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The Blood of Kalaborea: Part II
- The Blood of Kalaborea: Part II -
Lira'taril asked me one night, as we talked over our plans to leave behind us the empire that we had been not too long before called upon to rule as its' emperor and empress, whilst lying in bed together: “Where would we go, though, Asra'ka? All of the world hates and fears us!” and I determined that we should travel until we seek and find one of the fabled entrances to subterranean Agartha or failing that discover a different place in which we might live on the mainland of one of the continents not ruled by Kalaborea or any of its' enemies. “The choice can be yours, my beloved, as to which course we could choose to take.” I offered her. She then countered: “Or, we could free the God of the Blackblood Stone and use his power to destroy those plotting nobles who even now dare to scheme against us!” and in truth I had not considered that as a possibility. “No one knows where his dwelling place lies.” I stated, to which Lira'taril revealed: “It lies right on this island... but underneath the ruins of the first Imperial Palace from the earliest of days. I can show you the way, if you like!” and I agreed to allow her to take me hither. It was an insane, perhaps even suicidal endeavor, but it was the only way that we knew of!
We both departed the palace in secret the very next evening, wearing masks and black hooded cloaks to hide our features and disguise our identities. My sister led me by chariot across the wild countryside of the island... the trees and forests of which were many colored and which held foliage of all sorts from many parts of the world. It was a chaotic land, with sharp, jagged cliffs along nearly all the coasts save the capital city's harbor... and the animals that were indigenous to the region were like not any as found elsewhere in the world. It took us two days to reach the ruins, stopping at towns and villages along the way to spend the evenings. But reach them we did, and Lira'taril led me down through secret ways into a network of underground passages that led out into a great cavern. It was partly carved by El'vril hands and partly natural, that cavern, and in the center of it (it was roughly circular) were many great pillars of rock that encircled a kind of natural sort of amphitheater. At its' precise center, there lay a deep shaft cut into the rock and it seemed to have no bottom to it at all. Suspended just above it, was an massive egg-shaped object covered in a black cloth with blood red trim. Huge chains kept it thus suspended from the ceiling high, incalculably high above. “What is this?” I asked, and my sister told me knowingly. “This, is the vessel of the God of the Blackblood Stone, or so they say. Father's manuscripts all mentioned this in them, at least the ones I read when I had the chance to.” And I asked her: “How do we free this god?” and she pointed to an old wooden lever set into the ground nearby, which was itself attached by various mechanisms to a system by which the object over the pit could be brought over and lowered unto the ground without dropping it into the chasm far below. “Or... it could be cast below and lost forever.” she stated. “But why... why would someone create the means to seal this deep away? It is too valuable, too sacred.” I asked, and my sister told me why... “Because it is both forbidden, and dangerous to toy with. Precisely why we have need of it!” and we brought the object over and set it down. As it hit the floor, the chains loosened and the object slipped out of its' bindings. I removed the cloth and beneath it was a massive egg-shaped blood-red gemstone with a smaller, totally round black jewel sealed within it. The whole thing was warm to the touch and pulsated a bit when I placed my hands upon it. “Is it alive?” I asked, and my sister confirmed that it was. “That jewel, is all that remains of the old god we seek to set free. He was said to be a great god who dwelt in a garden somewhere on one of the continents of the west... he was driven from his garden home and came to live in exile on the shores of a great red sea. There, he dwelt for an age until wanderlust overtook him and none know what became of him after that save that our ancestors found him as he was dying and they plucked this black jewel from his body and placed it in this great ruby. It is said that the jewel contains part of his soul that was stolen from him by the gods of our ancestors during the hour of his death, whilst some other part of his soul lived on and took form elsewhere. That is all anyone knows, save that he was a great Lord of the Abyss. And also...”
“He was a god of Death! And, that they say that should Death's Jewel be freed from out its' prison the old god would return and none could stand against him.” And I remembered thus reading in one of our father's other hidden scrolls... “And there was also a Black Goddess, who was with him... although of her nothing is known save that she existed.” Upon saying this out loud, I could hear a thumping sound coming from the ruby. “How do we break it... it is massive!” I exclaimed, my tone rather more than a bit desperate sounding. My sister remained calm, as was her want, and told me: “It is not solid though... it is fragile like glass is, for it is not a real ruby in fact. Take any heavy object and smash it, and you will be able to claim the dark prize that lies within it.” And nearby was a run-down shack in which mining tools were kept. I found a large hammer and brought it over, barely even able to lift it at all. Somehow I managed it, and brought it up and then down with all my might unto the ruby, which was shattered in a way that collapsed it inwardly, allowing the black jewel to be retrieved. I held it in my right hand, with my left hand clasped over it, and whispering voices seemed to echo in my mind even as I did so. Old memories from past lives and other times... the jewel was a recording device for those memories. The last memories of a god who died long ago... a god who had been me, in another life. A god by the name of Samael. This was the moment of my awakening as to who I had been. The first of many awakenings.
I could then hear a loud humming sound coming from below, and we could not at all discern where it came from... it seemed to be everywhere at once and yet nowhere at the same time. A woman rose up from the pit, wearing a black robe and a black mask, and she walked towards us like a ghost. She said to us: “There is always a price... for knowledge. And knowledge... is power. Power too, is not without cost!” And she placed her hand upon my sister's forehead. Some sort of green flame emerged from her hand, and Lira'taril screamed painfully. The woman then turned her head to me and said, threateningly: “I will give you what you seek... but the cost will be great.” And when she released my sister from her grasp the woman in black seemed to vanish into thin air as if she had never been there at all. At that point... the cavern began to hum and pulsate. “We should leave here, now!” I shouted, and grabbed my sister by the hand and led her out the way we came in. A stone slab sealed the ruins behind us as soon as we stepped on a hidden button on the flagstones on the way out. I still held the black jewel in my hand. That night... we stayed at a local farmhouse where the locals put us up for free once that knew who we really were. On the morning, we found our hosts dead, their bodies pale and their faces contorted by fear in their final moments. Nothing, to our recollection, had happened the previous night to account for their deaths. “No power is without cost.” So it was, and these deaths were only the dawn of the horrors.
Over the course of the next month, the nobles who had all plotted against us began to die in various mysterious ways... until at the end of it there were only a few desperate fools left out of the lot of them. I had given the black jewel to my sister for safekeeping, and she wore it in a somewhat large locket of sorts about her neck. People oft asked her about it, and ever she said that it was a gift from the gods. One day, however, she took ill and fell into a deep slumber. A frightful coma, actually. Nothing any of the court physicians could do would awaken her from that awful comatose state... and it seemed as if she had fallen even further than that, into an unexplained state that was neither living nor dead. I kept her in her chambers, guarded night and day by mute eunuch guards whose sole existence was to serve and protect her from any and all harm whatsoever. A woman in black came to the Imperial Palace one day, demanding to see me. The same woman from the caverns in which we took the black jewel. “Do you want her to live?” the woman told me at the palace doors when I came to see what she wanted. “Then let me in!” she demanded, and I had her allowed in. She strode through the palace halls, her bare feet padding along. Pale, white feet, as white as bone. “Who are you?” I asked her. “A memory.” she stated. “A memory of one long dead!” but I could not comprehend her meaning, since it was so cryptic.
