SYZYGY

by

Jozef Borja–Erece

List of Key Characters

(by principal association)

The Creator’s Paradise

• Evelyn of Utopia

• Lilith of Liberty

• Adam of Oblivia

• Euthyphro

The Devil’s Inferno

• Beelzebub

• Lucifer

o Sin

o Death

o Abaddon

Ruling House Immaclezjov of Utopia

• Emperor Sargon

• Empress Antoinette

o Crown Prince Charlemagne

o Princess Cordelia

Western Utopia

• Viscount Joyce

o Asenath

o Solomon

• Hume

o Faith

• Alexander

o Beauvoir the Cursed

Eastern Utopia

• King Pascal

• Princess Reverie

Syzygy

List of Key Characters

• High King Tamerlane

o Crown Prince Khan

House Rosenfield

• Burrhus Rosenfield

o Vlad Rosenfield

o Valerie Rosenfield

Liberty’s High Society

• Soren Vespera

• Raven Hilderbrand

• Zion Valentine

• Catherine Rosenfield

• Bentham Rosenfield

• Zarathustra

o Myer

House Everfinder

• Goddard Schindler Everfinder

• Anne

o Dusk Everfinder

o Athena Everfinder

Pillars of Idyll

• Jefferson

• Morgan

o Elijah

o Helena

• Gwendolyn

o Simon

• Abraham

Act I

EXORDIUM

‘In everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and

the Prophets.’

– Matthew 7:12

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Exordium

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Genesis – Worlds & Souls

Once upon a time, along the twine, there existed a presumptuous world, nestled between hells and

heavens. Among democracies, oligarchies, autocracies, aristocracies, monarchies, technocracies,

empires, and republics, he lay an upward gaze across the still night sky and pondered in wonder

of thunder, fire, and rain, and of those not a little bit sane. They who preached of gods and devils,

and associations between goods and evils – of linguistic irony and of delusional singularity.

But who was he to identify hypocrisy? For even he was naught but a prisoner to the blind, the

contrived, the depraved and deprived.

“Do you think that the stars will ever come out?” asked the purest of voices, her eyes beaming

with the brightest hope. Then did the world so weep, as the black sky broke unto flashes, wails,

and torrential tears. In whispers, hisses, and kisses did the wind and rain speak, as haunting worldly

echoes upon a time claimed. There one day and gone the next, or so the old tales went.

And so with a brandish of lightning did our story begin in an existence illuminated by the

manifestation of conscious perception. Like brother destiny in redemptive agrarian delusion. But

as brothers intertwined and not similarly inclined, so too went perception and delusion. The

concrete and the abstract, the reality and the dream.

By the World Spirit’s will, darkness birthed the light to a meadow field on a starry night.

GYMNOPÉDIE NO. 1

‘God of peace, bring your peace to our violent world, peace in the hearts of all men and women,

and peace among the nations of the earth.’

– Benedict XVI

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Palaios

Once upon a time along the twine, or rather once upon a dream, the chosen Star of Dawn was

accursed with sight of all that was to be.

The first vision was one of dawn’s splendour, when all of life lived in a most brilliant optimality.

From the mountains, to the trees, to the seas, to the breeze – the first of souls tended well to all

there was to see. Homes were made where the happy children played in this land flowing with

milk and honey. And there was no doubt as to who would wield clout whenever times rendered

certainty not clear.

Some called him ‘God,’ others ‘Father,’ some adored his mercy, others his strength, but of it all,

this was never in doubt: While moons waxed and waned, and lives passed with the rain, the

Creator’s love was beyond all things. At the heart of it all, the rise and the fall, only love kept life

from falling apart. For without the divine, which betrayed ways of the swine, there was nothing

but hate and unrule. Though souls came and went, and life wasn’t always perfect, the cycle went

on in brilliant form; benevolence at the helm. All grass would be green, and oceans like the sky,

for as long as God lived in the garden. The dark in man’s heart was kept at bay by decree of

heaven’s mandate.

Order was clear, and to each other, people were dear.

Over the generations strewn across time, as the trees of families branched and grew, cities were

built, technologies evolved, and leaders rose to guide their kin. All over the world that the God

had created, his aspects permeated their will. Though even this, the Creator did permit, for freedom

was the heart of the soul.

Then, at some point, when man felt itself great, many called for their God to be silent.

It is said that on one fateful day, when all were away, the Garden fell from the sky. And upon its

debris, as all souls wept for thee, mankind took the mantle of rule. Without a conscience in sight

or much of mourning respite, from here, upon blood, a kingdom was built.

“The word is still good, though the utterer’s gone,” so believed Evelyn and the first Utopia kings.

They believed in the order the Creator kept, and in the guidance he once offered his children.

Traditions were kept and history met respect. In their faithful zeal, it seemed the world

acknowledged their birthright, and many of the powers that had been the God’s were gifted to a

chosen few. Prophecy, wisdom, and miracles were signs of divine mandate, and so blessed families

rose to prominence.

But what became of those who disagreed? Those who believed in themselves alone? Lilith’s camp

of fervent dissenters departed to the West where they found in themselves their hearts. “Why hold

on to the ways of old which have rendered us worthless and meek? Each of us are capable of

greatness beyond this. We will shed the oppression of the blind zealots, and mankind will rise

above God.” Upon that spirit, the nation–state of Liberty was founded, and the world gifted them

too with the powers of creation. Knowledge and discernment created advanced technologies and

technocratic systems as Liberty grew at a blistering pace in the name of progress to match Utopia’s

strength.

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And there too was another group of soul–kin who, over time, before the fall of the Garden, had

shifted faith in God to their own. The fall itself permitted these collections of varied hearts, under

the guidance of Adam, to part ways with their bickering counterparts.

They travelled deep into the jaws of the fearful unknown on an exodus North. Utopia and Liberty

heard nothing from those who left until generations later when forays South yielded discoveries of

Oblivia clans of the same lineage as those who went far North. From their re–appearance came

our first speculation of the known world’s shape: Perhaps not a canvas, but a sphere. Yet still, to

this day, nothing is known by modern civilization of the truth or the face of the North nor of the

mist which ruled its horizon.

This vision of Palaios made known our world’s creation, and those fateful transgressions of the

spirit. Though all was well, so far as cycles went, souls were so divided, perhaps as they had always

been.

Mezzo

The second vision moved the Star ever more as it brought her to a place which looked ever so

familiar. She could not quite recall the reason that it was, but there, engrained somewhere in her

bright heart was a spirit that offered warmth. Dewdrops of dawn brightened ever more the feel of

the serene, peaceful place. Though to the Star this was a sight most new, the scene had a particular

warmth. As if it was a place where she had been before. Yet this could not be, for what she saw

was quite unlike anything that our world had ever known.

For what seemed at first to be a village of agrarian Paradise was upon closer gaze, a great deal

more than just that. The structures and fields which made up its face were angled in the strangest

way, and it seemed gravity held little sway. As the Star glanced around at fields which rolled, not

over the horizon, but vertically, to those stars above, she struggled to make sense of this sight

which she saw, and pondered that above may not even have been stars at all. Ahead were grand

spires which protruded to the East and West. Each one would have been as awesomely breathtaking

as civilization’s loftiest and most skyward obelisks, if only they were not quite as diagonal. Behind

were the travelling souls of all the populations in many forms – some with clearer countenances

than others. To the left and the right in impressive form, there then appeared the joys and lights of

the world. All of wholesome happiness in tangible form. Though the place was twisted and no

sense could be made, joy was clearly where the Star was.

But as she paced along the effervescent path and reached out towards this familiar figure of light:

The ground collapsed beneath her and the landscape horrifically shifted as perhaps it had always

been destined to do. The stars above became no different from the abysmal void, and fearful shrieks

of despair filled the chilly air. The figure of light was a part of the dark and here, there was no

hope to be found. Flashes of torturous lightning set our realm alight in ominous flames. The spirits

of inhumanity and blight made themselves manifest with hints of deep sorrow at heart. Presence

here entailed pain – for the slowest of deaths did not compare to the torture of bottomless despair.

Those lighthearted souls who were all once happy there were devils who wore masks. And happier

they seemed as innocence squealed, and they took all they wanted from the weak. Not a doubt

could be had that this was the hell, where all existence existed for but the cancerous growth of the

self.

