City of the holy one

Hey friends and readers,

As promised a while back, here is my entire “City of the holy one” novella. Pretty crazy piece of work and very different from everything else I’ve done in the past. Enjoy!

PROLOGUE

City of the holy one 

Days passed…

Nights….passed…

In the dark hot rooms of stone I labored, dedicated to the glory, never taking off the mask that was placed upon me by the Golden King. The honor was great, but after so long here, alone, with the screams of his sinners as my only conversations in the dark, it got difficult. I prayed. I prayed until tears of blood rolled down my cheeks and feverishly I would shake my bloody rosary. 

Then they came. Enfanato was with them. The knight in the golden helmet, the legendary one. 

I thought they had come to bestow great honor upon me. To congratulate me…

No.

They had come to extinguish my flame…forever…

They ripped off the iron mask, and dug hooks and needles into my skin. They tortured me and then threw me from the tower into the swamps.

Yet…as I flew and smashed against the water I did not feel my spirit disconnect from my body. I survived. 

I live…

The one of the swamp, the dirty one, filled with what they called wicked prayers, dragged me out of the water. He wept…

The one they called dirty, evil, wicked…wept at the sight of what they did to me. 

There…in that wretched moment of pain and love, I understood what corruption I had succumbed to all of these years. And later I understood why they wanted to kill me, and to humiliate me. 

The birth…the old man of the swamp knew who I was, and he began the story.

Chapter One

THE BIRTH  

The old man sat by the fire in his nasty hut as I lay upon the grass he had brought for me with all the care those wrinkled, shaking hands could provide. 

Oh my dear God! Bless this man! Forgive me my ignorance towards men like him in the past! My punishments perhaps were deserved after all! 

The old man said his name. Etariu. 

Then he began the story that set my tender cut skin on fire and my bruised back

crawling. 

“It was long ago…but I remember that day as if it were yesterday, for such a miracle

can be witnessed only once in a lifetime. Princess Rumary, beautiful and radiant, young woman of gold and the sun, hersmile illuminating. A virgin, known to the whole city. 

“Then the miracle happened. In her womb something began to grow. Rumary was

with a seed. 

“The red priest came with all of his doctors and seers, at the request of General Alterio. They indeed confirmed her to still be a virgin. How could she be with a seed?”

I knitted my brow at the impossibility of the strange story. Etariu went on. “The whole city fell on their knees. A new king was to be born, and not just some king. A holy king. Magicians, sorcerers, knights and kings from all of the lands came to kiss the girl’s soft hands and to kneel as she sat on the golden throne at the high cathedral. Waiting. 

“So the day finally came. The sky turned dark gold. Birds circled in hundreds screaming, warning of something unexpected. The wolves howled in desperation despite there being no moon. Snakes crawled out of their holes, looking up at the city. All the peasants fell to their knees upon the dirt and the grass. 

The knights of the golden order gathered around the holy cathedral of the highest. Their hearts pounded like drums.”

The old man shifted in his seat, and poked at the fire. Then he said, “I know all of this, because I was there with the red priest. I was his assistant, the purple priest. 

“Surrounded by doctors and the spiritual men, Rumary screamed up to the sky. Blood was flowing upon the golden table. Then there was silence in the whole city. Silence in which I heard everything.

“This silence was loud. Rumary was dead, her spirit ripped from the mortal flesh.” Etariu shook his head and gave a great, sorrowful sigh. “However, there came the cries of babies.” He smiled, and laughed shortly. “Yes indeed, the cries…of two babies. Twins!

“And so the two kings were taken oh so swiftly by the devious general Alterio. He had his own plans…such plans that God laughed at!” The old man shook his head.

“The twins grew up in unimaginable luxury, presented with the best scholars, knights, physicians, scribes. However, one of the twins showed a much more aggressive and dominant nature than his brother. And so, the devious Alterio, who loved this twin, created a shattering lie. He took away the kinder twin, named Nosiele.”

Again the man paused and added another log to the fire. He had a faraway, sad look in his eyes. “Nosiele was given an iron mask and sent to live in a home far below the holy cathedral, and was trained to be a warrior and a dungeon master.

“Years went by and the other twin became a young king. He put on golden armor and a golden helmet.

Thus began his terror. Such irony that the first head to roll was that of Altorio, the devious general. Then the Golden King began his crusades into other lands. Year after year, he warred on, strengthening

his reach and the kingdom. 

