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The Alchemist and the Angel
- The Alchemist and the Angel -
“Do you believe in God, boy?” asked the man who stood next to the stall in the busy bustling bazaar's twisting, turning, labyrinthine alleyways, streets, and courtyards. Even describing the place in this way, is nearly dizzying! Crowds of people from many cultures and countless walks of life hastened about all manner of business, some of that business being less legal than others. The sounds of the mutterings, of the calls of merchants, of the hasty voices of people haggling, sometimes arguing, over prices... all this along with the occasional bird cry or the buzzing of an insect... made the sounds of this marketplace so cacophonous as to be a veritable ocean of audible noises. All whilst the heat of the summer made many people more irritable than they may have been otherwise. The shade provided by the colorful cloth and canvas canopies that were stretched out high above, over the streets and alleys of the bazaar, was most welcome. In the widest open spaces, such as the courtyards, the canopies were secured overhead by tall metal poles or wooden beams set into the ground. Once could walk the entirety of the bazaar and in this time of the year be certain to have the blessings of shade form the hot sun. So it was in this very place... in this very environment... that the man spoken of previously asked his simple question. The man who asked it was, by his dress and appearance, a priest of the Christian faith... possibly he was Catholic but there was no way to be certain due to his at times worldly manner and propensity for pleasures of those sorts that celibate priests are forbidden to indulge in. He was tall, wrinkled, balding and skinny. He had dark eyes and a sometimes dark humor to match them. The person he asked his question to was a little boy, who was dressed in a pair of baggy rayon harem style pants tied at his waist with drawstring and gathered at the ankles with stretchy elastic. The pants were quite colorful, being of a very deep magenta color, and they had a pattern upon them consisting of purple flower blossoms. Tucked into the pants the boy had on a sleeveless blouse the same color as the pants, and with a matching pattern upon it. Around the boy's waist was a gold sash belt tied at his side with a neat bow. The boy had upon his feet a pair of comfortable flip flop sandals that were light purple in color. He was a pretty boy, rather than any sort of a handsome child... he had a round face with a big smile, a nose that was cute in the way the noses of a good many girls are, and he had big sparkling hazel eyes. His lips were plump but not full. He had quite a slender build, and an almost feminine quality to his body. The boy's beauty was made even lovelier to look upon due to his having long curly blonde hair of a slightly strawberry blonde variety. It would not have been possible to accurately determine the child's race. He had a light brown tint to his skin, and his accent was unusual, though his speech was articulate and clear. One might also be forgiven for thinking the boy was actually a girl, due to his long doll-like eyelashes and gentle, graceful mannerisms. He had a pleasant, sweet sounding voice as well, which made conversing with him easy. He was approachable, friendly, and at times perhaps overly trusting of strangers. But so far, the priest had given him no actual reason to feel alarmed. Even if the boy was not of this man's faith, he still was considerate enough to be hearing him out. The child answered the man by asking a question of his own: “Does it matter more, if someone believes in a thing, or if they do what is right all the days of their life? Tell me that, father.” The priest was stunned to her such a mature answer from a small ten year old child. He was at first a bit unsure as to how to respond, but then he cleared his throat and answered: “Both matters, I should think. Or perhaps a combination of both! Faith can be separate from morality, but when they are in harmony I do believe it is a delight to the Lord.” The boy yawned, and the said to the priest: “Sorry! I thought that I was going to fall asleep for a moment there. You Christians always bring up your Lord so much, that it becomes tiring to listen to after a while. And I don't feel like debating philosophy with you, father! I've a faith of my own, and it is not yours. You will not convert me!” The priest had not been trying to, he was merely curious about what the boy's beliefs were. He said to the child: “So, you're Muslim I would imagine.” And the boy said: “I am many things, but yes I am that also.” to which the priest said: “Well, fair enough I suppose. I am a guest in your part of the world, after all, so I should behave respectfully.”
The boy gave him a sudden glaring look, and then the child declared somewhat ominously: “Yes, you should! You really, really should.” And something about the little boy made the priest shudder. Feeling uncomfortable, the priest then said with a bit of a nervous stutter: “I... that is to say, I... really should be upon my way. L... little boy, it was nice t...talking with you.” Then, suddenly, the boy said to the man in a commanding tone: “Follow me, and do not be afraid.” Then, the little boy strode with a dancer's grace and a harlot's prancing gait towards a nearby alley. The priest felt compelled to follow the child, and he noticed the fine shape of the boy's buttocks, and silently chastised himself for find the child attractive to him. But who would not? The child exuded a deliberate sexuality, and the look upon the boy's face had a predatory aspect to it all of a sudden. Once the pair were out of sight of anybody else, the boy said to the priest: “You like the look of me, father. But I could care less about you! I want to know the identity of the man who is paying you to search for a certain child in these markets today. And.. do not try to so much as pretend this is not what you are doing. I can see into your very heart and soul, and I know a lie from the truth.” The priest was sweating and nervous beyond all reason. How did the boy know what he was doing, what the reason for his curiosity regarding the boy was? All the priest managed to say was: “He said it would a little Muslim boy, but one of an unusual appearance and of mixed race. He did not give me a name, but you match his description. I was going to go back and tell him you were here... so he could come for you himself. I am not a kidnapper! Merely a... spy, of sorts.” He had his stuttering a lot more under control now, but he still felt frightened. Something about this boy was unnatural, strange beyond words to express the strangeness. The boy then said to the priest: “So, you are nobody then, just eyes for an unseen master. I should kill you! I should seize you between your legs and crush your very manhood... but I am feeling merciful, you are not the one I am seeking. Go back, and tell your master I have been seeking him out as much as he has been seeking after me! Tell him I can be found most days outside of the mosque with the azure colored dome in the gardens beyond the high walls of the foreign quarter far to the west from here. Tell him, that when he comes to visit me... he should be respectful of the holy ground upon which we shall be meeting. Do you understand me, priest?” The priest felt fear of a sort he never imagined possible in the presence of a child, and he said with a false calmness that truly belied the terror that gripped him: “I do! I do understand you, perfectly. I will go, I will tell him.” And the boy reminded him: “Remember! The mosque with the azure colored dome. It is easy enough to spot when one is not within the mazes of he bazaar. I will be waiting. I am patient, and I will be there when your master comes. Never fear!” But it was too late not to fear. The priest did a slight bow, and he knew not what impulse compelled him to do so. And after that, the priest ran off as fast as his legs could carry him. The boy smiled, once more in a predatory manner. “You have no idea, how patient I am... priest.”
The mosque with the azure dome was magnificent, with tall spires and a lofty minaret from which at the appointed times the call to prayer would be given forth from. Its' walls were white, trimmed with a blue and silver pattern containing intricate designs. The doors of the mosque were of mahogany and had gilded hinges and knobs, with round circular gold knocking rings hanging from the knobs. The arched windows set into the structure had behind them sky blue curtains of silken fabric, draperies that were of a luxurious quality. Slender columns ran around the entire outside of the building close to the walls, to support the part of the roof that hung over the mosque's walls. The great dome rose from the center of this house of righteousness, and indeed the splendid color of it was a deep azure. The elegant gardens that lay spread out all around the mosque were remarkable, with tall palm trees and every imaginable sort of flowering plant native to the local region. It was early evening, and already fireflies flitted about among the colorful blossoms, whilst the sound of night insects could be heard. These gardens went on for a good distance, extending into the foreign quarter outside the Mosque's grounds. The air here was always sweet with fragrances, and these gardens were often a favorite meeting place for secret lovers.
As the little boy sat upon the steps leading up the doors of the mosque, he felt secure in knowing that at least for tonight there would be no visitors to these gardens. When he wished to be left alone, the boy would will any visitors to these gardens to depart, and they would believe merely that they had changed their minds. So it was, and would be, tonight. Otherwise, the place was quiet enough given that it had in truth been many long years since the last time any call to prayer had been given forth from this great and ancient mosque's minaret. No one except for this peculiar child tended to the mosque now, and no one save for him ever entered into its' innermost confines. It was a landmark, a curiosity, and its' doors were always locked even though no one knew or could say when exactly this had first happened. Nor it seemed did anyone know who was in possession of the keys to the mosque. But the boy needed no keys to open its' doors, nor did he require any to seal them. This was his dwelling place now, and he alone so gave thanks to Allah there, he alone prayed there five times a day, and he alone had become the master of it, if a person can be said to be a master of such a place of devotion. In this modern era, in the present century, one might have imagined that magic no longer held the power that once it did in the world. But in these gardens, and indeed in this isolated middle eastern city, there were still vestiges of a time prior to recorded history, an age of myths and legends, and of things unknown elsewhere. The laws of science held no sway here, not any longer, and whatever this boy was... he was incredibly powerful in ways that defied the logic of all human science, and indeed one might argue, he defied logic itself. The child was singing to himself, a religious song but one with a bright vibrancy to the flow of the music. He had not any understanding as to why Christians... and especially Catholics... had a liking for sorrowful, somber religious music. Allah wanted neither sorrow nor sadness, but instead the joy that comes from a deeply profound and transcendent devotion. The boy was not a mainstream Muslim by any means, he was on the fringes of faith and was immersed in the knowledge of a sect of Sufi mystics who knew secrets of a sort long lost even to other Sufi mystics. Secrets from another world, some whispered. Even his style of dress and manner of presenting himself were a product of his attempt to convey not any culture of this part of the world.... or any part of the world really... but that of another world entirely. One close to the world in which we live, but at the same time separated from it by a veil that could only be parted by a person initiated into the mystical secrets surrounding such things. The boy kept on singing, even as he heard the sound of several feet crunching upon the grass of these gardens' many flowered fields. It was the priest again, but this time he was not alone. He had at his side a shorter man than he, shorter by at least a head's difference. The man at his side did not have the appearance of a Christian, nor was he a member of that faith in any capacity. This newcomer was wearing a long black flowing gown that had puffy elbow length sleeves. Around this person's neck was a gold necklace from which hung a pendant shaped like an open blue eye with three triangles above it and three below it. The pendant was small but extremely detailed, and the blue of the eye was made from a tiny sapphire gemstone. The newcomer did have pale skin with a very slight... only slight... yellowish tint to it that was not evident in certain light. At present, he merely appeared pale, beneath the illumination of the moon high above. He appeared to be bald, with a shaved head and no eyebrows. He had grayish blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and a rather small mouth. His face was round, almost feminine looking, and he had pronounced cheekbones as well as long eyelashes. This man was average of build, fifty years of age, and yet he appeared to be actually ten years younger. His lips were naturally reddish, and his fingers were far more slender than a man's fingers are oft of a want to be. The little boy recognized the man immediately, and smile warmly at the sight of him. And the man smiled back, and said to the boy in a friendly manner: “Nasir! It has been a long time, and I had nearly given up on my search for you. As loathsome as I find it to employ one who is outside of our shared... faith... the priest was true to his word and able to locate you.” The voice of this man was soft, gentle, and in some ways not unlike that of a teenage boy of sixteen years of age. It was not the voice of a man at the midpoint of his life. The child licked his lips in a manner almost lewd.
