A/N: READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE READING AND DON'T IGNORE IT BECAUSE IF YOU DO YOU'LL REGRET IT!
Alright, now that I'm done screaming…Hi, how are you? It's been a while, I know, but I don't feel guilty about that at all, because I've been working on this chapter for the entire time that I've been absent from posting. It has taken me these months to plot this out, to write it. Yes, I knew essentially what I was going to have to write for this, but essentially knowing and writing are two entirely different things, so there you go.
Here's the drill (and FYI, this is the where the really important parts kick in): This chapter is Xander's story, but not just Xander's story – it's the story of his entire family, starting all the way back in Atlantis and going right up to where we last left off. In other words, I've been writing the past few, uh, millennia in this chapter. So you know what? It's taken quite a while.
The only thing I can think to compare this experience to is what Anne Rice must have felt like writing The Witching Hour when it gets to the part where she documents the entire lives of the Mayfair family (and no, for those of you who have read that amazing book, this chapter isn't that long!). Good Goddess, you have no idea how much this has taken me up and taken out of me – not to mention that I'm balancing writing this with school, home projects, family drama (see prior chapters for explanations) and all kinds of shit. Ugh!
How This Chapter Is Set Up: This chapter is broken into separate parts, just like Chapter XV: The Kiss That Woke Sleeping Beauty. I'm still proud of that chapter. And its title. Yeah. Anyway, this chapter has been broken up like that because there's a million HUGELY IMPORTANT DETAILS buried in each of those parts. It's good to take a break now and again when reading this chapter, because it's a lot to absorb. I should know; it's taken months to write it!
BTW: I AM FINISHED – MOSTLY – WITH THIS CHAPTER…HOWEVER, THE FULL TEXT IS ABOUT FIFTY PAGES LONG…OR LONGER. I'M NOT QUITE DONE EDITING THE SECOND PART. IN THE SPIRIT OF THIS, I'VE BROKEN THIS UP INTO TWO PIECES, WITH THE SECOND ONE DUE OUT BY THE END OF NEXT WEEK AT THE LATEST.
The Way the Chapter Is Written: This chapter is told from Marie-Claire's perspective – I can only make another Anne Rice comparison here: remember in The Queen of the Damned when Maharet is telling The Story of the Twins, and the whole chapter is told as her telling the story to a group? That's how this chapter is written – so don't worry; it's supposed to read just like it is.
Suggested Rereading Before Reading: What a mouthful! Anyway, here's the sitch: this chapter draws on other chapters so that pretty much all questions you should have on Xander and all of this get explained. Chapters that I would suggest rereading, unless you'd like to start from the beginning again, are as follows: Prologue: Once upon a Time; Chapter V: The Balcony Scene, Part III; Chapter XVIII: Blood, Chocolate & Ashes. Trust me on this – it'll make so much more sense if you're boned up on what I've set up in other chapters!
Disclaimer: This is where ELEMENTS of the Phoenix Saga storyline begin to appear…but just that – elements. That's all that will EVER appear in this fiction! It's set in the Buffy universe, and will stick with purely Buffy characters. Just a heads up. Everything else – Atlantis, Avalon, everything, I've written myself. Some elements of Avalon were inspired by Marion Zimmer Bradley's fantabulous epic The Mists of Avalon, but really it's my own verse. All original characters are mine. And just for those fans of "Charmed" out there – there is mention of a Nexus of energy in this chapter, but Nexus (I'm not sure what the plural is here) from the Charmed universe were inspired by stories of the real thing from mythology, so just so you know, Charmed is not being borrowed from here – the mythos that I'm using I've interpreted from legend.
Soundtrack: I've made an entire soundtrack for this chapter alone because of how life-devouring this is. As I've said before, soundtracks help me write in ways that you can't imagine, and I think that (I hope that) you guys like it too. For those of you who are following the soundtracks, this does not count as the second volume of the the Passion of Angels and Demons soundtrack – it's purely for this episode.
All Around Me – String Quartet Tribute (From "Tribute to Flyleaf")
Dublin, 1838 (From "Amends") – Christophe Beck (From the Season III Promo Score)
The Birth of Angelus – Robert J. Kral (Featuring Elin Carlson) (From the "Angel: Live Fast, Die Never" Soundtrack)
Homecoming – Christophe Beck (From the "Elektra" Score)
Slayer's Elegy (From "The Wish") – Christophe Beck (From "Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Score")
Sally's Song – Amy Lee (From the "Nightmare Revisited" Soundtrack)
Nymphetamine Overdose – Cradle of Filth
End of the World (acoustic) – Cold (From the "Resident Evil: Apocalypse" Soundtrack)
Suicide Note – Johnette Napolitano (From the "Underworld" Soundtrack)
Hover Quiet Mix – Trust Company (From the "Underworld" Soundtrack)
Out of This World – Bush
Change (In the House of Flies) – Deftones
Anything for You – Evanescence (From "Demos" and also "Not for Your Ears")
Victim – Trapt
See Through – Megan McCauley
Heartbreaker – Pink (Bonus Track from the Platinum Edition of "I'm Not Dead")
All Around Me – Flyleaf
CrushCrushCrush – Paramore
I'm Not Dead – Pink
Touched – VAST
Your Star – Evanescence
All of This Past – Sarah Bettens (From the "Underworld" Soundtrack)
88888! Christophe Beck has finally got a score CD out there! For those of you who haven't yet heard the incredible news, Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Score was finally released September of this year! I bought it the day it came out and I have not regretted it in any way shape or form – it's positively stunning!
REALLY IMPORTANT NOTE: REVIEWS
Okay, so I'm really annoyed and hurt and angry and all that good junk. I realize that sometimes I leave you hanging with the lengths between chapters, but I used to be able to look forward to like ten reviews with each update and now I'm lucky if I get like five. And I've been posting these huge, like 30 page long chapters, and I get really angry because I know that you guys are reading it because of the tracker tech stuff on the page and I've got people in here from fucking Croatia who read this every update and yet I have to wait two whole months to start actually seeing reviews?! STOP PUTTING ME ON AN UPDATE OR FAVORITE LIST AND JUST WRITE A STUPID REVIEW! Ugh!
Sorry! I'm really not trying to sound like the Wicked Witch of the East here, guys, it's just incredibly frustrating and disheartening to see that no matter how long you make your chapters or how much effort you pour into making them really plot-thicky people just don't have the inclination to so much as say a one line: "Hi, I really like this story, please continue"? Sigh.
