LILAC//ANCHOR X
“THEY WILL COWER, AT HER MIGHT. THEY WILL BOW, AT HER FEET. THEY WILL FEAR, THE VERY UTTERANCE OF HER NAME. BUT.. ABOVE IT ALL, THEY WILL LOOK UPON HER, AS THEIR GOD.” -AN EXCERPT, FROM AN UNKNOWN SOURCE.
The questions, the warnings, the prophecies– all dictate, the inevitable arrival of a false messiah, a false god, a mere facsimile of what God, truly is. Yet, in all these prophecies, inspite of previous warnings and knowledge, humanity still falls prey to such a foul individual; bowing pathetically at its devilish feet, as they worship it, in all its blasphemous glory.
It is this, that makes one wonder: Is Humanity, naturally stupid? And while, yes, it is certainly a self depreciative comment and extremely harmful to one's self-imagined ego. It is, nevertheless, a valid question to ponder. For, is not a wise race– one which heeds the words of their forefathers and ancestors? Is a wise race, not above false messiahs and Gods? Is a wise race, not above servitude?
For, in truth, to slave away for a false idol is servitude. A damning servitude.
It is these thoughts and more, that do plague his mind. For the vistas of this malignant reality, are profoundly false. Akin to a false prophet, they'd have you believe one thing, while in truth, something else is factual.
The feelings and thoughts, of messiahs and Gods and prophets, intensify with each fleeting gaze upon the cruel colosseum.
The colosseum loomed in the malicious horizon, gleaming down at them with the self importance of a narcissistic tyrant. And, if how the girl explained the matter, over the admittedly painfully long walk, was true, then the woman residing in the colosseum– or Auditorium as she called it, was a tyrant. Like master, like servant? Mayhaps, or maybe, that was a shitty symbolism.
Symbolisms aside, the claims regarding this ‘overseer’ were equally dubious. Afterall, those were the words of an equally, enigmatic individual.
For, how could he trust the words of a girl, who would rather speak in riddles and tongue twisters than in the simplicity of language and manner? A girl that would smile, conspiratorially, at empty air and sneer at fleeting bursts of wind.
But, his treacherously loyal mind added, you only have her word, her story, no one else's. And, tis was true. Tis was her story, that he could hear and ponder upon; no matter, how flimsy, he might feel her words to be– they were the sole guide in this malevolent labyrinthian.
He shook his head, it was pointless– ruminating and contemplating upon thoughts of potential betrayals, traps or lies, for in truth, there was no certain way of knowing the actual truth. Thus, he would follow, wherever Viktoria beckoned and hope, against all hope, that in the end, there was some revelation. Otherwise, tis would be a pathetic ending, wouldn't it?
Even now, amidst this.. otherworldly bridge, the girl pranced over overturned furniture, over shattered decorations, over smeared blood and, occasionally, peered critically at everything within sight, that wasn't irreparably damaged.
And, within his heart of hearts, he could admit that such an act was endearing; heart swelling with warmth at the innocent wonder.
Lost in his mind, Charles failed to notice the shimmering air before him– Viktoria was quicker, dragging him away. The shimmering air shifted, unnaturally and inexplicably, into a most awkward pillar of gold.
“Stay focused, Sir Charles.. and, kindly, if you may, follow me. And, by that, I quite literally mean, for you to walk in my trail,” Viktoria admonished, and with the gentleness of a mother, advised him simultaneously. The girl, strangely reminded him of someone. Someone, he could not quite remember. Strange.
As they wandered across the bridge, the colosseum and its shroud of enigmatic chill looming ever closer, a curious painting caught his eye. And, according to his straying eyes, Viktoria's as well.
Tis was a, curious painting. A man, or boy, he couldn't really tell, sat upon a most queer kind of chair– one with a material unknown to him, although, it did resemble cloth, but cloth couldn't give such a pattern. In his hand, was an equally incomprehensible object. A tablet of metal, if you may, although metal wouldn't be quite correct as the object did possess a glass? He wasn't sure about the glass. Nevertheless, upon this tablet, the man was writing something… such was evident by the words visible to his eye.
Although, he failed to understand the language.
“He is a writer,” Viktoria informed airily.
