Tales are told and weaved throughout time
to one day join the archive of all.
Listen to this tale told long after Queen Serenity
and her beloved Silver Millennium,
long after Uther's son and his violent descent to Avalon,
long after the reign of King Endymion and Neo-Queen Serenity
and their precious Crystal Tokyo
and so long after the remembrance of time
in which our senshi have become mere shadows,
promoted to the wretched position of deities
from what they once were.
Where another figure of power is rising,
reborn in a time so familiar yet so alien.
Where the line of enemy and ally have been redefined,
where the rebirth of our heroes
is either a curse or a saving grace.
Temples of False Promise
Chapter Six: Rebirth
Retold by HEL
The man watched as the tiny sand particles slid slowly down the thin middle of the ornamental hourglass. He sighed to himself; a very human emotion that many mortals, even his own army thought him incapable of. They treated him as some type of god. His own advisors hesitated on voicing their own opinions when that was what he was most in need of. He wasn't stupid and naive, he knew that he needed help from others. Especially with the worldwide war he had his heart set upon. He needed all the help he could get.
Then again he couldn't exactly blame his soldiers and servants for the way they treated him. He was terrible at showing his emotions; he rarely smiled, gave compliments, or showed any feeling at all. Those types of things were just not him. He was a warrior and natural leader. Some day his conquering would have to be done and then he would need to be a ruler and use his political skills, but that day was years off.
Why his men continued to serve under him was a mystery to many, but they knew something others didn't; their leader, Tarqeq, was a brave man whom many of the men admired just for being him. He was always the first into battle and his skills in a combat were almost unmatched by any. His soldiers adored him because he deserved it and they believed he could bring them to a new and better world. Of course, he had to step on many people to get where he wanted to be, but that was completely necessary.
As the man who wanted the world bowing on its knees to him in glory he was quite humble in his furnishings. He was in a tent, outside the cool fall air of the area blew in gently to his half opened clothe door flap. The room in the tent almost had a Spartan quality with a soldier's cot in one corner and a fold-up desk and table in the other for letter writing and strategy planning with his advisors and generals. The only other piece of furniture was a medium sized wooden trunk keeping clothes, armor, and other personal items. The clothes the man wore were plain, but of a fashionable cut.
The man liked nicer things and knew that someday as a ruler he would have to dress and act in higher style, but for now he was a warrior.
As he looked over at the hourglass he saw the last grains of sand drop to the lower half. The hourglass was not a normal one of its kind; he had magicked it. The power of it was tied to Chia. When she would leave on an errand for him or some such thing all he would do is tip the hourglass upside down and the sands would run until she returned.
"Master," a high pitched child's voice rang from the doorway. Chia was home.
"The boy?" the man asked anxiously.
"Master, the monk lost him," Chia said loudly, but her voice shook with the fear she was feeling, she wondered if her master would blame the situation on her. He frowned, clearly not pleased, but then noticed the elderly man standing behind her.
"Who is this?" he asked, but then realized the answer. In seven years time, the monk had changed. He was not just old now, but ancient.
"I am one of Cronus's loyal followers," the monk said and bowed deeply to the man.
"Master, he is all that is left of his people," Chia informed and then added, "I used my voice."
The man knew what she meant; he had given her the deadly power and she had used it well.
"Monk," the war leader said forcefully. The monk was surprised at the man's calmness, but he did not that the man was raging in anger inside. "Where is the boy?"
"Gone, I do not know where. He was resourceful and cunning."
The man knew he shouldn't have left the babe at a heathen temple, but he had also had no choice, his goddess had demanded it.
"That is not the total truth," Chia butted in. The monk gave her an evil glare, but she continued, "He was going to sacrifice the boy, but the boy escaped for fear of his life."
"I see," was all the man said. He had heard enough. He nodded to Chia in a gesture to leave the tent. She did so quickly, closing the flap behind her.
"You believe in your god blindly, do you not?" the man asked.
"Yes, of course," the monk said slowly, not wanting to say anything to offend the war leader, though, he knew he was dead no matter what he spoke.
"You lived and worshipped falsely, but my goddess commands that you shall begin your service to her. For she is the one and only. The rest are fakes, pretenders," the man said calmly. The monk turned pale with fear thinking his death was finely upon him.
"Do not cower like a frightened hare. You are only succeeding in making yourself look foolish. Do not think you are worthy to die by my blade which is blessed by the goddess," the warrior scolded the old monk like a teacher to a naughty student.
"Master, what fate do you see for one as wretched as me?" the old man fell to the floor. His weak knees had given out on his ancient body.
"My goddess wishes you to live and serve her, but of course in your present state that is not possible. You must relearn all you have been taught. The best pupil is one who is young and flexible to outside influences," the war leader said. He moved did not even move as muscle as he called on his powers.
The old monk gasped as a spasm of pain rocked his body. He cried out as tears ran down the wrinkles in his face. The war leader was laughing as the old man shuddered his dying breath and closed his eyes. Mere seconds later they opened again as new life sprung into the body, which had once been old, but now was young.
"Look at your hands, the flesh is soft and smooth. Reach those hands up and brush your fingers through your hair, which is now long and thick. Feel your face; there are no more grooves and hollows. My goddess has made you young again. A rebirth, a second chance. You shall be my pupil and I bestow the name of Suo Loco upon you," the man told the now young boy kneeling before him.
"I live only to serve you, Lord Tarqeq," Suo Loco whispered. Suo Loco possessed powers he had never dreamed of as a monk through rebirth he would be able to tap into the source and serve his new master to his fullest extent.
"Of course," Tarqeq answered. He smiled one of his rare smiles, but it was cold and dangerous. He was a man of power who killed on a whim and lived to conquer the world. No one would stand in his way, no matter what the prophecies said.
Over the seven years Suo Loco and Chia grew into fine young adults of ages somewhere between twelve and fifteen. Tarqeq's army grew day by day and his two prize pupils grew ever so much more powerful and influential under the great war leader.
Tarqeq's shadow of evil tainted city after city. Corruption and lies followed him like a plague. The world's balance, already out of proportion, spilled out completely. Total darkness had fallen upon people who in past lives had been saviors, the legendary Senshi of old. Chaos had a foot in the door, this time never to leave. Of the two men who were truly connected to the Earth only one still held the brightness of hope and that was slowly fading lost in the politics of life.