It's not asking a lot – just hit the same button that you hit to add someone to an alert or favorite list only this time include a line or two about the update. It clearly means more than you know, because if you did know you'd realize that without feedback an author has absolutely no motivation to complete/continue a story. So there it is.
And as I've gotten so few reviews on this, I'm about to do something I don't think I've ever done before: respond personally to reviewers.
DAVINCI: You've stuck with me through most of this, I think, and even pimped me out on LiveJournal, which was very cool. Your feedback is much appreciated – and as for Buffy…yeah, she has a lot more issues than what she's letting on right now – but that's the beauty of her being the Slayer: anyone in this verse can throw whatever they want to at her and she has to somehow not crumble! Anyway, Buffy gets to deal with some of this in the future, so if you're looking for a bit of a meltdown, you're gonna get it.
EMERALDEN RAPLEY: You also have stuck with me for a while, so huge hugs to you! Don't worry, Drusilla isn't going to die. She doesn't have a huge role in this story, but she's amazingly psychotic so she's lots of fun to throw into a situation. I don't mind giving this spoiler away: Drusilla will not die! She'll just be peripherally crazy.
HALLOWEEN DOLL: Yet again, another faithful reviewer (I love your username, BTW). I'm sorry that I wasn't so much with the Xangelus dialogue last chapter, but it had to be what it had to be (and at that time I wasn't aware how damn long these chapters were going to turn out). Anyhoo, thanks for the props and don't worry – much much more Xander/Angel and Xander/Angelus angst/slashy goodness ahead!
DESTINY ENTWINEMENTS: Another interesting name! I love that you love my story but don't lose sleep over it or I'll feel bad!
NANAMI: Thanks very much for pointing that out to me! No, Spike is no longer in his wheelchair – sorry for the goof. I'm very grateful that you aren't worried about pointing out my mistakes. I'm going to try and rectify that soon – if there are any other inconsistencies that you notice along the way, please point them out to me – I love to fix mistakes.
SPARK: Thanks! I'm glad that you're enjoying it – and in what way did Xander come off as sort of Sue to you? Cuz you're totally right – I hate that in stories and I'd like to do the best I can to not do it.
KAGE MIRAI: I did end up having a great trip – thanks for the well wishes. Hope you're enjoying the story.
FORTHEJOY: Thanks for the line. I think what a lot of Xander/Angelus stories leave out is that they say that Xander started off crushing on Angel and then when the Angelus thing happens, Angel sort of slips off to the wayside. I wanted to make sure that people remembered that Angel is who Xander first fell for, and that there are consequences to being with the part of Angel (Angel being both demon and soul) who would want Xander in return. Xander's got a lot to think about – and I'm glad you enjoyed the dream, because it turns out to be important later on.
BECK: Thanks so much for the high praise! I personally still think that Nexus by Raksha the Wolf is still my personal favorite Xander/Angelus story, but it's really cool to think that mine is yours…well, you know what I mean. Here's more.
LORZA: Thank you so much for the praise – and here's the next chapter!
AND TO ALL THOSE WHO TOOK THE TIME AND ENERGY TO REVIEW THAT I HAVE NOT ADDRESSED HERE – THANK YOU, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART AND SOUL. YOU'RE THE REASON I'M WRITING THIS NOW, SO HIT THAT REVIEW BUTTON AND MAKE THE NEXT CHAPTER HAPPEN!
Okay, with all that out of the way, without any further ado let me welcome you to the hugest thing I've ever written. I hope you like it, but if you don't please don't tell me because this has devoured so much of my life by now I'm feeling incredibly fragile about it. Sigh. But here it is, the one you've all been waiting for. I now present:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
the Passion of Angels and Demons
Chapter XIX, Part I
The Blood of Atlantis
All of this dust
All of this past
All of this over
And gone
And never coming back
All of this forgotten
Not by me…
"All of This Past" by Sarah Bettens (Written by Danny Lohner, from Underworld)
I. Atlantis
As I am sure that your Watcher has told you, this world was once ruled by demons.
It was a different time then – humans had just appeared, and magic was everywhere. What some have foolishly referred to as the supernatural (which is merely a break in what they consider the norm of the world's laws, an arrogance that many humans have inherited, mores' the pity) was the norm instead of the exception. Such it was that many areas of the earth and Her treasures were sources of power for those who could sense it, use it. Like the child's story The Wizard of Oz, each direction had a power, and there were once demon lords who ruled over those directions. We use the elemental powers and their directions to this day, in our Correspondences in magic.
From the South came the power of Fire; to the East was the power of Air. To the West was the dominion of Water, and from the North was the most powerful of all: the power of Earth, which in turn was a combination of all of these things, for all of these things came from the Mother and all must return unto Her in the end. The Earth also holds the power of Balance: it will level out all of the elements. You are all already quite aware of demons descended from the power of Fire – vampires, they are called today. You did not know this, perhaps? Why else would a vampire burst into ash when slain – why else would a shaft of wood from the Earth be the most effective weapon?
The demonic world was ruled surprisingly effectively by these Elementals – though there are many names for them (for instance, the myths of the Greek Titans), and each maintained their domain with an iron fist. There were small areas of No Man's Land, for lack of a better term, between these land areas. These were where the first humans began to propagate, fighting with nomad demons and other magical creatures who did not wish to belong to the Elemental Courts. And for a long time, that was the way the world was – separated into these territories, ruled coldly, cruelly, and efficiently.
Until one day, and no one knows how, or when, a leader of men rose up, gathered his people together, and founded the Empire of Atlantis. His name was Ferro.
Accounts differ on how Ferro was able to do so, but truly no one knows the answer to this question. All they do know was that this man was a very powerful mage of some kind, and had used this skill to gather a tribe to himself early on. In the middle of the four vast courts of the Elementals, in the No Man's Land I mentioned earlier, was a vast island, near modern day Greece – but keep in mind that the world was much differently made up back then. There was a gathering of power – ley lines, natural power, what have you. Not a Hellmouth, no – there was what we call a Nexus there. There is only one other in this world that we have yet found, but that comes into the story later.
In the heart of that Nexus, the mage Ferro travelled, and he was able to gather some of the powers there and charge them into a crystal which he called the M'Kraan crystal – crystals are ideal for containing things, for as they are faceted and of the Earth, they balance all power out, focus them, and their faceted faces allow for infinite storage space. The M'Kraan, or heart in the ancient language, was used by Ferro to focus his power. He called the humans to him, and they gladly bowed to him. Finally joined together by a common focus, the human race proved its worth. Within days the City of Atlantica, the capitol of Atlantis (for they had named their island) had been built, and with the M'Kraan crystal's power and the force of the Nexus, it was perhaps the strongest point in the world.