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It was at this here point where the Star realized that perhaps this was not but a dream. For the

painful truth of it all was that most vivid across the eternity of all she had ever seen or felt. Was

this what was real? This endless void, which rendered time’s creation destroyed? The pure–hearted

soul was moved to tears by the thought of the dark’s triumph.

And it was only then when her sorrows filled the scene that the figure of light once more appeared.

The vision of Mezzo was brought to an end and in a brilliant flash, the world again made some

sense.

Kainos

It was Kainos, the third, which told of a world grander in scale than the others. For beyond the

Paradise of God’s domain, existence was vibrant and untamed.

So, too, was mankind sprawled about an expansive world of a form simply too grand to

comprehend. No fate, nor destiny, nor preordained will, impeded the rise of the strong. This was

liberty in its purest form; limits and structure reduced to fiction.

But it was also true that this was the most conceivably frightening condition, for thus was the state

of nature, and harmony between souls reduced to a fanciful dream.

Between the factions of soul and relentless forces unabated, there was not an alliance in sight.

Mankind’s nature was set loose upon an empty canvas. This was the wretched place built from the

fabric of reality’s heart. Leaders, lords, and monarchs ruled rightly alike over kingdoms built upon

avarice’s triumph. Where gods they had used for the sake of their ascents sooner left and

disappeared. And those blessed who stayed faithful and true to the hidden holy ideal so too went

their separate ways. The nations in division found for each other only cause for loathing as agendas

pushed them yet further apart. To the point that nothing remained of affinity from one to another

– save for mutual will to power. Justice changed with the times to the beat of lawmaker whims.

Populism, though portrayed as a governing force, became as subject and impotent as the

populations they set out to serve. Eventually, the domain became known as it was – an empty

platform – and the fragments of civilization condemned to decay.

Even the skies above and the land underfoot mourned the scourge upon its surface, and never again

was a hopeful rainbow seen. Spilled blood flooded the sea’s unmoving surface, as turmoil morphed

into panic. But all of the blood would be washed away when the mountains and seas cried out to

the sky. Colossal waves and walls of water crashed and swallowed cities whole. For a moment, in

the silence, it seemed there was peace.

But of course, faced with pain, only the worst in their souls emerged.

After a brief respite, they who survived lived to fight once again. The innocent, as before, who

called for reason – were left to the mercy of hounds. All were forced to choose between poverty

and plight. With sorrowful despair, the Star looked upon a world where one truth was very clear.

Light and darkness, good and evil, the karmic balance, and the fates above had not a form to take.

Only wickedness at the core of rotting hearts was the measure of human worth.

When all was said and done at the end of time which the souls of the world brought upon

themselves, the judge descended to herald the reckoning. The skies and the seas had become voids

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and wastelands – desolate and barren of all life and promise. Aside from those deplorable beings

formed from envy, hate, and avarice – who feasted upon what little was left of the light. A pathetic

Hadean sight was all that remained after ages of conflict and strife. No hope could be found across

the cosmos and deserts alike. For the good who remained were hidden in fear of the eternal night.

Early on, it was believed by many that death was a return to the Progenitor’s paradise. That all

good against the odds would have its reward, and the sanctified would find their way home. But

then, throughout time, as the people learned, they looked back at all they had done. And finally,

they grieved, perhaps more than ever before, at the revelation they came to find.

There was no Paradise at the end, nor a Father who cared for their souls. For without a Creator,

there could be no soul, and all prayer was made in vain. What then, was left, in the face of all

death, but to apologize and make amends? But the hurt they had dispensed had long gone beyond

the scope of human forgiveness and mercy.

The Star found herself where existence collapsed – at the final doomsday scene. Piles of corpses

of both the light and the dark lay strewn about the battlefield that spanned the world. The end had

been the result of this last battle of the judgement, and there remained only submission to nihilism.

The sorrowful Author stood before another regretful soul – His majesty a memoir of the past.

For it was through their loathing and hate that they murdered the spirit of God.

Prophecy of the Light

So were the dreams entrusted to the Star – Providence entrusted to one heart. In the hearts of men,

she would see these visions of Palaios, Mezzo, and Kainos. In the turmoil set to rule and weaved

into the fabric of existence: The tragic, inescapable nature of suicide waiting at the end.

But still, in her heart, the Star held onto her belief that the future was not set in stone. For while

the doomsayers raved that the end could no longer be in doubt, the Star continued to believe with

the greatest fervour in that which had been gifted before the fall.

A covenant made to His faithful people which would be kept for as long as they and their line did

not forget.

“When all the land despairs and cries out beneath the eternal night, the Chosen King will re–

emerge from the sacred line. To deliver the Father’s faithful people, once and for all, from the

reign and dominion of evil.”

She believed what was uttered was not a prayer to the wind, but a promise for all time.

A promise that where there is faith, there is hope.

TAKE US BACK

‘Do not waste time bothering whether you love your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do

this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone you will

presently come to love him.’

– C.S. Lewis

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Stalingrad the Damned

Once upon a time, along the twine, at a time before the fall, there was a dream formed from the

Creator’s slumber of a man of Stalingrad, a forsaken city. This soul called Euthyphro suffered

torment of the spiritual kind. Seeing the moral ailments which plagued human life, himself and his

loved ones unexempted, he worried most genuinely about the fate that would befall he and his

wicked kin.

Details ought be spared and all sufficed to say that Stalingrad was not an ironic name, and the evils

therein were most heinous. Many often claimed that the city had been in the past a prison for the

spawn of the truest evil. And of that fortress was there then borne a society of slavery and

oppression – before the Devil disappeared. But malice nor the will to hurt never left, and so it

became an unsaid rule that the good would never venture there. Those who were left were those

wretched enslaved and those tainted by the blood and influence of the unholy one – who in their

time became devils themselves.

Euthyphro and his kin were of the working class; honest folk damned by their birth to this place.

But even in their plight, their faith in benevolence and the virtues of the Creator, however warped

by the place, somehow remained their anchour and source of strength. The God himself,

sympathetic to their tribulation, sent forth from the Garden to Stalingrad His evangelist – a spiritual

guide who went by the name of Mercury, to deliver a divine message to the faithful Euthyphro.

Conquering his fears in the name of the Lord, Mercury did so, and made his way to that cursed

place which had been the Devil’s domain. He visited Euthyphro at the latter’s place of work, and

urged him well that salvation could only be found in the Garden of the Creator – the Celestial City.

Having listened well, Euthyphro returned home and implored those he loved to join him on the

journey to the sacred Garden but was denied. Therefore alone, he left behind all he had ever known

in life and ventured out to brave the dangerous journey to Paradise.

On the first day of travel through Stalingrad’s treacherous outlands, Euthyphro found himself lost

to a frightening backdrop of swamps and marshes. The scene reflected the unhappiness and doubt

which lingered and grew in the mind of Euthyphro with every step he took away from the comforts

of the life and family he knew. Yet loss of direction did not temper the resolve in Euthyphro’s

heart. Eventually, the shade made way for the light of dawn to shine through and illuminate the

way out of the vile place.

Some miles further along the road, as the light of day started to set, Euthyphro encountered an

apostle of Lilith who went by the name of Hesse. This man preached with zeal and spirit

comparable to that of Mercury, who had set Euthyphro on this journey in the first place. But his

message had a great difference. What he urged Euthyphro do was to lead a simple and practical

existence tending to his own happiness. One independent of religion and the teachings of the

Progenitor. “The pursuit of personal happiness is the best we may do with our lives” so went

Hesse’s axiom. But Euthyphro stayed true and quite resolute – rejecting the hedonistic call.

Almost as soon as he had parted ways with this would–be man of the world, Euthyphro came to

encounter a humble abode in the countryside just as the night overtook the horizon. Fearful of the

horrific creatures of the night, he knocked thrice upon the front door. The soul who answered the

knock was himself a man of God, albeit a recluse who did not often receive visitors. But that was

not a bother, and Euthyphro was warmly welcomed to take shelter for the night. In their

conversation, this self–proclaimed holy fool called Origen conversed with Euthyphro pertaining

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profundities of the faith. He offered praise for the spiritual strength that Euthyphro maintained,

and implored him to continue along the righteous path.

The next morning as Euthyphro set out, the holy fool assured him, as a man who claimed he had

been fortunate enough to visit Paradise in the past, that he would surely get there if he simply

continued to hold onto his faith.