Then, the boy exclaimed happily, as he clapped his hands together with excitement: “Ramak! You are far from your home in the Americas, and looking no worse for having made such a journey in search of me. But it is complimentary, since I have likewise been searching for you.” Ramak then turned to where the priest stood, at arm's length from his right hand side, and he said to the priest: “Vincent, it seems as if I have no further need or use for you. Would you like to receive your payment now for helping me to find Nasir?” Then, the priest said in a muttering manner: “Well, I do have expenses to consider. The trip back to Ireland for me is going to be costly, and I would like to leave for home as soon as possible. We had an agreement, and a gentleman always honors their agreements.” Ramak smiled in a sly way, and he said to the priest after that: “Of course! Of course, Vincent. You played your part in these events to perfection, and I would never think of cheating you out of your due reward.” Then, Ramak whistled in a specific way, and he told the priest: “Just wait a moment. My manservant is on the way, and he has your payment with him. It is... safer in his hands, such payment.” The little boy chuckled a bit, because in his heart he knew what was actually going on. Yet, he said nothing to alert the priest. He went back to his singing, whilst running one of his hands through his hair in a way that looked deliberately seductive... and the way in which the child stretched out whilst doing so only added to the seductiveness. Noticing this, the priest was practically salivating when he remarked to his associate: “Are you certain that is a boy? I've not known many boys that... beautiful, and sensuous.” Then, Ramak said to him in a way that was almost a hiss of anger: “Bastard! The boy is spoken for... he is mine. He has always been mine. You will silence your loathsome tongue and show some respect.” Then, to drive home his point, Ramak did take his right hand and clench it tightly into a fist. After doing this, he proceeded to punch the priest as hard has he could between his legs, which sent Vincent crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its' strings suddenly cut. “What the Hell!” the priest cried out in pain as he clutched himself in that way as men do when they have been hit in their testicles. When Vincent's hand came away, he saw blood and he began to shriek. “What did you do to me!” he screamed, noticing his testicles were ruptured so badly that it had caused blood to shoot forth from his penis, blood which now soaked through his clothes in a gruesome manner. “Oh God! I am going to bleed to death, I am...” but then suddenly he head the sound of heavy footfalls pounding upon the earth, and he saw the one that Ramak had called by whistling. It was less a man and more a demonic monster of some kind. The creature was seven feet tall, covered in hair... or fur... so thick that it looked more animal than man. And the fiend had a face amid all it's hair, that face being very terrible to look upon with fierce red eyes, flaring nostrils, and a great fanged maw for a mouth. It was as mighty as it was tall, large and muscular. It wore no clothes, nor needed it any... it was a beast, and it knew well the manner in which the priest needed to be paid. The little boy laughed giddily as the monster proceeded to tear the priest limb from limb with hands that ended in sharp claws rather than fingers. The beast then fell upon the dismembered man of the cloth and he proceeded to very savagely feed upon him... his fanged mouth tearing away bloody, raw chunks of the dead man's flesh. The sound of first the priest screaming followed by the disgusting chewing noises that the creature was making as it partook of its' prey filled the air. The police would have arrived had it not been for the type of magic that Ramak used to make it so that nothing could be heard outside of the immediate vicinity. Naturally, the murder of the priest would be ruled an animal attack come morning, although no trace of any large animal in the entire area would be found. After it finished its' grisly meal, the fiend loped off on all fours with unnatural agility and vanished into the night. Ramak then calmly walked over and sat upon the steps next to Nasir, putting a steady arm around the boy's shoulders. His expression as he did gaze into the boy's eager face was a loving one. He said to the child: “Beloved! However, did I let you slip from my grasp? But in any case, you are mine once more.” The boy was the very picture of pleased contentment as the child reached forth a graceful hand to playfully caress the older man's face. Then the boy exclaimed sweetly: “Master, it was no doing of mine! I merely ranged too far and so became lost.”
They then kissed upon the lips passionately, their mouths meeting and their tongues entwining whilst Ramak ran his hands all over the little boy's body, savoring his softness and the feel of the child's skin beneath his garments. The boy gasped, not expecting such an intense embrace as this, and he said to his master: “Oh, my love! I've served you faithfully as your chief acolyte for many years now. And though I am ageless, I still long for the hour in which you will teach me your greatest secrets! You are my guide, my redeemer, and my god. The only god I give into idolatry to revere under Allah almighty. And Allah could never deny me the pleasure of this, since still do I revere the almighty in the rightful way and do in my heart realize there is no partner to Allah. I honor you beneath the supreme one, and I pray to Allah and give thanks five times a day for having allowed me the pleasure of serving you.” Ramak was happy to see the undisguised elation in his eternally young apprentice. He caressed the boy's hair, savoring the feel of its' bright strands between his fingers. Then, the older man said: “Nasir, darling, it is alright! In no way do I blame you for the accident of our separation... you had no possible way of knowing what power this mosque actually contained. Namely, to trap those of your kind and keep them from ranging too far from its' grounds. Even I had no idea of this! At least, not until I did some research and learned the actual history of this place. You became lost here, just as you truly said. I shall keep my promise to you, and teach you all that you desire to know. But we will need to first free you from this place, and I have some knowing in regard to how we can gain you your freedom once more.” Ramak then walked over to the ghastly, savaged remains of the priest. He saw that the man's left eye was torn from out of its' socket, and he picked up the eye and walked over to the steps of the mosque. “Open the doors for me, would you?” he asked the boy, who then put his hand upon one of the knocking rings and used it to knock seven times upon the doors, which then opened of their own accord. The interior was so dark it may as well have been pitch black, due to how much later the hour now was. This, in direct contrast to the lights of the city beyond the mosque's grounds. The older man threw the eye into the darkness inside and after that the doors of the mosque slammed shut, as if blown closed by a sudden wind. However, the air was still that night... with no wind anywhere about. Ramak then traced in the air the sign of an inverted pentagram, and there was a sound akin to a multitude of screams coming from within the walls of the mosque. The dome changed color from azure to black, and at the same time the illusion that did cloak Ramak's true appearance fell away, revealing his skin to be coal black as well. And, revealing that his left eye was completely white though far from sightless. For he had long ago sacrificed normal sight in that eye for a variety of sight more uncanny. Some knowledge and wisdom can only be purchased at great cost, and this was the cost Ramak had paid for his. “Come, beloved!” he said to his child lover, so adding: “It is time to depart this city! At long last, we shall be able to penetrate the tower in the desert... you remember the one, it is that same wherein you once served the alchemist whose tower it used to be. Your former master, once upon a time! Therein, I will teach you the greatest of all my magical secrets. For only once I am within its' most sacred sanctum, will my powers be at their absolute peak.” The boy was anxious! He knew the way to open the tower's gates, and he knew the way through its' chambers to the place that Ramak spoke of. The alchemist was long dead, and long in his grave. There was nothing within the tower to fear any longer, no obstacles of the physical sort left therein to be overcome. It had been worth becoming Ramak's apprentice to gain the gift of eternal youth and eternal life. It had not at all been difficult for the little boy to betray the alchemist and offer up the dead man's heart to the Dark Jinn who came to feast upon it, at the urging of he who was now the child's new master. Ramak had for long been in contact with Nasir through their occasional shared dreams, and through those dreams he secured for himself the devotion of the child who was destined to become his devoted apprentice. The older man had never himself set foot in the tower, which was sealed the instant Nasir left it to embark upon his lengthy journey to Ramak's side. But now, the time had come to lay claim to its' secrets, and to bestow upon Nasir the power that the little boy had long craved. As he loved the child, he had to do it.
