Undone
The Darkness and The Light

Melchiah opened his eyes.  He was still here, in his underground sanctuary.  And yet the drill had fallen.  No one could have survived it.

He looked around for his brother Raziel and he was nowhere to be seen.  Then he saw it.  The world had changed to a spectrum of greys.  Not even the lifeless greens and blues of the spectral realm compared to the hollow emptiness of this.  Was this the void?

"No.  We are however close." said a voice as deep as the abyss.  It came from behind Melchiah.  He slowly turned, and realised the ease in which he did so.

He saw an ancient figure, covered in red and black robes.  His eyes glowed with a white light, and radiated a gaze that was hard to return.

"I didn't expect to see you." said Melchiah.

"Few people do."

Melchiah was not surprised to see him.  He should have been, since in life he had no time for the ancient superstitions of the humans.  They believed that the Pillar of Death waited for them in the beyond, to carry them over. 

He looked away from the ancient white eyes, and saw…

..his body.  He was no longer the monstrosity that he had been tortured to be.  He lifted up his arm, and saw a hand, with five small fingers.  He was human. 

Once again, being dead seemed to dampen his surprise.

"This isn't the spectral realm, is it?" asked Melchiah.

"No.  This is beyond that.  This place is beyond return." said Mortanius, in a voice as heavy as the Pillars and twice as ancient.

"Oh." said Melchiah once again.  He looked around.  What remained of the cage, of the drill, of the walls of his underground sanctuary, were blurring into the greys.  Melchiah could not bear to look at them a second longer, if seconds passed in this place.  The greys were so cold, so lifeless, so infinite.  He felt that the greys were watching him, trying desperately to pull him in, to drown him in their lifelessness.  He could hear a clawing, a scratching, the greys were desperately trying to get into the reality that he had brought with him.  The greys….

"Ignore them." said Mortanius.  "You have brought a part of your life with you here, as everyone does.  They are trying to get into it, and take you.  You must ignore them."

Melchiah forced the hissing, scratching sound of the greys to the back of his mind. 

"Your family has been waiting a very very long time." said the Necromancer, "I think you should go to them."

Family?, thought Melchiah.  Kain, Raziel, Turel —

—my father, a short man with a raggedy beard.  He overcame his physical weaknesses with his good deeds and honour.  He once told me that I could be anything I wanted to be.  My beautiful wife, whom I love and cherish more than life itself.  My three beautiful children —

He paused.  The flash of the alien yet familiar memory had come from nowhere.  The damn had burst, and all the memories were flooding back into his mind. 

"I am Melchiah, one of Kain's lieutenants….no…I am Melchiah."

"Yes." said the Necromancer.

"I am a father, a brother and a son."

"Yes." repeated the Necromancer.

Melchiah thought of his family, of his friends, of his life.  He lived as a warrior, defending those he loved from the undead predators that would hunt them, the vampire beasts.  He had lost his mother to a vampire, and swore that they would never take anyone else he cared about—

—The humans are packed tightly in the cage.  They are screaming, and how musical it is too.  The look of desperation on their faces will keep me warm on the cold Nosgothian nights, and remind me that there are people far worse off than I.  The switch, a single switch, will end the music.  But the switch will provide the sweet sweet blood that will nourish me and my children, my beloved Melchiahim.  The switch will lower the drill, and crush them. —

Melchiah screamed as the memory surfaced.  He collapsed to his knees and clutched his head.  All of his memories were now at the surface, and they were causing a tsunami.

"No.  It shall not be this way." said Mortanius.  He closed his eyes, and carefully spoke ancient syllables. 

Melchiah looked up, and saw the light.  He could feel them, his family, his friends, calling to him.  He made no resistance, and let himself be pulled towards them.

As the light engulfed him, he felt part of him left behind, sacrificed so that he could find peace.  The light became the whole world.

Mortanius opened his eyes.  The light above vanished, beyond the reach of the greys. It could only have been that way, he thought, only part of him could find peace.  He looked at Melchiah, at the monstrous creature of flesh that was before him.  This was the part that will never find peace.  This was the monster that Kain made, a creature whose soul was held together by suffering and woe.  This was the little brother.

Melchiah looked at where the light had been.  He then looked at Mortanius. 

The Necromancer looked back at Melchiah the way all people did, even his victims.  With pity.

Melchiah felt tears well up in his eyes.  "Where am I going to go?" he pleaded, with a last glimmer of hope in his voice, dreading that he was wrong.

Mortanius looked back at the creature one last time.  "I'm sorry." he said, and vanished.

Tears dropped from Melchiah's eyes as he shook.  He was shaking, shaking with fear and dread and self-pity, while around him the greys blurred together, surrounding him, pulling him in, crushing his hope.