Very soon we came to the empress' chambers and I brought that dark woman to the place where my sister lay unresponsive but still breathing. The woman placed her hands upon the locket, pried it open, and took the black jewel from it. She removed her mask and I saw that her face was just as white and colorless as her feet were. Here eyes were hidden partially by her hood and her lips were a bit parched and chapped looking, covered otherwise in black lip makeup much like that worn by that one torturer I spoke of previously. The woman took the jewel in her hands and kissed it. Then, she pressed something on it, and the stone came apart into two equal halves, for the thing had been hollow inside. Within, was a tiny circular vial of blood. “This was actually your blood, once.” the woman explained to me. “In your previous incarnation.” at which she opened the vial and poured some of the blood down into Lira'taril's mouth. She bade me drink the rest of it. “What now?” I asked. “Now... we wait.” the woman told me. And my sister's breathing stopped. She was utterly dead. The woman then said unto me: “Seek her in Atlan in forty years... she will be ruling there in that time as its' Princess. In that moment, you will be reunited. Do not mourn this empty shell... for all that was within it, is now within me. And all that is within me, shall be within the future Princess of Atlan, who will also be its' final Queen.” And I was in tears, my grief uncontrollable. “You killed her! You killed my sister, my love! Who... what... are you, witch?” and I angrily grabbed hold of her and tore her cloak away. “Let me see your face as look you in the eyes, murderess!” I said savagely. Her face was identical to my sister's save for the color of her bone white skin and her eyes, which were totally black with no white in them at all. “Oh all Fallen Lords of the Abyss!” I exclaimed upon seeing this. “This cannot be real... it cannot be!” and the woman said to me: “But it is real... I am your sister... was your sister... and Lira'taril was but one of my many names. Of old, I bore another, and you too bore another when first you beheld me like this. Seek me in Atlan, in forty years. I will be there, and we will topple its' evil empire, just as this one shall topple within three days time.” Within three days! I wondered what circumstances might transpire to bring this fully about.
I kept my promise to my sister... I wept for her, in public and inconsolably. It was a sincerely genuine shedding of tears and expression of grief, for my heart was broken by her loss. The woman... whatever she had been... left the palace that night and I did not see her again in that life. I asked all the guards if they recalled seeing her, and they all did, so I knew she had been real. I also knew... she had somehow stolen my sister's soul and left her lifeless. And the blood she had bade me drink, had done something to me. I began to have strange nightmares, and my body got hot flashes that grew worse with time. Old memories were returning to me, from other lives now long past, and I had nightmares every time I lay down to sleep. After ordering my sister's cremation, I had her ashes scattered in the Imperial Gardens and a bit of her blood used to trace a dedication in her name upon the Great Seal in the throne room. I was told this was in mockery of the gods to do such a thing, to which I said to the High Priest: “I AM a god now, and I will do as I please!” and I had him tortured nearly to death for his insolence. I was told that I was finally acting as a proper emperor of our race should act. I lost myself for a time in sex slaves and narcotic cocktails... and never stopped weeping for Lira'taril. I had gone utterly mad... and I ordered the two halves of the black jewel be placed into the front and back of the hilt of my father's silver long sword, which had been blessed against all evil things. I then used that very same sword to thus sacrifice countless slaves at a record rate... I wanted everyone to feel my pain, and I could no longer stop the rage welling up inside of me. What stopped me in the end, you may wonder? A child. A girl barely into her teens, with big wide eyes who was one of a group of slaves brought to the palace one day to witness the daily sacrifices that had become a part of my normal routine. She cried bitterly for me to stop, and said to me: “I used to think you were good! But you are just like all the others... a devil.” and I broke down and cried in front of the whole court, throwing my sword aside in my tormented state. I turned to the child, and asked her for her name. I knew her from someplace in another life, and she was dear to me.
“Shakirah.” she told me. In that instant, I pardoned her and ordained her a noble and a member of the imperial court, quite against every rule and law of the land. I stopped the sacrifices at that time, and I wondered why the Empire had not ended past the three days which the woman in black told me about. It had been three months later as of then, but then when I asked Shakirah her thoughts about it one day (for she had become my confidant by that point, and the only person in the Empire whom I trusted any longer) she told me a very strange fact I was not aware of. “Three months to us is but three days, to the Lords of the Abyss.” and the next morning I was told that a massive navy comprised of countless ships from both Pahan'gatab and Atlan was approaching the island menacingly. “They, mean to destroy our Empire utterly!” an adviser explained in a frightened tone of voice. I laughed evilly at that, and said: “Good! Let them come... let them all come, and thus come at once even.” and within the hour Shakirah begged me to kill her. “I do not want them to take me, to defile me as I hear tell human men are fond of doing to women of our race. Let me die... with my virtue and honor still intact.” and I granted her wish with a heavy heart, piercing her heart with my father's sword. Her blood spilled upon the black jewel, and I broke down and cried for her. “I think I was growing to truly love you, Shakirah!” Whose name meant “Sapphire” in the Old Speech of the Vril that was still spoken only by the El'vril nobility. That is how I knew she was meant to be a noble, for she bore a noble name though but a slave when first I met her. The enemy navy sacked the Imperial City the following day and all was burned to the ground. No one was left, there were no prisoners taken, no survivors to speak of. Except me. They left me alive and took me in chains first to Pahan'gatab and then to Atlan. It was a fateful trip and a very difficult voyage.
In Pahan'gatab, I met the remnants of the Titans and the Archons who were kept as “honored guests” of the nobility there. Mostly because the sorcerers of that land found useful the ancient information and technology that those old races could offer them. I did not put up a fight when they took me prisoner, so they allowed me to keep my father's sword. I took to wearing all black and red, and also to decorating my face with black makeup on my lips and about my eyes. I was dead now... a ghost... I took to looking like one. One of the Archons spotted me and shouted out to me across the docks as I was led from the ship that had carried me from the ashes of the Imperial Isle... of an empire that was now no more... to this, my new home for a long time to come. It was a tall blonde woman with peculiar green eyes, and she said: “Samael! Brother, is that you?” and I at first ignored her, but then when I saw she would not cease I shouted back: “Aye, it is I! Although that is no longer my given name.” and I do not know what possessed me to shout that. She then stormed forward and said: “I will claim this prisoner for myself, by right of the law.” and apparently she was of a high station indeed, for the guards allowed her to do so with no questions asked. “Why did they spare me? I just wanted to die!” I told the lady Archon, and she explained to me: “They were under orders to bring you hither, but not to slay you outright. I gave those orders myself ere the fleets left for the invasion, although the invasion was not my doing but rather the collective will of the people of the empires of Atlan and Pahan'gatab. The old gods too, had a hand in things, I believe, although they remain aloof in their own land across distant waters.” She told me her name was Dia'shana. “Astaphaios Dia'shana, sometimes called Sophia the Lesser.” and something about her seemed far too familiar although not from that life. From some previous one long gone. She was a warrior queen of some sort, by the account she gave me, of a race once “from far beyond the stars” and who now dwelt only beneath the Earth. “Why did you call me your brother? I do not even know you.” I asked, and Dia'shana told me, matter of fact in her tone: “I know you do not... yet. But within the next decade or two, you will remember me well enough, and who you used to be when last we two knew one another as well.” Over the next several years, she acquainted me with the various laws, customs, and languages of Pahan'gatab. I never could quite get over her height... eight feet tall... she even towered over the other Archons who seemed subservient to her most of the time. I was like a child before her.
But ever, she insisted on calling me her brother and treating me like one of the Archons myself. In time, I remembered all... she helped me to remember. And I rose high in the graces of the sorcerers of that land... a land which one day historians would call Lemuria. I had a life of great luxury there, and ease, and I was almost content for a time. Dia'shana was a most pleasant hostess indeed, and I lived in her lavish and opulent home with her, a great circular tower with a conical spire by the shores of the ocean. I felt... seduced... by her powerful will, and she and I became lovers the longer I remained there in her company. Though she was clearly a warrior, I had never once the occasion to see her engage in any sort of battle, for it seemed this empire was in a state of peace and security compared to the ever ready for war state of things in the lands of the El'vril whence I had come. “You are not used to peace?” Dia'shana asked me one day, seeing how perplexed I was by this. “No... my whole life was a struggle up until these years since you took me in.” “Do you... love me... brother?” she inquired earnestly of me one day. I then thought of my dead sister, of Lira'taril, and I said to her the truth. “I cannot fully do so, for my heart longs for one who is long dead. I was told that I would meet her again in great Atlan one day, although I have long since lost track of time and I know not how I would seek her out or when it would be possible to do so.” The pale woman (for she was very unnaturally pale, her hair nearly white it was so platinum a blonde) then laughed and smiled broadly, exclaiming: “You love a dead woman, yet you believe she lives still! How is that even possible?” and I told her what happened to my sister, about the black jewel, and how my ancient memories first returned to me upon touching it, more so after drinking the blood that had been inside of it. She felt sorry for me, and said to me with compassion in her voice: “I cannot give you your sister back. I cannot give you your people back, or your title. But I can give you warmth, love, and comfort if you allow me to.” and I told me quite humbly: “I would not do otherwise, for your kindness touches my heart most deeply. You may very much continue to so comfort me, and perhaps one day my destiny will become more clear to me.” and she jested, whispering: “Spoken like a true emperor! Your majesty, it shall be as you command.” and she did not mock me when she teasingly said this. It felt like a compliment, like an echo of one she once uttered to me on another world in time.
