centuries only to leave now that I’ve found you."
Teufel is suspiciously absent. He never comes to see me, of course, but I sense him around Sonnenstrahl. I do not know where he is, but you should be on your guard. Alas, I cannot tell you anything about him. That is still beyond my powers.
"I’m sure he’s around somewhere," Sasha muttered. He turned and held out a hand to Stefan. "Come. There is nothing to fear. I am relieved I do not have to kill this Sentinel, for I fear I would lose."
Yes, though I do not mean to brag by saying so. I am the most powerful of the Sentinels, as I am essentially their father. Though I’ve never had cause to attack, I could have killed you ere you walked through the door.
Stefan frowned, slowly and hesitantly touching Drache. "But…the legends all said we must kill all the Great Sents and the Holy Sent to reach Teufel."
I assure you the part about killing me is myth. Teufel does not want me dead, it is merely that the legend sounds that much more terrible with that bit added. Teufel rules as much by fear as by fate.
Sasha took a step back, frowning curiously as he looked around the sanctuary. "So do we—"
He never finished the words, and Fritz and Stefan jerked around as one to see why.
Fritz’s eyes widened.
A sword.
A sword had been thrust through Sasha’s chest. The man’s eyes were as wide as his own as they stared back – then they dimmed, the brilliant deep gold going dull and flat.
"Sasha!" Stefan screamed, the most awful sound Fritz had ever heard.
Until Drache roared, shaking the Citadel down to its foundations. Teufel. Cowardly worm.
"I am not the worm in the room, you stupid, pathetic lizard." The voice was chilling, as smooth and slick as ice.
Sasha was suddenly shoved roughly forward, off the sword, to be caught by a sobbing Stefan.
Fritz choked on whatever he might have said, but was given no chance to react as he was suddenly attacked, pain exploding as the blood-soaked sword was buried in his shoulder, shoving him back, going all the way through, and Drache’s roar of pain and anger joined his own harsh cries as he was literally pinned to the dragon’s leg with the sword.
His vision swam, went dark, as hard as he tried to stay conscious.
The last things he heard were Drache calling his name, followed by Stefan finally speaking, voice hoarse and thick with tears.
"Killian."
Eighteen
Stefan could barely see through hot tears, barely think past the shattered mess of his mind, barely feel beyond the sticky blood and the pain tearing his chest apart.
Sasha was dead.
Killian had killed him.
He heard a garbled cry from Fritz, Drache’s roar shaking everything, and he wiped the tears from his face, smearing blood everywhere, to see that Killian had pinned Fritz to Drache with his sword.
Mercy of the Light.
"Stupid priest," Killian snarled, lifting his leg and pressing his boot against the hilt, pressing the blade even deeper. "Didn’t I tell you that happiness would never be yours again? How dare you!" He sneered, seemingly oblivious to Drache’s pained cries. "I had no idea you could communicate with your missing half. How intriguing. I will certainly take care of that."
We do not deserve this, you despicable shadow. Let him go, at least. All he wanted was to meet me.
"Shut up," Killian snarled. "You betrayed Licht with your foul words and cold condemnation. Such a vile priest deserves only to suffer as terribly as Licht."
Licht would never approve of this. None of it. You know that.
"SILENCE," Killian bellowed, and Stefan felt a deep and sudden cold – then Drache collapsed. "I will deal with you later," he said coldly to the unconscious Sentinel.
Stefan bit back a panicked, anguished sob as Killian turned to face him, holding tightly to Sasha’s body. "K—Killian…" He shook his head, unable to believe. What was going on? "Why did you kill Sasha?"
"Oh, I think we can dispense with that name," Killian said. His voice was chilly, so cold it hurt. Like a twisted version of Killian’s true voice. "You know who I am, precious shadow child mine."
Stefan sobbed, wishing suddenly they’d never decided to do this, that he and Sasha could have stayed safe in his village together. "Y-you’re T-T-Teufel."
"Yes."
The sobs grew worse, wracking his body, ceasing only in a panic as he realized Killian – Teufel – had gotten closer. Though hating to leave Sasha, who was so still and his eyes so dull and oh Mercy of the Light how could he live without Sasha – his urge to get away from Killian/Teufel was stronger.
Light, he wanted it all to go away.
Scrambling up and away, Stefan could think only that this would all be better later. He’d wake up and realize it was a dream and Drache and Fritz would be all right and Sasha would be alive and—
A cold hand latched onto his throat, and he stared into eyes that glowed. They were the exact color of an amethyst but shone like the moonlight above. If not for the rage that filled them, they’d be beautiful.
They weren’t Killian’s eyes.
Stefan choked on his sobs as the reality crashed down cruelly upon him. This really was Teufel. "Why?" he gasped out.
"Why?" Teufel repeated, the chilling voice at complete odds with the body of a fifteen year old boy. "Why what? There are so many questions you must want to ask it would be best to clarify them, my shadow child."
Shadow child? What did that mean? That he was a child of Teufel? But all the people of Schatten were children of Licht… Stefan shook it off, far more concerned about something else. "Sasha?"
Teufel turned his head to look in disgust at Sasha’s body. "Interfering fire child. That stupid, arrogant bird never could keep his nose out of everyone’s business. I might have guessed it would be one of his that would eventually come here. No matter, though, I took care of him – after making him useful."
"U-useful?" Stefan asked, vision swimming. Teufel’s grip was tight enough to make breathing difficult without quite choking him.
"Yes," Teufel said softly. "He worked as well as I would have, in the end. Perhaps more so, as it must have been quite a thrill for you to be seduced by such a pretty older man."
Stefan tried to shake his head. "What?"
Teufel laughed, a sound that bit as hard as the first frost. "What was it that stupid priest said when he told your fortune? The dark of a moonless night. Yes, that’s it." He shook his head, as if upset, but even through his haze of pain and fear and misery Stefan could see it was all a mockery. "Do you know how things were meant to be, my Stefan? Before that bastard child of the foolish firebird came here and tainted my world with his treacherous, awful chaos. If you had not broken the threads woven for you, my shadow child, you would have died with a lot less trouble and pain."
"D-died?"
"Yes," Teufel said softly, grip easing slightly though he kept Stefan pinned to the wall. "Maja should have died, and in your grief you would have gone to Raven Knoll. Your dear friend Killian would have gone with you, and from there he would have persuaded you to attempt going beyond the great wall. Here Killian would fall, and in your grief over ‘my’ death, I would have taken you quite smoothly, painlessly. Typical of stupid, spoiled children, though, you chose to defy me. For that, things will be much more painful for you."
Stefan stared, confused and lost. "I don’t understand."
"The dark of a moonless night," Teufel replied. "You belong to me. You are my new body."
"N-new body?"
"Yes," Teufel said, bitterness thick in his voice and on his face. "Without Licht I am weakened, unable to exist for long without renewing my strength – obtaining a new body. I took this one a hundred years ago."
Renewed tears poured down Stefan’s cheeks. "K-Killian?"
"Died from a Sent bite years ago. I took his place that I might more easily manipulate you."
"Why not just…take me? Why did you have to do that to Drache and Fritz and S-S-Sasha?" He choked on his sobs as he said Sasha’s name, still unable to believe…but the blood was drying on his face and hands, on his clothes. Sasha’s blood. Stefan did not think he could survive such an awful pain for much longer.
"I cannot simply take you as you are…" Teufel said, clearly frustrated. "As you are, especially because of that stupid fire child, you are a shadow of Licht. I cannot touch a shadow. You must be darkness."
"D-darkness?" Stefan repeated. He could barely see now beyond his tears and shook his head as best he could to clear them away, staring at the young man who both was and wasn’t his best friend.
