09-02-2009, 12:17 AM
This is a work in progress prologue for one of my books. Lot of errors and such im sure, but like i said wip. Comment and Critiques welcome.
Prologue: In the Eyes of Death
Cry child, oh miserable God-child, shed your tears of Twilight. Glisten in the moonlit night as your troubled siblings make light of suffering, squabbling over your graces. Wings shimming in pyre light all smiles about the innocent as you lay lifeless. Another, your young brother, alone and solemn with his one wing kneels by your side and touches your pale face. As the others continue to dance it begins to rain and the young boy covers you with his wing to shield you taking your limp and life lifeless body into his arms. Holding in his frail arms the last glimmer of Edina soaked in vengeful squalor as the meek pray to your deceivers.
Azrael: And I still weep for you sister, and in this hollow I see no more than the sadness that plagued me then. And I have to ask the same question. Do these mongrels expect me to weep for them, moan stead laugh at their anguish as I am prisoner of their delight as eternal host to this lifeless garden of lies and hypocrisy?
-In the Garden of Thanatos-
A glistening grove of roses at the center of a field, pyre flies fly about aimlessly. The young priest Christopher stands to the right leaning against a statue of the nymph sylph in her youth and to the left stands a pale young boy holding a lit candle as its flame caresses his palm.
Azrael: To what do I oh this privilege?
Christopher: I ask you Sheppard, oh be ranger of life and reluctant giver of ecstasy when the night turns calm in the dusk, show me the stairway to infamy and I will guide the daughter of Origin to earth. Have faith in me, and I will serve you well.
Azrael: And why should I place my faith in you, when my own servant would commit to this task for me without a kindness to be asked in return?
Aaron: It is my duty to serve my lord.
Christopher: You would let a golem, a concoction of flesh, bone, and your whim, bare the weight of the world. He will crumble long before the weakest of my brothers would fall.
Azrael: You have no brothers Christopher.
Aaron: ⦠<Silence>
Christopher: But I have the ardor, that thing has no faith of his own and nothing to loose if it fails, how can you place your faith in such a creature?
Azrael: And I should place my faith you, a human whose life robs time from my own absolution.
Christopher: If you believe that, then why send anyone at all?
Azrael: You have to ask.
Christopher: Oh yes, the Sheppard cannot lead if the wolf has devoured his flock.
Azrael: You are mistaken; Humans label me the Sheppard in these days when only death can set you free.
Christopher: Then what would you have me call you, as I bare eyes upon a child, whose touch shed tears of joy only as breath escapes the breast a last.
Azrael: You come unto my haven and ask of me a task that no one would undertake and yet when I answer your call you look upon me as your bane.
The child, his pale skin shimmers as the moonlit night in the darkened sky, nears the priest with a single finger placed within inches of his chest and says.
Azrael: My touch, you say it sheds tears, then cry, shed your tears and understand that you are no different. You live and sin another day and I have to till these rotten seeds another year. Begrudged of heaven, and too innocent to ride the plains of Hell, you rob me of my rights to shed this pale skin and act as though I have not shared in your deliverance.
Christopher: If I have insulted you, my apologies, but I must ask this task of you. Only you carry the key to heaven and hell, and I wish to make this journey because...
Azrael: I know why you ask this of me, you think that by walking the halls of Heaven and treading the streets of Hell you will find the secret to break the curse upon your family. How many of your fathers have walked with me? How many years is it now? You yourself, only a few more years, and in your worst pain I will take your hand and you will walk with me. This foolishness, it will give you nothing but more pain.
Christopher: Must you wound me further, isnât that I beg this of you enough humiliation?
Azrael: You call this begging, you wretch, you canât buy your way into heaven. You canât call your self a priest and honestly believe that a few good deeds will earn you a saintâs deliverance. What audacity!
Christopher: Donât make this about me; you are the one who canât see the sky for the trees.
Azrael: I know what lies beyond my peace. That is the blight of humanity; your wars have brought the world to ruin. My brothers and sisters will rise again when you mongrels fall.
Christopher: Dirty Incarnaâ¦
Azrael: What was that, human?
Christopher: Donât act as though you suffer age. You heard me good and well!
Azrael: I did hear you, and for you to speak that name, you wish the result of your curse to hasten.