Crossing the desert at night, by camel, was an arduous task given the chill that the night winds so oft were of a want to bring... but it was better than making the journey by day, in the full heat of the ever so merciless sun. Had Ramak even slept previous to this adventure? His eyes were tired, weary, the lids of them at times threatening to close on their own. He and the boy had prepared for three days and nights, after the gruesome death of the priest, hastening to much that they paid little attention to when they ate or drank, or slept. They were wholly possessed of a spirit of desperation that drove them to haste more than they perhaps should have. They could have taken a vehicle, had Ramak the ability to drive, but the man had never learned that particular skill. They could have purchased the services of a driver, had they not the need for absolute secrecy. And so, the antiquated conveyance of camels had to suffice. The pair felt as if they were characters in a story out of legend, acting within the bounds of a tale that was not in truth their own to tell. Nasir knew the way to the tower by heart, so they needed no guide and it can be said that there were precious few living aside from the boy who knew the way to that place any longer. For his part, Ramak knew the way there as well but he had to keep his mind occupied on various things of magical, mystical varieties, going over certain rites, rituals, formulae, and mantras in his mind as the camels bore he and his youthful paramour ever onward towards their destination. He would need all of his arts for when they reached the tower, after all. About halfway out, the little boy looked up to notice in the heavens above, amid the light of countless stars and the solitary pale moon, what to his eyes did seem to be an apparition of some sort. He pointed it out to Ramak, who followed where the child was indicating with his hand. There was something there, something ethereal and strange, and the man had no idea what it could be. Whatever it was, it was traveling in the same direction that they were. He said to the boy: “It isn't an airplane, a helicopter, or even a flying saucer... whatever it is, it is something that lacks a definitive, discernible shape beyond the ethereal mass we are witnessing. We should be wary of it, but it could be merely an omen of some kind. It is not of this world in any case.” And Nasir nodded his head in agreement, and pretended not to notice the thing any further, whatever it was. Ere long, they reached a place where an enormous series of dunes rose up, and in the center of them was a tower half buried in the desert's sands. It looked ancient, ruined, and long abandoned even though the pair knew it to be anything but abandoned. “Do the servants and the guardians still dwell within?” asked the boy, to which Ramak answered: “If they do, they will be as secretive as you likely remember. We will need to be cautious so that we do not fall afoul of their watchful eyes. They will not be welcoming to us, I dare to imagine.” And so, the pair tied their camels to some small but immeasurably heavy boulders nearby, and they began to survey the area around the tower, which seemed silent and devoid of any signs of life. The means to enter the tower was by way of an entrance that was right there in plain sight, but that was not the wisest way to venture therein. Nasir, instead, knew of a trap door behind some rocks just behind the back of the tower, just beneath the sand there. The boy led the man who was with him over to where this was located, and the child proceeded to clear away the sand from the trap door. The door was metal and very old, slightly rusted, and looking as if it might be able to be broken from its' very hinges. “I do honestly hate to even consider touching that thing.” he commented, before putting on a pair of leather work gloves that he brought with him for this purpose. This way, none of the rust or dirt would get on his hands. With a strength surpassing that of the mightiest grown man, the little boy flung open the old door and accidentally tore it from its' hinges, sending it flying off towards the nearby dunes. “That was very impressive, Nasir!” said Ramak, whose eyes were wide with astonishment in beholding this big of spectacle. He knew the boy was immeasurably powerful, but he never realized the boy was also crazily strong. All part of the reasons why he knew better than to anger the child, or ever seek to cross him. The little boy smiled, gazing upon the shaft that led down beneath the sands, down into the tunnels that ran beneath the tower. Metal rungs like those of a ladder were bolted into the wall of the shaft, and they did look to be in a most excellent state indeed unlike the rusty door that had been at the mercy of the desert.
Nasir removed his gloves and climbed down the rungs first, with Ramak following after him. In time, the pair descended and were once more on solid footing, in a concrete bunker complex that was at the very heart of the maze of tunnels that existed beneath the forsaken tower. This complex dated back to the days of the first and second world wars, and no one was ever quite sure of its' original purpose. No banners of any country decorated the bunker's walls, and there was nothing to indicate which side those who had built this place were on during those monumental conflicts. However, Nasir remembered what this place had been used for when he still lived at the tower. And it sent chills down his spine to recall the sights he beheld in this place. The alchemist who had been the master of the tower liked to send out his servants to procure little girls from various small towns and villages of the region, or sometimes he would have them purchased for him from the nefarious criminals who trafficked in human goods, who oft dealt with the alchemist in order to sell the man fresh victims for his obscene experiments in both arcane matters and sexual ones. To say that the alchemist was insane and depraved was probably a gross understatement. The man had held perverse games of hide and seek in this bunker complex, where he would commit acts of savage rape upon any little girl who had failed to hide herself well enough to not be found. Orgies too, had been held here by him, during which the alchemist and his inner circle of dark acolytes would commit mass rapes and sometimes unspeakable tortures upon all of the girls. Nasir had been forced to aid these evil, twisted men in all that they did, and he had been forced to act as a sexual slave for the alchemist prior to Ramak helping him to win his freedom. Indeed, as had been stated, there were no longer any physical threats left to be wary of in this place... but the tireless and insane servants of the alchemist were not physical beings, and the guardians were also not of this physical world. They were Jinn of the darkest variety, and now they were without a master to give them purpose. If they were actually still there, then they would be beyond any control and thus of an extremely dangerous mindset. Nothing was more deadly than a malicious Jinn left to its' own heart's darkest desiring. As Nasir led his new master, and lover, through the tunnels that led out from the bunker complex proper, the smell of old decay and other unpleasant odors was strong in the stale underground air. It appeared that the series of air conditioning systems had been shut off, for the heat of this place was oppressive and not unlike an oven, though that is perhaps a bit of an exaggeration. After some time journeying through the many tunnels, there could be seen here and there the skeletal remains of dead children. The little girls who the alchemist and his henchmen had killed when simply defiling them proved not enough to satisfy the evil in their hearts. Nasir had known them all by name, and some of their corpses he could still recognize by the remnants of the clothing they wore. Tears were in the boy's eyes, and his heart felt close to breaking. Some of them had become his friends, they had grown to trust him, only for the alchemist to destroy the ones that had meant the most to the child. Seeing Nasir's evident sorrow and grief, Ramak also felt tears in his eyes, and doubly so when his eyes fell upon the grim sight of the remains of all these girls. How many lay dead in these tunnels, which were now catacombs that housed only the dead? The number of them could not be easily counted. “I forgot about this.” Nasir admitting, explaining to his master what it was that lay so heavily upon his mind and heart. The man said to the child: “I understand... this grieves me just as much, seeing this. How any man could be so barbarous, I shall never comprehend!” Soon, it felt right to move with greater haste, if only to escape these dreadful passageways. Nasir knew the route to take by heart, he could see himself in his memories traversing these tunnels in years thankfully past. He hated this place more than ever now, and he wished he had not come back to it. Swiftly, the pair did emerge from the maze of tunnels into the central chamber at the deepest point beneath the tower, below its' very foundations. It was the ritual chamber wherein countless human sacrifices had once been given up to ancient gods that were actually bloodthirsty devils. The shaft in the center of the chamber was as black as night, and no bottom could be seen. It was fortunate that Nasir and his master had brought with them flashlights and plenty of batteries for them, in the packs that they carried with them upon this trip.
For, there was no light in the bunker, the tunnels, or this place. That made the discoveries they found within, that much more deeply horrifying. They had no foreknowledge of what might be seen when they so shone their lights before them, letting the shafts of the flashlights' illumination fall upon whatever it may... often, revealing things that would remain etched in their nightmares forever after. Old blood did stain the entire floor surrounding the shaft in the middle of the ritual chamber, and the bones of women, men, and children alike, as well as animals, could be seen littering the floor in places. Chains with very sharp and bloody hooks hung from the ceiling here and there, and Ramak did not wish to imagine what uses they had likely been put to. It was gruesome enough to actually see these horrifying sights. Piles of torn and tattered clothing, most of women's or girl's clothing, lay strewn about as well, a testament to the rapacious violations that had been visited upon those who had worn these garments prior to what it was that was done unto them in order to snuff out their lives. Nasir remembered how these victims had all been cast down into the shaft, and very few were left to rot upon the floor where they perished. What monstrous evils the alchemist had perpetrated, were beyond any reasonable comprehension as to what it was the vile man had hoped to gain from such doings. Just across from the entrance to this chamber, on the farthest side of the massive room, the archway behind which was the tower's grand staircase lay. An elevator had been installed past the staircase, although whether or not it still functions could not easily be determined. Something dark and terrible was within the shaft, at the bottom of that pit, and Nasir in his time when he dwelt in the tower had beheld the sight of it whenever it emerged to feed. It was not a god, not a devil either, but something worse from the unseen world. Something as old as the Earth was, and with a ravenous appetite for blood and souls. “We should be mindful to stay away from the shaft, as we make our way around the outermost circumference of this chamber, towards that archway.” Nasir so explained, indicating the way to go for his master to understand. Ramak nodded his head in agreement, and the pair did the smart thing that Nasir had stated they should. The inhuman sounds from the pit had proven that their caution was not for nothing. “We will check and see if the elevator still works, first.” the boy explained, as he led his master to the metal doors of the elevator shaft. They ignored the stairs for the time being, as the boy opened a nearby fuse box to check and see if everything was working as it should have been. The fuses were still in working order, which meant someone had to still been alive in this place... a physical someone... in order to ensure this. There was power going to the elevator, and off down a side passage the hum of running generators could be heard. “This is good! We can make use of the elevator and save ourselves a great deal of time.” said the child as he pressed the call button for the elevator. The metal doors slid open, and the pair of intruders stepped inside. Nasir so pressed the button for the topmost floor, knowing that was where he and his master needed to go. At least, thankfully, the rest of the tower was not like those under chambers. In fact, the apartments in the upper floors where he had once lived had been deceptively beautiful, modern, and civilized looking. Of a sort that would not have been out of place amid the modern opulence of Dubai. The alchemist had been a wealthy man, and a member of a global secret society that had many other rich and powerful members. Nasir knew of that organization's reach, its' extent, and the madness of its' highest ranks. He knew enough, to understand a great deal of the despicable tragedies that its' members caused throughout the world. People from east to west, and from countless countries in between were among those members... and their victims were innumerable. Ramak knew of these wicked men and women as well, and of the countless things that the group had their hands in from experimental technologies to ancient tomes of sorcery and forbidden lore from places even mainstream archaeologists and historians knew nothing of the existence of. If he had wished to, he could have even joined them at one point... but he had wisely refused the offer when it so had been extended to him. The elevator reached the topmost floor, and its' metal doors slid open with a rush. The little boy and his beloved master stepped out, and into a magnificent series of chambers that contained every imaginable luxury and countless spectacular works of art... and every modern comfort.