Before the next decade was over, my new companion had raised me high in the ranks of the Archons, and the Titans who were their servants. I learned how I had been their chief ruler once, and before that other things older by far than I could even begin to comprehend. They revered me as an old war hero who had returned home, and I felt for the first time as if I had found a place where I could truly belong. Pahan'gatab was an immoral land and every bit as mad and depraved as Kalaborea had been, for they and Atlan viewed themselves now as the successors to the El'vril's twisted legacy. All of their rites and rituals were no less bloody and cruel, but there was no one whom they seemed to be in any state of war with so things seemed quieter and less urgent now for me. But the time came, ere long, when that peace came to an end. For Atlan had grown in ambition and Pahan'gatab bowed to their will in order to spare themselves the same fate that befall the El'vril empire long before. It was the end of the “peaceful” era.
Atlan's navy, one day, blockaded all of the main harbors of Pahan'gatab and despite our new homeland being a larger continent with a truly massive capital city... Atlan's navy was known to use old forbidden technologies in battle that were said to have been stolen from the gods. Now, they came not in conquest but to demand something. They demanded that the Titans and the Archons... all including myself, since I was now counted as an Archon as well... be turned over to them so that we could thence be so brought before their king-emperor, who wished to learn what he could from us technology and sorcery-wise. We went willingly, to spare Pahan'gatab any suffering at Atlan's hands... and that was how I came to dwell in Atlan by the time which was spoken of in the woman in black's prophecy... a time which had come to pass. It was impossible to fight against the fate that was even now causing dire events to come to bear.
In the long decades since my sister's death and the fall of the Kalaborean Empire, Atlan had become the dominant power in the world, with colonies on virtually every major continent. From their capital city which bore the same name as their empire... Atlan... they were poised (or so rumors whispered) to attack the continent on which the gods lived. And their insane king-emperor plotted to do exactly that, but first he needed ancient, forbidden technologies that only Dia'shana and her people possessed. For the Archons were of the Vril race, as in a previous life I too had once been. That same life, in which I was called Samael. The people of Atlan did not speak my name... of all the great Archons I alone they insisted should remain nameless. I had now been reduced to that same state in which the slaves of the El'vril had once been. Deprived of name, rank, title, and all honors. I was simply called by them “The Necromancer” and that was all they called me. Only my fellow Archons honored me with my name and treated me with any true royal dignity. If you have read my other written works... then you will by now know what took place after that. How I met the reincarnation of my lost love, and how she became the final ruler of Atlan upon her father's death at the hands of the gods. How she suddenly went mad, and brought about the destruction of the capital city of Atlan and perished in doing so. How I tried to save her and could not, and how the gods in their great wrath and anger at having been challenged by the king-emperor of Atlan... launched the Great Deluge and annihilated all of the great empires of that era, causing even their continents to sink beneath the waves or be broken apart into bits so great was their fury and the destructive forces that they unleashed. In the end, the gods too took me prisoner along with my fellow Archons and decided to condemn us to be reincarnated as mortals in human forms. All this, if you have read my other writings, you know already. Before the end of Atlan came, its' rulers had me instated as a living deity in their most sacred temple, which once had been dedicated to the king of the gods. There, they made sacrifices unto me and tried to placate me with worship so that I would be far more well disposed to teaching them forbidden secrets. I rose from their prisoner to their chief deity, and yet even in that role I was a prisoner still! I longed to escape that place, and to take all of the other Archons with me, so that none of us need languish in such gilded servitude as we did in fabled Atlan.
Even in their heartfelt, if selfish, worshipful reverence of me... they still refused to utter my name. In place of this, they called me the Living God, for the common people of Atlan had decided that only the Archons and the Titans were real and worthy of worship, with the other gods in their distant land being ineffectual in their eyes at best, and charlatans at worst. “The gods have deceived all whom they have touched!” the high priest of the sacred temple once declared loudly during a ceremony honoring me. “It was the gods who laid low the divine Titans of old, and tore their home planet from its' rightful place in the distant heavens, smashing it into but small pieces of rubble that every so often do hurtle through the night skies! Did they care, the innocent lives that were snuffed out in that hour? What of the children of Rahab! Of the world that is no more... what of them, I ask? The gods are destroyers of worlds, and we shall not harbor their lies within our midst. Look to the Living God instead, and we shall be delivered!” and that was how the high priest would begin the prelude to the daily sacrifices that became ever more savage with each display of religious devotion. I never asked for this... for any of this. The temple was in the upper levels of the very highest tower in all the continent of Atlan, and this tower was called the Tower of Sacred Judgment. The Nal'kmaar'tlarna, as it was called in the tongues of the royal dynasties of Atlan. It was so named, because according to myth and legend the god of the ocean who formed the continent of Atlantis in even more primordial days had at first refused to allow anyone to live there. He would every day cause mighty waves to crash upon Atlan's shores, stopping any seagoing ships from at all being able to land upon the beaches. He would cause ferocious rains to fall upon its' lands, and so it was that neither by air nor by sea could anyone approach then-forbidden Atlan. That was when the first king and queen of the people who came to be called Atlanteans arrived, and spoke to the ancient god.
The god of the sea said unto the royal pair that he would stop the rain, and cease the harsh waves, on but one single condition. That being, that the people... should they decide to settle in Atlan and live on the land there... worship, revere, and give all their sacrifices unto the god of the sea and all the other of the gods, for it was by their fair judgment of these people that such grace was granted. Having once so judged in favor of the people who came to dwell in Atlan, the gods also declared that should ever there come a day when the gods are no longer revered, and should another come to sit in the holy temple and be worshiped in their stead... then, a new judgment would be undertaken, but this time against all of the land of Atlan itself, and any dwelling therein when such a day might come. And so, was I forced to be made party to blasphemy of the wickedest sort! To delight in it and relish it. For I was reminded daily of how the gods had done my own people, the Archons, such injury in times past, and inflicted upon us no end of tragedies. I became angry and wrathful towards the gods myself, and before the end came for all of Atlan... I knew that it was I who the ancient prophecy of the sea god warned against. For I sat in the temple, and was revered in his place, and in the place of all the other gods besides. Their statues were smashed, their shrines abandoned or desecrated, their precepts allowed to be forgotten by a generation that had no use for them any longer. Many of the surviving El'vril who dwelt in Atlan (for, many who had fled the destruction of their old empire came hither seeking asylum) had degenerated further, into a degree of madness the likes of which I had never imagined possible... even for such ever cruel beings as they were. Their sheer savagery had made of them something no longer beautiful, even in appearance, and they mutilated themselves in my name, tortured themselves, and in time became a race of brutish creatures the likes of which had not been seen since the last days of life on the planet humans call Mars. I had wished to escape the fate of being their ruler, and now it seemed that I was fated to lord it over a more beast-like variation of the once evil but refined people who had called me emperor once upon a time. I was lonely, but I was never alone... I was brought countless women and girls and bid to choose from among their number any who struck my fancy. I had wives, consorts, concubines and lovers in a great number... but I was unhappy and disgusted with the very people who sought to deify me, the ones who called Atlan their home. For all the technology they stole from the Archons, and all the knowledge they stole from me through seduction and guile, I never once allowed myself to believe that this was being done to honor me. Even when towards the end, it seemed that the people may have begun to love me more than their own political leaders and officials, even more than the man who sat upon the throne of the continent and its' legendary capital city. A frenzied madman who soon met his end going forth to Dilmun in the west... to fight against the very gods who would use that invasion as the pretext to at last annihilate Atlan utterly. Even with all the technology at his disposal, the ruler of Atlan failed to achieve aught but his own demise. The degenerated El'vril had survived the decimation of Atlan in the end, and in time became a separate species entirely from the original El'vril. They could no longer abide living in the lands of the surface lit by the sun's light... and so they went deep underground, even unto legendary Agartha itself, and did find in such secret places their refuge. They forgot the name of their kindred in time, and called their species by the name Ur'kril which meant “Demon” in their language, with Ur'krili meaning “Demons”... which had been a term by which humanity had often referred to the El'vril when attempting to demonize them in order to justify their prejudices against all of “Elven” kind. How ironic!