Christopher: Your threats mean nothing. Death would be solace to me; at least Iâd leave no kin to suffer after me. Iâd rather be dead than servant to you filthy, god-less creatures.
Azrael: I am creature to you then.
Christopher: I thought you were different, that because you guide us in the end of our days, you understood what life meant. Yet you leave the task of escorting Grace back to earth to that thing.
Azrael: Honestly Christopher, you are the last one I expected to come to me, and ask for help by placing your life on the line, but I must confess something to you. This, task, is not what you think it is. It is not an unwavering soul but a unyielding body that I need for this act.
Christopher: I donât understand.
Azrael: Of course you donât, you do not posses the eyes to see, Grace never left this world, she bares an unfamiliar face, but she is where she has always been, you only have to have the eye to see the truth.
Christopher: What is that suppose to mean, the world is crumbling, and you tell me our last hope is a lie. Have you no remorse for the tortures of mortality.
Azrael: Tortures you say, tortures of âhumanityâ. Am I to believe you have suffered? Look at me Christopher, hundreds upon hundreds years, a confection of many centuries I have watched your kind lay waste to my precious sister. Beguile her nature till it lay defiled upon itself, cut her skin to feed your spawn, render her flesh to till your pestilence, and where she welcome you beast roam and horrors persist without end. My sorrowful Ge she lay in such pain, and you say I should in trust another of my beloved kin to you, to your care. Utter foolishness.
The Cradle -Azrael snaps his fingers and his Garden, tranquil sky and sparking grove shatters to reveal that his haven was but tiny rock, covered in sparse patches of scorched grass and a single rose kneeling under the swirling winds. At his feet a pit, its walls stretch so high heaven seems a distant memory, a glimmer above their heads was the only hope that this hell was a nightmare.
Azrael: Look around you. Do you see how easy it is to crush what little hope there is left in this miserable world, and the pain thatâs just beneath?
Taking his adult form and grasping Christopherâs head in his palm, Azrael shoves Christopherâs face beneath the mist. Christopher coughs uncontrollably from the stagnant air bellowing from the pit beneath them that surely led to the deepest bowels of hell. The place Christopher was so sure he would tread if it would spare him his fate as a thankless Martyr of the Allustrius Family curse.
Azrael: You wanted to see the doorway, where do you think it been, where you heathensâ lost grace has been. Walking among you this entire time, watching, and as I cradle your lives in my palm I wonder why I cannot snuff your pitiful brood out.
Christopher: What do you expect me to say, that it will be different this time, to speak for my âkindâ? Tell me, what is it you want to accomplish.
Azrael: Do you want the truth? I want the last of you wretches to die, but to have my wish would sow the end of a good friend. The only among you that I would entrust this task to, who has walked many of these centuries with me, been a foe and a nuisance, but a better friend than any among those I call family.
Christopher: Then send him, someone that would appreciate our desperation to have the good lady of graces among us again. Donât send that thing you call a servant because of some grip you have with humanity.
Azrael: If only you knew how much I would prefer that, but sadly your kind have my friend in chains. As the time of true sight fades your kind believe he will be their weapon or their trophy as an imminent end nears and he welcomes the rest as a willing prisoner.
Christopher: Youâre not making any since.
Azrael: Go home Christopher, and wait then, if you donât understand. Iâll beckon you all soon.
As Christopher steps away from, Azrael calls to him.
Azrael: Better yet, maybe you could convince me to reconsider.
Christopher: â¦
Azrael: Are you familiar with An`Mutti Island?
Christopher: Iâve never been there, but Iâve heard of it. Itâs the last in the chain of isles that makes up Shwt`een Kaba.
Azrael: Thereâs a young woman there that may have some answers for you.
Christopher turns and looks at Azrael.
Christopher: Are you mad, that place is a haven for cannibals and cultist. If you are trying to kill me there are much easier ways.
Azrael: If I had means to see you dead, it would take far less than this endeavor. You said you wish to see Grace return to the world of man, well I want to see if you are strong enough for the task. Go to An`Mutti and seek out the priestess, Altemyra. It will be no easy task to even get a glimpse of her, the Shwt`een Kaba consider her a goddess in flesh, but if you succeed, maybe I will see some sense in placing my trust in you.
Christopher: â¦hmmm, if this is what it takes to get the key, then Iâll do it.
