Chapter 1: A New Kind
And so the wind blew, the sky darkened in bright hues of gray, and birds departed the view. The scent of rain and earth emanated. The blood of ethereally dressed persons began to feel weight. The darkness illumined still. They entered sacred ground and holiness. There was a presence of silence and highest respect. Pure White and Black. Ascending dark Red-- that of flesh and blood. Red. Brusque cacophony.
--.--.--.--
Her breath grows in weight. The man turns his head.
"Miss? Ah--"
She turns to the side. The young man continues driving. The window behind him closes. "She mustn't be disturbed," he whispers.
--.--.--.--
"Ecce! Irtson rocsipxe medae nemul!"
White.
The sailors began to manipulate massive machinery and objects to locate the Finding. Thousands of men yelled and spoke in indistinct language. White-- it all turned white. Three luminous figures descended from the zenith.
Black.
Confused voices chanted in cacophony, and there was a surge of raving madness. No one could comprehend each other.
Red.
It was all lost. Violence rose…
The persons stood silent still in the sacred ceremony. Black and White veils faced each other. Red slowly advanced towards the couple.
White.
The woman in ethereal dress and White veil sat outside in the rain, weeping with seemingly despair… Man in Black and woman in White slowly uncovered their veils. The Red veiled man spoke in a strange language.
White.
The woman in White stood still looking at a mirror. The reflection showed the Red veiled man entering the room behind her. There was a White view once more. She uncovered the Black veil of the man in front of her. Chapped red lips and pale skin were revealed before her sight.
Black.
She walked still in a distant place where there were no mountains. Her dress was full of dirt and worn out. The veil still covered her face. She fell to the scorched ground. And alas, she saw ashen fog in front of her. She returned to it.
Black.
She entered the dark and peaceful bliss. Her hand was that of ivory, and she reached another of rich dark velvet. The hands touched until Red eyes began to gaze. It faded to Red as explicit views emerged.
Red.
When all light was granted, Mutilation rose and Blood ran fluently. Spuriousness gracefully traveled from the soothing voices of men. Confusion spread as darkness, and men sought light under the shadows. Iniquity conquered law and counseled the thunder. Skins, many in color, moved aimlessly on top of one another, seeking the light.
Red.
--.--.--.--
She gasps. She rises rapidly and looks about as if half-awake. She hits her forehead gently with her hand as she drops to the back of her seat and sighs. It is cloudy and moist outside. She knocks on the window in front of her.
"Ah, you woke up." He smiles and opens the window. It seems as he, too, just woke up from reverie. "Enjoyed your rest, Miss Avon?"
"Where are we?" Her tone sounds that of annoyed and fatigued. She rests her hand in her forehead still.
"Ah-- on the way to the convent, Miss. Have you forgotten?" he chuckles.
"Oh, yes. The convent…" She turns to side and enjoys the landscape as the vehicle advances in the empty road.
"Is there something wrong, Miss?" His laugh begins to fade.
"Don't
talk to me and close the window," continues in her annoyed tone.
For odd reason, the chauffeur's voice sounds too heavy and
unpleasant to the ears. The chauffeur is dominated by shame and
silence. He closes the window.
Avon opens the window to her left
and takes in moist air through her mouth immediately. She is merely
suffocating.
--.--.--.--
"Osiv. Medae rotidart--"
"Speak no more, insolent! How dare you speak in such! Your tongue deserves to be cut into pieces!" he shouts with much anger. His eyes are wide open, and blood drips from his beat up mouth. The not-so-old man breathes heavily in pain-- his teeth clashed together and his gray hair standing straight up in mess. His upper body is bare, scattered by lacerations, and attached and trapped he is on a crude wall. The three men stare at his painful state-- their faces shrouded by darkness with their hooded dark red robes. Two of the men begin to hit his stomach with a whip. He screams harder until one of the whips hits inside his very tongue. Blood descends from his mouth like a waterfall. Complete silence.
"Thou have been silenced by thy own self. Dost thou question why my tongue moistens in divinity and gift from the Holy? I was granted with this tongue. Thou, however, took mere control of this practice and exercised thy tongue for knowledge, which thou did not reach… My tongue's grace to thee." The robed man spits to the mutilated body.
The men step aside and unsheathe a small dagger from their hips. A small gold bar is encrusted on it.
"… This… is not in vain," mutters the mutilated man.
"Indeed," says the man in red as he approaches the hung body. "There is a war outside this very building. There is a mission, too, that we must achieve before an expected time comes. We follow our Divine Leader. We mustn't be stopped by the heresy of men living in the world. Let us now practice our voice towards the unworthy." They begin to chant loudly in dialect. One of the men throws the dagger to the center of the hung body. Another knife sharps through the heart. The last pierces through the brain.
--.--.--.--
"We are here, ma'am." He exit's the vehicle, blocks the rain with an umbrella, and opens the door for Avon. He hands the umbrella to her.