This part of the tower was well lit, and in several rooms were computers, televisions, and even video game consoles. None were on at present, and these rooms all looked like playgrounds for the rich and the leisurely. Magnificent potted plants, all of them artificial, could be seen in the corners of many of the rooms, and the walls were white and immaculate... many of which were decorated with paints that depicted all manner of arcane and sometimes abstract or surreal subjects. If the outside of the tower did resemble an ancient ruin, this part of the interior was the exact opposite of such an appearance. Many comfortable couches were in these rooms, piled high with soft cushions. Glass display cases held varied objects of antiquity such as statues of god and goddesses from many countries and cultures, along with splendid vases from as far away and long ago as the Ming dynasty of China. Medieval suits of armor so stood in silent guard in some of the hallways outside these rooms, all of them from various European countries. Racks containing weapons from the same period were within alcoves in several walls. This was a place that contained many precious things, and once it was in one such series of rooms that Nasir lived. If one could call a life of sexual servitude and forced obedience living. Unable to control himself, the little boy grabbed a small sword from one of the weapon racks, and with it he lashed out smashing many of the display cases and breaking what they contained. He screamed as he did this, his face red with fury, and he kept doing this until his anger was spent. “What the alchemist did to you was horrible, Nasir. I am sorry for your suffering.” Said Ramak, with tears in his eyes once again. The boy, breathing a bit heavily after these antics of his, said to the man that he loved: “You have nothing to apologize for, my master. The cruelties enacted upon me long ago, those were the deeds of another.” And so the pair continued to search this place for the room they were seeking. At last they found it... the office that had belonged to the alchemist when still he lived and breathed. It's mahogany doors were decorated with delicate etchings of silver, depicting abstract patterns of ancient Arabic design. Nasir opened the doors, and led Ramak into the chamber within. It was a very normal looking modern office space. A large desk was in the center of the room, upon which sat a desktop computer complete with a widescreen monitor, a mouse, and a keyboard. A video game controller was there upon the desk as well, indicating that the alchemist enjoyed the occasional normal diversion. A selection of small USB flash drives lay organized neatly next to the monitor, and an android phone lay off to the side of the keyboard, which itself was in front of the monitor itself. External solid state drives were connected to the desktop, two of them to be precise, and a small selection of dolls on stands could be seen off to one side of the desk...the side that was opposite of where the flash drives sat. The dolls were in the likeness of little girls. The air in these parts of the tower was cool, and apparently the air conditioning was on there, unlike in the areas below. Music was playing from a stereo compact disc player that sat upon a table off to one side of the room... and it was a classical piece, specifically Vivaldi's Spring. Hanging upon the wall that was the one most far behind the desk, there was a painting of a twelve year old Indian girl whose smiling face was quite captivating to look upon. The girl's smile was slightly mischievous, and she had her hair in a ponytail of a style not dissimilar to the type favored by many cheerleaders and middle school girls alike. Her skin was a rich brown with a slightly yellowish tint to it, and her eyes were big and dark brown in color. The girl was wearing very traditional garments of the sort that most readily comes to mind when one thinks of women or girls from India. Whoever she was or had been, she had evidently meant a great deal to the man who had once sat behind the desk of this office. Ramak thought that she looked familiar to him, as he gazed into the eyes of the young girl in the portrait. He kept on saying: “It cannot be her! It simply... cannot... be her.” but it was her, it was the girl he once loved so long ago. He could not bring himself to speak her name, but it had been his hand that had painted this very portrait, just as it had been he who once sat behind the desk in this office. For Ramak had been the alchemist... even if he had forgotten it, following his attempted suicide the night he decided to set Nasir free, the night he decided he could no longer take working for the secret society that had caused him to become a monster. He remembered!
He had not refused to join them after all, at least when they came to him a second time. He was all too eager to join them, if only to make his difficult life easier. Only the first time, many years before, had he told them no. How many years was he in their service? And how many dreadful delights had they made him partake of, until the point where he no longer knew the difference between good and evil anymore! And, he dove into each depraved and decadent activity with relish, all to put far from his mind the loss of that girl whom he had loved, the loss that had driven him clear into madness and darkness. She had not been his first love by any means, but she had been one of his greatest loves. Whomever he once had been when still she was at his side, he had become something terrible after she was at his side no more. He knew their relationship could never endure for long, she was a little girl and he was old enough to be her father... but he loved her with a passion approaching insanity, and she had loved him with equal lunacy and if anything even greater passion. When her parents forced her to go back with them to India, it broke his heart and pushed him into loneliness and self loathing. That was when the organization did approach him for the first time, and he refused their offer. By the time the second offer came, he had to accept it... for, there was nothing else left for him to do. He knew why he loved Nasir... the boy had to him a quality that reminded Ramak of that girl whom he had loved and lost. But unlike her, this child was not actually human. Nasir was human in appearance only! Behind that appearance, was something else, something far, far more. And that was why the former alchemist knew the boy had to be set free of the ties that bound him to the sinister organization. And, why he too had to be set free from them. When he aimed the gun to his left eye and pulled the trigger, after arranging for Nasir's escape... he thought he would surely die, that in death he would escape from the ones who had come to hold his leash like unto a dog, even as they fed him various delights as one might feed treats to an animal. But, knowing what it was he intended to do to himself... Nasir, before he was too far away from the tower to act, willed with all his heart for his master to live, but in a way that he would have no memory of the evils he had done. The powerful child had hoped that in this way, the man could be redeemed of his nearly demonic sins... which had at the end driven the alchemist to the sort of despair that can only come from regret. What it was that Ramak had become after his resurrection, was something no longer human. His life had been the ultimate sacrifice he had finally made, and in return for it he had become immortal and possessed of an uncanny form of sight in his left eye once it had miraculously repaired and healed itself as well as it could ever again be. But by that time, he was no longer within the tower... his servants had taken away his body for burial in the tunnels below, and he awoke in the darkness of those tunnels half mad and in an amnesiac state. He had found his way to the trap door and escaped, wandering lost in the desert to an extent where he became mad for a great long time from his ordeal. By the time he reached civilization, and sanity once more, he was no longer the man he had once been. He was purged, purified, and totally changed. When next he met with Nasir, it was as if they had met for the first time, and it was the child who had helped him to return to his home in the United States of America. Almost a world away from the tower where the terrible organization had installed him, in order that he might better do their wicked bidding. But something, some power had called him back to this place... and it had called Nasir as well. The little boy asked his master, his lover: “So... when are you going to teach me the greatest of all your magical secrets, master alchemist?” And there was a mixture of love, eagerness, and scorn in the tone of the boy's voice when he asked that question. Ramak remembered everything now, all that he had so done, and the perversity with which he had done so many of those things. All to drown his pain, all in a senseless effort to forget his loneliness. There were no servants here, nor guardians, any longer. Not a single Jinn remained, and even the thing in the pit had been merely a convincing illusion created by the magic at the inhuman boy's command. It had been Nasir who had come to the tower previously, and in secret, to get things up and running again, to restore power and to tidy things up. All in preparation for his master's return to the place where he had perished by his own hand. This forsaken and terrible place.
“I... regret everything I did.” Said the former alchemist, and his boy lover rushed into his arms to so wrap his own about him tightly. Their embrace brought tears to each other's eyes, as Nasir said to this man who had been both his greatest love as well as the devil he hated most of all in this world: “If I had not the power in me to forgive you for my enslavement and the horrors you perpetrated here, I would in truth had allowed you to die. But I wanted to test you, to see if you would learn your lesson had you a second chance at life, and a fresh start to go with it. Your masters in the society believe you to be dead, and this place is long abandoned by them. If there had ever existed any power here, it is long departed.” Suddenly, in that very instant, as soon as those words were spoken... the windows of the office shattered outward, spraying glass unto the sands outside from the great height above. It was still night outside, as the ethereal form of whatever the pair had seen in the skies above glided down into the room in order to confront them. It was visible to them fully now, this terrible but strangely beautiful thing before them. It was constantly in a state of shifting, and it was as if it were a single being comprised of many. It was at once angelic and yet frightful, surrounded by a kind of softly glowing pale green mist. Within that mist, which whatever this was wore like a covering, one could see the faces of countless little girls, alongside many boys and several men and women. And much to his terror, Ramak recognized each and every one of their faces... all of them had been his former victims, all of them had met their deaths because of the things he had done and taken part in. Their arms reached forth from the mist, and it was as if all of their arms were connected to something monstrous within. It strode forward on countless legs, like a spider, as the thing let out cries that were many cries of anguish, pain, and suffering. The spirits of those who had suffered and died in the spaces beneath the tower had come together in death to form whatever this now was, with the express purpose of avenging its'... their... destruction. Sometimes, it sprouted many wings like an avenging angel, and sometimes it sprouted clawed tentacles the better to reach the one it intended to punish. Ramak was crying, sobbing, and screaming as he pleaded with this horror to leave him alone. “I am not the man I once was any longer! Please, please let me have this, my second chance, in order to prove it to you.” he shrieked, rushing back from the sight of his attacker even as it lunged for him with all those arms, hands, and clawed tentacles. The faces of the spirits of the dead became totally demonic and frightful to gaze upon, skeletal and awful, as their cries became more piteous to hear. They wanted to tear the former alchemist apart, and were oblivious to his pleas for mercy. Nasir rushed to so stand between Ramak and this abomination, as the little boy said unto it: “Do you not recognize me? I know so many of you, who were my friends for a time!” And he called out their names, after which he said unto them: “Please, in the name of Allah the most merciful and gracious, in the name of Allah the just... stay your wrath and give your tormentor the chance to learn his lesson. He will live far beyond a human lifespan now, and his immortality will be no blessing unto him. He will have to live through all the ages to come, with the guilt of what he has done. Is that not a torment even beyond your own? I do implore you! Go to whatever rest awaits you beyond death, and leave the fate of this man to me.” and the voices of the dead asked of the boy: “And who are you, that we should obey your will! Friend to so many of us though you were.” And suddenly the office filled with a bright light that was so powerful, so magnificent and grand, that Ramak had to close his eyes and clap his hands over them, bowing to the floor his head so that he would not be blinded by the sight of Nasir's true form. The former alchemist was screaming still, and when the light subsided he was back in his home in the United States and as he looked at the calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen he noticed it was the year that the girl he loved had been forced to go back to India with her parents. It was before he ever became that dark alchemist, and so also before that wicked secret society had first approached him. He realized in that instant, that Nasir had been an angel sent by Allah to warn him of his future should he choose to go down the dark path that he had been considering. He would heed the warning and tell them no, as many times as it so took in order to have them leave him alone. Ramak's future would be his own to shape, in a better way.