Ferro taught his people of the duality of nature, of light and dark. He taught them of the God and the Goddess, of the Mother and Father of us all, and created his empire based on peace, on caring for nature and drawing Her natural power to heal and to defend, not to attack.
No one, human or otherwise, could enter the city without being first able to pass through the magical shield evoked by the M'Kraan, and as such the first stirrings of genuine unease passed through the demonic world at the thought of the human race. Before, humans were seen as strange, weak animals, cursed with souls and unknown to demonkind. For millennia, demonic powers had fought over the powers of the Nexus, never being able to control it even if they had won the tract of land through blood. But somehow humanity had been able to do such a thing, and had figured out how to use the power of the Nexus to do something that could be interpreted as a threat to the balance of the demonic world.
This was the first time that humanity was viewed as dangerous to the demons.
Now, Atlantis was the ideal home for the human race at this point in time: their numbers were not great, and the island was excellent, temperature and conditions, for growing crops, and also for defense: to the south was a vast desert, to the north there were great areas of treacherous ice, and to the east and west there was an ocean. With the power of the M'Kraan focused by Ferro's magic, humanity began to flourish. Reading and writing, farming and inventing, humanity reached a high point that archeologists will never learn of. Ferro was a kind and just ruler, and believed firmly in the basic goodness of the human soul. He and his most trusted advisors created a system of law the governed the Atlanteans, as they now called themselves, as surely as the demonic Elementals ruled their people. The difference was that the people loved Ferro, and would gladly lay down their lives for them. With the constant infighting in demonic clans, this made it easy for the Atlantean army to join forces and lay waste to the first of the demonic invaders who tried to seize Atlantis for themselves.
And again, the Elementals say this, and were greatly concerned.
Ferro, who was wise, did not want the spirit of war to enter the hearts of his people. So he descended into the Nexus and did not return for half of a year. When he did emerge, he announced that he had found a primal life force, a burning spirit who was kin to the stars themselves, a protector and a god. It had assumed the shape of a flaming bird, and Ferro, inspired by the myths of the humans, had named it the Phoenix. The Phoenix became the symbol of Atlantis, and the protector of both the M'Kraan crystal and the human race. None of the attacking demons could stand against this primal force, and as such Atlantis rose to supremacy in the world.
The Elemental overlords could no longer sit still and worry – they decided they must act to preserve themselves and the world they had been born into and controlled for so long.
Again, myth will prevail over fact. The Elementals had a gathering, the Conclave, which had not occurred in demonic memory since time immortal. They laid their differences aside in face of this new threat: humanity, and their growing power. They used their great power to divine a weakness in this Ferro – a flaw which was obvious to the demons. The curse of the human soul is that it allowed for areas of grey, for philosophy and debate and faith and belief. In the demonic mind, there is only black and white, good and evil. Ferro's faith in the human soul would be his undoing.
II. Pandora
As a man of power, Ferro must be lonely, they reasoned. So the Demon of the Earth used its powers over the natural elements to craft a woman, so beautiful that it hurt the eye to look at her. The Demon of Water flowed the deep mysteries of womanhood into her – the power of motherhood, of the cold hatred and the powers of the deep that only woman can truly understand. The Demon of Air breathed life into her mind, giving her wisdom and thought. And finally the Demon of Fire breathed the fires of life into this woman, its passion and its warmth…and its burning rage and pain. They called this woman Pandora, and sent her as a gift of goodwill to Ferro, with the promise that they would not attack him lest he attack them back. Ferro, who fell passionately in love with Pandora from the moment of meeting her, agreed instantly.
Now, the fairy tale version of this story says that Pandora would open a magic box and unleash pain into the world – and in a way this is true. But no box was ever opened, and the only magic performed is that magic which is both boon and curse to all women. Ferro and Pandora gave birth to a child, a boy. His name was Necrom, and he was born with all of his father's power…and all of his mother's demonic rage. From an early age, Necrom's unbridled cruelty and casual misuse of power was apparent. Ferro might have overcome this, but the old human axiom will always ring true – power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. The people of Atlantis had grown corrupt, greedy and power-hungry. They secretly wanted Necrom to be king, to let them indulge in their vices and licentiousness.
When Necrom reached the age of fifteen, he staged a coup. Ferro managed to fight off his son, but the people of Atlantis had turned on him as well. In despair, Ferro turned to Pandora for help…but his false wife finally was ready to shed the human façade which had been forced on her for so long. She ran him through with a blade and told her son to finish him. Ferro vanished before Necrom could do so, however. Fearing that she would not be able to complete the mission she had been created for, Pandora sprinted for the ancient temple, where Ferro had first come to Atlantis and founded Atlantica. But she was too late.
Ferro had called the last of those loyal to him, those who still worshipped all that was good in the universe and renounced the evil of the corrupt Atlanteans, to guard the temple for him. Appearing at the center of the Nexus, which was the temple, he faced his people, particularly Pandora and Necrom, who were trying to incite the crowd to help him. But the crowd was afraid, for Ferro was in a terrible rage. He cursed the people of Atlantis for becoming all which they had abhorred, he deplored their ways as no better than the demons they had fought against for so long. He denied them as his people. And as they trembled before him, he summoned the Phoenix to himself, and in a flash of flame and power, he, the M'Kraan crystal, his faithful people, and the Phoenix Force itself, vanished from the isle of Atlantis.
III. Avalon
Now, as I've said earlier, Ferro knew of the only other Nexus in the world. He feared that his power-crazed son and soulless shell of a wife would want to gain this Nexus and throw off the natural balance of the world. So he brought his people to that place – another island, but much smaller, hidden in the mists. It was already populated with the hidden Faerie people, but they recognized the goodness inherent in Ferro and his people, and they allowed him access to the Nexus. There Ferro constructed another temple, smaller and humbler. He would not allow another decadent empire like Atlantis into being again. He called this isle the Holy Isle of Avalon, and used the Faeries' magic to cloak it in mists, hiding it from the world. And there, he withdrew into his grief, letting his people continue their worship of God and Goddess, of nature and peace.
And so it was for a decade – the Isle of Avalon lay hidden in the mists, a refuge for those few who still believed in goodness, increasingly detached from the world, while to the North, South, East and West, and now the center of the world, wickedness took hold, and the darkness that had so briefly been fought back once more took supremacy.