“Many years went by and the Golden King never realized he had a brother, until one day his loyal knight commander, the one with a golden helmet adorned with thorns, Enfanato, heard a seer who revealed Nosiele’s true identity. 

“This further information I only know because I saw it in visions.” 

Etariu paused. He picked up the hot tea he had made from herbs and took a sip. His hands shook delicately while holding the cup. I raised my hand and gently steadied his cup. His eyes swelled with tears and he continued. 

“And so…Nosiele was tortured, cut up, scarred, broken and thrown from a tower.

“And now, he is right in front of me. The other rightful king of the city.” 

This should have been a great shock to me. A lightning strike to my soul. Yet, somehow I had always known that I was meant for more, and all of this now made sense to me. My life’s questions had fallen into place, but what to make of it? 

I looked into the old man’s tender eyes. “What to make of it?” 

Chapter Two

The Golden Knight 

I was slowly recovering. I watched a silly snail slowly climb up the branch of a shrub. It was the perfect metaphor for how my healing felt.  

Day after day I sat by the window, watching the swamp and its ugly creatures. But patience was one virtue I truly had.

One day the sun broke through the twisted trees of the swamp, and its radiance reminded me of a certain man.

I remembered the gaze of Enfanato. Through the darkness I felt its coldness. The eyes, unseen, yet piercing through my soul. The man who was the fear, the horror, the pain. 

“With this blood, I wash thy sins…peasant of the demented, may you rot among those who dare not gaze upon the glory of the holy Golden King.” Those were Enfanto’s last words to me. He became a legend. And a great legend it was, such that everyone in the city and around the neighboring kingdoms knew it.

I first heard it from the strange and powerful Red Priest, as he sat encased in his long robes in the middle of the square, telling the tale to the foolish public. Enfanato stood by him, coldly waiting for the medal to be bestowed upon his neck, which was hidden under shining armor. No one ever saw his face,

but in the shadow of the opening in the golden helmet, everyone could feel his gaze.

Of course the way the priest told the story was very flattering to Enfanato, but there were others,

those who lurked in the shadows who told the story in full. The tale went like this:

“It was the year of the great purge in the kingdom of the Dark Moon. The Skull King sat tall and mighty upon his dark throne. He had just murdered the previous king, who was too soft to hold on to those lands. The Skull King hung the body of his weak predecessor over the giant ancient arch at the main city’s entrance. 

“Then the purge began. He called it the ‘cleansing by fire and sword.’ Screams, despair, and pain filled the streets and humble homes of the kingdom. Every criminal was to be cleansed! The trouble was the definition of ‘criminal’ that was used. 

“Anyone not loyal to the Skull King was placed in that unfortunate category, even children. Many innocents suffered, yet there was one who truly deserved all of the pain.A serial murderer with a heart of stone, Enfan.

“The Skull King learned of this man and came up with a special punishment for

this deviant. The high priests took Enfan into the dark cellars and with screws they attached a golden helmet to his head, never to come off. They stripped him, whipped him for days without mercy, and then placed him in a large cage and hung it in the center square. There the great bastard was to stay for all of his days.

“But another came, our Golden King. Taking over the lands, cleansing them in his own way. Rivers of blood overflowed the fields. The armies of The Skull King were no match for the brutality, dedication and faith of the golden army. So the Skull King was captured and with a strange dark irony, his body was hung over that very same ancient arch. Oh, the madness!

“With all of his mighty glory, the Golden King marched into the main square; all were bowing and kneeling, too horrified to even look up. Power radiated from the blessed crown upon his helmet. 

“Something piqued the great king’s interest as he noticed a man in a golden helmet sitting in a cage above the main square. The Golden King rode up to that cold black cage with his trusted priests. ‘Who might you be?’ he asked of the caged man.

“Slowly the wretched man lifted up his head. A cold voice came from the helmet, sending chills through the crowds, but to the Golden King it was a melody. ‘I am Enfan, oh radiant one.’

The Golden King lifted his majestic hand up high, pointing at the forsaken man. ‘From this moment on you’ll be known as Enfantato, the golden knight of the king.’ 

“Enfanato rose to his feet and extended his hand to the Golden King with their fingertips touching. Enchanted by the king’s aura, Enfanato did indeed become a royal golden knight. His brutality, darkness and merciless nature became a legend on their own. He struck horror and fear into the hearts of the living. 