I could not have known at all back then, however, that a great many peoples of the “original” El'vril race had also survived... but they did not journey unto far Atlan and so never became corrupted into the twisted forms of the Ur'kril, unlike their kindred who had ventured there. This “pure” Elven race grew to hate and despise the Ur'kril, whom they saw as inferior to themselves... and ever after, whenever the two distant kindred would meet throughout history, it would be as enemies. For still did the Ur'kril hold to their worship of their Living God, whom they now called the Black God. Still, they sought sacrifices.
In the days after the downfall of Atlan, and after the judgment passed upon myself and so many others like unto me, whereby we were rendered mortal... the world had changed and not for the better. All the old races and peoples and kindred species were scattered unto all the ends of the Earth's surface, and all the regions that lay beneath as well. New tongues were spoken by younger nations and peoples whom I no longer recognized, since their ties to their more ancient predecessors seemed at times to almost have been severed utterly. The human race itself had become a race with selective amnesia, for they seemed to not wish any longer to know aught of their own origins, preferring invented legends and wild myths that they passed down around their campfires when trying to fathom how they had come to be at such a low point in the larger scheme of things. They remembered Atlantis, certainly enough, but forgot all of what transpired there save in the form of the phantasms of distant memories which would resurface in bastardized forms down through all the ages of humanity to come. All they knew, was that some great evil took place there, and the gods in their wrath punished Atlantis for its' transgressions. Of old Eden they remembered even less, and I had not the heart to enlighten them in those days. To many, I was the Devil, and the author of countless woes, and Lilith had been Death itself, with the knowledge we tried to teach early humans... being considered forbidden and evil to know anything about. Our very beliefs, our thoughts, and our traditions had to be kept in secret. In that way, I had come to understand the sad plight of the Ur'kril, who had been driven into the shadows by a world that had become hostile to them.
Not since the darkness of the Hyperborean Ragnarok and the fiery destruction of the Yggdrasil... had there been such a dark age! The survivors of Atlantis and those other destroyed great nations of the past had lost their way, their once-coveted technologies were no more, and what remained was referred to as either magic or the work of the gods. As when Lilith and I left Eden, so was I once more left seeking a new place to call my home. In time I would in fact find it, and other places which would come to offer me a measure of comfort. I lost track of how many times I died, and was reincarnated, only to live and die once again. Reincarnation is not an uncommon thing, and among humans it is likewise common... but for my kind, we never forget the lives that came before. Always, in every fresh incarnation, we are made to remember all that came before. That is the only form of immortality still allotted for us to savor aside from the immortality of our souls and spirits, which nothing can take away. And so do I remember all of my previous incarnations still, and to me it may as well have been one long existence. Each of my deaths, being but pauses along an endless journey. The gods could never destroy us, and so they sought to humble us, while abandoning this world to the whims of fate. They would return, over the centuries, every so often throughout the ages... but even they were but pale imitations of their former glorious past selves. They, who had thought to make of the Archons and the Titans such an example... had in the end become entrapped in the same prisons of flesh that they had cast their ancient enemies into. Still do the great Vril remain in their hidden cities beneath the upper surface of this world, in the sprawling recesses of Agartha, where only the worthy are permitted to tread. The way is closed to all who seek it without the purest of intentions! And from their shining cities, the Vril watch the doings of humanity through all the years that pass into centuries, and they wait to see what mankind will do. The time is not yet nigh for them to emerge once again, but one day when the stars shall align just right and when mankind has evolved beyond its' current warlike state (for even in this supposedly modern era, the human race is far too fond of war and destruction)... then, and only then, will it be the hour in which Vril and human may meet with peace as the outcome of that meeting. But in the meantime, the mysteries of Agartha will be closed to all who do not seek after such with wisdom as their guide. It remains to be seen of the present age of human history, whether or not it will end better than the period which witnessed the destruction of Atlantis and so many other now-legendary lost domains. But is a thing truly ever lost, if it is still in a certain capacity remembered? And in that small way, ancient Atlan gained its' own immortality after all.
And so, this is where I must end this account of that life, for there it ends indeed. I did not include the trivial things, the in-between journeys and adventures and happenings that took place all throughout the years, for they could fill volumes of their own. This is all just to give you an idea, upon reading this, of what that life of mine consisted of... and of what I (in basic essence) recall of my beloved Lilith, during the span of that life. My times with her seem fleeting in that span, and yet they all had such a profound impact upon me that I cannot help but think of them. Now you know of them through all my words and know how much she had meant to me. Interestingly enough... the legendary black jewel was taken by the gods and both halves of it were removed from the sword into which I had so placed them. The gods then took them and placed them in the massive black pearl that would one day be hidden away in the land of Ys. The destruction of that pearl at my own hands and the opening of the great floodgates on Ys' dam by Lilith in her incarnation as Dahut were the events that caused the flooding of Ys. Ironically, in two of her lives she would cause the destruction of the capital city of a great empire... each because of insanity. But in neither case, was the madness inherent to the woman herself; rather, it was a reflection of the madness within those around her. I believe that her death as Lira'taril drove her spirit mad, and scarred a part of her spiritual psyche irreparably, turning her into the woman in black... who somehow found a way to journey back in time to try and save her former self. Failing to do so, she was trapped in a time paradox whereby she was destined to die and destined to fail to save herself no matter what, and the knowledge of this I believe drove her insane. She is not evil in any true sense of the word, and if it were possible for her to live in an existence whereby that cycle of death and misery did not exist, then she would be happy and healed as a result. But such fated moments in time cannot be altered, and so there will always be a part of her that is affected by it as a result. I have often wept, at knowing her fate.
As for myself... I have never been the same since I touched that black jewel for the first time. I am as I am, and one day when Lilith and I are reunited not ever to part again... I suspect that I too will be healed and able to put all of the horrors of the past behind me. As for a certain Sapphira, a girl of whom I have written in many of my other works... she was the girl named Shakirah, of whom I wrote herein. I have often strongly suspected that when she so adamantly demanded that I kill her with that sword, the black jewel in it somehow managed to cause a small portion of her own spirit, to be transferred and merged into my own. It was once of old designed both to record and preserve a person's memories and essence through their very blood, so that these things might not be lost upon someone's death. These things can be retrieved from the object, but only by someone who was destined and intended to retrieve them. All others could experience madness, followed by a horrific death. And so that is how a tiny part of her did come to be bound to me beyond her death in that life, and it thus remains a part of me to this very day.
In this present life... I was once told, that I had absorbed the spirits of five fire elemental beings... and the only way that could be possible is if when I destroyed that black pearl in Ys, and with it the remains of the black jewel within it, the power that it once held to take spiritual energy from someone, and then store it along with a copy of their thoughts and memories, and transfer them to another compatible host (the one who holds it, or wields it in the case of that sword), somehow that highly dark and forbidden power became permanently embedded into my spiritual makeup to such an extent that no matter what body I have come to inhabit, that ability has remained dormant within me, surfacing only under certain circumstances. So Lilith and I each were permanently altered unto our very cores by the events I have related here... thus, why it was so very crucial to speak of it. The irony? It was said that the black jewel was once a part of Samael that was taken from that being upon its' death by the gods and given the form of the black jewel. So in the end, it found a way to return to me and become a part of me once again, as it clearly had been back when I was the Vril Archon Samael. So, it was all the work of fate and destiny.