IV. The Evil of Atlantis
Necrom was an evil tyrant, punishing his people cruelly at the same time that he encouraged that cruelty in others. What had once been an advanced race began to devolve, if you will, to their baser instincts. Humans are capable of so much good in the world that it is only natural that they be capable of horrible cruelty – from Gandhi to Hitler, as the world has seen. A balance is kept. The first coliseum, for lack of a better word, was created in Atlantis – a ring where people were tortured and fought for their lives for the amusement of the crowd. Worship turned to dark gods and wicked goddesses. Any worship of a deity increases that deity's power, until the balance was again destroyed, and the goodness of the world suppressed. Days became shorter, nights longer, and black magic and blood sport ruled the lands of Earth.
It is, however, the nature of evil to always seek more power, and yet more. Necrom became greedy for more – for the ultimate power: that of an Elemental demon. So he conspired with his mother Pandora – who was herself immortal due to the nature of her creation – and they decided that Necrom must have an heir…not only an heir, but a girl-child with which to tempt the amorous Elementals. Necrom, unnaturally beautiful due to his father's magic and his mother's nature, decided that only great beauty could create great beauty, and so his mother became the mother of her son's daughter. Using dark magic, Pandora influenced the egg within her so that her next child would be a girl.
However, any great magic will ripple through the minds of powerful magic users, and as Ferro was still one of the most powerful of them all, he cast a Seeing Spell to witness what nightmarish spell had ripped through the walls of magic. When he saw the horror of what his once-wife and child had done, had planned, he wept and screamed that such evil could exist in this world. He knew then that his period of peace, hidden in Avalon, was done. He could no longer separate himself from the world, from the evil that he had inadvertently created. So he called his magic to him and travelled into the Dream World.
The Dream World is where our dreams live, and it is where many things can occur, for humans travel through those walls, particularly magic-users, when they sleep. He called the spirit of the Phoenix Force into himself and flew through this area until he reached that dark, horrifying place where the dreams of the truly soulless live. He had never travelled here before, never thought that he had a reason to. But here was where Pandora's sleeping body lay, so Ferro searched for her and found her in a hellish dream wherein she used the darkness within her to destroy the world over and over, for such was her destiny. So he flew into her spirit – in the Dream World, she had no defenses against this – and cast the beauteous spirit of the Phoenix into the girl who was growing in Pandora's womb. He called the blessings of the God and the Goddess on the babe, wrapping her in goodness – in essence, performing the first Wiccaning.
The legends of Pandora say that she wept tears of acid when she opened her magic box and saw the horrors within – well, the acid at least is true. When she awoke that morning after the pure goodness of her husband's magic had touched her, she found herself weeping for that which she could never have nor understand. Pandora had never cried before, and as she was a dark, soulless creature, the tears burnt like acid. When Pandora looked in the mirror, she saw that her great beauty had been transfigured – the tears she had shed had burned tracks, three each, under each eye, leaving hideous black burns on her luscious cheeks. She screamed so loud that she broke her mirror, it is said, and from that moment she swore that it would be she and no other who would murder her husband.
When Necrom saw what had happened to his mother, he decided that she must be hidden from the people, lest they turn their loyalty from them. So he crafted a story that the 'blessed babe' was sapping his mother's strength and that she must stay in the palace in order to ensure that the heir was born strong. For nine months it was like this, for the strange nature of the child caused her to stay in her womb for a full year, and then, finally, the girl was born. Her name was Rakia.
When Necrom saw the mark of the Moon burnt onto the girl's arm, he knew not what it meant but that his father had somehow interfered. Atlantis became then the sworn enemy of Avalon, for Necrom was afraid of Ferro, for he knew that ultimately he was too afraid of death, too craven to defeat his father.
V. Rakia and the Clash of the Titans
For twenty years Rakia grew up in her father's court, but it was her which caused Necrom to grow more and more paranoid as the years went on. For no matter where she went, what horrors she was exposed to in the name of sport, Rakia was a goodly child, and became renowned in her kingdom for her healing hands. Eventually Necrom saw his enemies everywhere, in Ferro and his mother, and withdrew from his people. However, he was still hungry for power, for Necrom was not a wise man, and as such he feared death. So he coveted the power of longevity, which his mother and father had and he did not. So when his daughter reached the age of twenty he offered her in marriage to the Elemental demon that could prove himself worthy. Pandora stepped in and decreed that to prove themselves there should be a contest of conquest.
Now, Rakia was amazingly beautiful and desirable, and stirred the passions of Fire and the hunger of Water. She was also good and powerful with good magic – quiet skills, such as healing and empathy, which made her shine like a lodestone to evil magic. So Air entered the contest. At first Earth entered to maintain balance, for Earth was concerned with ensuring that the demons still came out on top. But these demons underestimated the cunning of Pandora, their own creation, for though she was as dark and cruel as her son, she was a good deal more cunning, and knew that if she could wrest some of the Elemental powers for herself, she would be able to take her revenge on her husband, and perhaps eventually wrest the powers of Atlantis from her son. So Earth also entered the fight for Rakia.
The battle was…momentous, to say the least. Remote areas of the Earth still bear the scars of the battles. Fire raged out of control, burning and burning, ravaging the face of the planet until Water flooded the Earth in a torrential flood that killed the demon of Fire and also mortally wounded Water, whom Earth threw its powers toward killing. The demon of Air, the Stoírm, seized its chance and murdered the demon of the Earth. Or at least, attempted to murder. No one knows how, but none of the Elementals were truly killed…just, mortally wounded, for some time. They disappeared.
When the last of the Elementals fell, the Earth looked as if one of your atomic bombs had hit it. There was nearly nothing left that was not either destroyed beyond recognition or flooded under waters. The movements of the Earth had left only one great landmass, which your scientists have named Pangaea. To the South there was Atlantis – or, what was left of it. To the East was what was left of the demon hordes, and to the North was the last of the wild humans, demons, and other creatures. Hidden to the North was still Avalon, deep in the mists, surrounded by water, even smaller than before. Pandora had acted before her son knew what had happened, drawing the power of Fire into herself, for she knew that combined with her dark magic, fire would aid her in her goal for vengeance.