Killian – Teufel – still looked fifteen, but the angry, bitter emotions carved into his face made him look far older in some respects, and Killian’s eyes had never looked so hauntingly, fiercely pretty. It wasn’t right that Teufel’s eyes looked pretty even as they were filled with hate.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why do you do this?"
Teufel laughed in his frosty way again. "Because the world deserves it," he snarled. "No one was there for Licht when he most needed them. Everyone betrayed him."
"But—"
"But nothing," Teufel hissed. "I will show you."
His amethyst eyes flashed, and Stefan cried out as pain lanced through his head. His vision blurred, grayed…went dark…
Licht smelled like sunshine, bright and warm and almost sweet. His skin felt pleasantly warm through the fabric of his shirt. Teufel pressed against his lover’s back and breathed in the scents, soaked up the heat and the sunshine. "You’re brooding again," he said with a soft sigh.
"Merely thinking, my love," Licht said, voice warm and deep, as comforting as the sunlight. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Teufel, leaned down to kiss him, mouth as warm as the rest of him, his taste salty and sweet. "You are a welcome distraction."
Teufel laughed and twined his arms around Licht’s neck. "Then you should think of nothing but me, Sunlight, and then you will always be happy."
Licht smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, his cheek, then his lips again. "If I could have only one thought for the rest of eternity, my shadow, my heart, it would be you."
"And mine of you," Teufel said softly. "What troubles you, Sunlight?"
Licht sighed softly and turned to once more look out the open archways. The entire perimeter of the top levels of the Citadel was open to give a breathtaking view of the world beyond. On a clear day even the mountains in the far off distance were visible.
Today the sky was an unending stretch of perfect blue, not a single speck of cloud to blot the splendor of the sun. At the peak hour of the day, the light could get no brighter, no more beautiful. Only his Sunlight’s eyes were its superior. Below them the people of Sonnenstrahl bustled too and fro, laughing and shouting, cheering and arguing. A mish mash of sound, nearly chaotic. Beyond Sonnenstrahl were seemingly endless stretches of green, speckled here and there with small villages, herds of cattle. To the north and south were the sacred cities of Gold Rock and Raven Knoll, the east and west the Temples of Sunrise and Sunset.
Schatten was truly the most beautiful place in the world.
Except for the fact that its people were all fools. They looked happy, far down below, but time and again they made decisions that only led to grief. They caused one another suffering instead of living according the words of Licht. Time and again, life after life, they failed to learn. "They don’t deserve you," he said softly.
A warm hand took his, Licht’s soft lips pressing to the back of it. "I made them, so their flaws are my fault. Do not hate them, my shadow, my heart. I am working to fix the mistakes I and my brothers made."
Teufel frowned and turned away from the world outside, tilting his head to look up at Licht, brush a strand of hair from his cheek, stroke the fine lines of his face, so pleasing to his fingertips, a rich pale gold against his own dark bronze skin, those gold eyes so beautiful a contrast against his violet-painted nails.
Licht ran his hands up Teufel’s arms, heating him clear through.
Smiling, teasing, Teufel spun away and moved to the center of the room, spinning in a circle to show off for his Sunlight. He knew he was a pleasure to look upon, Licht had made him to be so. His skin a deep bronze, shining with the faintest sheen of sweat from the blazing heat of summer. To combat that heat, he wore only a loose wrap around his waist, deep violet but made of the thinnest, lightest linen, softer than silk and cool against his skin. His dark purple hair fell to his knees, threaded with jewels, silver and gold hoops, a tiny bell fastened to the end of each braid and twist.
He held his arms out, beckoning, laughing when Licht came to him, gathered him close, that warm mouth closing over his own. "You are perfection, my shadow, my heart."
"Of course I am," Teufel replied. "You made me."
Licht laughed softly, nuzzling his cheek. "I only willed my shadow take a living form. You chose the details of your shape, beauty."
"I took the shape most pleasing to you," Teufel whispered. "It is for you alone I exist."
Licht smiled softly, stroking his hair, playing with a silver hoop, a jangling bell. "You are my only happiness, anymore, my shadow, my heart." Licht sighed and released him, wandering back to the archways, staring down at the people below, the distant horizon, a troubled expression on his face.
"So where you are going?" Teufel asked, striving to sound idle, to keep the bitterness from his voice. "To see that snake?"
"He is the key to everything," Licht said gently. "You hold my heart, you know that. Always and forever you hold my heart. When I fix this world, you alone will be the only thing unchanged." He continued to stare pensively down at his children.
Teufel once more rested his head against Licht’s back, wrapping his arms tightly around his lover. "Must you do it this way?"
"I will do anything and everything to save my children from themselves," Licht said softly. "It isn’t right, and it’s even worse that my brothers do not care, that they let their children suffer so. They’re too busy playing to notice the misery our choices have created. It’s not right. I will fix it – no matter what I must do."
"I don’t trust the others. Why can we not stay locked away in Schatten? Leave the rest of the world to its misery? Let them continue to make mistakes. We shouldn’t do their work for them."
"Oh, Teufel…" Licht turned around and hugged him tight. "It is not so simple as that." He clasped their hands, kissing the back of Teufel’s. "You know it’s not that easy. I have taught you how to feel it, the way chaos and fate are irrevocably intertwined. It is impossible to separate them as the world stands now. We cannot live completely independently. Always the touch of chaos would taint things. To get rid of it, the world must be made anew." His eyes darkened, like the sun behind clouds, for a single moment, then Licht was kissing him again and Teufel let his thoughts skitter away.
"Be careful," he whispered when Licht finally broke the kiss. "I do not exist without you. I wish you would not go…though I understand, of course, Sunlight." He held tight, silently willing Licht to stay though he felt guilty, knowing how important saving the world was to Licht.
Licht nodded, but slipped from Teufel’s hold with a last kiss. "I will return to you, my shadow, my heart."
"Soon," Teufel whispered, but Licht had vanished, taking with him the only light and warmth for which Teufel cared.
He stood before an archway looking at everything and nothing for at least an hour, unable to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach now that he was alone.
The rustle of fabric, the familiar tread of Ehrlich’s feet. "What do you want, Priest?" he asked without turning around.
"He has gone again?"
Ehrlich’s voice was almost musical, melodious and deep, the perfect voice for a man who bridged the distance between a god and his children. He was also one of those children of Licht who had gold hair, long as was the fashion, neatly braided and tumbling over one shoulder, dressed in the shifting light-dark robes of his office.
Teufel currently despised the man. "It is no concern of yours, Priest," he said coolly. "If you have come to continue your disrespect, then get out."
"I only offer my thoughts, honored Lord Teufel. I mean no offense. My Lord Licht has never taken offense…"
"So I should not?" Teufel asked with a laugh, finally turning to face him. "I am merely his shadow, I will take offense where I please."
Ehrlich regarded him without expression. "Merely. Yes. You would do better to serve our Lord by dissuading him."
"It is none of your affair, mortal," Teufel snapped. "Go back to your prayers and get from my sight. Lord Licht knows better than you what is best for his children."
"Perhaps once," Erlich replied calmly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "No longer. You do not see it because you do not choose to see it. He is unstable. Nearly mad. Do you think he would put up the barriers that block out his brethren if he felt he was doing no wrong? If he had nothing to fear by his actions?"
Teufel turned away to watch the sun set. "You are dismissed, Priest."
"As you wish, Lord Teufel," Ehrlich said, and with a rustle of fabric left Teufel once more alone.
Long after the sun had set, Teufel continued to stay right where he was, waiting patiently, if anxiously, for his Sunlight to return. Licht had said, and he had always returned before…
The gray haze of morning was just teasing along the horizon when he screamed in pain and fell to his knees, not realizing he was crying until he felt the tears on the backs of his hands. His chest burned, hurt more deeply and fiercely than he’d known pain could.
He screamed again, in agony and grief, feeling as his Sunlight died even as the world trembled all around him.