“A few unfortunate souls attempted to assassinate the golden knight and instead ended up hanging from the tall grey tower with their arms cut off. During those days Enfanato could be seen praying on his knees on the balcony below the bodies. With his golden rosary in hands and blood of the punished

dripping upon his helmet, he rejoiced and thanked the sun and the Golden King. And for all of the known days the terror of the Golden King and his golden knight continued.”

Chapter Three

The Sorrowful 

“Remove the tongues of the lying and deceitful; no such thing can exist in the city of the holy Golden King.” 

I remembered those who were brought into the dungeons. Men, women, elders, even children. Their screams echoed in the dark red stony halls and they rang inside my ears. At that time, I wondered little about those poor souls, but now I wondered a lot as I walked in the swamp village using a stick. 

I gazed upon many of them. Those who could no longer speak. No singing in them…no laughter.

As I looked at them, they averted their eyes from me. I was the stranger, yet some of them looked upon me with pity. They observed my pathetic wobbly walk with the stick, the scars on my face, the broken left arm tied to my chest. Some of the more shadowy characters also came to view me, yet after they realized that there was nothing of value they could take from me, they turned away.

How much sorrow could these devastated people take? 

They were wronged by the Golden King and then even here, away from the city, they had no peace. Always hungry, with their stomachs begging for mercy, never safe, cold, and in constant fear. 

I called them The Sorrowful and I was now one of them. 

At the end of their crooked and meek little village I found a small dark wooden church. It was barely standing. By the side of the church stood the sign of the Knights of the Spiral. This was a holy brigade that had conquered many far regions serving the Golden King. Their leader, the magnificent and beautiful Astros, was known for helping the poor. This could not have sat well with the Golden King, but they performed great military service. I wondered what would happen to these knights when there were no more lands to take over. 

Inside this humble church, the ceiling dripped with rain water, and a few candles struggled to keep the prayer altars illuminated. In the back sat the priest. He was a bald man with one eye and a full grey beard. His face was long and pale. There was little hope in his posture, and as his one dark eye watched me, I realized there were no holy images in this church. How did they worship? 

The priest, with his long brutal life experience, read my mind and spoke with a heavy, raspy voice. 

“Oh thou, I sense your might, also your fright…have you lost your way?”

I puffed out a breath. “The way has always been lost for me, but maybe I can find one now.” I leaned on my stick and gazed at him.

The priest eyed me, sizing me up. “What thou seekest is not of the ordinary world. The holy blood one must seek.” He stopped, and almost seemed to be going into a trance. Then he spoke again. “Look for Faurina the blessed, our lady of the swamps. Seek her at the great black lake, at the full moon.” 

I tried to listen with my full understanding and attention, the echoes circling in my

head. It seemed an odd thing for a priest to say. Perhaps my hearing wasn’t clear, as I had been tortured by having a nail shoved into my left ear, piercing the eardrum and rendering that ear deaf.

I prayed silently, “Oh all that is truly holy, look upon me, have mercy and show me this way that I am to seek.”

Later that night I sat at the old man’s, Etoritu’s, hut and thought of the words I had heard again, and upon asking the old man about this mystery he told me yet another story. 

Chapter Four 

Blessed Lady of the Swamp 

“There was a time, before the Golden King, when the holy Rumary ruled the kingdom, when happiness and smiles could be seen in the villages and laughter could be heard. Children played and their songs brought joy to the sinners who struggled. 

“During this time there appeared a young girl with large brown eyes and red hair who spoke of the future. She saw destruction, pain, sorrow. Scared and afraid of her words, the foolish masses banished her and her mother from the villages so that they had to go and live by the black lake, where all kinds of foul beasts lived. 

“This girl’s name was Faurina. Before leaving the village, she blessed the rosary of one knight who had taken pity on her by giving her mother bread and a knife. 

“Some days later that knight was deviously ambushed by seven robbers, yet miraculously he slayed all of them. So thus, people in secret began to go to the girl to have their own rosaries blessed by her, and she brought much goodness despite the people having banished her. Such is human nature: to take and not give in return. It is madness.

“So the days and nights came and went. The blessed twins were born and our dear Rumary departed, and slowly the villagers’ lives got more difficult. As human nature dictates, the masses once again turned on Faurina, instead of seeing the truth. (Eventually they did see the truth, but ignorance and being quick to misjudge are curses on such foolish people.) 

“Darkness and pain corrupted the lands under the Golden King. Yet, Faurina did not turn away from these spiritually sick people. Seeing their sorrow, she worked harder than ever to bless them. However, she too had lost much of her strength, and today it is believed that she knows the secret to finding a path and to all healing, but one must venture into the darkness of the deep swamps and find her home on the shores of the dark lake.” 