As for Necrom, he greedily imagined the boy that would be begat by Rakia and the Stoírm, and how he would control this power. He conceived not that Rakia would be any great threat to him, for the girl was filled with too much goodness to ever wish harm upon her father. In his madness he cared not for the thousands of humans who had died in the clash of the titans that had been the power struggle of the Elementals – what were they to he, the ruler of Atlantis and the most powerful of magicians? Atlantis split down the middle – those who'd finally had enough of the pure evil the once-golden nation had been, and those who still indulged in the craven cruelties of Necrom's court. Those who no longer abided by the rules of Atlantica left in the cover of night, renouncing Necrom. Those who stayed were the wickedest of the lot, and they celebrated the marriage of Rakia and the Stoírm demon by hosting a wild hunt of the Faerie Folk, a hunt which has bred bitterness and a great divide between the two species to this day.
VI. Paranoia and Its Consequences
The Stoírm was the most human-looking of the demons, when it chose to take corporeal form – a pale creature with wings and horns much like the Christian Satan, a fallen angel. When demons mate, they mate for life, and though demonic love is like all things daemonic a dark and twisted thing, they do love. Rakia, through her goodness, came to love the Stoírm in return, and it cherished her above all others. It refused the killing of humans to the remaining demons, keeping a strict court in an effort to please its new wife. Rakia could not be said to be happy, but she was content, for a time…until she became pregnant.
For the only woman whom Necrom had had great contact with was Pandora, who knew to control her body in dark ways. Rakia had renounced black magic, and so even though Necrom ordered her to bear a son, an heir of Atlantis, she knew not how. So she became pregnant, and Pandora's magic foresaw that this child would be a girl – and worse still, a girl touched with the goodness of Ferro's magic and the power of the Stoírm demon. There was no telling what such a child could do, and Necrom grew very fearful of the girl's eventual power. When Rakia's belly swelled in such a way as to show that the child's birth was indeed imminent, Necrom's paranoia and madness finally overcame him, and he chose perhaps the most foolish path that he could possibly have taken. Necrom sent his emissaries to the court of the Stoírm, and kidnapped his daughter back to Atlantica. He declared the marriage void, and sentenced his daughter to be executed for treason at the rising of the next full Moon.
The Stoírm went beyond mad – his rage at even receiving the news was said to have been enough to incinerate those within twenty feet of him. He declared war on Atlantis and vowed that he would not stop until every human had been obliterated from the face of the Earth save for his mate. Ferro, watching this from Avalon, knew that his time had come to act. He appointed his wisest female and male student as the Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Isle, the first of a long line, and he took the M'Kraan crystal and headed for Atlantis. Following his instructions, a young student of his travelled to the humans who had ran from Atlantica and warned them of what was to come, and how they could save themselves and possibly the future of the human world.
As the humans prepared themselves in the South, Ferro travelled from the North, and the Stoírm and its army began marching from the East, Atlantis was not unaware of what had happened. Pandora had prepared herself for this event, particularly Ferro's approach, and spirited herself away from the castle at night to reside in the ancient temple where Ferro had once kept the M'Kraan crystal, right over the Nexus. There she prepared herself for her battle, leaving her son to fend for himself against the Stoírm demon he had so foolishly angered.
VII. The Final Battle and the Fall of Atlantis
As Ferro entered the city, he used some of his power to stop the M'Kraan from shielding Atlantis from the demonic army that was set to invade the city. He knew that there were no innocents left save for his granddaughter and her unborn child, and he had already provided for her. Instead, he bypassed the castle, leaving that battle for the Stoírm and Necrom, and went to the temple, where he planned to restore the M'Kraan crystal and carry out his plan. What he had not counted on was Pandora waiting for him. Their battle began at nearly the same time as the first wave of the demonic army hit the Atlantean army with the force of a battering ram. The troops, who had once been battle-hardened, were now fat with vice and greed, and were unable to understand why their city was not protecting them as she had always done in the past. They were cut down like wheat, which suited the Stoírm fine, as it stormed the castle in a murderous rage.
There, it found Necrom, and it joined him in battle.
At the temple, Pandora tried and tried again to blast Ferro into oblivion with energy balls of the darkest magic, but he merely dodged them, teleporting away from them again and again. He refused to be drawn into a conflict. He begged his wife to deny her birthright, to stop the destroyer within her, but she was in the end a soulless creature, and cared not for his pain. She wanted her revenge on him and she wanted to own this world, so she continued her murderous attack. At last she hit him, but with that blow he was not wounded, merely aware of the true evil of her nature. Ferro hardened his heart to her, and blasted her away from him. She, being immortal, healed from this, and went after him in a telekinetic attack, which he responded to.
The humans in the streets of Atlantis who knew what was good for them were hiding underneath the rubble as the demons laid waste to the city, and as the battle in the temple escalated. The sheer power being unleashed by Pandora and Ferro were causing reality itself to ripple, and people were either sinking into the Earth itself or else simply floating off into the air to fall miles to their deaths. But that energy was matched by what was released near the palace – for for all of his mania and dementia, Necrom still maintained the power that was his birthright, and he knew much of Pandora's tricks. The Stoírm blasted with lightening, hit the palace with hurricanes and ice and rain all at once as they engaged in hand to hand combat, but Necrom merely responded with force bolts of black magic that sliced like a thousand knives wherever they landed.
Whenever their blows met, the ground shook as if the gods themselves stomped on the ground. Amongst the confusion of the Armageddon, however, Rakia had been forgotten. The stress of what was occurring around her was causing the poor woman to go into premature labor…but this had been foreseen by Ferro, who had sent that selfsame student who had warned the other humans of the impending apocalypse had then snuck in secret into the heart of Atlantica, and had now fought her way to the princess' side. Forming a Circle of protective magic around Rakia, the priestess invoked the Goddess to help her deliver the child, a protection against the child's daemonic nature.
In the temple, the battle had become more furied. The power of fire battled hellishly with Ferro's white magic, burning the very air around the two combatants. The temple had long since collapsed around them, blasting any, human or demon, who dared come near them to cinders. Ferro saw with despair that they were far too evenly matched, and knew there was no way that he could kill Pandora in time to do what he must do. Pandora laughed at this and pressed her attack – but Ferro was wise, and he did not fear death. Forgoing attacking, he simply waited until Pandora's reckless offensive left him an opening. When it did, he cast a quick spell that turned her into stone. Frozen for the moments that it took her to break the spell, Ferro rushed to complete his mission.