Lira'taril asked me one night, as we talked over our plans to leave behind us the empire that we had been not too long before called upon to rule as its' emperor and empress, whilst lying in bed together: “Where would we go, though, Asra'ka? All of the world hates and fears us!” and I determined that we should travel until we seek and find one of the fabled entrances to subterranean Agartha or failing that discover a different place in which we might live on the mainland of one of the continents not ruled by Kalaborea or any of its' enemies. “The choice can be yours, my beloved, as to which course we could choose to take.” I offered her. She then countered: “Or, we could free the God of the Blackblood Stone and use his power to destroy those plotting nobles who even now dare to scheme against us!” and in truth I had not considered that as a possibility. “No one knows where his dwelling place lies.” I stated, to which Lira'taril revealed: “It lies right on this island... but underneath the ruins of the first Imperial Palace from the earliest of days. I can show you the way, if you like!” and I agreed to allow her to take me hither. It was an insane, perhaps even suicidal endeavor, but it was the only way that we knew of!
We both departed the palace in secret the very next evening, wearing masks and black hooded cloaks to hide our features and disguise our identities. My sister led me by chariot across the wild countryside of the island... the trees and forests of which were many colored and which held foliage of all sorts from many parts of the world. It was a chaotic land, with sharp, jagged cliffs along nearly all the coasts save the capital city's harbor... and the animals that were indigenous to the region were like not any as found elsewhere in the world. It took us two days to reach the ruins, stopping at towns and villages along the way to spend the evenings. But reach them we did, and Lira'taril led me down through secret ways into a network of underground passages that led out into a great cavern. It was partly carved by El'vril hands and partly natural, that cavern, and in the center of it (it was roughly circular) were many great pillars of rock that encircled a kind of natural sort of amphitheater. At its' precise center, there lay a deep shaft cut into the rock and it seemed to have no bottom to it at all. Suspended just above it, was an massive egg-shaped object covered in a black cloth with blood red trim. Huge chains kept it thus suspended from the ceiling high, incalculably high above. “What is this?” I asked, and my sister told me knowingly. “This, is the vessel of the God of the Blackblood Stone, or so they say. Father's manuscripts all mentioned this in them, at least the ones I read when I had the chance to.” And I asked her: “How do we free this god?” and she pointed to an old wooden lever set into the ground nearby, which was itself attached by various mechanisms to a system by which the object over the pit could be brought over and lowered unto the ground without dropping it into the chasm far below. “Or... it could be cast below and lost forever.” she stated. “But why... why would someone create the means to seal this deep away? It is too valuable, too sacred.” I asked, and my sister told me why... “Because it is both forbidden, and dangerous to toy with. Precisely why we have need of it!” and we brought the object over and set it down. As it hit the floor, the chains loosened and the object slipped out of its' bindings. I removed the cloth and beneath it was a massive egg-shaped blood-red gemstone with a smaller, totally round black jewel sealed within it. The whole thing was warm to the touch and pulsated a bit when I placed my hands upon it. “Is it alive?” I asked, and my sister confirmed that it was. “That jewel, is all that remains of the old god we seek to set free. He was said to be a great god who dwelt in a garden somewhere on one of the continents of the west... he was driven from his garden home and came to live in exile on the shores of a great red sea. There, he dwelt for an age until wanderlust overtook him and none know what became of him after that save that our ancestors found him as he was dying and they plucked this black jewel from his body and placed it in this great ruby. It is said that the jewel contains part of his soul that was stolen from him by the gods of our ancestors during the hour of his death, whilst some other part of his soul lived on and took form elsewhere. That is all anyone knows, save that he was a great Lord of the Abyss. And also...”
“He was a god of Death! And, that they say that should Death's Jewel be freed from out its' prison the old god would return and none could stand against him.” And I remembered thus reading in one of our father's other hidden scrolls... “And there was also a Black Goddess, who was with him... although of her nothing is known save that she existed.” Upon saying this out loud, I could hear a thumping sound coming from the ruby. “How do we break it... it is massive!” I exclaimed, my tone rather more than a bit desperate sounding. My sister remained calm, as was her want, and told me: “It is not solid though... it is fragile like glass is, for it is not a real ruby in fact. Take any heavy object and smash it, and you will be able to claim the dark prize that lies within it.” And nearby was a run-down shack in which mining tools were kept. I found a large hammer and brought it over, barely even able to lift it at all. Somehow I managed it, and brought it up and then down with all my might unto the ruby, which was shattered in a way that collapsed it inwardly, allowing the black jewel to be retrieved. I held it in my right hand, with my left hand clasped over it, and whispering voices seemed to echo in my mind even as I did so. Old memories from past lives and other times... the jewel was a recording device for those memories. The last memories of a god who died long ago... a god who had been me, in another life. A god by the name of Samael. This was the moment of my awakening as to who I had been. The first of many awakenings.
I could then hear a loud humming sound coming from below, and we could not at all discern where it came from... it seemed to be everywhere at once and yet nowhere at the same time. A woman rose up from the pit, wearing a black robe and a black mask, and she walked towards us like a ghost. She said to us: “There is always a price... for knowledge. And knowledge... is power. Power too, is not without cost!” And she placed her hand upon my sister's forehead. Some sort of green flame emerged from her hand, and Lira'taril screamed painfully. The woman then turned her head to me and said, threateningly: “I will give you what you seek... but the cost will be great.” And when she released my sister from her grasp the woman in black seemed to vanish into thin air as if she had never been there at all. At that point... the cavern began to hum and pulsate. “We should leave here, now!” I shouted, and grabbed my sister by the hand and led her out the way we came in. A stone slab sealed the ruins behind us as soon as we stepped on a hidden button on the flagstones on the way out. I still held the black jewel in my hand. That night... we stayed at a local farmhouse where the locals put us up for free once that knew who we really were. On the morning, we found our hosts dead, their bodies pale and their faces contorted by fear in their final moments. Nothing, to our recollection, had happened the previous night to account for their deaths. “No power is without cost.” So it was, and these deaths were only the dawn of the horrors.
Over the course of the next month, the nobles who had all plotted against us began to die in various mysterious ways... until at the end of it there were only a few desperate fools left out of the lot of them. I had given the black jewel to my sister for safekeeping, and she wore it in a somewhat large locket of sorts about her neck. People oft asked her about it, and ever she said that it was a gift from the gods. One day, however, she took ill and fell into a deep slumber. A frightful coma, actually. Nothing any of the court physicians could do would awaken her from that awful comatose state... and it seemed as if she had fallen even further than that, into an unexplained state that was neither living nor dead. I kept her in her chambers, guarded night and day by mute eunuch guards whose sole existence was to serve and protect her from any and all harm whatsoever. A woman in black came to the Imperial Palace one day, demanding to see me. The same woman from the caverns in which we took the black jewel. “Do you want her to live?” the woman told me at the palace doors when I came to see what she wanted. “Then let me in!” she demanded, and I had her allowed in. She strode through the palace halls, her bare feet padding along. Pale, white feet, as white as bone. “Who are you?” I asked her. “A memory.” she stated. “A memory of one long dead!” but I could not comprehend her meaning, since it was so cryptic.