He stopped the story and scratched his wrinkly head with is yellow, ridged nails. 

“Oh young man of the pure blood, full of pain and sorrow, how can you make this journey? I must go with thee.” 

I considered refusing him, but I understood it would be just a foolish gesture, unworthy for such a strong man as he, and I accepted his proposal and with a heart full of uncertainty I lay awaiting the morning. 

Chapter Five

The Secret 

The salvation of men lay far beyond the golden skies, in a place not understood by the

mortal sinners, the fools, thinking they could control anything. 

And yet there I was, in the midst of the darkest swamp forest, devilishly twisted and terrible. Beasts howled, and the moon was full. The old man led me out onto the black shores of the dark lake. It was magnificent and terrifying at the same time, for the black water held many deadly secrets, and as the the moon shone upon it I could see a woman in the middle of the lake. She was kneeling on the water, miraculously not sinking, for such was her gift. Her tender pale wrists were cut and the blood was flowing into the lake. The her pale enchanting face turned towards me. 

Everything broke loose inside of my trembling mind. She stood up, clasped her hands together and began walking upon those very same dark demented waters…towards me. I stood motionless, with my heart thumping through my bruised white ribs like a violent riot at the gates of an enemy castle. 

Faurina came close to me and reached out her hands, filled with her red, miraculous blood. The precious liquid of the saint herself. Her voice was unearthly, beautiful and soft: “Drink, and there will be mercy for you, drink.” 

My lips drew to those pale hands and I did drink, and it spun and spiraled my soul. On my knees I screamed to the heavens and then there was silence.

In the midst of all this darkness and terror I saw a golden tree. Then I heard her voice again. “Your vision, oh noble kin, is clear. You must reach the golden tree of wisdom and mercy. I shall tell you the way, for only a few know it. You must eat the tree’s golden fruit.”

I did not understand, but obey I did, and I sat on those shores with her and the old man, listening to the story. 

Chapter Six 

The Golden Tree of Wisdom and Mercy

So the saint began to tell her story, and it was a story of significant importance, for it expanded my mind and spirit. 

“There was a time when the stars did not exist, the waters of blue were only thoughts of God, the earth only His imagination, and we were eternal desire.

“However, time does not exist for our God and it’s all impossible to grasp. For one day he spoke and all we know appeared. The world filled with waters and the creatures walked on land and swam. Such exquisite beauty, and then, out of the clay of Heaven, God formed a woman and she gave birth to twins. A boy with the bluest eyes that shone like stars. A girl with hair so bright light itself felt jealous of

such radiance. And they were placed below the mighty golden tree of wisdom and mercy, a tree that knew all fates and roads and paths to take for every being who would ever be born.”

Faurina stopped. She took out a small sharp knife and cut the palm of her hand open. Then she poured the blood into a small bottle and threw a blue flower inside of it. “This bottle, you must keep until the right moment approaches. The door will open with it in your hand. Inside of there.” 

She pointed at a cave opening by the black shores of the dark lake. 

“There is the cave of sinful memories, a test of no small importance. Painful, yet so necessary. And at the end, the door you seek will open, to that very same tree of which I have spoken. So…go…don’t dwell, don’t think, don’t try to understand. Just go, and meet your fate. Whether it’s a bloody path or one filled with the utmost-serenity, either way, you must fulfill what’s yours. For you are royal blood, the blood of saintly Spirit. Go with my blessing, and heal all your wounds, my dear Nosiele.” 

I did not hesitate to enter the cave, though I was not free of fear and trepidation. The bottle she had given me began to shine with a blue light.

As I proceeded into the darkness, I expected fearsome beasts. But no. It was much more difficult.

I heard the pains and screams of all whom I had ever wronged. And I had to keep marching on, placing one foot after the other, to reach my fate, to meet this strange and holy thing.

“Oh, God have mercy!”

“The Golden King has forsaken me!”

“Please let my child live!” 

“No! Not my tongue!”

“Where is my husband! What are you doing?”

The walls of inky blackness kept on speaking, pounding my heart with guilt. And yet the end was near. I could see a tall black rock and as I raised the bottle to it an opening appeared…all filled with light of gold. 