Those backstabbing gods had killed their own brother, and all because he was trying to make the world a better place.
A hand fell on his shoulder and he snarled, glaring furiously up at Ehrlich. "What do you want, Priest? To gloat?"
Ehrlich frowned, expression hurt. "No, my Lord. Is he…is he really?"
"Yes," Teufel said bitterly. "Dead. Slain. Gone from this world forever. Killed by his brothers, who claimed to love him."
"Perhaps…my Lord Teufel, perhaps it was what he wanted? Perhaps he earned it? He was up to—"
"How dare you!" Teufel snarled, lashing out, sending Ehrlich sprawling with the force of the blow. "He appoints you to a place of honor, showers you with gifts and praise and wisdom and you say he deserved to die? That he wanted to die? How dare you!"
"My lord—" Ehrlich struggled to his feet, but Teufel knocked him down again.
"Is that what you said, Priest?"
Ehrlich’s eyes blazed with challenge. "Yes, my lord. It is. Lord Licht would not have beaten me for saying such things."
"I am not Licht," Teufel said coldly.
"No," Ehrlich replied, wiping blood from his lips. "You are not. We must help his children."
Teufel threw his head back and laughed. He stared at the world beyond the Citadel, eyes darkening to near black as the sun was buried behind dark clouds. "Stay out of Schatten," he snarled, using every scrap of his power to forever seal out the rest of the world.
Then he loosed his power completely, reaching out to feel the threads of Fate that helped bind the world together, strengthening them, lengthening them, hissing in satisfaction.
Hands grabbed him from behind and Teufel pulled away with a snarl, rounding on Ehrlich, power blazing, burning through him. "You’re as traitorous as the rest, Priest."
"You’re as mad as Licht!" Ehrlich bellowed. "Stop this!"
"No!" Teufel caught him up and threw him across the room, pleased at the way bones cracked and snapped. "Betrayers all of them. It’s not fair! He cared! He loved them all, loved this world. All he wanted was their happiness and now this! All those gods wanted was their own happiness, their own pleasure. I will show them how foolish they were."
"Licht—" Ehrlich gasped the words, breathing hard, coughing up blood, eyes dull with pain. "Wouldn’t want—you’re just—without him."
"Yes," Teufel said. "Shadows are proof of light. Without light, there is only darkness." He reached down and calmly snapped Ehrlich’s neck, eyes glowing as he captured the soul as it vacated the body. "Then darkness I shall be."
Ugh, stupid Mondays.
Enjoy ^^;;;
Seventeen
Fritz stared, wide-eyed.
Welcome to the lost city of Sonnenstrahl, home of Licht and Teufel, the heart of Schatten.
"Welcome indeed," Fritz muttered. He could not look away from the strange, horrific scene before him.
In a thousand dreams he had looked from the top of the Citadel down upon the beauty of Sonnenstrahl. When he slept, it was a beautiful city; a flawless blend of black and white, silver and gold, combined in a way that somehow worked. A perfect balance of light and shadow.
This…this was a nightmare.
Instead of black and white, silver and gold…it was nothing but dull gray stone mostly obscured by more of the terrible black thorns…except where they’d been bare before, these sported thick, deep violet roses. They looked like some twisted, contorted version of a real rose. Awful and sickening.
Here and there, as he continued to look, he could see bones, scraps of fabric, things he could not identify. It made him cold all the way to his bones.
The ones who did not get out fast enough after Teufel succumbed to his fury and pain.
"That’s not right. These were children of Licht…"
Who in Teufel’s mind betrayed him, hurt him. Teufel sees nothing but Licht, and that Licht was lost because of people who should have helped rather than harmed. That is how Teufel sees it.
Fritz frowned. "I want Sonnenstrahl, not this hideous Verlorengehen."
"Yes," Sasha agreed, and his whip made a jarring crack as it bit the air, striking as quickly as a Sent as Sasha struck one of the vile purple roses. The lurid petals fell to the cold stone, looking like dark smears of spilled ink.
Grimacing, Fritz turned away and looked down the only portion of the grim stone city which was not buried in thorns. The path from the gate led them straight through the city, along a narrow street and up various short flights of stairs.
"Where’s Killian?" Stefan asked, voice ever so slightly shaky.
Sasha scowled. "There doesn’t seem to be many places he could go. No doubt we will find him at our destination – and hopefully alive and well, though a good scare and some injuries would do that boy some good."
Though Fritz hated the look that put on Stefan’s face, he could only nod in agreement. Killian was a brat, and he suspected they were all in agreement that the lad should have stayed at home.
"I suppose if we hear the brat screaming, we’ll know he found something dangerous at least," Stefan said with a grimace. "Doesn’t he know the Holy Sentinel is around here somewhere?"
"Yes…" Sasha said with a frown, flicking his whip in the air again, the crack of it jarring, startlingly loud in the dead silence of Sonnenstrahl. "If it is as large as the legends say…it must be in the Citadel. If it were here in the city, we would have seen some indication of that already." He looked up.
Fritz followed his gaze, to where they could see the towering black and white Citadel looming over Sonnenstrahl. "That is where we need to be," he said heavily, "so I suggest we go before our thoughts and fears prevent us. Anyway, we must find Killian before the boy does something stupid and I see no other place he could have gone."
Stefan and Sasha nodded, and Fritz led the way though his feet felt heavy as lead.
On and on they traveled, wending their way through the tangled street that had been opened for them. Here and there he caught more signs of people who had not been able to flee before the poisonous thorns killed and devoured them.
He shivered and stopped looking more than strictly necessary to be certain something living wasn’t skulking about.
At last they turned a corner and came into full view of the towering Citadel of Sonnenstrahl.
It, unlike the rest of the city, was still beautiful. White and black stones alternated in layers, with images that Fritz did not recognize carved deeply into them, half gold, half silver. The steps to the Citadel were wide, high, alternating in black and white. As they reached the open archways which gave entrance, Fritz felt Drache shudder in his head.
I love you, other half. And the images carved into the walls are the other gods in the human forms they once favored. No other temple in the world shows them thus.
Fritz nodded, and tried to explain that to the other two, but found his mouth was too dry, his tongue too thick. He tried to swallow and longed for a gulp of wine, but finally managed to speak.
His words caused the other two to stop, and Fritz halted alongside them, taking a longer look at the images carved into the temple. There were nine total – one in the very center, carved into the high wall above the archways, with four on either side of him.
On the far left side was a broad-shouldered man with a mass of long hair, much of it done up in small, delicate braids, the whole strewn with trinkets and ornaments. He was handsome, with an almost mischievous smile on his face. He was colored silver. Beside him was a gold figure with the same mischievous smile. He was more slender than the first man, and his long hair spilled in a single long braid over his shoulder. Just as handsome and stunning, as was the third man, done in silver like the first. His hair was just as long as the other two, but loose and strewn with even more decorations than the first. All three figures wore a great deal of jewelry, and wore only wraps slung low on their hips, chests shamelessly bare.
Last on the left side was a man done in gold, tall and slender, shoulder length hair falling feathery soft around his head. Unlike the first three, he was completely dressed in robes that fit tight across the chest to spill into wide sleeves and loose skirt, and for some reason Fritz was convinced those robes would be red. Like the first three, he wore a mischievous smile, as though all four were up to something.
The Dragons of the Three Storms and Holy Zhar Ptitka.