Very soon we came to the empress' chambers and I brought that dark woman to the place where my sister lay unresponsive but still breathing. The woman placed her hands upon the locket, pried it open, and took the black jewel from it. She removed her mask and I saw that her face was just as white and colorless as her feet were. Here eyes were hidden partially by her hood and her lips were a bit parched and chapped looking, covered otherwise in black lip makeup much like that worn by that one torturer I spoke of previously. The woman took the jewel in her hands and kissed it. Then, she pressed something on it, and the stone came apart into two equal halves, for the thing had been hollow inside. Within, was a tiny circular vial of blood. “This was actually your blood, once.” the woman explained to me. “In your previous incarnation.” at which she opened the vial and poured some of the blood down into Lira'taril's mouth. She bade me drink the rest of it. “What now?” I asked. “Now... we wait.” the woman told me. And my sister's breathing stopped. She was utterly dead. The woman then said unto me: “Seek her in Atlan in forty years... she will be ruling there in that time as its' Princess. In that moment, you will be reunited. Do not mourn this empty shell... for all that was within it, is now within me. And all that is within me, shall be within the future Princess of Atlan, who will also be its' final Queen.” And I was in tears, my grief uncontrollable. “You killed her! You killed my sister, my love! Who... what... are you, witch?” and I angrily grabbed hold of her and tore her cloak away. “Let me see your face as look you in the eyes, murderess!” I said savagely. Her face was identical to my sister's save for the color of her bone white skin and her eyes, which were totally black with no white in them at all. “Oh all Fallen Lords of the Abyss!” I exclaimed upon seeing this. “This cannot be real... it cannot be!” and the woman said to me: “But it is real... I am your sister... was your sister... and Lira'taril was but one of my many names. Of old, I bore another, and you too bore another when first you beheld me like this. Seek me in Atlan, in forty years. I will be there, and we will topple its' evil empire, just as this one shall topple within three days time.” Within three days! I wondered what circumstances might transpire to bring this fully about.
I kept my promise to my sister... I wept for her, in public and inconsolably. It was a sincerely genuine shedding of tears and expression of grief, for my heart was broken by her loss. The woman... whatever she had been... left the palace that night and I did not see her again in that life. I asked all the guards if they recalled seeing her, and they all did, so I knew she had been real. I also knew... she had somehow stolen my sister's soul and left her lifeless. And the blood she had bade me drink, had done something to me. I began to have strange nightmares, and my body got hot flashes that grew worse with time. Old memories were returning to me, from other lives now long past, and I had nightmares every time I lay down to sleep. After ordering my sister's cremation, I had her ashes scattered in the Imperial Gardens and a bit of her blood used to trace a dedication in her name upon the Great Seal in the throne room. I was told this was in mockery of the gods to do such a thing, to which I said to the High Priest: “I AM a god now, and I will do as I please!” and I had him tortured nearly to death for his insolence. I was told that I was finally acting as a proper emperor of our race should act. I lost myself for a time in sex slaves and narcotic cocktails... and never stopped weeping for Lira'taril. I had gone utterly mad... and I ordered the two halves of the black jewel be placed into the front and back of the hilt of my father's silver long sword, which had been blessed against all evil things. I then used that very same sword to thus sacrifice countless slaves at a record rate... I wanted everyone to feel my pain, and I could no longer stop the rage welling up inside of me. What stopped me in the end, you may wonder? A child. A girl barely into her teens, with big wide eyes who was one of a group of slaves brought to the palace one day to witness the daily sacrifices that had become a part of my normal routine. She cried bitterly for me to stop, and said to me: “I used to think you were good! But you are just like all the others... a devil.” and I broke down and cried in front of the whole court, throwing my sword aside in my tormented state. I turned to the child, and asked her for her name. I knew her from someplace in another life, and she was dear to me.
“Shakirah.” she told me. In that instant, I pardoned her and ordained her a noble and a member of the imperial court, quite against every rule and law of the land. I stopped the sacrifices at that time, and I wondered why the Empire had not ended past the three days which the woman in black told me about. It had been three months later as of then, but then when I asked Shakirah her thoughts about it one day (for she had become my confidant by that point, and the only person in the Empire whom I trusted any longer) she told me a very strange fact I was not aware of. “Three months to us is but three days, to the Lords of the Abyss.” and the next morning I was told that a massive navy comprised of countless ships from both Pahan'gatab and Atlan was approaching the island menacingly. “They, mean to destroy our Empire utterly!” an adviser explained in a frightened tone of voice. I laughed evilly at that, and said: “Good! Let them come... let them all come, and thus come at once even.” and within the hour Shakirah begged me to kill her. “I do not want them to take me, to defile me as I hear tell human men are fond of doing to women of our race. Let me die... with my virtue and honor still intact.” and I granted her wish with a heavy heart, piercing her heart with my father's sword. Her blood spilled upon the black jewel, and I broke down and cried for her. “I think I was growing to truly love you, Shakirah!” Whose name meant “Sapphire” in the Old Speech of the Vril that was still spoken only by the El'vril nobility. That is how I knew she was meant to be a noble, for she bore a noble name though but a slave when first I met her. The enemy navy sacked the Imperial City the following day and all was burned to the ground. No one was left, there were no prisoners taken, no survivors to speak of. Except me. They left me alive and took me in chains first to Pahan'gatab and then to Atlan. It was a fateful trip and a very difficult voyage.
In Pahan'gatab, I met the remnants of the Titans and the Archons who were kept as “honored guests” of the nobility there. Mostly because the sorcerers of that land found useful the ancient information and technology that those old races could offer them. I did not put up a fight when they took me prisoner, so they allowed me to keep my father's sword. I took to wearing all black and red, and also to decorating my face with black makeup on my lips and about my eyes. I was dead now... a ghost... I took to looking like one. One of the Archons spotted me and shouted out to me across the docks as I was led from the ship that had carried me from the ashes of the Imperial Isle... of an empire that was now no more... to this, my new home for a long time to come. It was a tall blonde woman with peculiar green eyes, and she said: “Samael! Brother, is that you?” and I at first ignored her, but then when I saw she would not cease I shouted back: “Aye, it is I! Although that is no longer my given name.” and I do not know what possessed me to shout that. She then stormed forward and said: “I will claim this prisoner for myself, by right of the law.” and apparently she was of a high station indeed, for the guards allowed her to do so with no questions asked. “Why did they spare me? I just wanted to die!” I told the lady Archon, and she explained to me: “They were under orders to bring you hither, but not to slay you outright. I gave those orders myself ere the fleets left for the invasion, although the invasion was not my doing but rather the collective will of the people of the empires of Atlan and Pahan'gatab. The old gods too, had a hand in things, I believe, although they remain aloof in their own land across distant waters.” She told me her name was Dia'shana. “Astaphaios Dia'shana, sometimes called Sophia the Lesser.” and something about her seemed far too familiar although not from that life. From some previous one long gone. She was a warrior queen of some sort, by the account she gave me, of a race once “from far beyond the stars” and who now dwelt only beneath the Earth. “Why did you call me your brother? I do not even know you.” I asked, and Dia'shana told me, matter of fact in her tone: “I know you do not... yet. But within the next decade or two, you will remember me well enough, and who you used to be when last we two knew one another as well.” Over the next several years, she acquainted me with the various laws, customs, and languages of Pahan'gatab. I never could quite get over her height... eight feet tall... she even towered over the other Archons who seemed subservient to her most of the time. I was like a child before her.
But ever, she insisted on calling me her brother and treating me like one of the Archons myself. In time, I remembered all... she helped me to remember. And I rose high in the graces of the sorcerers of that land... a land which one day historians would call Lemuria. I had a life of great luxury there, and ease, and I was almost content for a time. Dia'shana was a most pleasant hostess indeed, and I lived in her lavish and opulent home with her, a great circular tower with a conical spire by the shores of the ocean. I felt... seduced... by her powerful will, and she and I became lovers the longer I remained there in her company. Though she was clearly a warrior, I had never once the occasion to see her engage in any sort of battle, for it seemed this empire was in a state of peace and security compared to the ever ready for war state of things in the lands of the El'vril whence I had come. “You are not used to peace?” Dia'shana asked me one day, seeing how perplexed I was by this. “No... my whole life was a struggle up until these years since you took me in.” “Do you... love me... brother?” she inquired earnestly of me one day. I then thought of my dead sister, of Lira'taril, and I said to her the truth. “I cannot fully do so, for my heart longs for one who is long dead. I was told that I would meet her again in great Atlan one day, although I have long since lost track of time and I know not how I would seek her out or when it would be possible to do so.” The pale woman (for she was very unnaturally pale, her hair nearly white it was so platinum a blonde) then laughed and smiled broadly, exclaiming: “You love a dead woman, yet you believe she lives still! How is that even possible?” and I told her what happened to my sister, about the black jewel, and how my ancient memories first returned to me upon touching it, more so after drinking the blood that had been inside of it. She felt sorry for me, and said to me with compassion in her voice: “I cannot give you your sister back. I cannot give you your people back, or your title. But I can give you warmth, love, and comfort if you allow me to.” and I told me quite humbly: “I would not do otherwise, for your kindness touches my heart most deeply. You may very much continue to so comfort me, and perhaps one day my destiny will become more clear to me.” and she jested, whispering: “Spoken like a true emperor! Your majesty, it shall be as you command.” and she did not mock me when she teasingly said this. It felt like a compliment, like an echo of one she once uttered to me on another world in time.
