Sanity's Redemption
My name is Alexandra Roivas.
One month ago, I was humanity's last hope for survival.
Don't believe me? You think my last name being "savior" spelled backwards was a fluke?
I only wish. It might've saved my grandfather from being violently mutilated. It also might've saved my ancestor from descending into madness and murdering his servants in their sleep.
It also might've saved me from the life ahead of me.
My name is Alexandra Roivas, and I was humanity's savior.
But now I've got nothing to save humanity from.
So now what do I do?
***************************************************
The Tome of Eternal Darkness is still in my possession, currently gathering dust in my grandfather's study.
The three other artifacts are there as well, resting on the cluttered desk. For some reason, I feel like they should be put in some sort of special place. Pedestals, or something. After all the trouble The Chosen went through to bring them to me, it doesn't feel right that they're just thrown on the desk. Still, for now, they remain there.
I have gradually made my family's mansion my own, installing a computer and internet connection in the library. It's a beautiful thing, the internet. I now almost never have to leave the mansion. Whether this is a good thing or not, I have not yet decided.
I'm searching the internet for some of the people mentioned in the Tome. Why, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps I need to find the people who understand what I did. Maybe I want to tell the people I can that the battle is over, and their hard work allowed me to succeed. Maybe I could thank them.
Fuck, maybe I'm just curious.
The first name I look up is Peter Jacob, the wartime journalist. I'm not expecting much from this search except an obituary, considering the incident described in the tome happened 89 years ago, which would make him over 100 today. I'm more curious as to when and how he died.
I get my answer soon enough.
I turn up an article from a local newspaper dating back to 1983, the year he gave my grandfather the artifact, describing a horrific car crash. A taxi cab apparently collided head-on with another car in the opposite lane, causing a chain reaction of crashes for several miles in each direction. Traffic was blocked for hours while the mess was cleaned up. 10 people died.
Among them, the taxi cab's passenger, 89 year old Peter Jacob.
This all happened on a local road, a few miles from the estate. He must've been on his way home from visiting my grandfather.
The police end up never finding a cause for the initial crash. The car was simply too mutilated.
I know the cause though. It's them.
Had they gotten him a few hours earlier..I shudder at the thought.
The next name I search for is Edwin Lindsey, the archeologist. I expect a better result from this search, but don't find it. The last time anyone has heard from him is when he declared he was going to go to South America. His plane crashed in a remote rainforest, killing the pilot. Edwin's body wasn't found. This was five years ago, and for the past five years he's been declared missing, but most likely dead.
Two down, one to go.
Michael Edwards, the Canadian industrial firefighter, is much more difficult to search for, since both his names are so common. I type in his name, and I get everything from composers to web-page designers to a film actor. I add his career and nationality to the search, in the hopes of narrowing it down.
It works.
I find yet another news article, this time from a Canadian national newspaper based in Toronto. A sob catches in my throat as I read it.
Michael Edwards killed himself.
As well as his fiancee, which I didn't know he had. Although it isn't likely the Tome would've discussed his love life.
What apparently attracted the national paper to it was the unusual way the bodies were found. They both were laying in bed, wrists slit, knife in Michael's hand, and a message carved into each of their chests:
"Never go into the darkness."
The paper wrote about the shocking irony that this sort of message should be found on a dead body, but it's not ironic to me. I guess he just wanted to beat them to the chase. He was willing to die, but he wanted to die at his own hands, not the hands of the Ancients. As for his fiancee, perhaps he wanted to protect her. Or she was told of what happened, and wanted to die with him, so she could avoid the darkness as well.
And that's everybody. Of The Chosen, I'm the only one left. I expect to feel a bit more sadness at this, or cry, or something. But now, the only thing I can do is turn off the computer and trudge upstairs to bed.
********************************************
"It's very nice to see you again Alex."
I look at the man in front of me strangely. Why I had never seen before would know my name is completely beyond me. The fact that he's dressed as a Roman warrior adds to the strangeness.
As if he's read my thoughts, the man says "You don't recognize me, do you?"
I slowly shake my head.
The man nods in understanding and steps toward me. "This was my form before I was taken as an agent for the Ancients."
I cock my head and say, quietly:
"...Pious?"
He smiles. "Yes child. I was once a human."