One step of faith and I was standing on the world’s greenest grass. The birds sang songs of paradise and joy. The skies above were bright and purple, and in the center of the field stood that Almighty golden tree of wisdom and mercy, placed there by our Lord the Divine God of all the things that are. Timidly I began my approach, and then I felt a gentle pull and my pace quickened, and as if drawn to it in no time I knelt below the golden tree. 

It seemed to speak to me. “Oh, golden child, one of two. You came to me to see the path, to receive the truth.”

Before my mouth could open to reply, a bright light surrounded the tree and from its branches a single piece of fruit fell. It was golden, beautiful and perfect. 

“You bite…heal…then the fruit will show you the next door, within the divine waters

of these shores. Oh Nosiele, the second king.” 

The fruit vigorously vibrated in my trembling, humble hands. Tears of blood rolled down my cheeks in two straight lines as I raised the fruit up to my mouth and took the blessed divine bite. 

Oh glory! Oh mercy! The heavenly taste spread throughout my whole being! Not just the mortal shell--my soul moved outside my body, rejoicing, singing! Praise! Praise thy magnificence! 

In my head a clarity solidified, a path clear as the blue sky above, pure as God’s

rays of light. 

The golden tree spoke again. “Oh, the one of pure blood. You see thy path, but you must understand, there is always a second shadowy path that runs nearby. Your heart is good, however, and as you reach the glory, choices must be made.” 

I stood up, slowly approached the tree, and with a fullness of hope and love I touched its trunk. My legs, arms, shoulders, everything felt fine again…my bodyhad no more pain! 

“You are now healed, Nosiele. Go in peace and find that place from the visions planted inside your radiant head. Be blessed.” 

I lifted my lips to the shimmering bark and kissed the golden tree. All my love and passion transferred into that moment.

Then, forever grateful, I departed into the waters behind the golden tree and there a door opened up to my destiny. 

Chapter Seven

Knights of the Spiral Betrayed 

Astros the Magnificent, leader of the Knights of the Spiral, stood upon the sacred engraved stones of the last captured town in the known world. His blue eyes shone upon the peasants kneeling in fear, yet he raised his hands and put them at ease. 

“Do not fear, oh poor ones. In your poverty you have shown great resilience and praise for the Lord, for light, for divinity! We, Knights of the Spiral, always take part in sharing gold and riches we capture, so you shall receive gifts!” 

The peasants rose up with faces of astonishment. The beautiful knight with the red spiral upon his gold armor stood smiling at them. Then, upon his departure, they sang the serenades, the tales about the Knights of the Spiral. A wise old man with a wrinkled face and an ancient book gathered the children around himself and began his telling of the story. 

“Long, long ago, before your mothers had your seeds, before their mothers had theirs, a group of mercenaries were gathered together under Antius, the grandfather of our saintly Astros, and they so decided that they’d show their might and power to the golden throne. 

“This was the time of the great battle at the harrowing fields of Tertstrom and the Golden Army was being pushed back! The general must have felt that the dear angels had turned their faces away from the holy army, yet, out of the shadows of the great purple mountains, roaring with might rode the knights of Antius. 

“On that glorious day, the golden throne and the royal church made an agreement with Antius, for his knights to always serve under the golden kingdom. Antius came from the ancient town of Gelaphim, where the angel of the spiral doors was the patron defender and thus was born the name of our knights. 

The Knights of the Spiral.

“For so long they bravely fought for the golden throne, laying down their lives. Then came a short time of peace under our holy lady Rumary. The ground and the trees wept when her spirit departed to dwell in heaven and the rains of pain and sorrow came again. The wise old priests bled from their hands as they prayed, seeing the future of sorrows as the new Golden King rose to power. Once more the knights were called upon. This time to be part of their toughest battle yet. To conquer endlessly. 

And so they did…together with the Golden Army, which grew with each land they took. 

“And now, our land is the last one touching the endless seas. So what will the magnificent Knights of the Spiral do now? Will peace, even if sorrowful, fall upon these lands once more?” 

As these tales were told, far away, at the golden kingdom the Golden King had given Enfanato an order. 

“Oh Golden Knight, loyal and knowledgeable in the ways of pain, take your elite battalions and end the Knights of the Spiral. Too long they have defied my golden rule. And after: my dear servant, go to the ancient ruins, and enter by yourself. For all my seers and the great priestess all have told me that one who seeks to take my throne will there appear with his wicked and ungodly thoughts. To tarnish our golden rule, to put on false gold and spit upon the sun. His body and his head you’ll take; no mercy will you show. Neither to knight, nor to this devil.” 