Before the next decade was over, my new companion had raised me high in the ranks of the Archons, and the Titans who were their servants. I learned how I had been their chief ruler once, and before that other things older by far than I could even begin to comprehend. They revered me as an old war hero who had returned home, and I felt for the first time as if I had found a place where I could truly belong. Pahan'gatab was an immoral land and every bit as mad and depraved as Kalaborea had been, for they and Atlan viewed themselves now as the successors to the El'vril's twisted legacy. All of their rites and rituals were no less bloody and cruel, but there was no one whom they seemed to be in any state of war with so things seemed quieter and less urgent now for me. But the time came, ere long, when that peace came to an end. For Atlan had grown in ambition and Pahan'gatab bowed to their will in order to spare themselves the same fate that befall the El'vril empire long before. It was the end of the “peaceful” era.
Atlan's navy, one day, blockaded all of the main harbors of Pahan'gatab and despite our new homeland being a larger continent with a truly massive capital city... Atlan's navy was known to use old forbidden technologies in battle that were said to have been stolen from the gods. Now, they came not in conquest but to demand something. They demanded that the Titans and the Archons... all including myself, since I was now counted as an Archon as well... be turned over to them so that we could thence be so brought before their king-emperor, who wished to learn what he could from us technology and sorcery-wise. We went willingly, to spare Pahan'gatab any suffering at Atlan's hands... and that was how I came to dwell in Atlan by the time which was spoken of in the woman in black's prophecy... a time which had come to pass. It was impossible to fight against the fate that was even now causing dire events to come to bear.
In the long decades since my sister's death and the fall of the Kalaborean Empire, Atlan had become the dominant power in the world, with colonies on virtually every major continent. From their capital city which bore the same name as their empire... Atlan... they were poised (or so rumors whispered) to attack the continent on which the gods lived. And their insane king-emperor plotted to do exactly that, but first he needed ancient, forbidden technologies that only Dia'shana and her people possessed. For the Archons were of the Vril race, as in a previous life I too had once been. That same life, in which I was called Samael. The people of Atlan did not speak my name... of all the great Archons I alone they insisted should remain nameless. I had now been reduced to that same state in which the slaves of the El'vril had once been. Deprived of name, rank, title, and all honors. I was simply called by them “The Necromancer” and that was all they called me. Only my fellow Archons honored me with my name and treated me with any true royal dignity. If you have read my other written works... then you will by now know what took place after that. How I met the reincarnation of my lost love, and how she became the final ruler of Atlan upon her father's death at the hands of the gods. How she suddenly went mad, and brought about the destruction of the capital city of Atlan and perished in doing so. How I tried to save her and could not, and how the gods in their great wrath and anger at having been challenged by the king-emperor of Atlan... launched the Great Deluge and annihilated all of the great empires of that era, causing even their continents to sink beneath the waves or be broken apart into bits so great was their fury and the destructive forces that they unleashed. In the end, the gods too took me prisoner along with my fellow Archons and decided to condemn us to be reincarnated as mortals in human forms. All this, if you have read my other writings, you know already. Before the end of Atlan came, its' rulers had me instated as a living deity in their most sacred temple, which once had been dedicated to the king of the gods. There, they made sacrifices unto me and tried to placate me with worship so that I would be far more well disposed to teaching them forbidden secrets. I rose from their prisoner to their chief deity, and yet even in that role I was a prisoner still! I longed to escape that place, and to take all of the other Archons with me, so that none of us need languish in such gilded servitude as we did in fabled Atlan.
Even in their heartfelt, if selfish, worshipful reverence of me... they still refused to utter my name. In place of this, they called me the Living God, for the common people of Atlan had decided that only the Archons and the Titans were real and worthy of worship, with the other gods in their distant land being ineffectual in their eyes at best, and charlatans at worst. “The gods have deceived all whom they have touched!” the high priest of the sacred temple once declared loudly during a ceremony honoring me. “It was the gods who laid low the divine Titans of old, and tore their home planet from its' rightful place in the distant heavens, smashing it into but small pieces of rubble that every so often do hurtle through the night skies! Did they care, the innocent lives that were snuffed out in that hour? What of the children of Rahab! Of the world that is no more... what of them, I ask? The gods are destroyers of worlds, and we shall not harbor their lies within our midst. Look to the Living God instead, and we shall be delivered!” and that was how the high priest would begin the prelude to the daily sacrifices that became ever more savage with each display of religious devotion. I never asked for this... for any of this. The temple was in the upper levels of the very highest tower in all the continent of Atlan, and this tower was called the Tower of Sacred Judgment. The Nal'kmaar'tlarna, as it was called in the tongues of the royal dynasties of Atlan. It was so named, because according to myth and legend the god of the ocean who formed the continent of Atlantis in even more primordial days had at first refused to allow anyone to live there. He would every day cause mighty waves to crash upon Atlan's shores, stopping any seagoing ships from at all being able to land upon the beaches. He would cause ferocious rains to fall upon its' lands, and so it was that neither by air nor by sea could anyone approach then-forbidden Atlan. That was when the first king and queen of the people who came to be called Atlanteans arrived, and spoke to the ancient god.
The god of the sea said unto the royal pair that he would stop the rain, and cease the harsh waves, on but one single condition. That being, that the people... should they decide to settle in Atlan and live on the land there... worship, revere, and give all their sacrifices unto the god of the sea and all the other of the gods, for it was by their fair judgment of these people that such grace was granted. Having once so judged in favor of the people who came to dwell in Atlan, the gods also declared that should ever there come a day when the gods are no longer revered, and should another come to sit in the holy temple and be worshiped in their stead... then, a new judgment would be undertaken, but this time against all of the land of Atlan itself, and any dwelling therein when such a day might come. And so, was I forced to be made party to blasphemy of the wickedest sort! To delight in it and relish it. For I was reminded daily of how the gods had done my own people, the Archons, such injury in times past, and inflicted upon us no end of tragedies. I became angry and wrathful towards the gods myself, and before the end came for all of Atlan... I knew that it was I who the ancient prophecy of the sea god warned against. For I sat in the temple, and was revered in his place, and in the place of all the other gods besides. Their statues were smashed, their shrines abandoned or desecrated, their precepts allowed to be forgotten by a generation that had no use for them any longer. Many of the surviving El'vril who dwelt in Atlan (for, many who had fled the destruction of their old empire came hither seeking asylum) had degenerated further, into a degree of madness the likes of which I had never imagined possible... even for such ever cruel beings as they were. Their sheer savagery had made of them something no longer beautiful, even in appearance, and they mutilated themselves in my name, tortured themselves, and in time became a race of brutish creatures the likes of which had not been seen since the last days of life on the planet humans call Mars. I had wished to escape the fate of being their ruler, and now it seemed that I was fated to lord it over a more beast-like variation of the once evil but refined people who had called me emperor once upon a time. I was lonely, but I was never alone... I was brought countless women and girls and bid to choose from among their number any who struck my fancy. I had wives, consorts, concubines and lovers in a great number... but I was unhappy and disgusted with the very people who sought to deify me, the ones who called Atlan their home. For all the technology they stole from the Archons, and all the knowledge they stole from me through seduction and guile, I never once allowed myself to believe that this was being done to honor me. Even when towards the end, it seemed that the people may have begun to love me more than their own political leaders and officials, even more than the man who sat upon the throne of the continent and its' legendary capital city. A frenzied madman who soon met his end going forth to Dilmun in the west... to fight against the very gods who would use that invasion as the pretext to at last annihilate Atlan utterly. Even with all the technology at his disposal, the ruler of Atlan failed to achieve aught but his own demise. The degenerated El'vril had survived the decimation of Atlan in the end, and in time became a separate species entirely from the original El'vril. They could no longer abide living in the lands of the surface lit by the sun's light... and so they went deep underground, even unto legendary Agartha itself, and did find in such secret places their refuge. They forgot the name of their kindred in time, and called their species by the name Ur'kril which meant “Demon” in their language, with Ur'krili meaning “Demons”... which had been a term by which humanity had often referred to the El'vril when attempting to demonize them in order to justify their prejudices against all of “Elven” kind. How ironic!