"I know that. Which is why your desire to destroy the human race is." I caught myself, "was so unbelievable. Why destroy your own kind?"
"I could ask you the same about saving it. Especially now."
"How could you ask that? And why now?"
"Look what happened." he croons as he struts toward me, "You saved mankind from a fate worse than death. You brought about a new age in humanity. And have you gotten anything in return? A vote of thanks from anyone? Will they write about you in history books? No. The entire race was so blind, they didn't see the danger they were in every day. And if I had succeeded, they would not have even known what hit them. As is, if you had told them what you did, they'd just throw you in an asylum like they did with your psychotic ancestor."
This throws me off for a minute, but I refuse to let it show. He, meanwhile, continues.
"And what is this great race that you just saved? This races that kills, rapes, and destroys whatever it can. Yours is the only species that kills each other for reasons other than survival. Did you know that?" he chuckles, though I don't know what is particularly funny, and goes on, "Your men constantly think of new ways to kill each other, your women whore themselves on the streets, and your children kill each other on the playground. The human race was on a path to destruction long before I tried to put it there. And it continues on that path even after you 'saved' it."
I stand and glare, determined not to cry despite how much I want to. Everything in me is telling me that I should kill him where he stands. Yet all I can do is stand there and convince myself that he wasn't right.
He's barely a breath away now, looking down at me in an almost loving way.
"You know what to do."
With that he leans down and kisses me, with such ferocity that I can hardly react to the action.
I bolt upright in my bed, stride to the bathroom, and spend the rest of the night throwing up.
*******************************************
This dream has been haunting me for a week now, and it's always the same. Each time, Pious gives me the same speech, each time I can't react, and each time he kisses me, leaving me feeling filthy when I wake up. I have taken to having showers in the morning, as opposed to before I go to bed, like before, to wash myself clean of the feeling. Part of it is because the dream is so vivid. I can even feel his facial hair scratch my face and mouth.
Of course, I know what Pious means by "You know what to do." He wants me to do what he had tried to do: summon an ancient. I had almost done it once already, and with the three artifacts in the study and the magical array in my basement, I could easily do it again.
Do I want to?
My name is Alexandra Roivas.
One month ago, I was humanity's last hope for survival.
Don't believe me? You think my last name being "savior" spelled backwards was a fluke?
I only wish. It might've saved my grandfather from being violently mutilated. It also might've saved my ancestor from descending into madness and murdering his servants in their sleep.
It also might've saved me from the life ahead of me.
My name is Alexandra Roivas, and I was humanity's savior.
But now I've got nothing to save humanity from.
So now what do I do?
***************************************************
The Tome of Eternal Darkness is still in my possession, currently gathering dust in my grandfather's study.
The three other artifacts are there as well, resting on the cluttered desk. For some reason, I feel like they should be put in some sort of special place. Pedestals, or something. After all the trouble The Chosen went through to bring them to me, it doesn't feel right that they're just thrown on the desk. Still, for now, they remain there.
I have gradually made my family's mansion my own, installing a computer and internet connection in the library. It's a beautiful thing, the internet. I now almost never have to leave the mansion. Whether this is a good thing or not, I have not yet decided.
I'm searching the internet for some of the people mentioned in the Tome. Why, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps I need to find the people who understand what I did. Maybe I want to tell the people I can that the battle is over, and their hard work allowed me to succeed. Maybe I could thank them.
Fuck, maybe I'm just curious.
The first name I look up is Peter Jacob, the wartime journalist. I'm not expecting much from this search except an obituary, considering the incident described in the tome happened 89 years ago, which would make him over 100 today. I'm more curious as to when and how he died.
I get my answer soon enough.
I turn up an article from a local newspaper dating back to 1983, the year he gave my grandfather the artifact, describing a horrific car crash. A taxi cab apparently collided head-on with another car in the opposite lane, causing a chain reaction of crashes for several miles in each direction. Traffic was blocked for hours while the mess was cleaned up. 10 people died.
Among them, the taxi cab's passenger, 89 year old Peter Jacob.
This all happened on a local road, a few miles from the estate. He must've been on his way home from visiting my grandfather.
The police end up never finding a cause for the initial crash. The car was simply too mutilated.
I know the cause though. It's them.