Messengers of God

Inspired by recent events, Euthyphro carried on along the road and came across a landmark wall,

which stretched for miles upon miles across the landscape. As he steadily walked along it, a

premonition made itself vivid – telling of holy sacrifice.

Three shining souls then came before Euthyphro and presented him a rolled certificate – a ticket

for entry into the Paradise when he arrived. But all which had just happened was a great deal for

the bewildered soul to take in and, when the shining ones had gone off, Euthyphro fell asleep on

the roadside. At his time of waking a few hours later, he realized he had misplaced the document.

Repentant for his foolish negligence and looseness in treatment of it, he desperately retraced his

steps along the wall. But to his great relief, he found that all had not been lost despite his failure

and weakness. It simply lay where he had witnessed the premonition when he returned, as if the

ticket would always be there for him if he actively sought it out.

Determined to ensure he never repeated the mistake, Euthyphro made haste along the main road

which stretched on for miles. At the end of it stood a beautiful palace. It was a place that had been

spoken of in stories heard from the people of Stalingrad as a place which lay there as a point of

respite in preparation for descent into Sheol – the Valley of the Shadow of Death. For the only

reasonable path to take on foot from Stalingrad to the Celestial City passed through Sheol.

Euthyphro was received by the four seeresses charged with care of the palace, who saw to it that

those resolved to descend into Sheol were fed, nourished, and armed. They never cared to inquire

about the motivations of passersby, but it was almost always the case that these evenings served

as last rites and final meals.

Euthyphro Battles Abaddon

The banquet to which Euthyphro was treated was a welcome change from the grit and grime of

past days on the road. But remembering the advice of the holy fool, Euthyphro was careful to stay

true to his resolve. He would reach the end of the journey without compromising in his faith. The

mighty task which lay ahead of him remained at the forefront of his mind.

It was at the deadest part of the next night when entrance was permitted, and Euthyphro descended

into Sheol armed with the armaments provided to him by the seeresses. In the pitch black of the

valley, Euthyphro found himself at the mercy of the monstrous fiend which lived deep therein:

Abaddon. This was a nightmarish beast that fed on the light. Legend told of it being an aspect of

the most unholy one himself.

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What followed were three of the longest and most fearful days that Euthyphro ever lived. He hid

and crept in and out of the shadows for dear life as the monster stalked and lashed at him.

But as despair started to set in and the man from Stalingrad started to doubt that he would ever

emerge, a gleam of sunlight penetrated the blackness. With the glimmer of hope, Euthyphro found

a way.

Scrambling towards an opening he had seen, Euthyphro struck at the pursuing fiend’s terrible

countenance with his sword. The sword was broken in two, but the strike staggered the fiend and

allowed Euthyphro to escape through the narrow crevice.

But though he had escaped its heart and the clutches of the ravenous beast which lay therein, his

escape from Sheol was not complete. The Valley of the Shadow of Death stretched on for another

three days, and Euthyphro could feel the life being sapped from his soul as he continued through

the valley.

He started to collapse just as he saw the light of the end. But, chancing upon what appeared to be

the figure of another traveller, he called out and was apparently saved. Eventually, Euthyphro

awoke to the face of his Good Samaritan. He was pleased to discover that this man called Aurelius

was also a pilgrim called from Stalingrad. Aurelius was not a slave who had been condemned to a

lifetime of labour like Euthyphro, however. Rather, he was an affluent man who hailed from

Stalingrad’s nobility.

Regardless, he insisted that they were equal in the shared fact that they had surrendered their lives

and ties to the past in order to become worthy of passage into the Celestial City.

As they progressed along the road in each other’s company, they were pleased to re–encounter

Mercury. But their brightened spirits were set to be dampened by the grim tidings Mercury brought

with him.

Vanity Fair

“In the town just ahead, you will be persecuted for what you believe in, and one of you will lose

your life.”

So foretold God’s messenger with great sorrow. But if either Euthyphro or Aurelius had been

disheartened by the prophecy, they did an excellent job of hiding their doubt. After thanking their

friend for meeting them and passing to them the message, they pressed forward with faithful zeal.

The pair quickly came to understand why it was that they would be persecuted for what they

believed in. The town was – for lack of a description more apt – a breeding ground for sins of the

flesh. It was a twist of self–gratification upon Stalingrad’s polar opposition to the supposed values

of wholesomeness and the divine.

But throughout their traversal of the infamous Vanity Fair, the pair stayed true to their faith, and

resisted all of the temptations and spiritual corruption they observed around them. For their

restraint and refusal to partake in baseness and the town’s depraved norms, they were mocked by

the citizenship and arrested for mocking local custom and religious doctrine.

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At their trial, Aurelius refused to submit to the jurisdiction of the court and the twisted populace.

He defended himself and proclaimed his conclusive refusal to compromise faith. By people who

refused to accept another way of life, Aurelius was burned at the stake and martyred in the town.

As Euthyphro was then escorted away for a lifetime of imprisonment, he believed he saw the soul

of his late companion ascend from its scorched vessel to heaven above.

That night, the door of the cell in which Euthyphro was imprisoned was unlocked by a sympathetic

soul who had been moved by the sight of Aurelius’s steadfastness. And the pilgrim from Stalingrad

was able to escape from the wretched town. He believed that Aurelius would be waiting for him

when he reached the Garden at the end of the journey.

Escape from the Great Despair

The optimism Euthyphro kept through this journey drew to his side another companion – for the

sympathetic soul who freed him asked to come along. Kafka was a younger pilgrim on the way to

the Garden, and his journey had also been one characterized by hardship.

They travelled together across vast stretches of plains where they met another apparent believer

who introduced himself by his title – a Grand Inquisitor of God’s appointment. But there was

something malicious about this newcomer, for while he was wily and resourceful, it soon became

clear to the genuine duo that this Grand Inquisitor used religion and the ideals of virtue principally

to assert his position and consolidate power over his peers. It became clear that he was one who

purported to use the name of God as a means of getting ahead in the world.

Seeing through ulterior motives with faith’s discernment, Euthyphro and Kafka wished the Grand

Inquisitor well before briskly parting ways with him.

At the last stretch of plains where the pair eventually ended up, they were approached by another.

This one was a savvy self–described visionary who went by the name of Smith.

He explained that he was a great advocate of Evelyn’s cause and, hearing of all that Euthyphro

and Kafka had seen and experienced, proposed a business partnership for grand commercial

enterprises which would thrive by the hand of the Lord. The pair were nearly convinced into taking

up with Smith, but found themselves quickly turning away when he requested them to take a detour

from their journey to the Celestial City in exchange for pieces of silver.

That night, as fatigue grew and they needed respite from the journey, the pair found themselves

knocking at the gates of the grounds of a great castle. But the lord of the castle did not take kindly

to the presence of transients upon his grounds. At the mercy of the lord’s men, Euthyphro and

Kafka were thrown like ragdolls into the castle’s dungeon before suffering torture and torment by

the lord’s disturbingly sadistic wife.

They endured great agony throughout the night as punishment for trespassing in the lord’s domain,

and wondered whether they would make it out of there alive. But again, the fates rewarded

Euthyphro’s faith and made means for the duo’s escape. When the wife’s yearning for cries and

torment had been quenched for the night, the lord visited his prisoners in the dungeon. He

apologized for the brutality of his wife, and released them back into the wild lest they again be

subjected to her bloodlust.

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Bearing their wounds, the pilgrim duo proceeded onwards faithfully. Euthyphro and Kafka arrived

at an iconic mountain range – landmarks signifying that they were drawing nearer to the Celestial

City.

Scaling the Mountain Range

Wise shepherds tending to their flock in the region warned the weary pair about these treacherous

mountains. They told of how many like them on the way to the Celestial City had met cruel fates

as they approached the destination. They warned of those paths which posed as shortcuts to the

Celestial City which in actual fact were returns to depravity and the unholy one’s domain.

Euthyphro and Kafka vowed they would not be swayed before proceeding up the mountain range.

On the way up, Euthyphro and Kafka met another soul who went by the name of Immanuel. His

proposition was that the living of a good life completely independent of the Creator was sufficient

in proving faith and becoming worthy of entrance into the Celestial City. That good actions and

good works as distinct from evil could be discerned purely through human reason.

But Euthyphro stayed true to his vow, and maintained that faithfulness to the Creator was what

made up the spirit of good works and a good life. To this, Immanuel quietly retreated from their

company. They continued along the journey and were met with a brilliant sight of all creation

when they reached the peak of the first mountain.