I could not have known at all back then, however, that a great many peoples of the “original” El'vril race had also survived... but they did not journey unto far Atlan and so never became corrupted into the twisted forms of the Ur'kril, unlike their kindred who had ventured there. This “pure” Elven race grew to hate and despise the Ur'kril, whom they saw as inferior to themselves... and ever after, whenever the two distant kindred would meet throughout history, it would be as enemies. For still did the Ur'kril hold to their worship of their Living God, whom they now called the Black God. Still, they sought sacrifices.
In the days after the downfall of Atlan, and after the judgment passed upon myself and so many others like unto me, whereby we were rendered mortal... the world had changed and not for the better. All the old races and peoples and kindred species were scattered unto all the ends of the Earth's surface, and all the regions that lay beneath as well. New tongues were spoken by younger nations and peoples whom I no longer recognized, since their ties to their more ancient predecessors seemed at times to almost have been severed utterly. The human race itself had become a race with selective amnesia, for they seemed to not wish any longer to know aught of their own origins, preferring invented legends and wild myths that they passed down around their campfires when trying to fathom how they had come to be at such a low point in the larger scheme of things. They remembered Atlantis, certainly enough, but forgot all of what transpired there save in the form of the phantasms of distant memories which would resurface in bastardized forms down through all the ages of humanity to come. All they knew, was that some great evil took place there, and the gods in their wrath punished Atlantis for its' transgressions. Of old Eden they remembered even less, and I had not the heart to enlighten them in those days. To many, I was the Devil, and the author of countless woes, and Lilith had been Death itself, with the knowledge we tried to teach early humans... being considered forbidden and evil to know anything about. Our very beliefs, our thoughts, and our traditions had to be kept in secret. In that way, I had come to understand the sad plight of the Ur'kril, who had been driven into the shadows by a world that had become hostile to them.
Not since the darkness of the Hyperborean Ragnarok and the fiery destruction of the Yggdrasil... had there been such a dark age! The survivors of Atlantis and those other destroyed great nations of the past had lost their way, their once-coveted technologies were no more, and what remained was referred to as either magic or the work of the gods. As when Lilith and I left Eden, so was I once more left seeking a new place to call my home. In time I would in fact find it, and other places which would come to offer me a measure of comfort. I lost track of how many times I died, and was reincarnated, only to live and die once again. Reincarnation is not an uncommon thing, and among humans it is likewise common... but for my kind, we never forget the lives that came before. Always, in every fresh incarnation, we are made to remember all that came before. That is the only form of immortality still allotted for us to savor aside from the immortality of our souls and spirits, which nothing can take away. And so do I remember all of my previous incarnations still, and to me it may as well have been one long existence. Each of my deaths, being but pauses along an endless journey. The gods could never destroy us, and so they sought to humble us, while abandoning this world to the whims of fate. They would return, over the centuries, every so often throughout the ages... but even they were but pale imitations of their former glorious past selves. They, who had thought to make of the Archons and the Titans such an example... had in the end become entrapped in the same prisons of flesh that they had cast their ancient enemies into. Still do the great Vril remain in their hidden cities beneath the upper surface of this world, in the sprawling recesses of Agartha, where only the worthy are permitted to tread. The way is closed to all who seek it without the purest of intentions! And from their shining cities, the Vril watch the doings of humanity through all the years that pass into centuries, and they wait to see what mankind will do. The time is not yet nigh for them to emerge once again, but one day when the stars shall align just right and when mankind has evolved beyond its' current warlike state (for even in this supposedly modern era, the human race is far too fond of war and destruction)... then, and only then, will it be the hour in which Vril and human may meet with peace as the outcome of that meeting. But in the meantime, the mysteries of Agartha will be closed to all who do not seek after such with wisdom as their guide. It remains to be seen of the present age of human history, whether or not it will end better than the period which witnessed the destruction of Atlantis and so many other now-legendary lost domains. But is a thing truly ever lost, if it is still in a certain capacity remembered? And in that small way, ancient Atlan gained its' own immortality after all.
And so, this is where I must end this account of that life, for there it ends indeed. I did not include the trivial things, the in-between journeys and adventures and happenings that took place all throughout the years, for they could fill volumes of their own. This is all just to give you an idea, upon reading this, of what that life of mine consisted of... and of what I (in basic essence) recall of my beloved Lilith, during the span of that life. My times with her seem fleeting in that span, and yet they all had such a profound impact upon me that I cannot help but think of them. Now you know of them through all my words and know how much she had meant to me. Interestingly enough... the legendary black jewel was taken by the gods and both halves of it were removed from the sword into which I had so placed them. The gods then took them and placed them in the massive black pearl that would one day be hidden away in the land of Ys. The destruction of that pearl at my own hands and the opening of the great floodgates on Ys' dam by Lilith in her incarnation as Dahut were the events that caused the flooding of Ys. Ironically, in two of her lives she would cause the destruction of the capital city of a great empire... each because of insanity. But in neither case, was the madness inherent to the woman herself; rather, it was a reflection of the madness within those around her. I believe that her death as Lira'taril drove her spirit mad, and scarred a part of her spiritual psyche irreparably, turning her into the woman in black... who somehow found a way to journey back in time to try and save her former self. Failing to do so, she was trapped in a time paradox whereby she was destined to die and destined to fail to save herself no matter what, and the knowledge of this I believe drove her insane. She is not evil in any true sense of the word, and if it were possible for her to live in an existence whereby that cycle of death and misery did not exist, then she would be happy and healed as a result. But such fated moments in time cannot be altered, and so there will always be a part of her that is affected by it as a result. I have often wept, at knowing her fate.
As for myself... I have never been the same since I touched that black jewel for the first time. I am as I am, and one day when Lilith and I are reunited not ever to part again... I suspect that I too will be healed and able to put all of the horrors of the past behind me. As for a certain Sapphira, a girl of whom I have written in many of my other works... she was the girl named Shakirah, of whom I wrote herein. I have often strongly suspected that when she so adamantly demanded that I kill her with that sword, the black jewel in it somehow managed to cause a small portion of her own spirit, to be transferred and merged into my own. It was once of old designed both to record and preserve a person's memories and essence through their very blood, so that these things might not be lost upon someone's death. These things can be retrieved from the object, but only by someone who was destined and intended to retrieve them. All others could experience madness, followed by a horrific death. And so that is how a tiny part of her did come to be bound to me beyond her death in that life, and it thus remains a part of me to this very day.
In this present life... I was once told, that I had absorbed the spirits of five fire elemental beings... and the only way that could be possible is if when I destroyed that black pearl in Ys, and with it the remains of the black jewel within it, the power that it once held to take spiritual energy from someone, and then store it along with a copy of their thoughts and memories, and transfer them to another compatible host (the one who holds it, or wields it in the case of that sword), somehow that highly dark and forbidden power became permanently embedded into my spiritual makeup to such an extent that no matter what body I have come to inhabit, that ability has remained dormant within me, surfacing only under certain circumstances. So Lilith and I each were permanently altered unto our very cores by the events I have related here... thus, why it was so very crucial to speak of it. The irony? It was said that the black jewel was once a part of Samael that was taken from that being upon its' death by the gods and given the form of the black jewel. So in the end, it found a way to return to me and become a part of me once again, as it clearly had been back when I was the Vril Archon Samael. So, it was all the work of fate and destiny.
Published 16th May 2022
Author's Note
This work is based upon some of my past-life memories.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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