“Do you believe in God, boy?” asked the man who stood next to the stall in the busy bustling bazaar's twisting, turning, labyrinthine alleyways, streets, and courtyards. Even describing the place in this way, is nearly dizzying! Crowds of people from many cultures and countless walks of life hastened about all manner of business, some of that business being less legal than others. The sounds of the mutterings, of the calls of merchants, of the hasty voices of people haggling, sometimes arguing, over prices... all this along with the occasional bird cry or the buzzing of an insect... made the sounds of this marketplace so cacophonous as to be a veritable ocean of audible noises. All whilst the heat of the summer made many people more irritable than they may have been otherwise. The shade provided by the colorful cloth and canvas canopies that were stretched out high above, over the streets and alleys of the bazaar, was most welcome. In the widest open spaces, such as the courtyards, the canopies were secured overhead by tall metal poles or wooden beams set into the ground. Once could walk the entirety of the bazaar and in this time of the year be certain to have the blessings of shade form the hot sun. So it was in this very place... in this very environment... that the man spoken of previously asked his simple question. The man who asked it was, by his dress and appearance, a priest of the Christian faith... possibly he was Catholic but there was no way to be certain due to his at times worldly manner and propensity for pleasures of those sorts that celibate priests are forbidden to indulge in. He was tall, wrinkled, balding and skinny. He had dark eyes and a sometimes dark humor to match them. The person he asked his question to was a little boy, who was dressed in a pair of baggy rayon harem style pants tied at his waist with drawstring and gathered at the ankles with stretchy elastic. The pants were quite colorful, being of a very deep magenta color, and they had a pattern upon them consisting of purple flower blossoms. Tucked into the pants the boy had on a sleeveless blouse the same color as the pants, and with a matching pattern upon it. Around the boy's waist was a gold sash belt tied at his side with a neat bow. The boy had upon his feet a pair of comfortable flip flop sandals that were light purple in color. He was a pretty boy, rather than any sort of a handsome child... he had a round face with a big smile, a nose that was cute in the way the noses of a good many girls are, and he had big sparkling hazel eyes. His lips were plump but not full. He had quite a slender build, and an almost feminine quality to his body. The boy's beauty was made even lovelier to look upon due to his having long curly blonde hair of a slightly strawberry blonde variety. It would not have been possible to accurately determine the child's race. He had a light brown tint to his skin, and his accent was unusual, though his speech was articulate and clear. One might also be forgiven for thinking the boy was actually a girl, due to his long doll-like eyelashes and gentle, graceful mannerisms. He had a pleasant, sweet sounding voice as well, which made conversing with him easy. He was approachable, friendly, and at times perhaps overly trusting of strangers. But so far, the priest had given him no actual reason to feel alarmed. Even if the boy was not of this man's faith, he still was considerate enough to be hearing him out. The child answered the man by asking a question of his own: “Does it matter more, if someone believes in a thing, or if they do what is right all the days of their life? Tell me that, father.” The priest was stunned to her such a mature answer from a small ten year old child. He was at first a bit unsure as to how to respond, but then he cleared his throat and answered: “Both matters, I should think. Or perhaps a combination of both! Faith can be separate from morality, but when they are in harmony I do believe it is a delight to the Lord.” The boy yawned, and the said to the priest: “Sorry! I thought that I was going to fall asleep for a moment there. You Christians always bring up your Lord so much, that it becomes tiring to listen to after a while. And I don't feel like debating philosophy with you, father! I've a faith of my own, and it is not yours. You will not convert me!” The priest had not been trying to, he was merely curious about what the boy's beliefs were. He said to the child: “So, you're Muslim I would imagine.” And the boy said: “I am many things, but yes I am that also.” to which the priest said: “Well, fair enough I suppose. I am a guest in your part of the world, after all, so I should behave respectfully.”
The boy gave him a sudden glaring look, and then the child declared somewhat ominously: “Yes, you should! You really, really should.” And something about the little boy made the priest shudder. Feeling uncomfortable, the priest then said with a bit of a nervous stutter: “I... that is to say, I... really should be upon my way. L... little boy, it was nice t...talking with you.” Then, suddenly, the boy said to the man in a commanding tone: “Follow me, and do not be afraid.” Then, the little boy strode with a dancer's grace and a harlot's prancing gait towards a nearby alley. The priest felt compelled to follow the child, and he noticed the fine shape of the boy's buttocks, and silently chastised himself for find the child attractive to him. But who would not? The child exuded a deliberate sexuality, and the look upon the boy's face had a predatory aspect to it all of a sudden. Once the pair were out of sight of anybody else, the boy said to the priest: “You like the look of me, father. But I could care less about you! I want to know the identity of the man who is paying you to search for a certain child in these markets today. And.. do not try to so much as pretend this is not what you are doing. I can see into your very heart and soul, and I know a lie from the truth.” The priest was sweating and nervous beyond all reason. How did the boy know what he was doing, what the reason for his curiosity regarding the boy was? All the priest managed to say was: “He said it would a little Muslim boy, but one of an unusual appearance and of mixed race. He did not give me a name, but you match his description. I was going to go back and tell him you were here... so he could come for you himself. I am not a kidnapper! Merely a... spy, of sorts.” He had his stuttering a lot more under control now, but he still felt frightened. Something about this boy was unnatural, strange beyond words to express the strangeness. The boy then said to the priest: “So, you are nobody then, just eyes for an unseen master. I should kill you! I should seize you between your legs and crush your very manhood... but I am feeling merciful, you are not the one I am seeking. Go back, and tell your master I have been seeking him out as much as he has been seeking after me! Tell him I can be found most days outside of the mosque with the azure colored dome in the gardens beyond the high walls of the foreign quarter far to the west from here. Tell him, that when he comes to visit me... he should be respectful of the holy ground upon which we shall be meeting. Do you understand me, priest?” The priest felt fear of a sort he never imagined possible in the presence of a child, and he said with a false calmness that truly belied the terror that gripped him: “I do! I do understand you, perfectly. I will go, I will tell him.” And the boy reminded him: “Remember! The mosque with the azure colored dome. It is easy enough to spot when one is not within the mazes of he bazaar. I will be waiting. I am patient, and I will be there when your master comes. Never fear!” But it was too late not to fear. The priest did a slight bow, and he knew not what impulse compelled him to do so. And after that, the priest ran off as fast as his legs could carry him. The boy smiled, once more in a predatory manner. “You have no idea, how patient I am... priest.”
The mosque with the azure dome was magnificent, with tall spires and a lofty minaret from which at the appointed times the call to prayer would be given forth from. Its' walls were white, trimmed with a blue and silver pattern containing intricate designs. The doors of the mosque were of mahogany and had gilded hinges and knobs, with round circular gold knocking rings hanging from the knobs. The arched windows set into the structure had behind them sky blue curtains of silken fabric, draperies that were of a luxurious quality. Slender columns ran around the entire outside of the building close to the walls, to support the part of the roof that hung over the mosque's walls. The great dome rose from the center of this house of righteousness, and indeed the splendid color of it was a deep azure. The elegant gardens that lay spread out all around the mosque were remarkable, with tall palm trees and every imaginable sort of flowering plant native to the local region. It was early evening, and already fireflies flitted about among the colorful blossoms, whilst the sound of night insects could be heard. These gardens went on for a good distance, extending into the foreign quarter outside the Mosque's grounds. The air here was always sweet with fragrances, and these gardens were often a favorite meeting place for secret lovers.
As the little boy sat upon the steps leading up the doors of the mosque, he felt secure in knowing that at least for tonight there would be no visitors to these gardens. When he wished to be left alone, the boy would will any visitors to these gardens to depart, and they would believe merely that they had changed their minds. So it was, and would be, tonight. Otherwise, the place was quiet enough given that it had in truth been many long years since the last time any call to prayer had been given forth from this great and ancient mosque's minaret. No one except for this peculiar child tended to the mosque now, and no one save for him ever entered into its' innermost confines. It was a landmark, a curiosity, and its' doors were always locked even though no one knew or could say when exactly this had first happened. Nor it seemed did anyone know who was in possession of the keys to the mosque. But the boy needed no keys to open its' doors, nor did he require any to seal them. This was his dwelling place now, and he alone so gave thanks to Allah there, he alone prayed there five times a day, and he alone had become the master of it, if a person can be said to be a master of such a place of devotion. In this modern era, in the present century, one might have imagined that magic no longer held the power that once it did in the world. But in these gardens, and indeed in this isolated middle eastern city, there were still vestiges of a time prior to recorded history, an age of myths and legends, and of things unknown elsewhere. The laws of science held no sway here, not any longer, and whatever this boy was... he was incredibly powerful in ways that defied the logic of all human science, and indeed one might argue, he defied logic itself. The child was singing to himself, a religious song but one with a bright vibrancy to the flow of the music. He had not any understanding as to why Christians... and especially Catholics... had a liking for sorrowful, somber religious music. Allah wanted neither sorrow nor sadness, but instead the joy that comes from a deeply profound and transcendent devotion. The boy was not a mainstream Muslim by any means, he was on the fringes of faith and was immersed in the knowledge of a sect of Sufi mystics who knew secrets of a sort long lost even to other Sufi mystics. Secrets from another world, some whispered. Even his style of dress and manner of presenting himself were a product of his attempt to convey not any culture of this part of the world.... or any part of the world really... but that of another world entirely. One close to the world in which we live, but at the same time separated from it by a veil that could only be parted by a person initiated into the mystical secrets surrounding such things. The boy kept on singing, even as he heard the sound of several feet crunching upon the grass of these gardens' many flowered fields. It was the priest again, but this time he was not alone. He had at his side a shorter man than he, shorter by at least a head's difference. The man at his side did not have the appearance of a Christian, nor was he a member of that faith in any capacity. This newcomer was wearing a long black flowing gown that had puffy elbow length sleeves. Around this person's neck was a gold necklace from which hung a pendant shaped like an open blue eye with three triangles above it and three below it. The pendant was small but extremely detailed, and the blue of the eye was made from a tiny sapphire gemstone. The newcomer did have pale skin with a very slight... only slight... yellowish tint to it that was not evident in certain light. At present, he merely appeared pale, beneath the illumination of the moon high above. He appeared to be bald, with a shaved head and no eyebrows. He had grayish blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and a rather small mouth. His face was round, almost feminine looking, and he had pronounced cheekbones as well as long eyelashes. This man was average of build, fifty years of age, and yet he appeared to be actually ten years younger. His lips were naturally reddish, and his fingers were far more slender than a man's fingers are oft of a want to be. The little boy recognized the man immediately, and smile warmly at the sight of him. And the man smiled back, and said to the boy in a friendly manner: “Nasir! It has been a long time, and I had nearly given up on my search for you. As loathsome as I find it to employ one who is outside of our shared... faith... the priest was true to his word and able to locate you.” The voice of this man was soft, gentle, and in some ways not unlike that of a teenage boy of sixteen years of age. It was not the voice of a man at the midpoint of his life. The child licked his lips in a manner almost lewd.