It was somewhere along the mountain range in clear view of the Celestial City that they

encountered one who claimed ties to Adam. Presenting as a wise and worldly man, this Wilhelm

expressed the opinion that the Celestial City, the Garden, and the Creator did not exist. This

position seemed absurd given their apparent physical proximity to the Celestial City. But without

further comment, Wilhelm continued on his way. Though the pair of pilgrims together dismissed

Wilhelm’s assertion as absurd, it lingered on in Kafka’s mind. A while after they had parted ways,

Kafka silently questioned whether that man knew something that they did not.

In any case, the journey across the peaks of the mountain range had been exhausting, and the

adversity was amplified a hundredfold when they reached the eternal plains.

The Last Stretch – Hell Pursues

As they stepped onto the field with the Celestial City almost in their sights, the unholy one reached

from the depths.

It seemed only a matter of time until those from below emerged to claim their souls. Eyes heavy,

legs tired, and their consciousnesses gradually fading, the duo pressed on with knowledge that

their collapse here would make all they had endured in vain. In fear of demise, Kafka confided the

sinful past of unrighteous murder he sought to redeem in his companion. But the resolve they

shared ensured that they kept each other awake throughout all the days it took to reach the end of

the flowery field.

The landscape shifted dramatically as the city on the horizon came into view. It teemed with

flowers, trees, and fruit – of abundance in all ways imaginable – and they knew in their hearts that

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14

they had finally arrived. But one last obstacle remained en route to Paradise. There flowed ahead

of them a mighty river they would need to cross without a vessel to reach the gates of the Celestial

City. They would be required to swim against a current which raged beyond contemplation.

To make matters worse, the sky above them darkened, and they looked behind themselves to find

unholy legions in pursuit. The most horrible kind chased after the two as they heightened their

pace and broke into desperate strides. The pair frantically rushed to the bank of the powerful river

and dove in.

They were resolved that the unholy one would not have their souls on this day.

The fiends dashed swiftly into the river behind them as Euthyphro and Kafka fought against the

current that would sway them to certain doom. As the pair of pilgrims scrambled across the river,

the ravenous pursuers who had fallen to the bottom swung and grabbed at their feet. Holding onto

each other for dear life, Euthyphro and Kafka feared the worst and prayed their prayers.

While Kafka managed to gain a grip of the other side’s bank, the unholy pursuers had mauled and

seized Euthyphro’s leg. Refusing to let go of his friend, Kafka warded off the beasts. But in an act

of sacrifice for the sake of his friend, Euthyphro let go of Kafka. To allow his friend – a murderer

– to scramble to safety, he was resolved to offer his life.

But no tragedy would be allowed to take place on this day after all the struggles they had endured.

The Celestial City’s guardian appeared with a flourish of light. The shining one banished the evil

spawn from this sanctified place.

Euthyphro emerged from the river. He had been saved by faith, and immediately gave thanks to

the Creator.

Euthyphro Meets the Father

The pilgrims who had resisted many sins and evils of the world finally arrived where they were

destined to be. Those who lived in the Celestial City welcomed them with applause as they made

their way back to the Maker. Great joy overcame Euthyphro when he finally came face to face

with his God.

Like waiting for a promise to be fulfilled or a destiny made manifest, it seemed the Creator had

been awaiting his arrival. But the Creator’s gaze fell to sorrow when Euthyphro told with detail of

all the pain he had seen in the world. As he spoke with despair about the misery which tortured

every soul.

And at that point, Paradise was lost.

HEAVEN

‘There are some upon this earth of yours who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of

passion, pride, ill–will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name; who are as strange to

us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on

themselves, not us.’

– Charles Dickens

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Renaissance

Once upon a time, along the twine, when Utopia’s clergy guided the day, the blessed Immaclezjov

line soared to highest esteem and found itself seated upon the world’s grandest throne. Historians

hailed this period as time’s golden age of art and enlightenment. But only very rarely did they

speak of the innocent blood spilled in the name of progress.

The respected house of Everfinder was one day’s foremost casualty when Heidegger Everfinder,

beloved governor of Idyll, fell victim to a close friend’s treachery. In a chaotic coup d'état, the

entirety of the male bloodline of his young and impressionable son Jean was captured during the

latter’s running of an errand. When he returned to the aftermath of Idyll’s sacking, he returned to

the tears of his mother and sisters. In his naivety resolved to rescue his father and brothers, the

youthful Jean donned his father’s armour.

But later that night, his rescue venture turned out to be in vain. The Everfinder heir’s inexperience

in the field doomed him from the beginning – his efforts foiled by countermeasures implemented

by the guard. Helpless to change things, Jean witnessed the public execution by hanging of his

father and brothers in accordance with the state’s criminal laws. Findings of treason and conspiracy

against the nation–state of Utopia therefore sullied the Everfinder name.

The remnants of the family, fallen from grace, escaped their mad city. And Jean, who had once

lived carefree, spent every day that followed in tireless pursuit of retribution.

Hölderlin, who belonged to the same order as Jean’s father, served as acting patriarch of the family

and mentor to the conflicted young Jean. In their time together, Hölderlin resolved to help Jean to

realize his potential both as a man and as a warrior. Conducting comprehensive investigations and

providing subsequent leads pertaining the traitors who caused the bloodying of the Everfinder

name, Hölderlin directed Jean’s personal ventures from their secluded family villa at the peak of

their quiet town as the latter traversed the many cities of the land in search of his adversaries.

In Search of Retribution

The quest for vengeance took the fledgling Jean from the redistributed Idyll to Gettysburg to

Agincourt to Red Cliff. And the trail finished at the nation’s heart.

Throughout his travels, Jean befriended many in the nation’s golden era who fostered

insubordination in their hearts – not least among them an eccentric but brilliant inventor by the

name of Nikola. This was a man who prided himself on avant–garde inventions which reflected

the pinnacle of craft and practical human ingenuity. They were an unlikely duo with vastly

different backgrounds. But they were nevertheless of one mind in their shared loathing of how

seemingly dysfunctional the world was. Together, they came into their own over the years as they

became masters of their respective arts.

One by one, the corrupt conspirators who instrumented the Everfinder house’s fall fell to Jean’s

vengeful fury – often under the shroud of night. And the shadow, as Jean had become, traced the

trail lead all the way up to the blessed Immaclezjov house. The line recognized as God’s chosen

sought to seize for itself from the ruling house of Yvilabwitze the military strength of the nation–

state. By extension, it sought dominion over the civilized world.

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Jean intercepted Anselm Immaclezjov on the waterways of Red Cliff who wielded an ancient

weapon–artifact borne of the fallen Paradise. Believing himself the one chosen to restore order to

the world, Anselm sought entrance into a mythical realm known as the world’s Tripartite, which

legend heralded as the resting place of the truth which all men sought but could never find. Within

it, the legends told, there lay the power to create and destroy – to reform reality. For there, it was

told, lay the spirits of God and the Devil – locked in eternal conflict since the time of the fall.

On the waterways of Red Cliff, Jean dueled with Anselm through the night. Moonlight illuminated

the violent dance as the two fought evenly until the break of dawn.

All seemed lost when the Everfinder heir realized that he had been surrounded in this by the

Immaclezjov strongmen. But he was saved by the timely arrival of reinforcements in allies he had

made throughout the years. The tide of the battle turned, and though Anselm himself escaped from

the rout, the day was won by Jean’s side. After the battle, Jean’s allies – Nikola included – revealed

that they belonged to the same Order of Sisyphus that his ancestors once belonged to.

It was at this point that Jean truly came to recognize the significance of the war that was being

waged between Everfinder and Immaclezjov and embraced the mandate of the order to which he

was born. What had started as a selfish vendetta was merely the latest battle in a series of clashes

between those who would stood for freedom, and those who would seize it.

This day, Jean pledged his life to the mission of the Order of Sisyphus. To safeguard the Tripartite

from all who would misuse its powers.

Ten years following that triumph in Red Cliff, Jean reached his prime both as a warrior and as a

man, and he had become a revered leader of the order. Operating outside the oppressive systems

of governance, the Order of Sisyphus became a beacon of hope for the populaces scattered across

the nation–state of Utopia.