Enfanato was very pleased indeed; these thoughts thrilled his bloodthirsty, brutal mind. In violence he thrived, in peace he ached and cried. “I will cherish their suffering, my Golden King, I thank thee for such gifts.” And so, the golden knight rode out together with his massive battalions, to cause more pain.     

Enfanato knew their ways, those noble knights, they always rested in the towns of the purple mountains. Based upon this, he devised a devious plan, a nightfall ambush. A slaughter under the glory of the moon and stars. Alas, indeed…he did succeed. 

The Knights of the Spiral celebrated peace and drank. However, their dear saintly leader Astros felt uneasy and was praying inside his tiny church. 

Then the horror arrived. Unsuspecting victims did the brave and noble knights become. All bodies ripped away from souls without a warning and the bravest of them all, Astros, was stripped naked and whipped, and then dragged by horses through the streets. 

The dark-hearted Enfanato was not through with him. He took an axe and cut off the arms and legs of Astros and hung the torso of the greatest of those knights from the statue of Spiral dedication, the statue

of Astros. 

This was the knight’s final humiliation. 

Chapter Eight

Tomb of the Sacred Bodies

Through that portal I did arrive and was placed inside the most sacred of the walls, those where the ancients lay. 

Oh God, please continue to guide my way and understand that which I do lack! Surely, I had heard the legends of these walls, but never thought that I’d be here. The deep tombs of the sacred bodies. The warriors, kings and priests, the heroes and the blessed. These ruins held them all, and what was I supposed to realize and find? 

My answer came from deep within as I sensed a prayer in the air. A chant, which only I could hear and in the maze of the ancient walls it guided me towards a hall in which the very air vibrated with magic. In its darkness hung a shining sword with armor just below. 

As I approached these things, a shadowy figure stood between me and these ancient blessings and I knelt, feeling that this was something rather mighty. The figure spoke.

“Oh son of golden skies, you came to seek your destiny, your prize. Arise, arise. The sword of Mersucio and armor of Torturco are these. The sword is steel which is unbreakable, yet light like a feather, and the armor is of such abnormal nature that it will adapt to any body and take the shape and color of anything you desire.”  

With these words the shadow simply disappeared and I took steps towards these miraculous items, to make them mine.  

Oh how they swirled, almost possessing me themselves, and then I had a vision of all the mighty beings who had held these things in glories past. The power pulsed all through my veins as the armor took the perfect shape around my body, and the sword attached so swiftly to my spine, I felt its blessed pain as blood so gently splashed and it became a part of me. More than a weapon, but a spirit, a wind of gold and glory.

Then it all stopped. The room collapsed and all around me then appeared flaming jails of a most hellish kind, and I stood on a bridge that led to the door out of there. All around me screamed the souls, begging me to free them from their prisons, but alas, I couldn’t do such thing. 

With every little step I felt the deadly power of that place. Why was I here? What had it replaced? 

No…I understood. These were the many heroes, whom I thought before to be so good. The powerful and mighty, who had made the choice to be absorbed by power and by might. Oh how they screamed now, in their maddening fright!

I felt the heat burning my cheeks and thought of a protection. Immediately the armor of old created a wondrous helmet melting with my complexion. With that, I ran from the place.

When I got out, I found myself outdoors. I was so tired, and in so much tremendous pain, I went and sat, far from those fires, by an old tree, to rest my head. 

Chapter Nine

Visions of the Red Priest 

As the ancient traditions required, each year three boys were chosen through the oldest priest’s visions. These boys were trained for many years to eventually become candidates for the top priesthood position. 

Many years ago one such boy was Oissap. A timid looking one, a weakling; shaking in the cold wind as he was ripped away from his mother and father. They begged and cried, but such was the tradition, such were the rules, and these laws of men were more important than the holy connection of a child with those who planted and grew him. Oh, have mercy…

Soon Oissap was at the monastery with other boys. Often ridiculed for his size and weak posture, he was always sad and sorrowful. Yet amidst great pain there can be grown the utmost beautiful spiritual strength. 

As the timid boy grew and endured, the light began to bestow great gifts upon him and it made the others jealous. One night an older boy sneaked up on Oissap to cruelly end his life with a knife, yet he slipped and the knife cut his own throat. Everyone understood that this was no mere accident. Divine powers had spoken. The aura surrounding the timid boy became powerful and even the Red

Priest of that time came down to see him. 