Fritz nodded and looked at the right side of the temple. Here there were no mischievous smiles, though the figures were by no means grim, more…solemn. The nearest to the doors was in silver, a tall, stick-thin man with chin-length hair and bandages wrapped around his eyes. His robes clung to his bony frame, and there was something melancholy about him. Beside him was a tall, proud looking man with long hair tied with a simple ribbon spilling over one shoulder. He wore an intricate, ankle-length tunic with a belt tooled to resemble vines and flowers slung low on his hips. Next to him was a woman with hair down to her feet, so delicately pretty she looked as though she should be made from glass, not stone. On her back was a pair of shining butterfly wings, and Fritz sensed they should be as colorful and bright as a rainbow. She wore a beautiful, clinging gown and smiled like a mother watching her children. Beside her was a sterner looking woman, even with wild curls spilling around down to her waist. Like the man beside the delicate woman, she wore a long tunic cinched with a vine and ivy belt.
The Basilisk, the Faerie Queen, and Guardians.
"Most impressive," Fritz said. "This is how they all once looked? They look…so simple for gods, even in their grandeur."
The gods loved their world, their children, and wanted to be with them, not above them.
"I see," Fritz said softly. "That is…reassuring, somehow. I do not think I’d want to be apart, either." He laughed sadly. "In fact I know I would not. I’ve spent my entire life apart, and I do not even like many of the people I have met. I cannot imagine keeping myself separated from those I loved."
Sasha grunted. "Indeed. It is no way to live one’s life, apart from loved ones. The gods are all idiots, but they occasionally get something right."
Fritz laughed. "You must know the gods well, to call them idiots so casually – and after invoking their power as often as you have."
"I know a few of them, and I assure you they are idiots," Sasha said with a snort. His eyes flicked to the four stone figures on the left. "Especially the dragons and bird."
"I see," Fritz replied, laughing all the harder at Stefan’s slightly horrified look – the poor lad could never quite get used to Sasha’s complete lack of respect when he talked about the gods.
He looked at the figures again, this time tilting his head up far enough to examine the image of Licht above the entryway.
A tall man, not quite as bone-thin as the Basilisk, with shoulder length hair spilling around his head, dressed in simple breeches and a loosely-laced shirt. Licht was, compared to the others, quite simple and unornamented. Fritz rather liked it.
Licht liked beautiful things, and adored the way Teufel dressed, but did not prefer to be anything but plain himself.
Fritz looked again at the image. "I doubt he needed ornamentation to outshine the rest of the room."
Very true.
The words would have been easy to misconstrue, but he knew neither of them meant it that way. Licht, at one point, had been the god whom they’d served as the highest priest in the land. Fritz sighed and finally looked away, the beating of his heart increasing to a fierce pace. He stared at the entranceway a moment longer before making his feet move. Sasha and Stefan followed, all three in some silent agreement that Fritz should continue to lead the way.
Inside, the temple was cool and pleasantly dark, like dusk in the peak of summer, when the air cooled to comfortable temperatures. The floor was a mixture of black and white tiles, and the whole of the entryway was host to all manner of nooks and crannies in which Fritz thought statues and other such things must have been displayed.
Destroyed by Teufel.
"I rather figured," Fritz muttered.
He knew that high above, at the top of the Citadel, overlooking Schatten, were the rooms reserved for Licht and Teufel, as well as those for their priest. Which once he and Drache had been – whole, they had been the Priest of Night and Day. Now they were each half of that.
So close…so very close to finding his other half, after so many centuries…
Yes.
There was happiness in that one word, but it was all but drowned by misery. Fritz frowned, feeling an ache in his chest. Drache was supposed to be happy – why wasn’t he? Even after all they’d said…
I love you other half, and want to see you…but you will not want to see me, and no matter how much I try to believe otherwise, and want to believe otherwise…it is not to be.
"Scorch off," Fritz muttered, growing angry again. Determination renewed, he abandoned the entry way and stalked down the first hallway he saw, eyes lingering only briefly on faded paintings, worn tapestries, blowing by rooms that ordinarily would have caused him to stop and examine for hours.
This was Sonnenstrahl, the lost city no one in Schatten had seen for more than a thousand years. He should be relishing it, remembering it, that he might record it should he survive this bold and foolish quest of theirs.
You have no idea where you’re going or where you need to go.
"Mocking me now, you aggravating voice, will get you nowhere but in a lot of pain."
The voice was silent, and Fritz realized a moment too late how not amusing his comment had been. "I’m sorry – that is not what I meant."
Of course not. You are drawing close. Turn left.
After giving the brief instruction, Drache fell starkly, painfully silent.
Fritz drew a deep breath and turned left. Halfway down the hall he could see a massive set of double doors which had been opened, pale, silvery light spilling from them into the dim hallway. Trembling, he steeled himself for some horrific sight, reminded himself there was still plenty of danger and even meeting Drache should not let him forget that – and approached the double doors.
He stepped through them, eyes immediately captured by the ceiling.
It was made entirely of glass, with a full moon shining down, so bright and clear Fritz could feel tears sting his eyes.
A startled cry from Stefan, the sound of Sasha unsheathing his sword, brought Fritz’s head down.
He gasped – Mercy of the Lost Light they’d walked right into the trouble. Drache was here somewhere?
No, beloved other half. I am right before you.
"No…" Fritz whispered, but knew it to be true as the enormous figure before him moved, lifted its ponderous head.
The Holy Sentinel took up nearly the entire sanctuary, immense body stretched across the floor with barely enough space for a man to fit on either side. His scales were not black, but a deep, rich indigo, shining like wet ink in the moonlight. His eyes blazed pale lavender, a shade that Fritz knew all too well, had seen in every one of his dreams.
Beloved other half.
"You…you…my other half…is the Holy Sentinel?"
I am sorry, beloved. I would have told you if I could.
The fact that Drache sounded as though he were crying was what finally broke Fritz’s paralysis, and he sank to his knees with a moan, burying his face in his hands. "Drache…"
Lost half of my tortured soul, I am sorry. Please, do not hate me.
Hot breath washed over Fritz, smelling like Sent and the awful black thorns. He looked up, hating the agony he could feel in his mind, and stared into the swirling, pale lavender eyes of the Holy Sentinel.
I could never hurt you, other half. Even Teufel does not have that power over me.
Fritz reached out and slowly, gingerly, touched the dark snout of the Holy Sentinel, startled by the heat of him, how oddly soft the scales felt. He gave a low, pained moan, the sound blending with a rumble from Drache that made the entire room shiver. He smoothed both his hands across the long, wide snout and then lowered his head until it rested upon Drache, and sobbed.
There was a rushing sound, the feel of a wind rising up, then Fritz vaguely saw the room go dark – a second later he realized Drache had brought his massive wings up and around to cover them, hide them away as they grieved.
Some time later, Fritz finally sat up and wiped his face. "You dumb Sent," he said with a laugh. It was shaky, weak, but a laugh all the same. "No wonder you were never bothered when I threatened to wring your neck." He slowly stood up. "This isn’t fair," he said, voice cracking. "No one deserves this."
Drache gave a low, rumbling sigh and pulled his wings back, forcing them to rejoin the others.
"What is going on?" Sasha asked slowly, looking between them, gaze finally settling on the Holy Sentinel. "You…are Drache?"
"He is," Fritz said softly, stroking the soft, midnight scales, taking strange comfort in how hot they were.
Stefan stared at them with wide eyes. "How is that possible? The—Sents are evil."
Not quite.
"What was that?" Stefan asked, jumping, looking wildly around.
Sasha quirked one brow. "So this is what it’s like to have a voice in one’s head?" he asked. "Why can we hear you now?"
Because Fritz touches me. It makes our power as complete as it can be. It also breaks many of the bonds restraining my words.
"Then you can tell us what happened?"
I can certainly try. Drache shifted, rippled, fanning his wings half out, filling the sanctuary, then settled more comfortably upon the floor.
Once, when we were one soul, our name was Ehrlich and we were the Priest of Night and Day, he who oversaw the Holy Citadel of Sonnenstrahl and all of Schatten in the name of Lord Licht.