Will to Power

Meanwhile, the house of Immaclezjov’s influence had grown to such a point that it held the strings

of the nation. Beyond military and economic control, Anselm – now the patriarch – found himself

in control of the public landscape. Through guile and strategic treachery, he rose to the very

pinnacle of public esteem and political hierarchy. With his lackeys now the effective landlords of

the Holy of Holies – the national capital – there was no questioning that Anselm, the stakeholder

of the nation–state of Utopia, had become the world’s highest authority.

But the Order of Sisyphus had not at all remained idle. In the far reaches of the world – West to

Liberty and North to Oblivia – they hunted for information surrounding the Tripartite in legends,

folktales, rumors, prophecies, and personal accounts.

After piecing together all the information they had gathered, Jean and his allies eventually

discovered that the Tripartite had been near them all along. The revelation made sense of all of

Anselm’s movements, for the hidden gate to the Tripartite was buried deep beneath the Holy of

Holies in the ruins of the fallen Paradise.

Setting out armed with the best of Nikola’s military ingenuity, Jean set out from Versi en route to

the Holy of Holies. Faced with its structural grandiosity, he scaled the grand walls with the weight

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of the world on his shoulders, and stealthily made his way across the rooftops of the hauntingly

beautiful cityscape. Scores upon scores of watchmen patrolled the place as Jean delved deep into

the heart of enemy territory. He was resolved to bring an end to Anselm, and to ensure that the

Tripartite remained unopened. For as much as his venture was an opportunity to pay the

Immaclezjovs back for his father and brothers, it was also a crusade against the world without

freedom that Anselm was now primed to make a reality.

To ensure that the gate could never be opened, Jean would need to seize the Immaclezjov

patriarch’s collection of weapon–artifacts.

The three Relics of Paradise: the Sword, the Sceptre, and the Amulet.

It was no small feat, but according to the intelligence gathered by the Order of Sisyphus over the

past decade, these were the keys Anselm intended to use to unlock the unknowable divine.

At the World’s Peak

At the peak of the Spire, Anselm with the weapon–artifacts he had at long last gathered from the

far reaches of the world awaited the arrival of the assassin. A battle between powerful souls erupted

in the sky above the Holy of Holies as Jean countered the metaphysical distortions caused by the

Relics of Paradise with the unique functions of each contraption Nikola had designed. But the

ingenuity of man eventually bowed to overwhelming nature, and Jean, defeated, lay helpless upon

the Spire.

Satisfied that he would no longer be disturbed, the victor then descended to the ruins of Paradise.

Before him stood the ominous gates.

The entrance to the Tripartite glowed with unintelligible hieroglyphics from a time long lost and

emanated overwhelming energy. Here at last, Anselm Immaclezjov, with the power of the lost

Creator, intended to fulfill his destiny and restore order to the world. But the fates denied the

hopeful god–king. Even as Utopia’s mightiest soul presented the effigies of the Creator’s Relics,

the gate opened not at his beckoning.

Jean atop the Spire mustered strength from within, struggled to his feet, and desperately pursued

his adversary to the depths of the ruined Paradise. But there, he encountered the Immaclezjov

patriarch in perplexed despair at destiny’s refusal. Face to face with the retribution he had lived an

entire waiting life for, he looked into Anselm’s ailing, desperate eyes. Jean had lived to claim

vengeance, and at last all was poised to come full circle.

Justice & Mercy

But the Everfinder hesitated as he heard the despairing Anselm pleading to die – his dreams

apparently crushed and his reason to live lost in a moment.

Jean could never know how it was that Anselm with his once–unstoppable spirit had suddenly lost

the will to live. But surely enough, after Jean left with the three Relics of Paradise in his possession,

nothing was ever heard of Anselm Immaclezjov again.

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It was a perplexing sight that remained etched in Jean’s mind. From a man who had come to rule

over all in one lifetime – he became in a flash a shell enveloped in despair – too broken even to

beg for death.

Though he was commended for magnanimity by his contemporaries, Jean was not certain that his

decision to spare Anselm’s life was necessarily one made from a sense of sublime virtue. After

years passed and Jean had ensured that the Relics were secured from the public eye, he still could

not determine whether his spur–of–the–moment decision to spare the life of his greatest nemesis

was one made from mercy, or one made from pity.

Aftermath

The house of Immaclezjov continued to exist as a major player in the political landscape of Utopia

due to the work of Anselm’s heirs. During their lives, they skillfully and prudently managed their

power and influence – preserving their control over many of Utopia’s political seats and armies.

Meanwhile, the Order of the Sisyphus headed by Jean strove to maintain a check upon the

sovereign power which the nation–state exercised at times oppressively over its people.

After many years, the Everfinder name was restored to honour and prominence. This restoration

of esteem was owed both to Jean’s emergence as an urban legend and folk hero who fought for the

rights of the people, and the work of his sisters in building their aggregate community standing to

the point that they were elected to posts of governance in later life by the people who had grown

to revere them.

Utopia always flourished as a national power. But it remained forever removed from the dream of

sublime order, harmony, and heavenly transcendence that Evelyn once fashioned as its

constitutional foundation.

GREEN GRASS

& HIGH TIDES

‘When the best leader's work is done the people say, “we did it ourselves.”’

– Laozi

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Green Grass & High Tides

21

After the Fall – Escape from Paradise

Once upon a time, along the twine, not but a few days removed from Paradise’s fall, the whole of

mankind fell into a state of disarray which, even with time, never passed.

Faced with the betrayal of Lilith, Evelyn’s violent rise to supreme power over the civilized world,

and the panic which grew in the hearts of the people, Adam fled from the Holy of Holies. For he

knew that the reverence his many followers held for him would mean his certain death at the hands

of those he had once called his friends. The power struggle had rendered everywhere a potential

zone of war, and so in the night, as battles raged in the streets between Evelyn’s ilk and those who

dared to oppose her claim to rule, Adam with his family and those like minds who averted the

conflict, escaped through the city’s labyrinth of underground passages and catacombs.

Cries of rage and pain alike filled the streets above as the city was engulfed in flames and

pandemonium. Finding their way to the harbour, the men and women who believed in Adam’s

lessons of moderation and tolerance fought bravely and secured many of the ships which once

comprised Paradise’s fleet. With great haste, they sailed far to the North; with no end in mind but

as far from the sight of their feuding kin as possible.

Their voyage landed them at various points of the great unknown. And as they drew further and

further from where the Paradise had once been, the horrors of the night and the beasts of the day

only grew larger and more untamed. The environment, too, grew steadily more hostile the farther

North they ventured. And in line with this; access to resources, energies, and eases of life steadily

grew scarce and disappeared.

Perilous Journey to the North

Twice throughout the years, the people of Adam attempted to settle where they found spots of

fertility and agricultural promise. But each time, it seemed that nature, in forms of unforgiving

climate or otherwise the sheer power of its creatures, drove them from wherever they tried to lay

foundations for their new settlements and cities.

Over time, the company of Adam dissipated in number as those who had become captains of the

fleet’s other vessels bade thanks and farewells and took those under their care in other directions.

Partings were not initially made out of ill will, but out of desire to spread, diversify risk, and see

if there were not places in other directions where they with their communities could settle. But

plagues and foreboding omens also then served to instrument both the physical and ideological

division of the fleet.

While division continued to happen over time, however, there also were encountered fellow former

countrymen through the months and years, many of whom decided to join Adam on his journey

further North as the flames of war continued to devour the established cities of old. The spirit of

Adam’s guidance and ideological tolerance was carried by many of those who traveled with him,

and though the path was hard and riddled with tribulation; the fleet’s unity, solidarity, and oneness

in their intention of surviving as a people kept the refugees from falling to the pressures of an

increasingly hostile Mother Nature.

After some years had passed, the Venus, their flagship, was ravaged by an unexpected tempest on

the open seas. Those aboard feared all the worst as their journey took them straight into the eye of

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22

a horrible storm. The violent winds of change separated many of the ships from each other, and

that of Adam, the Venus, was forced ashore unto a city the civilized world had never known.

Those souls who had ventured this far beyond the edges of the map had been written off, regarded

dead, and mourned by those left behind. But if they had known that people did in fact live well

this far out from the mecca of humanity, perhaps many more would have joined Adam on his

voyage to the North at the start.

Queen Hypatia & Asteria

The people of Asteria and their leader Queen Hypatia treated their new guests with great

hospitality, and after hearing of Adam’s plight, she too shared her story of how she had fled the

known world and founded the city of Asteria.