Meanwhile, the Stoírm's battle with Necrom had grown even more vast itself, a hurricane of daemonic power and black magic battling for supremacy. But the Stoírm was no fool, and saw that Necrom was defeating its powers. Using the telepathic skills that Rakia had taught him, the Stoírm looked into its opponent's mind and saw the greatest fear there. Casting a simple spell, the Stoírm clouded Necrom's mind with an image of his own death – the only death that Necrom feared: an ending, mere blackness for eternity wherein Necrom would simply cease to be and never, ever know life again. Necrom's horror was so great that he lost all concentration, making him easy prey as the Stoírm unleashed the power of lightening to such a degree that Necrom disintegrated, and it is said that if one could ever reach Atlantis that before the ruined palace's steps there is a vast scorched crater wherein Necrom was finally killed by his opponent.
And during all of this, Rakia died giving birth to the girl that had caused all of this. Though the priestess, whose name was Helene, was greatly tempted to kill the babe, she knew that she must do what her teacher had instructed her to do, so she wrapped the girl in swaddling clothes and hastened to make her escape from the ruins of Atlantica, speeding to the vast ship that was waiting for her. Rakia had made one last request before her death: when Ferro's magic had touched her as a child and shielded her in white magic while in her mother's womb, the mark of the Moon had been burned onto Rakia's arm. In honor of the Goddess, Rakia named her child Tíanna – the Atlantean form of Diana, the maiden hunter Goddess of the Moon. Helene agreed, and spirited the child away.
And no further step was taken inside of Atlantica, for Ferro had reached his goal. Plunging the M'Kraan crystal into its holding place, he joined once more with the Nexus whose power he had manipulated to create this cursed land in the first place. He created a bubble of sheer power which no one would ever be able to penetrate, and cast the Stoírm out into the demonic wastelands. Then, calling on the power of water, which he had absorbed during the titanic struggle for Rakia's hand, he called the greatest flood in the history of the Earth, and sent it on a crash course directly for Atlantis. Shaking with the earthquakes unleashed by the power struggles held that day, when the flood hit Atlantis, it was enough to do what it was meant to do – sink Atlantis to the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, freezing the people of Atlantica forever where they could no longer use the power Ferro had unwittingly unleashed for evil.
When his task was done, Ferro returned to the real world, for he had been forced to trap himself in Atlantis as well for his spell to work. There, Pandora was waiting for him, and there she killed him in vengeance, finally, and turned to survey her kingdom. She was queen, as she had wanted from the beginning, of the survivors of the first apocalypse ever to touch the face of the Earth, and of the ruins of the once great city of Atlantica and the empire of Atlantis.
VIII. Tíanna
Now, Helene had escaped the destruction of Atlantis on what would become emblazoned in legend as Noah's Ark, though of course that has romanticized the story. The priestess journeyed for weeks with the newborn girl, as fast as was possible. With the power of the Stoírm demon and the girl's heritage running inside of her, Helene was compelled to follow Faro's last instructions to her out of fear of what the infant's unbound powers could do. With the Elemental overlords finally driven to the Wastelands, the balance of power was wildly shifted. Humans and demons no longer had any leaders, any unifying forces. With the exception of Avalon, which was itself not more advanced than most rudimentary dwellings, the world had been hurtled farther back than the Stone Age. If the girl's powers went off unexpectedly they were liable to be attacked by demon and human alike.
The two managed to travel without incident, thank the Goddess, and they landed in Avalon after perhaps a month of land and water travel. Though the isle was much grieved by the fate of Ferro, they were compelled to follow his instructions. Taking Tíanna through the proper rituals, the Lady of the Lake bound her powers, both demonic and otherwise, for it was Farro's wish that neither his magic nor the demonic powers running rampant through the girl should ever be unleashed on the world again. The Old Ways were dying after the fall of both Atlantis and the Elementals, and the way was being made for the human beast to take control, for the world to fall into the patterns that would shape the history that we have been born into today.
Tíanna was kept on the Isle of Avalon, both for her own safety and so that the Lady and Lord could keep watch over her and ensure that the ancient magic would hold strong. Then Tíanna did the one thing that had been most hoped against – she fell in love. With the binding of her powers, her human side was all that anyone saw, so the young Druid who loved her thought her human, as did she. Tíanna became pregnant from their union, and so her line continued. Though the Lord argued very convincingly that they must kill the child, a debate which still holds to today, the Lady saw that the binding magicks had held, and that the child was powerless, and so she decided to let it live. She gave birth to twins – a girl and a boy. The girl was named Adia, and the boy was named Aleo.
IX. Slayer
Now, while all of this was happening, the humans who were not of Avalon had mostly settled in what is now called Africa, the Cradle of Life. There were three powerful shamans, for lack of a better term, who saw that the demons were becoming weaker and weaker. However, there were rumors in the Underworld that the Fire Elemental was becoming stronger. These humans knew that should the Elementals gain another foothold in this world that it could prove catastrophic, and perhaps hurtle the world back under the control of demonkind. These three concocted a scheme that would stop this, that would prove the last hope of mankind against demons and their spawn. The horror of this plan is still alive today, of course, though you do not know it.
The Shadow Men, as they were called, reached deep into the Dream World, to the realm of Nightmares, and found the dreams of the Earth Elemental, who they considered the strongest. Perhaps they were right. In either case, they used their magic to tear apart the essence of the Earth Elemental, a violation of one's self so painful and horrifying to bear that it is forbidden for magic users to even use it on a demon. The ripples of this action burst through to Avalon, and the Lord and Lady quickly rushed into action, though it was far too late.
The Shadow Men found a young woman, whose parents had been slaughtered by demons. She was strong, a hunter, and was fueled by rage against the demons. Her name has been lost to time, but her story is known to many now. The Shadow Men seduced her with their promises of power and revenge, and when she agreed to return with them, her fate was sealed. Into their cave she went, and then she was struck down and chained to the rocks. The Shadow Men then unleashed the ultimate evil, committed the ultimate rape. The essence of the Earth Elemental that they had torn – the raw physical strength, speed, stamina, the psychic powers of premonition and preternaturally heightened senses, this they forced into the girl. The girl's psychic scream of pain was heard throughout the world, but it was already done.
The first Slayer had been born.
Ah, I see your shock. Yes, this is how the first Slayer was created, this is what lives inside of you – the strength of a demon. It was one of the worst crimes in magical history, and yet there are many even today who say that the ends justified the means. That is not what I am here to tell you, merely that the story of the Slayer ties integrally into this story. For you see it was the horror of the crime that spurred the Avalon coven into action. When the girl, the Slayer as she came to be called first went into battle, she was nearly killed, of course, for she had been given strength that she could not control and no skill with which to use it. The Moon Coven, as we were known back then, decided that we must take the girl in.