Then, the boy exclaimed happily, as he clapped his hands together with excitement: “Ramak! You are far from your home in the Americas, and looking no worse for having made such a journey in search of me. But it is complimentary, since I have likewise been searching for you.” Ramak then turned to where the priest stood, at arm's length from his right hand side, and he said to the priest: “Vincent, it seems as if I have no further need or use for you. Would you like to receive your payment now for helping me to find Nasir?” Then, the priest said in a muttering manner: “Well, I do have expenses to consider. The trip back to Ireland for me is going to be costly, and I would like to leave for home as soon as possible. We had an agreement, and a gentleman always honors their agreements.” Ramak smiled in a sly way, and he said to the priest after that: “Of course! Of course, Vincent. You played your part in these events to perfection, and I would never think of cheating you out of your due reward.” Then, Ramak whistled in a specific way, and he told the priest: “Just wait a moment. My manservant is on the way, and he has your payment with him. It is... safer in his hands, such payment.” The little boy chuckled a bit, because in his heart he knew what was actually going on. Yet, he said nothing to alert the priest. He went back to his singing, whilst running one of his hands through his hair in a way that looked deliberately seductive... and the way in which the child stretched out whilst doing so only added to the seductiveness. Noticing this, the priest was practically salivating when he remarked to his associate: “Are you certain that is a boy? I've not known many boys that... beautiful, and sensuous.” Then, Ramak said to him in a way that was almost a hiss of anger: “Bastard! The boy is spoken for... he is mine. He has always been mine. You will silence your loathsome tongue and show some respect.” Then, to drive home his point, Ramak did take his right hand and clench it tightly into a fist. After doing this, he proceeded to punch the priest as hard has he could between his legs, which sent Vincent crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its' strings suddenly cut. “What the Hell!” the priest cried out in pain as he clutched himself in that way as men do when they have been hit in their testicles. When Vincent's hand came away, he saw blood and he began to shriek. “What did you do to me!” he screamed, noticing his testicles were ruptured so badly that it had caused blood to shoot forth from his penis, blood which now soaked through his clothes in a gruesome manner. “Oh God! I am going to bleed to death, I am...” but then suddenly he head the sound of heavy footfalls pounding upon the earth, and he saw the one that Ramak had called by whistling. It was less a man and more a demonic monster of some kind. The creature was seven feet tall, covered in hair... or fur... so thick that it looked more animal than man. And the fiend had a face amid all it's hair, that face being very terrible to look upon with fierce red eyes, flaring nostrils, and a great fanged maw for a mouth. It was as mighty as it was tall, large and muscular. It wore no clothes, nor needed it any... it was a beast, and it knew well the manner in which the priest needed to be paid. The little boy laughed giddily as the monster proceeded to tear the priest limb from limb with hands that ended in sharp claws rather than fingers. The beast then fell upon the dismembered man of the cloth and he proceeded to very savagely feed upon him... his fanged mouth tearing away bloody, raw chunks of the dead man's flesh. The sound of first the priest screaming followed by the disgusting chewing noises that the creature was making as it partook of its' prey filled the air. The police would have arrived had it not been for the type of magic that Ramak used to make it so that nothing could be heard outside of the immediate vicinity. Naturally, the murder of the priest would be ruled an animal attack come morning, although no trace of any large animal in the entire area would be found. After it finished its' grisly meal, the fiend loped off on all fours with unnatural agility and vanished into the night. Ramak then calmly walked over and sat upon the steps next to Nasir, putting a steady arm around the boy's shoulders. His expression as he did gaze into the boy's eager face was a loving one. He said to the child: “Beloved! However, did I let you slip from my grasp? But in any case, you are mine once more.” The boy was the very picture of pleased contentment as the child reached forth a graceful hand to playfully caress the older man's face. Then the boy exclaimed sweetly: “Master, it was no doing of mine! I merely ranged too far and so became lost.”
They then kissed upon the lips passionately, their mouths meeting and their tongues entwining whilst Ramak ran his hands all over the little boy's body, savoring his softness and the feel of the child's skin beneath his garments. The boy gasped, not expecting such an intense embrace as this, and he said to his master: “Oh, my love! I've served you faithfully as your chief acolyte for many years now. And though I am ageless, I still long for the hour in which you will teach me your greatest secrets! You are my guide, my redeemer, and my god. The only god I give into idolatry to revere under Allah almighty. And Allah could never deny me the pleasure of this, since still do I revere the almighty in the rightful way and do in my heart realize there is no partner to Allah. I honor you beneath the supreme one, and I pray to Allah and give thanks five times a day for having allowed me the pleasure of serving you.” Ramak was happy to see the undisguised elation in his eternally young apprentice. He caressed the boy's hair, savoring the feel of its' bright strands between his fingers. Then, the older man said: “Nasir, darling, it is alright! In no way do I blame you for the accident of our separation... you had no possible way of knowing what power this mosque actually contained. Namely, to trap those of your kind and keep them from ranging too far from its' grounds. Even I had no idea of this! At least, not until I did some research and learned the actual history of this place. You became lost here, just as you truly said. I shall keep my promise to you, and teach you all that you desire to know. But we will need to first free you from this place, and I have some knowing in regard to how we can gain you your freedom once more.” Ramak then walked over to the ghastly, savaged remains of the priest. He saw that the man's left eye was torn from out of its' socket, and he picked up the eye and walked over to the steps of the mosque. “Open the doors for me, would you?” he asked the boy, who then put his hand upon one of the knocking rings and used it to knock seven times upon the doors, which then opened of their own accord. The interior was so dark it may as well have been pitch black, due to how much later the hour now was. This, in direct contrast to the lights of the city beyond the mosque's grounds. The older man threw the eye into the darkness inside and after that the doors of the mosque slammed shut, as if blown closed by a sudden wind. However, the air was still that night... with no wind anywhere about. Ramak then traced in the air the sign of an inverted pentagram, and there was a sound akin to a multitude of screams coming from within the walls of the mosque. The dome changed color from azure to black, and at the same time the illusion that did cloak Ramak's true appearance fell away, revealing his skin to be coal black as well. And, revealing that his left eye was completely white though far from sightless. For he had long ago sacrificed normal sight in that eye for a variety of sight more uncanny. Some knowledge and wisdom can only be purchased at great cost, and this was the cost Ramak had paid for his. “Come, beloved!” he said to his child lover, so adding: “It is time to depart this city! At long last, we shall be able to penetrate the tower in the desert... you remember the one, it is that same wherein you once served the alchemist whose tower it used to be. Your former master, once upon a time! Therein, I will teach you the greatest of all my magical secrets. For only once I am within its' most sacred sanctum, will my powers be at their absolute peak.” The boy was anxious! He knew the way to open the tower's gates, and he knew the way through its' chambers to the place that Ramak spoke of. The alchemist was long dead, and long in his grave. There was nothing within the tower to fear any longer, no obstacles of the physical sort left therein to be overcome. It had been worth becoming Ramak's apprentice to gain the gift of eternal youth and eternal life. It had not at all been difficult for the little boy to betray the alchemist and offer up the dead man's heart to the Dark Jinn who came to feast upon it, at the urging of he who was now the child's new master. Ramak had for long been in contact with Nasir through their occasional shared dreams, and through those dreams he secured for himself the devotion of the child who was destined to become his devoted apprentice. The older man had never himself set foot in the tower, which was sealed the instant Nasir left it to embark upon his lengthy journey to Ramak's side. But now, the time had come to lay claim to its' secrets, and to bestow upon Nasir the power that the little boy had long craved. As he loved the child, he had to do it.