A little over a thousand years ago, Licht determined to save his children and all the children of the world. I never knew the precise details, only that it involved first destroying the world.
He died. Teufel and I both felt it. Teufel flew into a wild rage. I tried to calm him. Instead, we got into an argument. I said that perhaps Licht deserved it for trying to do such an awful thing.
In retaliation, and I believe because he was no longer in his right mind, as mad as Licht had become, Teufel cursed me. He tore my soul in half and cast one half into Schatten to be reborn over and over.
The remaining half he transformed into what you see, the first and greatest of the Sentinels. I have been in this chamber since that time, unable to do anything but feel the lost half of my soul every time it was reborn…as well as the Great Sentinels, who were made from my very flesh.
He lifted his head, sliding free of Fritz’s touch, baring his throat.
Fritz hissed. Across Drache’s throat, like an ugly gash, was a bare strip of pale gray skin. A moment’s examination and he realized that thirteen scales had been roughly torn away.
Drache lowered his head and pushed once more into Fritz’s touch.
I felt it each time they killed, I felt each one die. The Sentinels do not mean to be as they are; it is simply that they were made with hate and anger and grief, and so know of no other way to act.
"I see," Sasha said softly.
They were not sorry to die. No one wants to live such a cruel existence. I do not believe Licht truly wanted to continue living either. It was saying that which sealed the punishment we are still enduring.
"So…" Stefan stepped forward cautiously, eyes still wide but filled with a surprising amount of anguish. "Can you…be put back together?"
No. Drache made a low mewling sound that in a human would have been an anguished sob. Too many years apart. The two halves have each become a separate, if weaker, whole. Like a stone broke in two, one half carried away in the river, smoothed and shaped by the water, while the other lay on the bank, unmoving. They still belong together, but no longer fit properly.
Fritz fought more tears, fingers pressing hard into the dark scales, wishing the words were not true, that something could be done. But he knew it was true – they were meant to be one, but never would be again.
"That is the cruelest thing I have ever heard," Sasha said, voice cracking out like his whip. "Something can be done. Sacred Razrusheniye would never let a soul exist in such a terrible state. That is not how it is meant to be. How could a mere shadow have that much power?"
Teufel was beloved of Licht, precious and dear. He was created by Licht to be his companion, the protector of his heart, the only one who saw Licht as something other than a god. Unlike his brothers, Licht did not feel right being so intimate with one of his children. He thought it an unfair burden to place upon his creations. So he created Teufel, and bestowed upon him as much power as one who is not a god can handle.
In his turn, Teufel loved Licht to the point of blindness. Nothing was brighter or more perfect than his Sunlight. They were beautiful to watch, in their undying love for each other…but then everything fell apart, and even their bond grew contorted. It was heartbreaking.
"I would imagine so," Sasha said softly. He drew close, coiling his whip and returning it to his belt. "May I?"
Drache nodded his head slightly, and Sasha reached out to run his gloved hand over the scales, stroking with them. "You seem to burn."
Yet all I ever feel is cold. Less cold, now, for I have my other half even if I cannot be with him.
"As if I’d leave you," Fritz said softly. "You are my other half, even if you are a Sent. I did not wander for a thousand centuries only to leave now that I’ve found you."
Teufel is suspiciously absent. He never comes to see me, of course, but I sense him around Sonnenstrahl. I do not know where he is, but you should be on your guard. Alas, I cannot tell you anything about him. That is still beyond my powers.
"I’m sure he’s around somewhere," Sasha muttered. He turned and held out a hand to Stefan. "Come. There is nothing to fear. I am relieved I do not have to kill this Sentinel, for I fear I would lose."
Yes, though I do not mean to brag by saying so. I am the most powerful of the Sentinels, as I am essentially their father. Though I’ve never had cause to attack, I could have killed you ere you walked through the door.
Stefan frowned, slowly and hesitantly touching Drache. "But…the legends all said we must kill all the Great Sents and the Holy Sent to reach Teufel."
I assure you the part about killing me is myth. Teufel does not want me dead, it is merely that the legend sounds that much more terrible with that bit added. Teufel rules as much by fear as by fate.
Sasha took a step back, frowning curiously as he looked around the sanctuary. "So do we—"
He never finished the words, and Fritz and Stefan jerked around as one to see why.
Fritz’s eyes widened.
A sword.
A sword had been thrust through Sasha’s chest. The man’s eyes were as wide as his own as they stared back – then they dimmed, the brilliant deep gold going dull and flat.
"Sasha!" Stefan screamed, the most awful sound Fritz had ever heard.
Until Drache roared, shaking the Citadel down to its foundations. Teufel. Cowardly worm.
"I am not the worm in the room, you stupid, pathetic lizard." The voice was chilling, as smooth and slick as ice.
Sasha was suddenly shoved roughly forward, off the sword, to be caught by a sobbing Stefan.
Fritz choked on whatever he might have said, but was given no chance to react as he was suddenly attacked, pain exploding as the blood-soaked sword was buried in his shoulder, shoving him back, going all the way through, and Drache’s roar of pain and anger joined his own harsh cries as he was literally pinned to the dragon’s leg with the sword.
His vision swam, went dark, as hard as he tried to stay conscious.
The last things he heard were Drache calling his name, followed by Stefan finally speaking, voice hoarse and thick with tears.
"Killian."
Eighteen
Stefan could barely see through hot tears, barely think past the shattered mess of his mind, barely feel beyond the sticky blood and the pain tearing his chest apart.
Sasha was dead.
Killian had killed him.
He heard a garbled cry from Fritz, Drache’s roar shaking everything, and he wiped the tears from his face, smearing blood everywhere, to see that Killian had pinned Fritz to Drache with his sword.
Mercy of the Light.
"Stupid priest," Killian snarled, lifting his leg and pressing his boot against the hilt, pressing the blade even deeper. "Didn’t I tell you that happiness would never be yours again? How dare you!" He sneered, seemingly oblivious to Drache’s pained cries. "I had no idea you could communicate with your missing half. How intriguing. I will certainly take care of that."
We do not deserve this, you despicable shadow. Let him go, at least. All he wanted was to meet me.
"Shut up," Killian snarled. "You betrayed Licht with your foul words and cold condemnation. Such a vile priest deserves only to suffer as terribly as Licht."
Licht would never approve of this. None of it. You know that.
"SILENCE," Killian bellowed, and Stefan felt a deep and sudden cold – then Drache collapsed. "I will deal with you later," he said coldly to the unconscious Sentinel.
Stefan bit back a panicked, anguished sob as Killian turned to face him, holding tightly to Sasha’s body. "K—Killian…" He shook his head, unable to believe. What was going on? "Why did you kill Sasha?"
"Oh, I think we can dispense with that name," Killian said. His voice was chilly, so cold it hurt. Like a twisted version of Killian’s true voice. "You know who I am, precious shadow child mine."
Stefan sobbed, wishing suddenly they’d never decided to do this, that he and Sasha could have stayed safe in his village together. "Y-you’re T-T-Teufel."
"Yes."
The sobs grew worse, wracking his body, ceasing only in a panic as he realized Killian – Teufel – had gotten closer. Though hating to leave Sasha, who was so still and his eyes so dull and oh Mercy of the Light how could he live without Sasha – his urge to get away from Killian/Teufel was stronger.
Light, he wanted it all to go away.
Scrambling up and away, Stefan could think only that this would all be better later. He’d wake up and realize it was a dream and Drache and Fritz would be all right and Sasha would be alive and—
A cold hand latched onto his throat, and he stared into eyes that glowed. They were the exact color of an amethyst but shone like the moonlight above. If not for the rage that filled them, they’d be beautiful.
They weren’t Killian’s eyes.
Stefan choked on his sobs as the reality crashed down cruelly upon him. This really was Teufel. "Why?" he gasped out.