Azrael smiles deceptively, and Christopher walks awayâ¦
Prologue: In the Eyes of Death
Cry child, oh miserable God-child, shed your tears of Twilight. Glisten in the moonlit night as your troubled siblings make light of suffering, squabbling over your graces. Wings shimming in pyre light all smiles about the innocent as you lay lifeless. Another, your young brother, alone and solemn with his one wing kneels by your side and touches your pale face. As the others continue to dance it begins to rain and the young boy covers you with his wing to shield you taking your limp and life lifeless body into his arms. Holding in his frail arms the last glimmer of Edina soaked in vengeful squalor as the meek pray to your deceivers.
Azrael: And I still weep for you sister, and in this hollow I see no more than the sadness that plagued me then. And I have to ask the same question. Do these mongrels expect me to weep for them, moan stead laugh at their anguish as I am prisoner of their delight as eternal host to this lifeless garden of lies and hypocrisy?
-In the Garden of Thanatos-
A glistening grove of roses at the center of a field, pyre flies fly about aimlessly. The young priest Christopher stands to the right leaning against a statue of the nymph sylph in her youth and to the left stands a pale young boy holding a lit candle as its flame caresses his palm.
Azrael: To what do I oh this privilege?
Christopher: I ask you Sheppard, oh be ranger of life and reluctant giver of ecstasy when the night turns calm in the dusk, show me the stairway to infamy and I will guide the daughter of Origin to earth. Have faith in me, and I will serve you well.
Azrael: And why should I place my faith in you, when my own servant would commit to this task for me without a kindness to be asked in return?
Aaron: It is my duty to serve my lord.
Christopher: You would let a golem, a concoction of flesh, bone, and your whim, bare the weight of the world. He will crumble long before the weakest of my brothers would fall.
Azrael: You have no brothers Christopher.
Aaron: ⦠<Silence>
Christopher: But I have the ardor, that thing has no faith of his own and nothing to loose if it fails, how can you place your faith in such a creature?
Azrael: And I should place my faith you, a human whose life robs time from my own absolution.
Christopher: If you believe that, then why send anyone at all?
Azrael: You have to ask.
Christopher: Oh yes, the Sheppard cannot lead if the wolf has devoured his flock.
Azrael: You are mistaken; Humans label me the Sheppard in these days when only death can set you free.
Christopher: Then what would you have me call you, as I bare eyes upon a child, whose touch shed tears of joy only as breath escapes the breast a last.
Azrael: You come unto my haven and ask of me a task that no one would undertake and yet when I answer your call you look upon me as your bane.
The child, his pale skin shimmers as the moonlit night in the darkened sky, nears the priest with a single finger placed within inches of his chest and says.
Azrael: My touch, you say it sheds tears, then cry, shed your tears and understand that you are no different. You live and sin another day and I have to till these rotten seeds another year. Begrudged of heaven, and too innocent to ride the plains of Hell, you rob me of my rights to shed this pale skin and act as though I have not shared in your deliverance.
Christopher: If I have insulted you, my apologies, but I must ask this task of you. Only you carry the key to heaven and hell, and I wish to make this journey because...
Azrael: I know why you ask this of me, you think that by walking the halls of Heaven and treading the streets of Hell you will find the secret to break the curse upon your family. How many of your fathers have walked with me? How many years is it now? You yourself, only a few more years, and in your worst pain I will take your hand and you will walk with me. This foolishness, it will give you nothing but more pain.
Christopher: Must you wound me further, isnât that I beg this of you enough humiliation?
Azrael: You call this begging, you wretch, you canât buy your way into heaven. You canât call your self a priest and honestly believe that a few good deeds will earn you a saintâs deliverance. What audacity!
Christopher: Donât make this about me; you are the one who canât see the sky for the trees.
Azrael: I know what lies beyond my peace. That is the blight of humanity; your wars have brought the world to ruin. My brothers and sisters will rise again when you mongrels fall.
Christopher: Dirty Incarnaâ¦
Azrael: What was that, human?
Christopher: Donât act as though you suffer age. You heard me good and well!
Azrael: I did hear you, and for you to speak that name, you wish the result of your curse to hasten.
Christopher: Your threats mean nothing. Death would be solace to me; at least Iâd leave no kin to suffer after me. Iâd rather be dead than servant to you filthy, god-less creatures.