Crossing the desert at night, by camel, was an arduous task given the chill that the night winds so oft were of a want to bring... but it was better than making the journey by day, in the full heat of the ever so merciless sun. Had Ramak even slept previous to this adventure? His eyes were tired, weary, the lids of them at times threatening to close on their own. He and the boy had prepared for three days and nights, after the gruesome death of the priest, hastening to much that they paid little attention to when they ate or drank, or slept. They were wholly possessed of a spirit of desperation that drove them to haste more than they perhaps should have. They could have taken a vehicle, had Ramak the ability to drive, but the man had never learned that particular skill. They could have purchased the services of a driver, had they not the need for absolute secrecy. And so, the antiquated conveyance of camels had to suffice. The pair felt as if they were characters in a story out of legend, acting within the bounds of a tale that was not in truth their own to tell. Nasir knew the way to the tower by heart, so they needed no guide and it can be said that there were precious few living aside from the boy who knew the way to that place any longer. For his part, Ramak knew the way there as well but he had to keep his mind occupied on various things of magical, mystical varieties, going over certain rites, rituals, formulae, and mantras in his mind as the camels bore he and his youthful paramour ever onward towards their destination. He would need all of his arts for when they reached the tower, after all. About halfway out, the little boy looked up to notice in the heavens above, amid the light of countless stars and the solitary pale moon, what to his eyes did seem to be an apparition of some sort. He pointed it out to Ramak, who followed where the child was indicating with his hand. There was something there, something ethereal and strange, and the man had no idea what it could be. Whatever it was, it was traveling in the same direction that they were. He said to the boy: “It isn't an airplane, a helicopter, or even a flying saucer... whatever it is, it is something that lacks a definitive, discernible shape beyond the ethereal mass we are witnessing. We should be wary of it, but it could be merely an omen of some kind. It is not of this world in any case.” And Nasir nodded his head in agreement, and pretended not to notice the thing any further, whatever it was. Ere long, they reached a place where an enormous series of dunes rose up, and in the center of them was a tower half buried in the desert's sands. It looked ancient, ruined, and long abandoned even though the pair knew it to be anything but abandoned. “Do the servants and the guardians still dwell within?” asked the boy, to which Ramak answered: “If they do, they will be as secretive as you likely remember. We will need to be cautious so that we do not fall afoul of their watchful eyes. They will not be welcoming to us, I dare to imagine.” And so, the pair tied their camels to some small but immeasurably heavy boulders nearby, and they began to survey the area around the tower, which seemed silent and devoid of any signs of life. The means to enter the tower was by way of an entrance that was right there in plain sight, but that was not the wisest way to venture therein. Nasir, instead, knew of a trap door behind some rocks just behind the back of the tower, just beneath the sand there. The boy led the man who was with him over to where this was located, and the child proceeded to clear away the sand from the trap door. The door was metal and very old, slightly rusted, and looking as if it might be able to be broken from its' very hinges. “I do honestly hate to even consider touching that thing.” he commented, before putting on a pair of leather work gloves that he brought with him for this purpose. This way, none of the rust or dirt would get on his hands. With a strength surpassing that of the mightiest grown man, the little boy flung open the old door and accidentally tore it from its' hinges, sending it flying off towards the nearby dunes. “That was very impressive, Nasir!” said Ramak, whose eyes were wide with astonishment in beholding this big of spectacle. He knew the boy was immeasurably powerful, but he never realized the boy was also crazily strong. All part of the reasons why he knew better than to anger the child, or ever seek to cross him. The little boy smiled, gazing upon the shaft that led down beneath the sands, down into the tunnels that ran beneath the tower. Metal rungs like those of a ladder were bolted into the wall of the shaft, and they did look to be in a most excellent state indeed unlike the rusty door that had been at the mercy of the desert.
Nasir removed his gloves and climbed down the rungs first, with Ramak following after him. In time, the pair descended and were once more on solid footing, in a concrete bunker complex that was at the very heart of the maze of tunnels that existed beneath the forsaken tower. This complex dated back to the days of the first and second world wars, and no one was ever quite sure of its' original purpose. No banners of any country decorated the bunker's walls, and there was nothing to indicate which side those who had built this place were on during those monumental conflicts. However, Nasir remembered what this place had been used for when he still lived at the tower. And it sent chills down his spine to recall the sights he beheld in this place. The alchemist who had been the master of the tower liked to send out his servants to procure little girls from various small towns and villages of the region, or sometimes he would have them purchased for him from the nefarious criminals who trafficked in human goods, who oft dealt with the alchemist in order to sell the man fresh victims for his obscene experiments in both arcane matters and sexual ones. To say that the alchemist was insane and depraved was probably a gross understatement. The man had held perverse games of hide and seek in this bunker complex, where he would commit acts of savage rape upon any little girl who had failed to hide herself well enough to not be found. Orgies too, had been held here by him, during which the alchemist and his inner circle of dark acolytes would commit mass rapes and sometimes unspeakable tortures upon all of the girls. Nasir had been forced to aid these evil, twisted men in all that they did, and he had been forced to act as a sexual slave for the alchemist prior to Ramak helping him to win his freedom. Indeed, as had been stated, there were no longer any physical threats left to be wary of in this place... but the tireless and insane servants of the alchemist were not physical beings, and the guardians were also not of this physical world. They were Jinn of the darkest variety, and now they were without a master to give them purpose. If they were actually still there, then they would be beyond any control and thus of an extremely dangerous mindset. Nothing was more deadly than a malicious Jinn left to its' own heart's darkest desiring. As Nasir led his new master, and lover, through the tunnels that led out from the bunker complex proper, the smell of old decay and other unpleasant odors was strong in the stale underground air. It appeared that the series of air conditioning systems had been shut off, for the heat of this place was oppressive and not unlike an oven, though that is perhaps a bit of an exaggeration. After some time journeying through the many tunnels, there could be seen here and there the skeletal remains of dead children. The little girls who the alchemist and his henchmen had killed when simply defiling them proved not enough to satisfy the evil in their hearts. Nasir had known them all by name, and some of their corpses he could still recognize by the remnants of the clothing they wore. Tears were in the boy's eyes, and his heart felt close to breaking. Some of them had become his friends, they had grown to trust him, only for the alchemist to destroy the ones that had meant the most to the child. Seeing Nasir's evident sorrow and grief, Ramak also felt tears in his eyes, and doubly so when his eyes fell upon the grim sight of the remains of all these girls. How many lay dead in these tunnels, which were now catacombs that housed only the dead? The number of them could not be easily counted. “I forgot about this.” Nasir admitting, explaining to his master what it was that lay so heavily upon his mind and heart. The man said to the child: “I understand... this grieves me just as much, seeing this. How any man could be so barbarous, I shall never comprehend!” Soon, it felt right to move with greater haste, if only to escape these dreadful passageways. Nasir knew the route to take by heart, he could see himself in his memories traversing these tunnels in years thankfully past. He hated this place more than ever now, and he wished he had not come back to it. Swiftly, the pair did emerge from the maze of tunnels into the central chamber at the deepest point beneath the tower, below its' very foundations. It was the ritual chamber wherein countless human sacrifices had once been given up to ancient gods that were actually bloodthirsty devils. The shaft in the center of the chamber was as black as night, and no bottom could be seen. It was fortunate that Nasir and his master had brought with them flashlights and plenty of batteries for them, in the packs that they carried with them upon this trip.
For, there was no light in the bunker, the tunnels, or this place. That made the discoveries they found within, that much more deeply horrifying. They had no foreknowledge of what might be seen when they so shone their lights before them, letting the shafts of the flashlights' illumination fall upon whatever it may... often, revealing things that would remain etched in their nightmares forever after. Old blood did stain the entire floor surrounding the shaft in the middle of the ritual chamber, and the bones of women, men, and children alike, as well as animals, could be seen littering the floor in places. Chains with very sharp and bloody hooks hung from the ceiling here and there, and Ramak did not wish to imagine what uses they had likely been put to. It was gruesome enough to actually see these horrifying sights. Piles of torn and tattered clothing, most of women's or girl's clothing, lay strewn about as well, a testament to the rapacious violations that had been visited upon those who had worn these garments prior to what it was that was done unto them in order to snuff out their lives. Nasir remembered how these victims had all been cast down into the shaft, and very few were left to rot upon the floor where they perished. What monstrous evils the alchemist had perpetrated, were beyond any reasonable comprehension as to what it was the vile man had hoped to gain from such doings. Just across from the entrance to this chamber, on the farthest side of the massive room, the archway behind which was the tower's grand staircase lay. An elevator had been installed past the staircase, although whether or not it still functions could not easily be determined. Something dark and terrible was within the shaft, at the bottom of that pit, and Nasir in his time when he dwelt in the tower had beheld the sight of it whenever it emerged to feed. It was not a god, not a devil either, but something worse from the unseen world. Something as old as the Earth was, and with a ravenous appetite for blood and souls. “We should be mindful to stay away from the shaft, as we make our way around the outermost circumference of this chamber, towards that archway.” Nasir so explained, indicating the way to go for his master to understand. Ramak nodded his head in agreement, and the pair did the smart thing that Nasir had stated they should. The inhuman sounds from the pit had proven that their caution was not for nothing. “We will check and see if the elevator still works, first.” the boy explained, as he led his master to the metal doors of the elevator shaft. They ignored the stairs for the time being, as the boy opened a nearby fuse box to check and see if everything was working as it should have been. The fuses were still in working order, which meant someone had to still been alive in this place... a physical someone... in order to ensure this. There was power going to the elevator, and off down a side passage the hum of running generators could be heard. “This is good! We can make use of the elevator and save ourselves a great deal of time.” said the child as he pressed the call button for the elevator. The metal doors slid open, and the pair of intruders stepped inside. Nasir so pressed the button for the topmost floor, knowing that was where he and his master needed to go. At least, thankfully, the rest of the tower was not like those under chambers. In fact, the apartments in the upper floors where he had once lived had been deceptively beautiful, modern, and civilized looking. Of a sort that would not have been out of place amid the modern opulence of Dubai. The alchemist had been a wealthy man, and a member of a global secret society that had many other rich and powerful members. Nasir knew of that organization's reach, its' extent, and the madness of its' highest ranks. He knew enough, to understand a great deal of the despicable tragedies that its' members caused throughout the world. People from east to west, and from countless countries in between were among those members... and their victims were innumerable. Ramak knew of these wicked men and women as well, and of the countless things that the group had their hands in from experimental technologies to ancient tomes of sorcery and forbidden lore from places even mainstream archaeologists and historians knew nothing of the existence of. If he had wished to, he could have even joined them at one point... but he had wisely refused the offer when it so had been extended to him. The elevator reached the topmost floor, and its' metal doors slid open with a rush. The little boy and his beloved master stepped out, and into a magnificent series of chambers that contained every imaginable luxury and countless spectacular works of art... and every modern comfort.