"Why?" Teufel repeated, the chilling voice at complete odds with the body of a fifteen year old boy. "Why what? There are so many questions you must want to ask it would be best to clarify them, my shadow child."
Shadow child? What did that mean? That he was a child of Teufel? But all the people of Schatten were children of Licht… Stefan shook it off, far more concerned about something else. "Sasha?"
Teufel turned his head to look in disgust at Sasha’s body. "Interfering fire child. That stupid, arrogant bird never could keep his nose out of everyone’s business. I might have guessed it would be one of his that would eventually come here. No matter, though, I took care of him – after making him useful."
"U-useful?" Stefan asked, vision swimming. Teufel’s grip was tight enough to make breathing difficult without quite choking him.
"Yes," Teufel said softly. "He worked as well as I would have, in the end. Perhaps more so, as it must have been quite a thrill for you to be seduced by such a pretty older man."
Stefan tried to shake his head. "What?"
Teufel laughed, a sound that bit as hard as the first frost. "What was it that stupid priest said when he told your fortune? The dark of a moonless night. Yes, that’s it." He shook his head, as if upset, but even through his haze of pain and fear and misery Stefan could see it was all a mockery. "Do you know how things were meant to be, my Stefan? Before that bastard child of the foolish firebird came here and tainted my world with his treacherous, awful chaos. If you had not broken the threads woven for you, my shadow child, you would have died with a lot less trouble and pain."
"D-died?"
"Yes," Teufel said softly, grip easing slightly though he kept Stefan pinned to the wall. "Maja should have died, and in your grief you would have gone to Raven Knoll. Your dear friend Killian would have gone with you, and from there he would have persuaded you to attempt going beyond the great wall. Here Killian would fall, and in your grief over ‘my’ death, I would have taken you quite smoothly, painlessly. Typical of stupid, spoiled children, though, you chose to defy me. For that, things will be much more painful for you."
Stefan stared, confused and lost. "I don’t understand."
"The dark of a moonless night," Teufel replied. "You belong to me. You are my new body."
"N-new body?"
"Yes," Teufel said, bitterness thick in his voice and on his face. "Without Licht I am weakened, unable to exist for long without renewing my strength – obtaining a new body. I took this one a hundred years ago."
Renewed tears poured down Stefan’s cheeks. "K-Killian?"
"Died from a Sent bite years ago. I took his place that I might more easily manipulate you."
"Why not just…take me? Why did you have to do that to Drache and Fritz and S-S-Sasha?" He choked on his sobs as he said Sasha’s name, still unable to believe…but the blood was drying on his face and hands, on his clothes. Sasha’s blood. Stefan did not think he could survive such an awful pain for much longer.
"I cannot simply take you as you are…" Teufel said, clearly frustrated. "As you are, especially because of that stupid fire child, you are a shadow of Licht. I cannot touch a shadow. You must be darkness."
"D-darkness?" Stefan repeated. He could barely see now beyond his tears and shook his head as best he could to clear them away, staring at the young man who both was and wasn’t his best friend.
Killian – Teufel – still looked fifteen, but the angry, bitter emotions carved into his face made him look far older in some respects, and Killian’s eyes had never looked so hauntingly, fiercely pretty. It wasn’t right that Teufel’s eyes looked pretty even as they were filled with hate.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why do you do this?"
Teufel laughed in his frosty way again. "Because the world deserves it," he snarled. "No one was there for Licht when he most needed them. Everyone betrayed him."
"But—"
"But nothing," Teufel hissed. "I will show you."
His amethyst eyes flashed, and Stefan cried out as pain lanced through his head. His vision blurred, grayed…went dark…
Licht smelled like sunshine, bright and warm and almost sweet. His skin felt pleasantly warm through the fabric of his shirt. Teufel pressed against his lover’s back and breathed in the scents, soaked up the heat and the sunshine. "You’re brooding again," he said with a soft sigh.
"Merely thinking, my love," Licht said, voice warm and deep, as comforting as the sunlight. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Teufel, leaned down to kiss him, mouth as warm as the rest of him, his taste salty and sweet. "You are a welcome distraction."
Teufel laughed and twined his arms around Licht’s neck. "Then you should think of nothing but me, Sunlight, and then you will always be happy."
Licht smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, his cheek, then his lips again. "If I could have only one thought for the rest of eternity, my shadow, my heart, it would be you."
"And mine of you," Teufel said softly. "What troubles you, Sunlight?"
Licht sighed softly and turned to once more look out the open archways. The entire perimeter of the top levels of the Citadel was open to give a breathtaking view of the world beyond. On a clear day even the mountains in the far off distance were visible.
Today the sky was an unending stretch of perfect blue, not a single speck of cloud to blot the splendor of the sun. At the peak hour of the day, the light could get no brighter, no more beautiful. Only his Sunlight’s eyes were its superior. Below them the people of Sonnenstrahl bustled too and fro, laughing and shouting, cheering and arguing. A mish mash of sound, nearly chaotic. Beyond Sonnenstrahl were seemingly endless stretches of green, speckled here and there with small villages, herds of cattle. To the north and south were the sacred cities of Gold Rock and Raven Knoll, the east and west the Temples of Sunrise and Sunset.
Schatten was truly the most beautiful place in the world.
Except for the fact that its people were all fools. They looked happy, far down below, but time and again they made decisions that only led to grief. They caused one another suffering instead of living according the words of Licht. Time and again, life after life, they failed to learn. "They don’t deserve you," he said softly.
A warm hand took his, Licht’s soft lips pressing to the back of it. "I made them, so their flaws are my fault. Do not hate them, my shadow, my heart. I am working to fix the mistakes I and my brothers made."
Teufel frowned and turned away from the world outside, tilting his head to look up at Licht, brush a strand of hair from his cheek, stroke the fine lines of his face, so pleasing to his fingertips, a rich pale gold against his own dark bronze skin, those gold eyes so beautiful a contrast against his violet-painted nails.
Licht ran his hands up Teufel’s arms, heating him clear through.
Smiling, teasing, Teufel spun away and moved to the center of the room, spinning in a circle to show off for his Sunlight. He knew he was a pleasure to look upon, Licht had made him to be so. His skin a deep bronze, shining with the faintest sheen of sweat from the blazing heat of summer. To combat that heat, he wore only a loose wrap around his waist, deep violet but made of the thinnest, lightest linen, softer than silk and cool against his skin. His dark purple hair fell to his knees, threaded with jewels, silver and gold hoops, a tiny bell fastened to the end of each braid and twist.
He held his arms out, beckoning, laughing when Licht came to him, gathered him close, that warm mouth closing over his own. "You are perfection, my shadow, my heart."
"Of course I am," Teufel replied. "You made me."
Licht laughed softly, nuzzling his cheek. "I only willed my shadow take a living form. You chose the details of your shape, beauty."
"I took the shape most pleasing to you," Teufel whispered. "It is for you alone I exist."
Licht smiled softly, stroking his hair, playing with a silver hoop, a jangling bell. "You are my only happiness, anymore, my shadow, my heart." Licht sighed and released him, wandering back to the archways, staring down at the people below, the distant horizon, a troubled expression on his face.
"So where you are going?" Teufel asked, striving to sound idle, to keep the bitterness from his voice. "To see that snake?"
"He is the key to everything," Licht said gently. "You hold my heart, you know that. Always and forever you hold my heart. When I fix this world, you alone will be the only thing unchanged." He continued to stare pensively down at his children.
Teufel once more rested his head against Licht’s back, wrapping his arms tightly around his lover. "Must you do it this way?"
"I will do anything and everything to save my children from themselves," Licht said softly. "It isn’t right, and it’s even worse that my brothers do not care, that they let their children suffer so. They’re too busy playing to notice the misery our choices have created. It’s not right. I will fix it – no matter what I must do."