Azrael: I am creature to you then.
Christopher: I thought you were different, that because you guide us in the end of our days, you understood what life meant. Yet you leave the task of escorting Grace back to earth to that thing.
Azrael: Honestly Christopher, you are the last one I expected to come to me, and ask for help by placing your life on the line, but I must confess something to you. This, task, is not what you think it is. It is not an unwavering soul but a unyielding body that I need for this act.
Christopher: I donât understand.
Azrael: Of course you donât, you do not posses the eyes to see, Grace never left this world, she bares an unfamiliar face, but she is where she has always been, you only have to have the eye to see the truth.
Christopher: What is that suppose to mean, the world is crumbling, and you tell me our last hope is a lie. Have you no remorse for the tortures of mortality.
Azrael: Tortures you say, tortures of âhumanityâ. Am I to believe you have suffered? Look at me Christopher, hundreds upon hundreds years, a confection of many centuries I have watched your kind lay waste to my precious sister. Beguile her nature till it lay defiled upon itself, cut her skin to feed your spawn, render her flesh to till your pestilence, and where she welcome you beast roam and horrors persist without end. My sorrowful Ge she lay in such pain, and you say I should in trust another of my beloved kin to you, to your care. Utter foolishness.
The Cradle -Azrael snaps his fingers and his Garden, tranquil sky and sparking grove shatters to reveal that his haven was but tiny rock, covered in sparse patches of scorched grass and a single rose kneeling under the swirling winds. At his feet a pit, its walls stretch so high heaven seems a distant memory, a glimmer above their heads was the only hope that this hell was a nightmare.
Azrael: Look around you. Do you see how easy it is to crush what little hope there is left in this miserable world, and the pain thatâs just beneath?
Taking his adult form and grasping Christopherâs head in his palm, Azrael shoves Christopherâs face beneath the mist. Christopher coughs uncontrollably from the stagnant air bellowing from the pit beneath them that surely led to the deepest bowels of hell. The place Christopher was so sure he would tread if it would spare him his fate as a thankless Martyr of the Allustrius Family curse.
Azrael: You wanted to see the doorway, where do you think it been, where you heathensâ lost grace has been. Walking among you this entire time, watching, and as I cradle your lives in my palm I wonder why I cannot snuff your pitiful brood out.
Christopher: What do you expect me to say, that it will be different this time, to speak for my âkindâ? Tell me, what is it you want to accomplish.
Azrael: Do you want the truth? I want the last of you wretches to die, but to have my wish would sow the end of a good friend. The only among you that I would entrust this task to, who has walked many of these centuries with me, been a foe and a nuisance, but a better friend than any among those I call family.
Christopher: Then send him, someone that would appreciate our desperation to have the good lady of graces among us again. Donât send that thing you call a servant because of some grip you have with humanity.
Azrael: If only you knew how much I would prefer that, but sadly your kind have my friend in chains. As the time of true sight fades your kind believe he will be their weapon or their trophy as an imminent end nears and he welcomes the rest as a willing prisoner.
Christopher: Youâre not making any since.
Azrael: Go home Christopher, and wait then, if you donât understand. Iâll beckon you all soon.
As Christopher steps away from, Azrael calls to him.
Azrael: Better yet, maybe you could convince me to reconsider.
Christopher: â¦
Azrael: Are you familiar with An`Mutti Island?
Christopher: Iâve never been there, but Iâve heard of it. Itâs the last in the chain of isles that makes up Shwt`een Kaba.
Azrael: Thereâs a young woman there that may have some answers for you.
Christopher turns and looks at Azrael.
Christopher: Are you mad, that place is a haven for cannibals and cultist. If you are trying to kill me there are much easier ways.
Azrael: If I had means to see you dead, it would take far less than this endeavor. You said you wish to see Grace return to the world of man, well I want to see if you are strong enough for the task. Go to An`Mutti and seek out the priestess, Altemyra. It will be no easy task to even get a glimpse of her, the Shwt`een Kaba consider her a goddess in flesh, but if you succeed, maybe I will see some sense in placing my trust in you.
Christopher: â¦hmmm, if this is what it takes to get the key, then Iâll do it.
Azrael smiles deceptively, and Christopher walks awayâ¦