“Oh, a writer, you say?.. Well, I have limited knowledge of the art of scripture, yes, but I.. doubt that inscribing on a metallic tablet is really… efficient,”
Viktoria laughed, a hale and hearty sound that pierced through the oppressive fog of silence and mounting paranoia. “Hahaha, oh! Tis, not a metallic tablet! It is a.. tool! Yes, a tool and people, like you and me, will use it to write tales… just like ours,”
“Will? You mean-”
“Yes, it is precisely, what you think. A tool, that in the distant future, shall command our successors degrading hubris into servitude. At that point, human degradation, will have come full circle-,” Viktoria suddenly paused, seemingly surprised by her own rant, and laughed sheepishly, “Ah! Forget that, Sir Charles. Mine thoughts are in a flurry, the man writes too swift,”
Charles made an incredulous sound, entirely confused regarding Viktoria's behavior.
“Now, hush, Sir Charles. Too much talk and too little time, after this business is done, I shall be open to questions. Understand?”
“Quite so.. lead the way,” Charles nodded in acceptance. That was, afterall, as good of a deal as he would get. The girl was, definitely, erratic and mayhaps, not quite right in the mind. Writes too swiftly? Writes our story? Madness!
Then again, this whole realm was, madness incarnate.
The doors to the colosseum, were thrown open, like the maws of a great hibernating beast– waiting in patience, for the arrival of another foolish prey. And, in a way, they were prey. The realm was not theirs, it was of another's creation, someone who was beyond Gods; he was unsure, although, where the irrational limitations of fear, had disappeared. For, in truth, he had yet to dread the forthcoming confrontation.
He had, admitted the same to Viktoria and she, in all her mystery and secrecy, had merely smiled foxily at him.
Was it, her doing? Maybe, maybe not. However, he did lean on the former. The girl was clearly abnormal, might as well suspect her to be a sorceress.
The interior of the colosseum, he noted as they entered, was extremely different yet hauntingly similar to the overall architecture of this realm. Stone pillars, larger than he had ever seen, thrust from the floor into the domed roof; inlaid, into these vast ugly pillars was flattering gold, breathing life into their dull existence.
Likewise, the floor was also of stone, polished stone, to be precise. There were small crevices, in between the stone tiling, within which flowed an ominous sort of water. Or, he assumed it was water. A black malevolent liquid, transparent like water, with a dim golden hue around it.
On the far north, within the colosseum, was an elevated platform upon which rested a throne of pure maiden marble and seductive gold.
However, it was not the opulent throne nor the drab and dull interior that captivated Viktoria's ire, nay, it was the woman seated rather comfortably on the throne that ensnared her. Her countenance mirrored Viktoria's own to such a degree, that one could pass both as mother and daughter.
They could be, he thought.
The woman, was wearing a black dress that hugged her curves generously, a small pearl studded silver tiara adorned her head. The night black hair, tied back into a tight bun, fluttered slightly in the lazy breeze.
“Lilac,” Viktoria uttered venomously, as if each syllable of the name, hurt her to the core.
“Viktoria,” Lilac replied in acknowledgement, a malicious smirk playing on her face. Shockingly, there was a lack of poisonous venom in her voice, or perhaps, her's was simply well masked.
Suddenly, almost akin to a wisp, a figure burst into existence from behind the gilded throne– A hulking figure, covered head to toe, in a crimson devil like armor adorned with thorns and blackened bonelike growth on the chestplate. The eyes, were equally hellborne, with 2 burning fiery orbs gazing back at him, chillingly, through the curving eye-slits of the horned helmet.
Attached to the hip was a sword, in an ashen scabbard of, undeniable, hellish origin.
The monster, for he could not be a man, walked almost casually towards him; as if, such was almost a tedious task, a routine, one might say.
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“Careful, boy. He reeks of it,” Pleiades cautioned.
“Reeks? Of what?” He asked befuddled.
“Of all, that is unholy- of all, that is revolting- of all, that is—”
“Spare me.. the riddles, will you?” Charles interjected, annoyed at the god's sudden bout of poetism, “Spare me, the poetry, and speak clearly… please,”
Pleiades sighed, “Thou art a foul being… although, let it not be said that mine hubris is too prideful. Thus, as your humble ally, I inform you that.. that creature is a Cardinal,”
“A what… wait, hold up.. a fucking Cardina-” With luck- that was perhaps luckier than luck and ingrained instincts, Charles ducked before the sword could have cleaved his head off.