"I don’t trust the others. Why can we not stay locked away in Schatten? Leave the rest of the world to its misery? Let them continue to make mistakes. We shouldn’t do their work for them."
"Oh, Teufel…" Licht turned around and hugged him tight. "It is not so simple as that." He clasped their hands, kissing the back of Teufel’s. "You know it’s not that easy. I have taught you how to feel it, the way chaos and fate are irrevocably intertwined. It is impossible to separate them as the world stands now. We cannot live completely independently. Always the touch of chaos would taint things. To get rid of it, the world must be made anew." His eyes darkened, like the sun behind clouds, for a single moment, then Licht was kissing him again and Teufel let his thoughts skitter away.
"Be careful," he whispered when Licht finally broke the kiss. "I do not exist without you. I wish you would not go…though I understand, of course, Sunlight." He held tight, silently willing Licht to stay though he felt guilty, knowing how important saving the world was to Licht.
Licht nodded, but slipped from Teufel’s hold with a last kiss. "I will return to you, my shadow, my heart."
"Soon," Teufel whispered, but Licht had vanished, taking with him the only light and warmth for which Teufel cared.
He stood before an archway looking at everything and nothing for at least an hour, unable to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach now that he was alone.
The rustle of fabric, the familiar tread of Ehrlich’s feet. "What do you want, Priest?" he asked without turning around.
"He has gone again?"
Ehrlich’s voice was almost musical, melodious and deep, the perfect voice for a man who bridged the distance between a god and his children. He was also one of those children of Licht who had gold hair, long as was the fashion, neatly braided and tumbling over one shoulder, dressed in the shifting light-dark robes of his office.
Teufel currently despised the man. "It is no concern of yours, Priest," he said coolly. "If you have come to continue your disrespect, then get out."
"I only offer my thoughts, honored Lord Teufel. I mean no offense. My Lord Licht has never taken offense…"
"So I should not?" Teufel asked with a laugh, finally turning to face him. "I am merely his shadow, I will take offense where I please."
Ehrlich regarded him without expression. "Merely. Yes. You would do better to serve our Lord by dissuading him."
"It is none of your affair, mortal," Teufel snapped. "Go back to your prayers and get from my sight. Lord Licht knows better than you what is best for his children."
"Perhaps once," Erlich replied calmly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "No longer. You do not see it because you do not choose to see it. He is unstable. Nearly mad. Do you think he would put up the barriers that block out his brethren if he felt he was doing no wrong? If he had nothing to fear by his actions?"
Teufel turned away to watch the sun set. "You are dismissed, Priest."
"As you wish, Lord Teufel," Ehrlich said, and with a rustle of fabric left Teufel once more alone.
Long after the sun had set, Teufel continued to stay right where he was, waiting patiently, if anxiously, for his Sunlight to return. Licht had said, and he had always returned before…
The gray haze of morning was just teasing along the horizon when he screamed in pain and fell to his knees, not realizing he was crying until he felt the tears on the backs of his hands. His chest burned, hurt more deeply and fiercely than he’d known pain could.
He screamed again, in agony and grief, feeling as his Sunlight died even as the world trembled all around him.
Those backstabbing gods had killed their own brother, and all because he was trying to make the world a better place.
A hand fell on his shoulder and he snarled, glaring furiously up at Ehrlich. "What do you want, Priest? To gloat?"
Ehrlich frowned, expression hurt. "No, my Lord. Is he…is he really?"
"Yes," Teufel said bitterly. "Dead. Slain. Gone from this world forever. Killed by his brothers, who claimed to love him."
"Perhaps…my Lord Teufel, perhaps it was what he wanted? Perhaps he earned it? He was up to—"
"How dare you!" Teufel snarled, lashing out, sending Ehrlich sprawling with the force of the blow. "He appoints you to a place of honor, showers you with gifts and praise and wisdom and you say he deserved to die? That he wanted to die? How dare you!"
"My lord—" Ehrlich struggled to his feet, but Teufel knocked him down again.
"Is that what you said, Priest?"
Ehrlich’s eyes blazed with challenge. "Yes, my lord. It is. Lord Licht would not have beaten me for saying such things."
"I am not Licht," Teufel said coldly.
"No," Ehrlich replied, wiping blood from his lips. "You are not. We must help his children."
Teufel threw his head back and laughed. He stared at the world beyond the Citadel, eyes darkening to near black as the sun was buried behind dark clouds. "Stay out of Schatten," he snarled, using every scrap of his power to forever seal out the rest of the world.
Then he loosed his power completely, reaching out to feel the threads of Fate that helped bind the world together, strengthening them, lengthening them, hissing in satisfaction.
Hands grabbed him from behind and Teufel pulled away with a snarl, rounding on Ehrlich, power blazing, burning through him. "You’re as traitorous as the rest, Priest."
"You’re as mad as Licht!" Ehrlich bellowed. "Stop this!"
"No!" Teufel caught him up and threw him across the room, pleased at the way bones cracked and snapped. "Betrayers all of them. It’s not fair! He cared! He loved them all, loved this world. All he wanted was their happiness and now this! All those gods wanted was their own happiness, their own pleasure. I will show them how foolish they were."
"Licht—" Ehrlich gasped the words, breathing hard, coughing up blood, eyes dull with pain. "Wouldn’t want—you’re just—without him."
"Yes," Teufel said. "Shadows are proof of light. Without light, there is only darkness." He reached down and calmly snapped Ehrlich’s neck, eyes glowing as he captured the soul as it vacated the body. "Then darkness I shall be."
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Date: 2007-07-02 09:55 am (UTC)I wasn't expecting Sasha to go like that... It was rather sudden. T_T
More please!
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Date: 2007-07-02 10:06 am (UTC)=____________=
STABBED.
;-;
Moreplz.
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Date: 2007-07-02 10:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 10:44 am (UTC)Schatten was truly the most beautiful place in the world.
At this point I think it'd be entertaining to point out that in Dutch, 'schatten' means 'treasures'. Or 'estimating'. ^__^ Completely pointless, of course, but somehow shiny.
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Date: 2007-07-02 11:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 11:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 12:16 pm (UTC)Avalon was right, Drache WAS the holy sent!! And Killian?! KILLIAN. ASDBSGTCHSV#B YOU DIE NOW *stabbity stab stab*. OH SASHA YOU AREN'T REALLY DEAD, RIGHT?!!!? WHO'S GONNA MAKE SWEET SWEET LOVE WITH STEFEN?! HUH?!!? WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH DUN DIE ON MEEEEEEEEE~! *sob sob*
Tuefel is such a crazy-ass bad-guy; One of the coolest, I might add.
--And I like that ending, with the whole shadow/light and end-result darkness. IT IS LIEK KEWL.
GAH I'm so happy you write happy-endings. That way I don't have to cry until the next chapters come out. <3
Other Epic Series
Date: 2007-07-02 12:34 pm (UTC)What about Sandstorm?
Date: 2007-07-02 12:36 pm (UTC)could I hope to read it whole?
Rose Red
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Date: 2007-07-02 01:29 pm (UTC)And now you've left us at this point for a week? *cries*
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Date: 2007-07-02 01:47 pm (UTC)Seriously, Drache as the Holy Sentinel? Very, very cool. Also awesome in these chapters would be Killian as Teufel (OMG) and Stefan as Teufel's new body (again, OMG). And poor Sasha stabbed! WTF. AGH. I really can't wait for next week now!!!
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Date: 2007-07-02 02:22 pm (UTC)this entry was WOW. i thought Killian was a real pain so it doesn't surprise me that he was more than that. and i hope Sasha is not dead yet. i don't want him to die either.T_T
Thanks for the updates and for writing so great stories ^_^
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Date: 2007-07-02 02:31 pm (UTC)Ah, we've been so spoiled by weekly updates. We will survive if you don't come up with something. But Legacy of the Blossom sounds promising.^_^
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Date: 2007-07-02 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 03:15 pm (UTC)Drache I suspected. A lot of things make sense now.