“Yes. Yes, indeed,” the Red Priest confirmed as he gazed into Oissap’s eyes. “He is the one. Make him forget his name. Only call him ‘our excellent Red Priest.’” Everyone was astonished by this pronouncement, but all obeyed, for those were the laws. 

The young boy became a man, and on one glorious sunny day the old Red Priest departed into the world that he had desired for so long. 

The timid boy now had become the very peak of prestige, the Red Priest. His power did not lie in magic, or in blessings or healings. He foretold the future in visions. He always saw three or four of them at a time.

Eventually such a talent came to be known by the Golden King, and he wanted it.

Recently, troublesome news had come to the Golden King’s bright chambers. He consulted the Red Priest, who foresaw three futures—all of them bleak.

The Golden King knelt down in his cathedral and listened to all three. “My dear lord. Your highness, my blessed leader. Forgive me for such news,” said the Red Priest. “Perhaps I am simply too old. Age eventually takes all of us to task. It rips away strength, details, the memories and the faculties of the mind. No summers left, not even winters. It’s all just dirt inside the head.” 

The Golden King looked at the Red Priest sharply. “Stop such nonsense speech, my friend. Deliver me thy visions. Now. At once.” 

The red priest shook like a silver autumn leaf and felt the power lurch in his stomach. He took a deep breath and answered, “Yes, of course, immediately.

“In the first I see a mirror. You stand and look at your reflection, yet somehow it is not thee. You smash the mirror, but the glass cuts your arms so very deeply and you succumb to the pain as you fall.

“In the second,” he went on, “I see you by the lake. The water looks calm and peaceful, but then I see

you in it, as if you switched from shore to water in an incredible instant. There in that water you feel cold and you simply cannot get out. The sun is slowly setting and you freeze as all the peasant gather to observe.

“The third one is the most troublesome of all. Truly a horror.” The Red Priest paused. The Golden King raised his helmeted head impatiently. 

“Out with it!!! Out!!!” he ordered.

With great trepidation, the Red Priest said, “Your head, my dear king, it rolls. It simply rolls. Cut, with your body shaking on the floor and a puddle of blood spreading over the magnificent gold floor.” 

The Golden King stood up and paced in front of the Red Priest. “Have you ever been wrong before?” 

“Perhaps. I have seen many visions over the years.”

The Golden King tore the helmet from his head and gave a hard look to the priest. “That is not good enough. I need a concrete answer. Go think about it in the golden towers.” With that, he put the helmet back on his head and strode angrily out of the cathedral.

Within the beautiful towers, hideous yet strong and beastly men pulled on the ropes and made the giant bells ring. The sound spread out all over the sun-bathed city and it meant that there was to be complete silence. Speaking or making a noise was punishable by a painful death. 

The Red Priest prayed. He begged for answers until he lost his way and collapsed upon the marble floor. The visions were unchanged. Three fates, yet all connected into the truest one--something that was still to come.

Chapter Ten

As we Take 

For some taking a life is easy, but it remains a horrible sin.

I understood this more than ever now, yet I knew that if I were to reach the climax of my path, I would have to kill. I would have to partake in the bloody, savage order of this world.

We humans did not know a higher way to deal with differences and the troubles. Destruction, death,

oppression, sorrow. Even the good had to follow these rules, if they wanted to survive. So I woke up and walked those ruins.

 At the top was he, the tormentor of my dreams. The famous Golden Knight in all of his brutal glory. He stood on the edge of the half-destroyed, abandoned tower and raised his golden sword. 

“Today, impostor, you will meet all those who cry in vain inside the fires of the deepest hellish flames,” his voice rumbled.

Instinctively, I took hold of the sword that miraculously detached from my spine. It was almost weightless, with drops of blood as decorations. 

Our swords collided as we danced the fiery ritual of death. Swinging and moving swiftly, cutting through and yet, alas, he had to realize the power I held, and that I would prevail. In shock he withdrew and stood there for a moment until I powerfully resumed. Strike after strike his strength slowly faded and the mighty golden knight was on his knees, defeated. And with a brutal final swing I felt no mercy. His head was severed from his body. I was the victor, the one and only. 

Looking upon his armor and the helmet, I devised a plan which seemed wise and clever. I created the thought, and then my armor took the shape of Enfanato’s. For all it would be a surprise. I only left a dent, an opening near the throat, with drops of  blood upon it, as to signal that my voice was damaged, so no one would know of my deception. Enfanato spoke in ways that no one else did, so silence was to be the only way into the trickery. 