Kidnapping her from the Shadow Men, the coven took her back to Avalon, where she stayed for a year and a day, the traditional training period of any Wiccan, learning to focus and hone her psychic abilities, training her in the ancient Atlantean ways of battle, for they were most effective defenses against demons. And, during that period, The Lord of the Isle took his most talented pupils and forged in secret a master weapon, the Scythe of the Slayer, the true weapon of the Slayer and the first of magical blades created by Avalon – you'll remember our handiwork in the case of Excalibur? The point of all of this is that while she was there, the first Slayer and Tíanna's son, Aleo, became great friends…and lovers.
Not much is known about their relationship other than that they kept it extremely secret, for fear of both Tíanna and the Lady of the Lake's reaction. It had been made apparent to Aleo from an early age that he was watched closely because he was Tíanna's son, though he didn't know why. He stayed away from most of his peers who Avalon had taken in to train, so both he and the First Slayer were drawn by their isolation, for it is the nature of the Slayer to be alone. In any case, they did fall in love, we may be certain, for after the period of time during which the Slayer was trained on Avalon, a great catastrophe would occur that would lead to the two's destinies being intertwined forever.
X. The Demonic Apocalypse
The Slayer was released from Avalon carrying the Scythe with a promise to keep the secret of how and where it was forged, to return to the Shadow Men – now wiser, with a chance both to survive and to succeed in her mission. It is important that you understand this point in order to understand the raw strength that was unleashed in this Slayer – you yourself carry a far less potent form of it in yourself, Slayer, yet you have witnessed your own strength: you have never faced a true demon, save for the night the Hellmouth almost opened. All demons that are left on this Earth have been bastardized, as they say – they are tainted with the humanness that is the essence of our world, vampires being a good example.
A true demon is, for one thing, larger (unless they wish otherwise), infinitely more powerful, and has no human taint. The last of the pure demons that had yet to be driven from our dimension – that was what the Shadow Men cursed the First Slayer to fight. The Scythe was created to help her in this battle by being filled with an essence of strength, a pure essence that the girl's body had been forced to create to temper the demonic essence now rampant inside of her – balance, as I have said before. Therefore the Scythe became a powerful symbol of pure Light, and word gradually began to travel the world of a fierce warrior whose weapon struck the demons down. The demons themselves refer to this period as the Demonic Apocalypse, the last moments when their kind held sway.
It is in this Apocalypse where our story picks up – the moment that made it a true apocalypse. You see, the power that had enabled Ferro to banish the last of the Elementals from Earth was not as strong then, for as I've said then was a time of great magic and today it is much less so. The Stoírm found this to his advantage, for he realized that though he could not physically be in the Earthly dimension, he could affect it from the Hell he had been banished to.
It is very unwise to challenge or attack a demon's mate, you see, for love is the strongest of all emotions, both in our world, the Underworld, or any Heaven or Hell you ever see. When Rakia had been struck down by a human, the Stoírm became beyond enraged, past the point that anger can be described. In his heart a pure hatred for humankind emerged, an unthinking vendetta from which sprang this vow: he would find a way to unleash himself back upon the world, raise Atlantis from the water, and resurrect his brethren. Using Pandora's powers as a conduit, they would then murder every human on the face of the Earth, and once more make it a haven for demons. Then things could go back to the way they were, with no human ever being allowed to live, and the Stoírm could go back to ruling his court and mourning his beloved Rakia forever.
This was the vision that the Stoírm dreamed of from the moment of his imprisonment…and this is his vision for our world now – but I digress; that part of our story comes later. In any case, this is the danger that the Stoírm posed: should he ever find a foothold back into this world, he would use that foothold to unleash the ultimate Armageddon, from which any power of good in this world would never be able to recover. And the Stoírm found this foothold in Aleo, in his love of the Slayer.
The Stoírm hatched his plot, and in this manner began the Demonic Apocalypse.
The First Slayer had been most successful in her campaign, for three desires now drove her: first, the vengeance of herself, her family, and the wide family of humankind on the demons; second, her desire that if she could destroy the last demon on this Earth that no girl would ever be violated the way that she had been to become the Slayer; and finally that if she could complete her mission, she could return to Aleo. Aleo also desired greatly to be with the Slayer again. This is how the Stoírm began his plan – love. It is the most powerful force in the universe, but that power enables all of us to be capable of great evil at times. The Stoírm had loved Rakia, and used that as a way to guide himself to Aleo's dreams in the Dream World, for Aleo was his kin, and even though his powers had been bound, the Stoírm could use the blood of his own to unleash power.
Into Aleo's dreams he crept, whispering seductively of the Slayer, of Aleo's love for her. He inflamed Aleo to the point where he would spend more hours asleep than he would awake, and it was only Adia who noticed, who worried. Finally, the Stoírm began to fill Aleo's mind with images of the Slayer's death at the hands of the demons she was facing. Aleo was so in love with the Slayer, so reliant on his dreams at this point, that he was sure that he and the Slayer shared a psychic link, and that his dreams were prophetic visions of her death. He resolved to go to her.
Meanwhile, the Stoírm had roused the spirits of his brothers, the other Elementals. Filled with hatred of the humans for what had been done to them, the others agreed quickly to the Stoírm's plans, and they began to invade the dreams of the strongest of the remaining demons, enticing them to gather, to head to the one place the Elementals needed them most: the resting place of Atlantis.
When Aleo left Atlantis, Adia followed after him. Adia had inherited the natural empathic abilities of her grandmother, and so was filled with worry for her brother. Her love, pure and natural as could be, had blinded the Stoírm to her in the Dream World, and so he had no idea of her existence, so had not made any provisions to stop her from following her brother. Once gone from the safety of Avalon's walls, however, Adia could not follow her brother, for the Stoírm could now influence his thoughts in the waking world as well. Aleo had been taught no basic magic, no defense against the demon's invasion of his mind, and so could not fight his compulsion to travel toward Atlantis.
Adia followed at greater and greater distances, and finally could only rely on her innate magic and bond with her twin brother to guide her.
Directly above Atlantis, or where it once was, is a small spit of land that was once a tiny peninsula jutting out from the mainland. This small island, which would eventually come to be called Crete, is all that is left of Atlantis, and it was to this place that the demons congregated. The First Slayer had been sent by the Shadow Men, and Aleo and Adia both travelled there as well. Crete was the best place to carry out the Stoírm's plan, for it gathered the Elemental powers directly above the Nexus – the water that surrounded the island, the Earth that lived within the Slayer now, the Fire of the Sun at the hottest point of the year, and the blood of the Stoírm itself that lived within Aleo and Adia. Gathered together, these powers would be enough for the Stoírm to finish the last of his plan.