Transitioning into a roll, he made distance between him and the assailant. Sword unsheathed, he took his stance.
The monster- Cardinal, gazed at him with shock and, as much as he could gather from two lifeless flaming orbs, with annoyance. Likely, put off by the sudden aspect of challenge in the duel.
The Cardinal walked briskly towards him and spoke, “Tis impressive. Thy skill, precedes thine wandering mind; a shame, that thou were not beheaded. Or more greatly, an oversight. One, might I add, that I shall not repeat–” The Cardinal leaped backwards, ducking and twisting out of the savagery of Charles blade.
The Cardinal clicked his tongue, having been caught by his own trickery. Charles smirked viciously, many had fallen to his blade– Cardinal or not, he would fall the same.
A sudden flame burst inside of him, filling his chest with insurmountable warmth and power; feelings of doubt, of faithlessness, of dread, wiping themselves clean as the warm fire devoured them, whole.
His gaze found Viktoria's; flashing a cheshire smile, she nodded her head, before unlatching their entwined gazes and closing her eyes.
“Curious,” Pleiades muttered.
Just as, he was about to question Pleiades, the Cardinal rushed onto him, sword poised to gut him. Charles blocked the strike, a swift counterattack being delivered- grazing the monstrosity’s satanic armor.
The Cardinal stumbled backwards, in shock or in pain, he did not know and, quite frankly, did not care. Charles pursued him, another strike playing through his swordarm.
“The girl, Viktoria, she's-” Charles ducked below the wildly sweeping greatsword; countering with a swipe of his own, “going to beat that entity, at her own game. Magnificent!”
“Magnificent?” The Cardinal leaped at him, with the swiftness of a leopard; He ducked, blocking the strike with his shield. “Phew.. well, any fucking explanations?”
“Well, you see,” Pleiades began, in tandem with the Cardinal’s ever savage attack. “The woman, Lilac is.. a paradox. To fight something like that.. one needs to fight-” Charles jumped, slamming his shield into the Cardinal’s chest- disorienting him and creating space between them.
“Fight, at their own game, eh?” Charles finished Pleiades' sentence– the man hummed in approval and, in equal parts, shock.
“Well, precisely..” The Cardinal saw Charles' distraction and charged forward like a rabid bull; only his instincts, prevented death by impalement. “Viktoria intends to fight Lilac, in a manner that Gods would each other,”
“Meaning?” Charles questioned mentally, even the thoughts were layered in fatigue, his tiring body having again dodged a mortal blow.
“Meaning, boy-” He wheezed as his body flew through the air, having been caught unaware by a tremendous punch. “-Everything and anything, you do, right now, right here… will change history!”
He felt their bond sever, the charged voice becoming hazy; or maybe, that was his worn out mind, losing its faculties as the tireless Cardinal strode forward.
Charles stood up, legs threatening to break under the pressure, the very act of breathing seemed an insurmountable task.
Wheezing, eyes going blurry and lost, he poised his sword for a strike.
The looming figure of the monstrosity neared, or did it?.. He couldn't quite tell. His eyes were here and there, sometimes seeing things that were not possible. Visions of futures past and of futures to come.
The greatsword tore through the bloody air, as it neared his neck.
Suddenly, a familiar burst of warmth surrounded him. Reminding him of Corvus, of the visions, of Emilia, of Elena, but most distinctly, he remembered the woman at the end of time, itself.
The Empress.
Remembrance soured through him, bringing with it, an inexplicable power. With a shout, he charged forwards, his blade locking with the Cardinal's.
A low rumble emitted through the Cardinal’s chest. Annoyance, undoubtedly.
His gaze found Viktoria's, once more, and again like the future's past– she grinned with a lively nod, her eyes vibrant, as if celebrating for.. something?
“Hold on, boy. Survive against this monstrosity-” Right at the moment, as if having heard his words, the Cardinal roared breaking the sword lock and attempted to tackle him. Charles dodged the attack, slamming his shield into the beast’s gut. “-for five minutes, and I shall help you, fell this beast.”
Easier said than done, he thought with a grimace. Fuck it, he had survived this long, whatever were five more minutes.
With a beastly roar, the Cardinal leapt from the floor– intent on tearing open his gut. He swatted the strike, his sword tearing through the devil's claws.