He cried as his sadness filled his soul, and cried as he felt himself becoming one with the greys, becoming one with the coldness that existed outside of the light, becoming one with those who had never been born, becoming one with oblivion.

Zephon opened his eyes.  The pain had stopped.  The intense heat that covered him, that entered him, that burned within him, had stopped.

"You underestimate the strength of the insect, brother!" he screeched, to where Raziel should have been.

"No, I do not think that he did." spoke an ancient voice.

Zephon tilted his head, and looked around his chamber.  It was empty.

"Raziel, show yourself!" he demanded.  His insect eyes were too changed, too inhuman, to see the shift in colours, to see the greys that surrounded, watching and waiting.

"Raziel is long gone." said the voice again.  And then he saw it, a body forming in the darkness.  It was an elderly human, covered in dark robes.  Although his insect eyes could not see the colours, he could see his eyes.  They glowed with white.

"Who are you?" Zephon asked, in tones calmed by uncertainty.

"You know who I am."

"No." said Zephon, "I don't—"

—I pledge my eternal loyalty to the Circle of Nine, and pledge to always defend Nosgoth against the armies of the undead.  My thoughts will be led by the Pillar of the Mind, my skills will be blessed by the Pillar of Conflict, my death will be guided by the —

"—…Pillar of Death." muttered Zephon.  "You are the guardian of the Pillar of Death?"

"Yes." said Mortanius.

Zephon felt different.  His thoughts were less focussed, less instinctive.  He could think clearly again, like in the old days, before the changes.  The changes….

Zephon lifted his claws up.  He looked at them as if he hadn't seen them before.  They were… disgusting.  Monstrous.  He looked around him, at his huge insect body, at his repulsive twisted flesh.

"It is who you always were."

"What do you—"

—"Tell me, where is Vorador?!  Where?!!  You will tell me, monster, or I shall use the hot blade on you again!".  He's still silent, deluded fool.  Does he realise that as a vampire, he can suffer pain to new levels?  Probably not, all he's concerned about is finding his next victim!  Scum!  Let us see how his silence holds as slowly I cut out his eyes!  I shall enjoy this…—

"—mean?" asked Zephon, as the memory revealed itself after millennia of being buried.

"You have always been a cold, calculating murderer.  You have taken pleasure in the suffering of those less fortunate, and only ever desired one thing.  Power." stated Mortanius.

Zephon remained silent.  Memories were surfacing quickly now, and he was remembering who he was.  Zephon, Sarafan general, commander of the fifth legion.

"Unlike Melchiah, there are no conflicts within you.  You became a vampire, and never changed."

"Vampire!" Zephon spat the word, "I am Sarafan—"

—Here he is, the High Priest of Avernus, the designer of the great weapon of sound.  "What do you have to say for yourself, human!"  He is remaining silent, the lowly wretch.  "Kneel before me, human.  Kneel before your god!"  He refuses.  The stupid man stubbornly refuses to save his life, fool!  "Bring him to me, my children."  I shall tear out his eyes, and rejoice at his screams—

"­—Sarafan?  Vampire?" spoke Zephon, his mind clouded with confusion and impossibilities.

"You have lived two lives, and in all of that time, you have only ever been concerned with yourself." stated Mortanius, "Look up, look into the light."

Zephon, unable to think clearly, looked up and saw a light.  A beautiful light that shone through the darkness.  It was a sun in the endless space that was around him.

"Yes…" said Zephon, staring  "The light…."

"Have you ever heard the saying that when you die, you live through your loved ones?" Mortanius asked.

The light seemed to look at Zephon, to look right into his soul.  It seemed to have made a decision.  It dimmed and disappeared.

"You will never know how true it was." said Mortanius, and vanished.

Zephon looked around, desperately, as the walls of his chamber blurred into the darkness.  He was alone, and with all of his memories returned to him, he knew that he always had been.  There was no one waiting for him in the light, no friends or family.

"Come back!" Zephon pleaded, "I feel so… alone!"

The walls were no longer visible, the darkness had completely enveloped them.  He could feel it, a darkness infinitely colder than the cruellest winter, becoming the entire world.  He felt the darkness invade his body, invade his mind, invade his very soul, and take him to a place beyond pain, beyond instinct, beyond sensation, forever beyond the light.

Rahab opened his eyes.  The brightness was gone and the pain it had brought was now a memory.  He tried not to think of it, of the burning rays melting his body from within, of trying desperately to scream with a throat on fire.  He took in his surroundings, anything to distract the recollection of his recent death.

He was in his tower at the centre of the abbey.  There was no water, but Rahab never expected there to be.  Not in this place.

"I am waiting Sorcerer." announced Rahab, "I know that you are here."