She had been a princess in the past she had left behind and left the comforts of home after her

power–hungry brother murdered her betrothed. In mutual admiration and sympathy, the two

revered leaders of their people became infatuated with one another, and lived as lovers for weeks

which turned into months. But a vision one day came before Adam – something which had not

happened since brighter days when the Creator walked among his people.

It was one which invoked within him a compelling sense of divine duty. For he believed the

heavens above had called for him to build a new city from where the Creator would return to the

world. Inspired and resolved to set sail once more, Adam at the head of his wandering people again

voyaged forth into the unknown.

Hypatia, on the other hand, who had finally discovered some degree of happiness with Adam by

her was left in heartbreak again. She found herself unable to cope with the loss of her lover, and

despaired that despite her affluence and prosperity, there no longer existed for her any reason to

live. She ended her own life upon a pyre – lying among the belongings Adam left in Asteria.

In Search of Settlement

Northern winds again took the Venus and those remaining ships which accompanied it off course.

Determining that docking was the best action before the weather’s growing ferocity, Adam and

his people were surprised to stumble upon what appeared to be the ruins of an ancient civilization.

The learned wise men who were revered members of the company made perplexing observations

that the now desolate cityscape, which had a particular haunting beauty to it, had been there since

before recorded time, yet were possessed of technologies thousands of years ahead of the state of

the current day.

Nothing could be made of what all this meant, but the people of Adam were pleased to utilize the

place as a point of respite. Over weeks, they made in the ruins a sporting arena of sorts, and

participated in competitions against each other in honour of all the souls who had been lost after

Paradise’s fall.

Many of the weary who were fed up with the constancy of travel attempted to burn the Venus and

the fleet to force Adam to remain behind and help them settle upon the foundations of these ruins.

But the tempest which had steered them off course returned and extinguished the budding flames

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23

before they grew. After this act of apparent providence, the people, some of them begrudgingly,

accepted the assertion that their leader’s mission was divinely inspired. Many who were exhausted

by the constant travel and unable to continue, however, opted to remain there and found their own

city.

The last stretch to the promised land was smooth and clear, and they finally arrived after another

few months at sea at the very edge of the world.

At World’s End

No words can accurately describe what the landscape looked like at the end of the world for it

went beyond the realm of humanity’s physical comprehension and imagination. But what could

be said was that beyond all the extremities of the great unknown and the barren, desolate emptiness

of all that followed, there was a certain kind of silent peace that could be felt in the air.

As his obedient people gradually settled and built the foundations of their new city, Adam

descended the end’s waterfall edge. Guided by an Oracle who appeared to him on the night they

arrived at the end, he rowed warily into the depths of the unknowable abyss. There, in a place

reason could not conceive, Adam was reunited with an aspect of the Creator as he recognized him.

There, he was permitted sight of fragments of the world’s destiny. There would be glory, and there

would be pain.

Foremost among the visions for him was the image of his city of Pompeii in its completed

splendour, and the final battle which would serve as Adam’s final mission upon this world.

Bidding the souls of the past he believed he encountered in that underworld a goodbye, the first

ruler of Pompeii was led by the Oracle back to the surface where he oversaw the development of

the city from the ashes of the earth. When all of the bricks had been laid and all of the labour

undertaken, he implored that all present prepare themselves for the battle which would determine

their fates.

Ten celestial cycles removed from their first arrival came to pass before the winds ceased to blow.

For a day’s entirety, nature stood still as far as the eye could see. Then, when the night crept over

to shroud the calm water, beasts of the night came forth and the vast armies of the end approached

the city from over the horizon.

The First Battle of Pompeii

The nightmarish beasts, much like the domain they called home and the environment around them,

were beyond the linear encapsulation of description. But no fear was felt in the hearts of Pompeii’s

people, for with their combined spirits, they had never failed to overcome. For their leader, they

had always been willing to lay down their lives.

The glory of humankind’s will was on full display throughout the seven days of battle that

followed, as brave souls clashed arms with the jaws of death incarnate. With all the ingenuity of

groundbreaking human technology, the people of Pompeii repelled the vast swarms of invaders

from the other side, and when some infiltrated the walls and gates, they fought tooth and nail for

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24

the sake of all they had journeyed for. In the name of peace and a true slice of Paradise, Pompeii

held its ground with Adam at its helm.

But after three days more of struggle and desperation, the relentless pressure broke down one of

Pompeii’s walls. As the legions of the other side charged at the weak point and all seemed lost,

Adam stood alone before the hordes. In the face of inevitable demise, he raised his blade – the

weapon–artifact his Creator had gifted him at the fall. And in a flourish, reality trembled.

Lightning seeped through the cracks of the void. The hordes of the end, by providence, were

reduced to ash. With the Relic of Paradise, Pompeii survived the onslaught. But it came at the

expense of its leader, for the wielder’s soul was spent by the unfathomable power of the artifact.

Though his life was lost that day, Adam’s legacy and tales of his heroic leadership lived on forever,

and he was for the rest of history revered as Pompeii’s benevolent founding father. Over time, with

expeditions of civilization to the North, the city at the edge of the world became connected to

human civilization – and the centuries saw it develop into a key spoke in the wheel of modern

society.

SING ABOUT ME, I’M

DYING OF THIRST

‘That which the world calls immoral is that which shows the world its own shame.’

– Oscar Wilde

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Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst

26

Liberty’s Golden Age

Once upon a time, along the twine, at the apex of Liberty’s prime, Babylon was the grandest city

among all and sundry; drawing in people from far and wide with wild promises of all the beauty

and mystery of the world.

One such soul who made the migration enticed by Babylon’s allure was the young and ambitious

Soren Vespera – who like many with the dream of carving out fortune forayed into the realm of

numbers, charts, and market speculation. In a modest home of Babylon’s neighbourhood of the

newly moneyed, Soren rented residence among the rich with wealth too fresh for a place in the

city's well–established upper class. These well–off outcasts, in particular, were those prone to great

extravagance and flashes of opulence – some in efforts to impress the ruling class and some in

bouts of simple hedonism and intemperate gluttony.

But no immoderate binge, fling, celebration, or splurge across all of Babylon’s expanse compared

to Valentine’s ethereal gig. For without ever a fail, at the end of every week, it seemed the whole

of Babylon gathered to Valentine’s lucratively large estate; and the lavishest parties took place. It

so happened that Soren lived right next door to that mysterious mansion which came alive every

weekend. Yet no better than the rest did he know about the mysterious man responsible for these

peculiar obscenities of capital expenditure.

Soren himself was somewhat unlike the peers he shared his neighbourhood with, for he was in fact

one who hailed from the elite fraternity of the prestigious Helford Lyceum. Subsequently, by

birthright and upbringing, he enjoyed social connections with the Diamond, which was the vogue

dominion of Babylon’s established upper class.

The Rosenfield Dinner

On one evening, pursuant to an invitation from his cousin Catherine – who had married into the

distinguished Rosenfield family – Soren paid a visit to their home at the Diamond for dinner.

There, he was reunited With Catherine, breathtakingly beautiful as always, and her husband

Bentham. Through the dinner, Soren was also introduced to famous runway model, debutante, and

close friend of Catherine’s – Raven Hilderbrand. She was a cynic of his own ilk to whom he was

instantly drawn.

As Raven warmed to her new would–be suitor, she shared in confidence knowledge of Bentham’s

secret mistress Rosanna. She was a woman married to a man called Job who lived in Babylon’s

slums positioned around the dumping grounds of Babylon’s domestic and industrial waste.

Opulence

Hardly a day had passed before Soren was brought along by Bentham and Rosanna to one among

Babylon’s millions of high–rise apartments where they, with many others, partook in the

vulgarities and sleaze of one of countless indecorous parties that came alive at night behind

Babylon’s closed doors. Utter states of pharmaceutical–fueled hubbub and psychedelic ecstasy

drowned and concealed to onlookers outside by the magnitude of their collective selves.

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27

The intoxicated stupor escalated to the point that Rosanna began to jeer to Bentham about the wife

to whom he was being disloyal – taunts that resulted in Rosanna’s nose being broken by his fist.

This was merely another ordinary night lived in the world's greatest city, and Soren’s summer

carried on as it did. He personally cared little for those environments, but it seemed that those

environments often called out for him.