This part of the tower was well lit, and in several rooms were computers, televisions, and even video game consoles. None were on at present, and these rooms all looked like playgrounds for the rich and the leisurely. Magnificent potted plants, all of them artificial, could be seen in the corners of many of the rooms, and the walls were white and immaculate... many of which were decorated with paints that depicted all manner of arcane and sometimes abstract or surreal subjects. If the outside of the tower did resemble an ancient ruin, this part of the interior was the exact opposite of such an appearance. Many comfortable couches were in these rooms, piled high with soft cushions. Glass display cases held varied objects of antiquity such as statues of god and goddesses from many countries and cultures, along with splendid vases from as far away and long ago as the Ming dynasty of China. Medieval suits of armor so stood in silent guard in some of the hallways outside these rooms, all of them from various European countries. Racks containing weapons from the same period were within alcoves in several walls. This was a place that contained many precious things, and once it was in one such series of rooms that Nasir lived. If one could call a life of sexual servitude and forced obedience living. Unable to control himself, the little boy grabbed a small sword from one of the weapon racks, and with it he lashed out smashing many of the display cases and breaking what they contained. He screamed as he did this, his face red with fury, and he kept doing this until his anger was spent. “What the alchemist did to you was horrible, Nasir. I am sorry for your suffering.” Said Ramak, with tears in his eyes once again. The boy, breathing a bit heavily after these antics of his, said to the man that he loved: “You have nothing to apologize for, my master. The cruelties enacted upon me long ago, those were the deeds of another.” And so the pair continued to search this place for the room they were seeking. At last they found it... the office that had belonged to the alchemist when still he lived and breathed. It's mahogany doors were decorated with delicate etchings of silver, depicting abstract patterns of ancient Arabic design. Nasir opened the doors, and led Ramak into the chamber within. It was a very normal looking modern office space. A large desk was in the center of the room, upon which sat a desktop computer complete with a widescreen monitor, a mouse, and a keyboard. A video game controller was there upon the desk as well, indicating that the alchemist enjoyed the occasional normal diversion. A selection of small USB flash drives lay organized neatly next to the monitor, and an android phone lay off to the side of the keyboard, which itself was in front of the monitor itself. External solid state drives were connected to the desktop, two of them to be precise, and a small selection of dolls on stands could be seen off to one side of the desk...the side that was opposite of where the flash drives sat. The dolls were in the likeness of little girls. The air in these parts of the tower was cool, and apparently the air conditioning was on there, unlike in the areas below. Music was playing from a stereo compact disc player that sat upon a table off to one side of the room... and it was a classical piece, specifically Vivaldi's Spring. Hanging upon the wall that was the one most far behind the desk, there was a painting of a twelve year old Indian girl whose smiling face was quite captivating to look upon. The girl's smile was slightly mischievous, and she had her hair in a ponytail of a style not dissimilar to the type favored by many cheerleaders and middle school girls alike. Her skin was a rich brown with a slightly yellowish tint to it, and her eyes were big and dark brown in color. The girl was wearing very traditional garments of the sort that most readily comes to mind when one thinks of women or girls from India. Whoever she was or had been, she had evidently meant a great deal to the man who had once sat behind the desk of this office. Ramak thought that she looked familiar to him, as he gazed into the eyes of the young girl in the portrait. He kept on saying: “It cannot be her! It simply... cannot... be her.” but it was her, it was the girl he once loved so long ago. He could not bring himself to speak her name, but it had been his hand that had painted this very portrait, just as it had been he who once sat behind the desk in this office. For Ramak had been the alchemist... even if he had forgotten it, following his attempted suicide the night he decided to set Nasir free, the night he decided he could no longer take working for the secret society that had caused him to become a monster. He remembered!
He had not refused to join them after all, at least when they came to him a second time. He was all too eager to join them, if only to make his difficult life easier. Only the first time, many years before, had he told them no. How many years was he in their service? And how many dreadful delights had they made him partake of, until the point where he no longer knew the difference between good and evil anymore! And, he dove into each depraved and decadent activity with relish, all to put far from his mind the loss of that girl whom he had loved, the loss that had driven him clear into madness and darkness. She had not been his first love by any means, but she had been one of his greatest loves. Whomever he once had been when still she was at his side, he had become something terrible after she was at his side no more. He knew their relationship could never endure for long, she was a little girl and he was old enough to be her father... but he loved her with a passion approaching insanity, and she had loved him with equal lunacy and if anything even greater passion. When her parents forced her to go back with them to India, it broke his heart and pushed him into loneliness and self loathing. That was when the organization did approach him for the first time, and he refused their offer. By the time the second offer came, he had to accept it... for, there was nothing else left for him to do. He knew why he loved Nasir... the boy had to him a quality that reminded Ramak of that girl whom he had loved and lost. But unlike her, this child was not actually human. Nasir was human in appearance only! Behind that appearance, was something else, something far, far more. And that was why the former alchemist knew the boy had to be set free of the ties that bound him to the sinister organization. And, why he too had to be set free from them. When he aimed the gun to his left eye and pulled the trigger, after arranging for Nasir's escape... he thought he would surely die, that in death he would escape from the ones who had come to hold his leash like unto a dog, even as they fed him various delights as one might feed treats to an animal. But, knowing what it was he intended to do to himself... Nasir, before he was too far away from the tower to act, willed with all his heart for his master to live, but in a way that he would have no memory of the evils he had done. The powerful child had hoped that in this way, the man could be redeemed of his nearly demonic sins... which had at the end driven the alchemist to the sort of despair that can only come from regret. What it was that Ramak had become after his resurrection, was something no longer human. His life had been the ultimate sacrifice he had finally made, and in return for it he had become immortal and possessed of an uncanny form of sight in his left eye once it had miraculously repaired and healed itself as well as it could ever again be. But by that time, he was no longer within the tower... his servants had taken away his body for burial in the tunnels below, and he awoke in the darkness of those tunnels half mad and in an amnesiac state. He had found his way to the trap door and escaped, wandering lost in the desert to an extent where he became mad for a great long time from his ordeal. By the time he reached civilization, and sanity once more, he was no longer the man he had once been. He was purged, purified, and totally changed. When next he met with Nasir, it was as if they had met for the first time, and it was the child who had helped him to return to his home in the United States of America. Almost a world away from the tower where the terrible organization had installed him, in order that he might better do their wicked bidding. But something, some power had called him back to this place... and it had called Nasir as well. The little boy asked his master, his lover: “So... when are you going to teach me the greatest of all your magical secrets, master alchemist?” And there was a mixture of love, eagerness, and scorn in the tone of the boy's voice when he asked that question. Ramak remembered everything now, all that he had so done, and the perversity with which he had done so many of those things. All to drown his pain, all in a senseless effort to forget his loneliness. There were no servants here, nor guardians, any longer. Not a single Jinn remained, and even the thing in the pit had been merely a convincing illusion created by the magic at the inhuman boy's command. It had been Nasir who had come to the tower previously, and in secret, to get things up and running again, to restore power and to tidy things up. All in preparation for his master's return to the place where he had perished by his own hand. This forsaken and terrible place.
“I... regret everything I did.” Said the former alchemist, and his boy lover rushed into his arms to so wrap his own about him tightly. Their embrace brought tears to each other's eyes, as Nasir said to this man who had been both his greatest love as well as the devil he hated most of all in this world: “If I had not the power in me to forgive you for my enslavement and the horrors you perpetrated here, I would in truth had allowed you to die. But I wanted to test you, to see if you would learn your lesson had you a second chance at life, and a fresh start to go with it. Your masters in the society believe you to be dead, and this place is long abandoned by them. If there had ever existed any power here, it is long departed.” Suddenly, in that very instant, as soon as those words were spoken... the windows of the office shattered outward, spraying glass unto the sands outside from the great height above. It was still night outside, as the ethereal form of whatever the pair had seen in the skies above glided down into the room in order to confront them. It was visible to them fully now, this terrible but strangely beautiful thing before them. It was constantly in a state of shifting, and it was as if it were a single being comprised of many. It was at once angelic and yet frightful, surrounded by a kind of softly glowing pale green mist. Within that mist, which whatever this was wore like a covering, one could see the faces of countless little girls, alongside many boys and several men and women. And much to his terror, Ramak recognized each and every one of their faces... all of them had been his former victims, all of them had met their deaths because of the things he had done and taken part in. Their arms reached forth from the mist, and it was as if all of their arms were connected to something monstrous within. It strode forward on countless legs, like a spider, as the thing let out cries that were many cries of anguish, pain, and suffering. The spirits of those who had suffered and died in the spaces beneath the tower had come together in death to form whatever this now was, with the express purpose of avenging its'... their... destruction. Sometimes, it sprouted many wings like an avenging angel, and sometimes it sprouted clawed tentacles the better to reach the one it intended to punish. Ramak was crying, sobbing, and screaming as he pleaded with this horror to leave him alone. “I am not the man I once was any longer! Please, please let me have this, my second chance, in order to prove it to you.” he shrieked, rushing back from the sight of his attacker even as it lunged for him with all those arms, hands, and clawed tentacles. The faces of the spirits of the dead became totally demonic and frightful to gaze upon, skeletal and awful, as their cries became more piteous to hear. They wanted to tear the former alchemist apart, and were oblivious to his pleas for mercy. Nasir rushed to so stand between Ramak and this abomination, as the little boy said unto it: “Do you not recognize me? I know so many of you, who were my friends for a time!” And he called out their names, after which he said unto them: “Please, in the name of Allah the most merciful and gracious, in the name of Allah the just... stay your wrath and give your tormentor the chance to learn his lesson. He will live far beyond a human lifespan now, and his immortality will be no blessing unto him. He will have to live through all the ages to come, with the guilt of what he has done. Is that not a torment even beyond your own? I do implore you! Go to whatever rest awaits you beyond death, and leave the fate of this man to me.” and the voices of the dead asked of the boy: “And who are you, that we should obey your will! Friend to so many of us though you were.” And suddenly the office filled with a bright light that was so powerful, so magnificent and grand, that Ramak had to close his eyes and clap his hands over them, bowing to the floor his head so that he would not be blinded by the sight of Nasir's true form. The former alchemist was screaming still, and when the light subsided he was back in his home in the United States and as he looked at the calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen he noticed it was the year that the girl he loved had been forced to go back to India with her parents. It was before he ever became that dark alchemist, and so also before that wicked secret society had first approached him. He realized in that instant, that Nasir had been an angel sent by Allah to warn him of his future should he choose to go down the dark path that he had been considering. He would heed the warning and tell them no, as many times as it so took in order to have them leave him alone. Ramak's future would be his own to shape, in a better way.
Published 19th Jun 2024
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