FRITZ AND DRACHE. Fritz's reaction to him was soooo...iono what the word is, but it just fit. My heart aches for both of them T_T
*wibbles* Can it be next Monday like NOW?! Stupid seven day week.
Re: Other Epic Series
Date: 2007-07-02 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 03:47 pm (UTC)D:
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Date: 2007-07-02 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 04:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 04:21 pm (UTC)2. Teufel ... is annoying. Srsly, what can be more irritating than arguing, or trying to get through to, someone so frickin' irrational and subjective? >_< If Licht wasn't an idiot for wanting to remake the world (which, admittedly, wouldn't have necessarily been a bad thing, depending on which way you look at it), then he was definitely an idiot for giving someone like Teufel so much power.
3. ;______________; [snuggles Stefan, Drache and Fritz tightly]
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Date: 2007-07-02 04:36 pm (UTC)I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU LIKE BURNING.
You have annoyed me for the last time. I don't care if you have pretty hair and pretty robes that make me feel like Meg wrote all the intricateness in detail on PURPOSE like she's trying to BAIT ME into drawing another picture for Chaos. Well if she is, you can jolly well tell her it's NOT WORKING.
And you can take your pretty hair, with your braids and your pretty, pretty, bells and.. and. YOUR HAIR COLOUR IS GIRLY. *runs away and hides*
Re: Other Epic Series
Date: 2007-07-02 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 07:01 pm (UTC)D:
DAMMIT KILLIAN! DAMMIT TUEFEL! STEFAN WAKE UP AND SNAP THE BASTARDS NECK! ARG! Or.. or DRACHE EAT HIM!
I hate cliff hangers. I really do. ARGAH!
And here I was all excited because OMG IT'S MONDAY! Yay Chaos! And now I'm all wanting to throw things and beat the hell out of characters. Oh maderr, you are brilliant.
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Date: 2007-07-02 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 08:38 pm (UTC)*sigh*
I do like Drache, even as a Sent, and I'm glad that Fritz still loves him as a Sent. I love your characters and plots, and like
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Date: 2007-07-02 08:50 pm (UTC)and sasha!! TT--TT as soon as the sword appeared i was like, 'o shit! killian=teufel!!' but, sadness. even though teufel seems a bastard, i kind of like his tortured reasoning for being a bastard- Shadows are proof of light. Without light, there is only darkness. Then darkness I shall be. ah. so good.
ah, and poor stefan! he knew sasha was going to die, but to lose him so abruptly...and i kind of thought stefan might be connected to teufel, the whole moonless night thing, but i had no idea how. must be crazy to find out you're supposed to be your evil god-type-thing's new body after just losing the most important thing in your life. it'll be a wonder if everyone comes out of this not totally batshit insane.
sorry for the rambling, but these updates seriously make my week. i love your stories!! X3 *waiting excitedly for next bit*
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Date: 2007-07-02 10:28 pm (UTC)Much, much love!
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Date: 2007-07-02 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-02 10:57 pm (UTC)It sounds like Tuefel is ignorant of the exact circumstances of Licht's death... wonder if he is. *ponders*
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Date: 2007-07-02 10:59 pm (UTC)x.x
*nervous*
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Date: 2007-07-03 01:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-03 01:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-03 07:32 am (UTC)*wails* Sasha had a weak heart..and ..and I thought there was something about the heart of Licht,but you killed him. Poor Stefan.
For that matter, poor everyone including Teufel who was but a shadow and really still is.
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Date: 2007-07-03 07:51 am (UTC)if that happens I swear I'll draw it uncensoredno subject
Date: 2007-07-03 09:26 am (UTC)You two seriously need to stop putting crack on your breakfast cereal.
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Date: 2007-07-03 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-03 03:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-03 09:59 pm (UTC)Sometimes I wonder if you're really typing from some sort of Special Institution.
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Date: 2007-07-04 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-04 09:05 pm (UTC)I love this story! That being said, let’s see if I can come up with some reasonably intelligent comments.
You know, I'm continuously struck by how similar the tragedy between Licht/Teufel and God/Lucifer is. In Milton's Paradise Lost, Lucifer's anger at God leads him to bring humanity to disaster in Eden. With Licht and Teufel, it's almost like an alternate version of the story. This similarity is most likely not what you had in mind while you wrote, but it makes the story seem so familiar that it's heartbreaking, and their tragedy, continuously circling each other trying to become the more dominant force, continues even in a place where maybe it could have worked.
I noticed that circles are a common theme in Lost Gods. Whenever the Three Dragons are presented, they are in a circle. Raz's status as a Phoenix has him in a circle of life, death, and rebirth. An ouroboros, the ancient symbol of a snake swallowing its own tail, recognizes eternity. This of course fits metaphorically with Culebra. A snake swallowing its own tail seems self-destructive, a trait of the Basilisk, yet it speaks of eternity--in other words, death. Noticeably, this self-destructive circle ends when another element, Cortez, was added. Two snakes--perhaps not an ourboros, but a caduceus, which is used in the medical fields as a symbol for healing? It was interesting to see the circle in Verde broken by removing an element, and in Peidre is was broken by adding an element. Not a circle, but a duo. But duos are not always good.
Without three dragons, the Storm Bringers are incomplete. This once again ties back to the idea of God, who is referred to as the Trinity. With Licht and Teufel, their balance can be tipped either way. But the Trinity as referred to before is not necessarily a circle, but a triangle, with no point more significant than the other. Only the dragons can manage a circle, and even then they have modified it, selecting three points ON a circle and then connecting them with straight lines.
So if Licht and Teufel are neither circle nor a duo, what are they? Can they really remain as a stable system? Or, if like in some tragic circle, will the whole story of losing gods happen once more? The entire world revolves around Licht and Teufel. They circle each other, two creating a round form. And while they circle each other, they balance each other. Licht and Teufel are no doubt the most dynamic of the gods. In the history of the universe, the stars formed in an endless expanse of darkness. But darkness cannot be seen unless there is light to compare it to. So is it darkness from light? Or light from darkness? Or, perhaps, does it change? Be both, in the way that no other duo can be? North and South cannot be the same, nor can up and down, life and death. Or rather, they can be the same, but only in complete darkness, when there is no sense of orientation. In other words, chaos.
Comment Part Two
Date: 2007-07-04 09:05 pm (UTC)So if the Dragons are three, and everything else has become a duo, then is Licht/Teufel and Drache/Fritz something else entirely: a Quad. Fascinating, really. Off the top of my head, I don’t know of any other story that features a Quad as the stabilizing force in a story, yet it makes the most sense. The faces of famous portraits such as the Mona Lisa can be divided up into the Golden Ratio of squares and rectangles, as can the most famous example: the construction of the parthenon (a temple for gods). The Golden Ratio was also termed by Luca Pocioli as the “Divine Proportion.”
Like everything else, my reaction to Sasha’s death was, more or less: o.O I can only hope that is association with the Firebird lends him some leniency in the whole rebirth process. But it made sense, really. If Sasha is, like everyone else assumes him to be, Teufel’s true reincarnation, then he had to be eliminated. Teufel is already present, leaving him, Stefan, Fritz, and Drache, which makes Four. A square cannot be a square with five points, which means they are falling into the ordered system without even realizing it—nature abhors entropy. When the choice of being stable or unstable, an object will chose to be stable, or have less potential energy. Basically, succumbing to gravity to rest at the bottom of a hill than on top. I am hoping that if Teufel falls, Sasha can return to take his place, and the stable Four will remain.
I love the story, and I can hardly wait til Monday!