Mortanius was impressed.  Very few people knew when they were dead, and even fewer knew whom they were going to meet at the other side.

"The master has been here before." he continued, "To this place.  He told me of the darkness, of the emptiness, of you."

Mortanius was surprised.  Despite the Necromancer's illusion that portrayed the Abyss as a hybrid of hellfire and helplessness, Kain had sensed the darkness, the eternal coldness of the void that waited beyond the façade.  He had obviously shared his thoughts.

"Your master still remembers what it was like here?" asked Mortanius, as his body formed in from the darkness.  He looked at Rahab, this creature of the waters.  He was sprawled out on the ground, facing upwards, impotent.  Without the water, he could not move anywhere.

"He said that he would never forget." spoke Rahab.  Despite his paralysis, dignity and pride still radiated through his voice.

"Then look Rahab.  Look around at what is here, at what he has condemned you to.  Was this worth your loyalty?"

Rahab looked around.  His eyesight was unaccustomed to being out of water, but he could see the darkness that had enveloped the ceiling.  It seemed to be growing.  No, he corrected himself.  It seemed that around him there was an invisible torch, a beacon of light that was slowly growing dimmer.  Slowly fading into the darkness.

Determined to give the Necromancer an honest answer, he stared deep into the grey darkness, and it stared back, waiting for the torch to go out.

Looking into the void, he felt the emptiness.  Not just the vast nothingness of the darkness around him, but of all existence.  Life was futility, an infinitesimal break in the infinite.  Worlds will begin and end, people will live and die, but the darkness will always come back, and it would be as if all never happened.  There was no good, no bad, and no justice, only the darkness.

Rahab turned away.  The darkness had invaded his thoughts, and was trying to make him one with its lonely infinity.  He turned back to the Necromancer, to face anything apart from the void again.

"Yes." said Rahab.  It was worth his loyalty, and not even the darkness would change that.  "The master shall fulfil his destiny, as shall my brother."

There was a pause, as the Pillar of Death stared into Rahab's eyes.

"I knew you would say that." he said.

Rahab stared back into the glowing white eyes of the Necromancer.  This was familiar, he thought, we must have met before—

—The blade is sticking up through my chest, right through my ribs.  It hurts to breath.  Who is this?  I can see him, someone in a suit of armour, looking down at me.  They all look the same in the armour, dammit!  He's taking his helmet off… It's Malek!   What's he saying?  I can't hear him anymore.  He's probably thanking me for taking the vampire's sword for him.  There's no need, I'll be back on my feet in no time at all, fighting alongside you soon again my dear friend. 

I don't think I can feel my legs anymore.  I feel like… sleep…  just… need… to sleep…—

"You gave up life for your master once before." said Mortanius.

Rahab felt the memories surfacing.  He clutched his head with his hands…

…and felt the metal of the gauntlets.  He looked at the silver metal on his arms, extending down his arms to his body.  He was wearing Sarafan armour.

"Stand up." commanded the Necromancer.  A loyalty in one of his resurfacing memories told him to obey the circle, to obey the nine.

Rahab stood up and faced the Necromancer as a soldier, his human body covered with the armour of the Sarafan warriors.

"You have always been a soldier, you have always obeyed your leaders with unquestioning loyalty." said Mortanius, "Your lives have been an cycle of servitude."

Rahab said nothing.  The soldier never ever questioned his superiors.  That was the way of things.

"Yes sir." said the loyal soldier.

"A cycle repeats.  Begin the cycle again, Rahab, servant of the circle, servant of Kain, begin the cycle again."

Mortanius closed his eyes, and spoke some syllables of a long-dead language.  Rahab lowered the visor on his helmet, and slowly faded away.

Mortanius opened his eyes.  He was alone again.  He paused, reflecting on events, and disappeared to continue the duty.

Thousands of years ago, a soldier and his wife had a baby.  They named him Rahab.

Dumah opened his eyes.  The fire was gone, and with it the heat that had boiled his blood only moments ago.  Such agony…

Dumah put it to the back of his mind, and tried to understand his surroundings.

He had developed patience, without which he would have gone insane decades ago in his spectral incarceration.  An eternity of solitude, his soul locked in a twisted green and blue parody of his own throne room.  His only company, statues of himself bearing a likeness magnified many times by vanity.  He swore that when he was released, he would never return to that deformed world.

He looked at the walls of the furnace room.  This was not the material realm, but seemingly not the spectral realm either.  The dark brown colours of the walls had not shifted shades to those of the spiritual plane.  Instead, the walls were covered in varieties of dull lifeless greys. 