Had they gotten him a few hours earlier..I shudder at the thought.
The next name I search for is Edwin Lindsey, the archeologist. I expect a better result from this search, but don't find it. The last time anyone has heard from him is when he declared he was going to go to South America. His plane crashed in a remote rainforest, killing the pilot. Edwin's body wasn't found. This was five years ago, and for the past five years he's been declared missing, but most likely dead.
Two down, one to go.
Michael Edwards, the Canadian industrial firefighter, is much more difficult to search for, since both his names are so common. I type in his name, and I get everything from composers to web-page designers to a film actor. I add his career and nationality to the search, in the hopes of narrowing it down.
It works.
I find yet another news article, this time from a Canadian national newspaper based in Toronto. A sob catches in my throat as I read it.
Michael Edwards killed himself.
As well as his fiancee, which I didn't know he had. Although it isn't likely the Tome would've discussed his love life.
What apparently attracted the national paper to it was the unusual way the bodies were found. They both were laying in bed, wrists slit, knife in Michael's hand, and a message carved into each of their chests:
"Never go into the darkness."
The paper wrote about the shocking irony that this sort of message should be found on a dead body, but it's not ironic to me. I guess he just wanted to beat them to the chase. He was willing to die, but he wanted to die at his own hands, not the hands of the Ancients. As for his fiancee, perhaps he wanted to protect her. Or she was told of what happened, and wanted to die with him, so she could avoid the darkness as well.
And that's everybody. Of The Chosen, I'm the only one left. I expect to feel a bit more sadness at this, or cry, or something. But now, the only thing I can do is turn off the computer and trudge upstairs to bed.
********************************************
"It's very nice to see you again Alex."
I look at the man in front of me strangely. Why I had never seen before would know my name is completely beyond me. The fact that he's dressed as a Roman warrior adds to the strangeness.
As if he's read my thoughts, the man says "You don't recognize me, do you?"
I slowly shake my head.
The man nods in understanding and steps toward me. "This was my form before I was taken as an agent for the Ancients."
I cock my head and say, quietly:
"...Pious?"
He smiles. "Yes child. I was once a human."
"I know that. Which is why your desire to destroy the human race is." I caught myself, "was so unbelievable. Why destroy your own kind?"
"I could ask you the same about saving it. Especially now."
"How could you ask that? And why now?"
"Look what happened." he croons as he struts toward me, "You saved mankind from a fate worse than death. You brought about a new age in humanity. And have you gotten anything in return? A vote of thanks from anyone? Will they write about you in history books? No. The entire race was so blind, they didn't see the danger they were in every day. And if I had succeeded, they would not have even known what hit them. As is, if you had told them what you did, they'd just throw you in an asylum like they did with your psychotic ancestor."
This throws me off for a minute, but I refuse to let it show. He, meanwhile, continues.
"And what is this great race that you just saved? This races that kills, rapes, and destroys whatever it can. Yours is the only species that kills each other for reasons other than survival. Did you know that?" he chuckles, though I don't know what is particularly funny, and goes on, "Your men constantly think of new ways to kill each other, your women whore themselves on the streets, and your children kill each other on the playground. The human race was on a path to destruction long before I tried to put it there. And it continues on that path even after you 'saved' it."
I stand and glare, determined not to cry despite how much I want to. Everything in me is telling me that I should kill him where he stands. Yet all I can do is stand there and convince myself that he wasn't right.
He's barely a breath away now, looking down at me in an almost loving way.
"You know what to do."
With that he leans down and kisses me, with such ferocity that I can hardly react to the action.
I bolt upright in my bed, stride to the bathroom, and spend the rest of the night throwing up.
*******************************************
This dream has been haunting me for a week now, and it's always the same. Each time, Pious gives me the same speech, each time I can't react, and each time he kisses me, leaving me feeling filthy when I wake up. I have taken to having showers in the morning, as opposed to before I go to bed, like before, to wash myself clean of the feeling. Part of it is because the dream is so vivid. I can even feel his facial hair scratch my face and mouth.
Of course, I know what Pious means by "You know what to do." He wants me to do what he had tried to do: summon an ancient. I had almost done it once already, and with the three artifacts in the study and the magical array in my basement, I could easily do it again.
Do I want to?