And it did work. I rode with mighty soldiers all behind my back. Now they were my servants.

Chapter Eleven 

Pain and the Sign 

Etoritu lay upon the dirty swampy grass. Yet even his old eyes could see the skies changing. A gathering of purple, red and white, blending together, to form something. 

Yes, a something, but what he wasn’t sure. And then he understood. The sign of change, a new beginning, sort of a double ring it was, calling him into eternity as well. 

Hope swelled within his old decrepit lungs and all the sorrow left. The pain departed and his body became still. 

The old wise man had passed. Happiness transformed him, let him go. 

And what for all of other dwellers there? 

Almost none looked up, and those who did, misunderstood. 

Their sorrows were so painful that they did not have the mind to think or judge, only to survive--not even really to live. Oh, poor wretched people, driven to such a state. Their souls trapped inside their bodies like cages, rusting, fading with age. 

How can such individuals be enlightened even if someone were to rise for them?  They knew not right from wrong, saint from demon or light from shadow, even. At least the old man understood. If one could do it, there was hope. 

No hope, no matter how faint, was useless. Each tiny light counted and brought joy. The golden tree then shook its branches, as the old man was now a young soul, enjoying the eternal fruits of it. 

Such is life; one has a shell and takes care of the inside. One must prepare it, nurture it, and have hope. When the time is right, each person will go where he or she is needed. There is found the deepest happiness and hope is satisfied.

Chapter Twelve 

Magnificence and Sorrow

Our horses galloped with some might, and finally I saw it: the beautiful large golden gate of the city where I grew up. Once again I would enter it, yet in a different form, not as one oppressed, but in the armor of the oppressor. All looked upon me with a new and different gaze: fear, anxiety, despair. 

Messengers ran forward as we rode upon the stony streets. They were to tell the Golden King that his mighty knight had succeeded, yet lost his ability to speak. Trumpets played and singing then began to praise me. It was strange. I did not know whether to feel happy or distraught. For all of these people were the oppressed, deceived, uncared for. What could I do? What, indeed. 

Then they led me to the high cathedral where the oh-so-devious Red Priest had given me a blessing and a kiss and sent me forth to meet the Golden King. Alone. It was the first time since my birth, of which I of course had no memory, that I was standing at the top of the entire city, in royal blessed holy chambers. 

The Golden King came out to greet me. He tapped my shoulder and laughed, then turned his back on me, pointing towards the beautiful cathedral. “That Red Priest, he is really too aged. A mirror? Lake? Reflections that are deadly? We must replace him, sadly.” 

At that point, I removed my helmet. And waited.

When the Golden King finally turned and got a look at me, he froze. Indeed, a mirror. My face and his own, identical, yet one scarred and one smooth and perfect.

I moved my feathery blade before he could react. He gently collapsed into the pool of his own blood, before he could utter a sound.

Quickly I imitated his armor, and removed the real thing from my brother’s body and hid it. Servants came and took away the body, and many great bells rang, gathering the crowds, for I had something to say to them.

Citizens frantically rushed into the giant square below. Thousands of them fell upon their knees and chanting to their Golden King. I stood upon the ramparts and spread my arms, bathing in the radiant sun’s rays. And then, as if enchanted, illuminated by the sun, my tongue did freeze and I listened to the chants.

Yet, no glory did I feel. For I remembered all I knew and had seen, and it was only sorrow. 

Thus I became a brand new saint. The Golden King of Sorrows. 

Chapter Thirteen

The Golden Song 

Century to century, generation after generation, the sound that now was heard through city streets always rang true to all of those in need of light. 

Regardless of the sorrows, The Golden Song went on, sounds from the times of old, to last forever. 

Oh Golden Light 

Relieve us of the sorrow 

If not in this life 

Then in the next 

Let us not 

Dwell in darkness 

Cover us up 

Inside your golden blanket 

Have mercy 

Please forgive us 

On our knees 

We praise thy love 

Holy and Almighty

Gold that’s from the tree 

Its wisdom 

So aligning 

To our spiritual needs 

Oh Holy Light 

Oh Golden Light 

Keep sending us 

Your blessed protectors

Never in our lives 

We will forsake 

The ones thou makes 

Bless us forever 

In the name of golden mercy 

The gold that we cannot 

Dare to touch 

In the winds of glory 

Our blood united 

For thy might 

Our lives are thine

So much we believe 

And eagerly await 

The time when we continue 

Inside thy Golden Gate.