"Thank
you, Bernard. Ah-- wait for me here. I won't take long." She
walks straight towards the Morning Star Temple and Convent. Slowly
she goes through the old and undulated stone path towards the massive
structure.
The ancient building brings Avon old memories of her
childhood-- dark memories of the harsh strictness in her early
education to odd noises and events happening within the convent. She
walks still impressively in her high heels, wearing a long and fitted
trench coat. Her luminous dark brown hair dances gracefully with the
harsh moist wind. Her lips seem chapped, and her skin is but an inch
away from reaching paleness. She moistens her lips before arriving,
and her glowing green eyes browse the scenery. The rain seems more
tranquil than before, but not a trace of sunlight is to be seen.
--.--.--.--
"Did you-- wait, where are you?"
"Can you please come now?" the voice of a distant woman says.
"What is it?" he shouts and then continues whispering. "Look, you have to tell me everything briefly, the stone is breaking--"
"He's getting worse! He's crying!" she yells again.
"Darn it! I'm going!" He tosses the table and all other objects to the side in anger. He heads towards the problem…
--.--.--.--
The massive doors of the temple open.
"You arrived," says the pale nun with deep raspy tone, "I'm afraid the priestess has left."
"Oh. I-- did I arrive too late?" Avon says with disappointment.
"It is apparent. She won't return within three days," she answers with an added rasp in her throat.
"Then I suppose I should leave." Avon then stares at the pale old nun in silence. It is as if looking at the image of death itself.
"Perhaps. Good day." The nun begins closing the doors.
"No!" Avon stops the doors. The nun widens her eyes. "I-- is the prioress here?" she questions as if with no other option.
"Yes. What is it that your visit requests?"
"May I please speak with her?" Avon doesn't specify. The nun shrinks her eyes and makes yet another angry expression.
"Go to her then. I suppose you know where she lies," the nun says. Avon nods without saying more words and enters the temple without even glancing at the old woman. The nun stares at Avon's disrespect as she makes her way inside the building. The doors close. Faint darkness dominates. Hardly any light sheds through the stained glass windows. Only the echo of Avon's footsteps is being heard.
Avon continues upstairs to the second level, being reflected by several mirrors. She knows that Prioress Rosirda usually lies in the library at the current time. Avon reaches the highly adorned double doors and opens them. Surprisingly, the library contains plenty of light due to its many clear windows.
"Avon?" She turns.
"Yes."
"It is so nice to hear your voice again." She stands and walks to Avon. Her white silk tunic and long head-tail deflect the strong rays of light. The holy red bar is printed in the center of her rich silk tunic. Her face with pale lips and wide forehead also seems to deflect all light.
"The priestess urged me to visit her today, but it turns out she's gone." They grab hands and bow making the traditional salute. They stare at each other's faces. Avon's smile begins to fade.
"Tell me, Avon, has your soul been cleansed recently?" she asks, introducing a serious face expression to Avon.
"Well, that is exactly my presence."
"I see. You know I have the authority."
"Yes." She looks at the floor. "I suppose I should kneel and begin to repent?"
"You suppose? Ah, come. Let us go to a more appropriate place." She turns and exits the library. Avon follows. They return to darkness and proceed through the hall.
Avon still wonders what lies behind many of those doors. They were places that were said to be forbidden. The crimson door adorned with gold in the hall's end was Avon's main concern; she remembers vague sounds whispering from its ends. They continue walking in the dark hall. The crimson door is now closer to them. And to Avon's dismay, the prioress stops in front of it. She unlocks the door with an old rusted key. Avon and the prioress go forward through the unwelcoming threshold, greeted by the mysterious door's unpleasant screech.
"Wait here," the prioress commands. She closes the door and lets darkness dominate the area. Avon stands steadily as the prioress walks about. Her footsteps begin to fade.
A while passes and Avon begins to hesitate. There is complete silence. "Everything all right?" she shouts at last. A flare of light is lit besides her. Avon gasps with fear.
"Do NOT yell," the prioress marks in whisper. She walks ahead with the torch. Avon is merely relieved and follows.
An elusive room indeed-- Avon knows for certain that she has never been inside the chamber. Nothing special lies inside, however-- unused and damaged statues, paintings and other artifacts lay neglected in the corners of the dark room. Avon would expect sacred rituals or prayers to be held inside the chamber, but it is nothing but an old storage room. What are we doing here? It suddenly appears to Avon's mind. They stop.
"Please kneel before me, for I have authority." She places the torch in a stand.
Avon looks about and kneels slowly. The last thing running in her mind is repenting. Her body begins to feel weightless. Unusual thoughts run through Avon's mind.
"I hear you, Avon. Allow me to cleanse your soul."
"I--" Avon is fighting her sudden state. Her thin arms feel extreme weight. She's leaving elsewhere, and her conscience begins to surrender to that force. She drops completely to the floor.
"Avon? What are you doing?"
...