A few weeks later, Soren received an invitation to one of Valentine’s illustrious parties.

An Invitation from Valentine

On that evening of organized revelry, Soren, in awe before the elaborateness and scale of every

fine aspect of the event; from the architecture of the mansion's interior to the background music to

the performances and the fireworks, encountered Raven there. Apparently, she was a regular

attendee of the weekly phenomenon. Yet even she, again a cynic, was surprised to learn that Soren

had been the very first to receive an actual invitation. They had all grown quite accustomed to a

culture of gatecrashing. But the surprises continued. In the anonymity provided by thousands of

gathered people, the host revealed himself to the pair.

He presented as a cultured, shockingly young man with a warm, sincere, and smiling glow about

him. Zion Valentine, as he introduced himself, spoke to Raven in private.

She shared the contents of their conversation with Soren the following evening over dinner

together in Babylon’s colourfully bustling commercial district.

Raven relayed all that Zion had divulged to her, and Soren learned that his mysterious next–door

neighbour had in fact been his cousin's lover many years ago. A soul who remained deeply in love

with Catherine even to that day, he spent many a night gazing across the bay at the Rosenfield

mansion where she lived. All the extravagant events held at his mansion were hosted with a

singular hope in mind: That one evening, perhaps compelled by the light of the moon, Catherine

would wander in and be reunited with him.

The Face of Babylon

But that dream had not come to pass, and all hopes of Zion ever meeting his love again rode on

whether Soren would be willing to lend a hand. The next morning, Valentine swung by and

acquainted Soren with the high life. Sports cars, shared tea with the city’s ruling class, and the

perks of police favours were only the tip of the iceberg. Yet something about Zion felt different to

Soren as against all the souls he had encountered in this city.

Despite how good Zion seemed to have it, beyond all of the glamour and showmanship, it almost

felt to Soren while in the company of Zion like there was something more to life than the careless

pursuit of material goods that had come to define every single person that lived in Babylon. By the

evening, when all had been said and done, Soren genuinely felt as if he had known Zion his entire

life.

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28

Convinced by Zion’s genuineness, Soren let him know before they parted ways that he would help

to bring the lovers back together. Soren was resolved that Zion loved his cousin Catherine better

than the scandalous Bentham ever could.

Zion experienced a moment of hesitation, hiding fear that the girl he had loved for so long might

no longer reciprocate. But after some comical deliberation, the date was set. Catherine would soon

be at Soren’s for tea – unsuspecting of the surprise waiting for her.

Hearts Reunite

The rain poured down on the afternoon she came, and after a few initial moments of maladroitness

on the initial reunion, so too the mutual affection between Zion and Catherine; five long years

suppressed, came back in a storm. The flame of their love rekindled, and their connection found

again, they spent a progressively greater amount of time in each other's company over the months

which followed; making up for all of the time they had lost.

At first, Bentham failed to notice Catherine’s escalating aloofness with him for he was often busy

with his own extramarital affair with Rosanna. But as time continued to pass, Bentham caught on

and he grew warier of his wife's relationship with Valentine. Bentham’s suspicions reached

breaking point when during lunch shared at the Rosenfield estate with Valentine, he noticed the

former gazing at his wife with a yearning passion which was unadulterated.

Outraged by the embarrassment of an unfaithful spouse notwithstanding his own evident faults,

Bentham confronted Zion on that evening high above the city in a prestigious suite overlooking

Babylon. He exposed Zion as nothing more than a criminal lackey with an unlawful fortune and

declared that his wife was his and his alone.

The assertions were inflammatory, but no lie was told in this regard. Zion revealed that his lifestyle

was but a front for syndicate uses. It was when Zion physically lashed out, all his work to impress

Catherine rendered worthless, that the woman realized that she did in fact believe she loved both.

That her place was by her husband's side.

The Confrontation’s Aftermath

Therefore victorious and convinced that Valentine held no more sway over Catherine, Bentham

disdainfully bade them take their leave, and that Catherine be returned home.

Later that night, on their way back to the estate and still shaken by the tension of the penthouse

squabble – Bentham, Soren, and Raven came across a crime scene with Rosanna’s corpse marked

by police as evidence. There, it was established that Rosanna had been hit and killed by Valentine’s

speeding car.

The aftermath was a blur for Soren, and not long passed before they all returned to the Rosenfield

mansion.

Outside, after everyone had gone inside, Soren came across Zion worriedly hiding in the bushes.

He revealed that his anxiousness came on Catherine’s account. She had been the one driving when

the car struck Rosanna, and he intended to take the blame on her behalf. Soren knew not whether

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his cousin Catherine told Bentham the truth of the incident that night. But the very next day,

Bentham took advantage of the tragedy and framed Zion as Rosanna’s murderer in Job’s mind. He

concluded that the driver who killed Rosanna must have been the one on the other side of the

extramarital affair he had long suspected was going on behind his back. And that Rosanna was

ruthlessly murdered to silence her and tie up loose ends.

Meanwhile, Soren spent that day and the ensuing evening with Zion. He kept the lonely soul

company as he waited for a call from Catherine that he insisted was sure to come. “It’s only a

matter of time,” he was absolutely convinced. He was certain that she would decide to come back

to him. And as they waited, Soren truly came to understand Zion.

The Eulogy which Never Came

This was a man who dedicated everything to fulfillment of a dream. A man who had come from a

background of hopeless poverty in pursuit not of wealth and power for wealth and power's sake,

but rather of love in its purest form – a storybook ending alone.

Sympathy reached Soren’s heart as they came to understand the essence underlying this man he

had secretly come to admire. For though he had always been doomed by the zero–sum society to

which he was born and the vile people who were the mainstays of his life – Zion, in his sincerity

and purity, was alone worth all the wretched souls of Babylon. The lot of them combined.

But after the night was over, it was time for Soren to return to work. Zion Valentine bid adieu to

the only friend he ever had, and Soren Vespera to the single soul in Babylon that he had not in one

way or another come to abhor.

That morning, as Valentine swam in his lagoon – a luxury he had not indulged in the whole summer

– he heard the phone ring. But as he emerged to meet his happy ending, Job shot him through the

heart. The murder came before a suicide. He ended his own life after what he believed to be a just

and warranted act of retribution.

And the caller was, in fact, Soren checking in, and not Catherine.

The latter had chosen the path which gave her the greatest benefit. Perhaps Zion died happy –

believing that love prevailed. Or perhaps he knew the truth. But the world lost a light that day. He

who came to know Zion best grieved in solitude throughout the rest of his life.

Disgust and Disdain

Remembered falsely as a murderer in society's eyes, not one soul came to pay their respects to

Zion. Not one among the thousands his parties once served.

As for Soren, he grew bitterer by the day as he continued to live life in Babylon. Between its

worship of inequity and inequality, the unwholesome, intoxicated reveling, the gross and

condescending class discrimination, and all the worship and exaltation of selfish, careless people

who stepped on others to thrive – Soren found himself utterly disgusted by all people, and every

aspect of humanity's decay.

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Liberty’s iconic exaltation of happiness and success through the success of the individual had

devolved into an eternal rat race – a constancy of tension and civil war waged between every soul

over numbers. “All I know is that there’s no well for this drought. Money, sex, and greed are my

cravings as I die of thirst.” The time for dreams was dead.

In fact, Soren questioned whether the time for such souls ever existed in the first place. In a way,

Soren also died with Zion. Even Raven, for whom he once cared, simply faded slowly out of his

view.

In his eyes, humanity was an incurable cancer – and the world a canvas of cruel absurdity.

SYMPATHY

FOR THE DEVIL

‘The Devil pulls the strings which make us dance; we find delight in the most loathsome things;

some furtherance of Hell each new day brings, and yet we feel no horror in that rank advance.’

– Charles Baudelaire

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Youth

Once upon a time, along the twine, there lived a youthful soul of the Everfinder line who went by

the name of Goddard. Of modest upbringing despite his noble lineage, for he was a scion quite

distant from the lion’s share of the family inheritance, the young man dreamed, as all boys do, of

the day he would become a hero like his forefathers before him. As a boy in the embrace of Versi,

where his home was, he would often scale the rooftops with his two closest friends in the village

– Jefferson and Abraham – to catch a glimpse of the army battalions, mercenary groups, and bands

of hunters which would pass through the place now and again. Then in the streets, they would

often play together, and emulate the feats and undertakings they imagined their heroes to traverse.