He shuddered, sensing that he was being watched from above.  He quickly gazed upwards.  Darkness.  The ceiling had been enveloped by a grey darkness.  He felt uneasy, like something was watching him behind it.  A predator, waiting…

"You can feel it watching you?" said a deep voice, which made Dumah instantly look down again.  In front of him, an old man covered in tattered red and black robes.  Dumah looked into his glowing white eyes.

"Who are you, old man?"

"You know me Dumah." came the response.  Dumah looked at him, this ancient man.  He had never seen him before in his life.

And yet, somehow, he recognised him—

—"Mortanius, I need an answer."  He's listening to me.  "Lord Raziel is dead, which means that the Pillar of Conflict is choosing a new guardian.  Am I correct?"  He's nodding, confirming my thoughts.  "It should be me.  I am stronger than Lord Raziel was, I have won more battles than Malek, I am a better tactician than Rahab.  I deserve the Pillar, and the Pillar deserves me." —

Dumah clutched his head as the memory escaped from deep within his soul.  He felt disoriented by the knowledge it brought, remembering parts of the past that he had always known, and yet had not known at all.  He looked again at the old man, the sorcerer who stood before him.

"The Necromancer Mortanius." said Dumah, "Guardian of the Pillar of Death."

"Yes."

"I do know you.  Yet, we have never met."

Mortanius looked at Dumah, at the perversity his body had twisted into.  He looked into his eyes, which radiated with the dark red of the vampire.  And yet, in this broken mirror reflecting the human he once knew, there was a familiar presence.

"Sarafan." said Mortanius.

There was a pause.

"Sarafan?" replied Dumah, "I do not—"

—"I am Lord Dumah, General of the fourth legion of the Sarafan, defender of the light.  We know you are in there, Janos Audron, we have your mansion surrounded.  Surrender, or be destroyed!"  No response.  Very well, vampire, your days of preying on the innocent are over!  "Ready men!  Charge!!!!" —

"—understand…" muttered Dumah, his mind clouded in the paradox of unfamiliar familiarity.

"Dumah.  You have been throughout your lives blessed with skills exceeding competence." stated Mortanius.  "You have excelled yourself in what you have done."

Dumah said nothing.  The statement was true, as one of Kain's lieutenants he had been stronger than any other person in Nosgoth, including his decadent father.

"And yet," continued Mortanius "you despise others for doing well."

Dumah thought of this.

"Despise?  I do not understand." he replied.

"Lost." said Mortanius, helping another memory escape.

"Lost—?"

—I lost to Melchiah, that bastard!  He got lucky in the battle, and destroyed more vampires than I this month.  That must be it, luck!  There is no way that I could have lost to one so pathetic in his skills.  I'll defeat him next month like I usually do, but I will find some way of humiliating him before then!  I will not loose to him, he is not even of noble blood!  That bastard—

"Do you see?" said Mortanius as Dumah clutched his own head, "The blessings of strength, agility, and intelligence have been yours.  And the result of these is that you have despised anyone else for approaching your level of skill, or exceeding it.  Competitiveness, throughout your lives, taken too far."

Dumah remained silent, since he could not refute the statement.  He looked at his surroundings, away from the penetrating stare of those white glowing eyes.  The walls were blurring together, blurring into the greys.  He looked up, and saw a huge expanse of grey darkness, much bigger than it was before.  He could see it now, growing, consuming its way down to the bottom of the furnace.  Dumah had not known fear for a long time, but he feared the darkness, as it descended to take him away.  He looked back at the Necromancer.

"Look into the light Dumah." said Mortanius.  Dumah looked up again, at the intense white light that was facing him, having appeared in the darkness.  He faced the brightness as it looked into him, into his very soul, making the ultimate choice.  Dumah knew then what it all came to, how the journey always ended. 

The Darkness and the Light.

The choice was made.  The light disappeared, collapsing in on itself in a second.

"The decision is made Dumah." said Mortanius.  "You were blessed with skills from birth, and these skills made your lives easy.  As a result, you became competitive, vindictive and vain.

"You are to be given a second chance, another life, in which you will have to work hard for success, work hard to survive.  And in this life Dumah, you may not always win." he finished.

"What about the light?"

"When your journey is finished, Dumah." said Mortanius.  "Close your eyes."

Dumah looked around, the darkness was upon them both.  The light, the beautiful light, was out of his grasp.  Now, only the darkness remained.  Dumah closed his eyes, desperate to get away.  As soon as he did, he faded into the past.

Thousands of years ago, a child was born to a poor peasant family.  They had no money, no food, they fought every day to survive.  The child trained hard, and struggled through the ranks of the Sarafan.  He became a famous general, through unparalled determination and effort.

He was called Melchiah.

Mortanius looked at where Dumah was standing, and thought for a moment.  As the darkness filled, content with his own thoughts, he vanished to continue the duty, to continue on his own journey.