A shriek and the Cardinal stumbled into a pillar– the painting, a rather beautiful one, hung on an adjacent wall collapsed onto the ground from the sheer force behind the move.
Charles panted, walking away to create distance. Each moment, the Cardinal stood frozen was a moment survived. Only a few more, and Pleiades' promised aid would come.
Surely, a God can slay a devil.
The Cardinal kicked the pillar onto the ground, an enraged painful shout echoed through the vast colosseum; with it, the Cardinal, greatsword in hand, charged at him.
He dodged the first strike, blocked the second, and the third? Well, he interrupted it with his own counterattack.
Dodge-block-strike. It became their own dance. A rhythm. The savagery of their motivations soon bled into each strike.
The rhythm broke.
He dodged, alas he failed to notice the feint. Paying the price, with a fearsome fist to the gut. Charles stumbled backwards, collapsing onto the ground.
The mind drowned in agony, as his stomach broke, collapsing, shifting, turning, rearranging and shattering under the pressure. The organs within him, devolving into an unholy orgy of blood and death. Oh, sweet death~.
He could feel it and more. The pain– how the agony tore through his body like a vicious poison. Consuming all of him.
Through blurry eyes, he could spot the Cardinal. The beast was standing over him, sword raised to behead him.
Charles spat, a glob of blood, on his feet. “Fu- fuck.. you!”
The Cardinal growled, “Thine efforts were valiant. But, alas, they were for naught. Rejoice, for thy meaningless existence has now come to an inglorious death, by Agony’s hand! Die, with Lilac's name, ingrained into thine broken soul. Die, with repentance in thine black heart!”
Viktoria's eyes widened in horror, as the Cardinal dove onto the knight's mangled corpse.
A burst of pain, made her refocus. Tis was, too late. There was simply, no retreat. Perhaps, she had made a mistake… the mistake of choosing the wrong kind of.. knight.
Shit, damn it. I'll take on them, both and I'll crush them, she thought with conviction. It would be hard, yes, but not impossible. Nothing was impossible.
Then, like the abruptness of lightning, a shriek echoed through the colosseum. She closed her eyes, tighter, he was dead then, she decided.
Or, she would have. But.. the scream sounded feminine, it sounded familiar.
With, great difficulty, Viktoria open her eyes, ready to accept the bleak reality. Only for the bleakness and hopelessness of imagination to bleed away and be replaced, by a great serenity and joy!
Kneeling on the floor, gurgling and choking on blood– a sword half buried through the throat, was the Cardinal.
Something bubbled through her throat, rearing her head back, she laughed. A great roaring laughter, filled with eternal joy, drowning in victory.
“Tis, a folly.. boy.” The Cardinal, Agony coughed in, ironically, agony. “One- one day, you will.. answer for your act-.. actions. And, and- Go- God.. God will not be so- so.. so merciful!”
His fiery gaze fluttered out, akin to a stringless puppet, his body fell limply onto the ground. A.. disappointing end to such a beast. Underwhelming, if he was honest.
“Impossible. Thou has just slain a Demon and thine thoughts focus on the manner of death?”
Charles made to answer but Pleiades was quicker, and with severe harshness he spoke, “Death is always.. and I mean always, anticlimactic, boy.”
Suddenly, a scream accompanied by a loud shattering noise, tore its way through the, unnaturally, quiet air.
His gaze, by instinct, snapped to the opulent throne in the middle. A large, purple crystal had ravaged it's way through the throne… and, impaled upon this, ravenous creation, was Lilac.
Standing, at the dais of the throne, was Viktoria– however, strangely, she was older? Or, rather, that was a wrong choice of words. Not older, no, she was in her true form.
True form? How did that… he shook his head. Just like the provision of armaments to him, this too might have been, a miracle done by Viktoria, herself.
“Witness now, boy. Witness the birth of a God,” Pleiades had whispered to him, as the blade had torn through the Cardinal’s throat.
“Now, comes to an end, the unholy regime of Lilac von Celeste. May thine soul, rest ever uneasy. May thine soul, burn evermore in the ravenous fire of hell,” Her words spoken with the magnanimousness of God, she turned her sullen and enlightened eyes of gold onto him.
Something, perhaps affection? Mayhaps fondness, passed through the molten eyes of divinity and with it, his world went black…..