They three swore an oath of brotherhood – that like their idols, they too would all become heroes

of the umpteenth degree when they came of age.

Of course, as the cycle of life and plan of Providence often dictates, dreams as they are dreamed

do not necessarily become manifest unto reality. Though they remained Goddard’s closest friends

through the years that followed, Jefferson and Abraham, born unto families of Versi’s labour class,

settled themselves unto the apprenticeships and livelihoods that common birth had prescribed for

them. Goddard himself, however, continued to entertain his heroic aspirations. Despite the pleas

of his house to settle into civil life and management of the properties and capitals which would

eventually pass to him on his father’s passing, he continued stints with the militia, and resolved to

join up permanently with a band if they passed through Versi.

The Band of Korm

The opportunity soon came when one whose leader was the famed Korm of Accryt entered Versi

in search of a squire. Naturally, in pursuit of fame and glory, Goddard put forward his name.

Convinced largely by the sway of the Everfinder name, the band brought Goddard onboard its

vessel – the Mandate. There, he encountered a vast array of characters from many walks of life.

Two who made especial impressions upon the young Everfinder were Morgan, a woman imbued

with prophetic visions and powers of the mystical kind – who had once been a prisoner of the

gallows for apparent practices of witchcraft, and Tyronne – a former knight of Utopia’s highest

order. The two in their respective backgrounds had seen firsthand and become disillusioned with

the corruptive effect that self–interested bureaucratic dealings had on the populaces comprising

their nation–state, and spoke with favour of Korm’s straightforward, unpretentious approach. Their

objective as a band was always the same: serve people and receive appropriate compensation.

Months of Goddard’s life passed aboard the Mandate as the band travelled across the land meeting

with all sorts of clients. From commonfolk, to farmers, to merchants, to tavern–owners, to gentry,

to nobility, and even to clergypeople, they also came across all sorts of landscapes and beasts.

Morgan de–spelling frightening mystical being and Tyronne exchanging blows with bloodthirsty

beasts were the ordinary marvels that Goddard beheld. Though the stories did not quite do justice

to the grime and psychological toil which accompanied such an extreme day–to–day routine,

Goddard was taken by the thrill of the hunt. But as the months passed and the band defeated

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adversary after adversary, Korm never seemed to reveal himself. Until one day when the name

‘Abaddon’ was whispered.

Idyll Falls to the Archfiend

Over the months, Goddard had developed something of an intuitive feel about the nature of coming

commissions merely from knowledge of the client providing. Something was different about this

one – for the instructions apparently came from the Holy of Holies itself. The archfiend Abaddon

had descended upon the city of Idyll and set it ablaze. The task which fell to Korm’s company was

simple, yet enormous:

To slay the archdemon.

Korm emerged for the first time – his imposing countenance as awe–inspiring as his reputation if

not for the striking absence of his right leg replaced by one made of ivory. Without a word, Korm’s

vendetta was clear. The Blade of Adam, his most prized weapon, was unsheathed and primed to

claim vengeance against his greatest foe.

The Mandate descended into the flames which had engulfed Idyll and the band spread throughout

the city streets in search of their prey. Morgan and Goddard were at the head of one company

which saw to the finding and evacuation of survivors while the main entourage of the Mandate’s

warriors led by Tyronne and Korm were charged with hunting the monster. The undertaking of

Morgan and Goddard threatened to be in vain when they encountered the Cathedral of Idyll, where

it appeared the survivors had amassed, besieged by lesser assailants. After a bloody struggle not

without casualty to the Mandate’s crew, Morgan and Goddard were able to liberate the survivors

in the Cathedral from the clutches of the ravenous beasts. Beckoning them urgently to come aboard

the Mandate, Goddard encountered among the survivors a maiden by the name of Anne who, in

those ruins of Idyll, seemed to freeze both Heaven and Earth in the moment that her eyes met his.

A Desperate Struggle

Aboard the Mandate which now neared its fullest capacity – Goddard, Morgan, and the members

of the band who remained after the difficult struggle released the anchour and sought to recover

Korm and the other companies from the sky. But as they looked downward, they saw only to their

horror corpses of their comrades and otherworldly beasts overrunning the cityscape. Their search

grew ever more desperate. But as they reached the city’s heart where numbers of the fiends were

at their height, they caught sight of Korm dragging a mortally wounded Tyronne away from the

pursuing hordes. Abaddon emerged in a great furor from grand ruins – turning his attention to the

Mandate and taking flight. The situation looked ever more precarious by the second as the

archdemon closed in on the vessel. Looking back at the frightened survivors; many of them

children who looked up to their heroes to save the day, Goddard mustered his courage. He scaled

the vessel’s sails with a bow slung around his shoulder and a single rope arrow slotted between his

fingers. Glancing first at Anne who looked on with hope and belief and then at Morgan with a

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subtle nod to confirm his plan, he balanced himself at the pinnacle. From the highest point of the

vessel, Goddard took aim at the fearsome Abaddon’s head as the beast approached. Then, with a

breath and a prayer, he released the arrow. Morgan hoisted a splash of fire, ice, and thunder

skyward as the arrow flew through the airspace above her. And the arrow, imbued with mystical

properties, flew straight and true – hitting its target. The arrow pierced the archdemon’s forehead,

stunning it and throwing it off its crash course with the Mandate. And Goddard, clutching onto the

rope, leapt from the vessel, swung from the rope under the beast, and caught onto Abaddon’s tail.

Morgan at the wheel of the Mandate then dove the vessel to the position of Korm and Tyronne,

and sought to collect them with a rescuing rope. As the lesser demons closed on the wounded

warriors, Korm caught onto the rope with Tyronne in tow. But the latter’s legs were snatched by

the fiends as they were raised – their clutch so firm that it threatened the vessel’s flight. Tyronne,

gazing up at Goddard’s struggle atop Abaddon and the survivors aboard the vessel who would

surely lose their lives if they stayed a minute longer, acted as a hero one last time. He let go of his

comrade’s arm.

Korm, unsettled by the death of his comrades, could only sit upon the deck as the band begged for

orders – staring in blank disbelief at the Blade of Adam which had failed him. Morgan, still at the

helm, determined that Goddard would not be lost today and brought the Mandate by Abaddon who

struggled mightily. The infernal being crashed through buildings and soared to great heights in

violent, jagged maneuvers to shed the stubborn Everfinder from its back. But Goddard held firm,

stabbing at the beast with his dagger at whatever anatomical tenderness he could find and, as the

Mandate swung by, timed his jump.

But alas, as he descended towards the vessel, Abaddon with an enormous claw caught the young

hero and tightened his grip – intending to crush body and soul with otherworldly pressure. A

helpless Goddard swore that he felt bones of his own crack and snap. Knowing surely that this was

the end, his mind gave way to the immense pain, and his consciousness disappeared.

After the Onslaught

Yet he awoke sometime later in the Mandate’s medical bay to sight of Morgan.

She explained that it was not by Providence, necessarily, that he still lived now, but by the power

of a maiden aboard the Mandate. For Anne, in her panic, had invoked by her will a heavenly flash

of light so radiant that it blinded Abaddon momentarily and allowed Goddard’s limp body to

escape from the archedemon’s grasp. In such a way, he fell safely upon the Mandate’s deck before

it escaped.

Of course, no one could know of this miracle. For if Utopia heard of it, Anne would surely be

condemned for witchcraft as Morgan had been before her. But Morgan had an inkling that after

the miraculous nature of what occurred on this night, no one would feel compelled to betray

gratitude and turn Anne over.

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The Last Hunt

The survivors had been seen to safety in the Holy of Holies where they were afforded

accommodation and tended to. But Korm was chastised there, as of course he expected, for the

mission had not been accomplished.

Morgan lamented that the whole band would die on this last voyage.

For she knew that Korm desired now not only the redemption of his honour and dignity, but

retribution for what they had lost. He would not stop until either he or Abaddon lay dead. They

were at that point en route to the Valley of the Shadow of Death – Abaddon’s dwelling place. As

Goddard’s condition improved to the point he was able to walk again, Korm summoned him to the

deck, and they spoke.

“Who really is this enemy that we face?” so was asked of Korm. And he responded, “He who has

been around for more than just this long, long year. He who watches with glee, while our kings

and queens fight for centuries over the gods he’s had