When the Slayer first arrived at Crete, it was…open warfare. The only thing that allowed her to survive the first few minutes was that the gathering of the powers there only amplified her own, making her stronger, faster – and with the power of the Scythe backing her, the Slayer became Death itself, and it is in this manner that the last of the pure demons on this plane began to fall. Perhaps it could have continued this way, with her success the only outcome possible. But it was not to be, for when Aleo found his way onto the Isle, so screamed in despair for she knew that she had been tricked.
The most powerful of the demons had held back from the slaughter, watching their pawns be slaughtered wholesale, tiring the Slayer out. They unleashed their power upon her, and it would have been painful death indeed were it not for Avalon, for upon finding the twins gone from the Isle the Lord of the Druids scried for them, and upon finding them had roused the entire Isle to come to the Slayer's defense. Their wards were the only thing that allowed her to survive. She did not question this but instead raced to Aleo's side. The First Slayer was no fool; she knew that if she had been tricked onto this island then Aleo could only be another key part of evil's plans that day.
But she was too late – Aleo had tried to rush to her to, and in so doing stepped on the exact center of the island. She watched in horror as the Stoírm demon rose within him, possessing his body, and the power that it unleashed knocked everyone on the island over. Working quickly, the Stoírm began to recite the spell that would unleash the Elementals from their captivity. An eclipse rose, unnatural darkness that blanketed the Earth and aided the Stoírm in his goal. It was at this moment, however, that Adia found her way to the island.
The stress of seeing her brother – for that is the nature of demonic possession; there can be no life left for the host after the demon has finished using that which it has stolen in the first place – dying, horribly, before her eyes, coupled with the gore-streaked land that had been devoured by the demonic battle, was enough to burst through the shields that had been erected by Avalon. Adia simply threw herself toward her brother and suddenly found herself in his mind. She saw the Stoírm, saw its plan and the fact that her brother was likely to die, and then she contacted the Slayer and told her what she must do.
The Slayer knew that she must, even though it shattered what was left of her human self, and so agreed. At the moment that the Stoírm managed to open the portal to the Hell dimensions, the First Slayer raised the Scythe high and brought it down with a mighty swing…and cut off Aleo's head. He died instantly, and so did the Stoírm's connection with him. Adia took the Scythe from the Slayer and rushed to the portal. Grabbing the Slayer's arm, she raised the Scythe and unleashed the power within, which was enough to banish the last of the pure demons to Hell. The Slayer's fight had been won, and the Demonic Apocalypse was at its end...almost.
The Fire Elemental had been close, so close to tasting his freedom, for he had been at the forefront of those who would be unleashed from Hell. Before the portal could completely close, he reached through and grabbed a human from nearby Greece – or what would become Greece, in any event. This human woman, though no one knows her name or even if she is still alive, was grabbed by the Fire Elemental. He sank his fangs into her, but like any human, she fought for her life, for it is we humans who have the most desire to stay alive. She managed to scratch him enough to draw blood. In rage he let her go as he was sucked through the portal, but some of his blood fell into her mouth.
The blood raced through her veins, her being, radiating the fires of change, and she screamed in horror and pain as her human soul escaped. Her mind, however, remained the same, remained there to watch as a demon was born within her body, this demon who would bear her name and her face and her memories. The very first of the vampires was born that night. But the two left alive on Crete knew nothing of this; indeed, the world knew nothing of it until it was too late to stop that vampire, that Queen of the Damned as popular mythology would call her, from spreading her race, spreading the infection.
Tragedy has a way of drawing people together. Adia and the First Slayer became friends that day, for they had both had to murder that which they loved most in this world. Adia felt the pull of Avalon, and vowed that she would never return, for she blamed them for what had happened to her brother. The Slayer, also, vowed that she would not return to the Shadow Men, nor would she ever allow the power of the Scythe to fall into their greedy hands. She gave the Scythe to Adia, with Adia's promise that she would watch the Shadow Men, protecting the Slayer legacy, for they both knew that the Shadow Men would not stop with one Slayer. They parted ways that day, friends in their hearts, but never to see each other again.
XI. The Children of Bënnu
For years Adia had no contact with Avalon, and eventually the Coven stopped trying to scry for her, for it would do no good. All they knew was that she had started an order of young women who had magical abilities along the lines of Rakia's: empathy and telepathy; basically guarding magicks. These she had named the Guardians, and they protected the Slayer legacy, guarding the Scythe for whenever the Slayer should need it again. They also watched the Shadow Men, who constantly tinkered with the spell they had cast to make the First Slayer. For the Shadow Men were essentially power-hungry cowards, and so the fact that the First Slayer was too powerful and too scornful of them for them to control her made them nervous, thusly they decided that when the Slayer legacy should pass on from the First, the Slayer line would be less powerful, would be taught subservience to the Shadow Men.
They became the Watcher's Council. Yes, it is true, Rupert Giles, and I don't have time to argue with you. We are drawing close to the finish of this tale, and I would not be interrupted until it is finished.
In any case, the Guardians decided that their interference was necessary in the spell. Adia was by all accounts a wise woman, and knew that the power of Avalon would be integral in the spell that she was devising. So she decided that a peace offering could be made, as well as a solution to her other, less known problem. Adia was a twin, so the wilder, more daemonic parcel of the legacy of power passed down to her had been split into her twin, Aleo. Thus when Adia broke through the binding spell that had held her powers, Adia was alright to go on without the spell, because she could control her powers. Her daughter, however, was an only child, and had no such protection.
Alia, whom Adia named after Aleo, was born with massive power which she had no control over. Adia had been forced to keep her away from humans due to the girl's uncontrollable powers – and herein lies the danger of such massive power, especially in a child. Alia was overwhelmed by the forces around her of which she had no control. Any childish tantrum could lead to the destruction of a city, any fit of rage could lead to the deaths of those around her – family or strangers. And with her power already out of control, how much easier would it be for the Stoírm to take control of her and again try for his envisioned Armageddon? Adia tried again and again to place protective wards around her daughter to both keep her from hurting herself and to protect others from her, but again and again Alia's magic raged out of control, breaking through all bonds and burning everything around her that it touched. When finally Alia's magic nearly killed her, Adia admitted to herself what she had to do.
Adia arranged for an audience to be made with the Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Druids, and sent that she would be bringing her daughter with her with a request for aid. The pair agreed quickly, for they feared Alia even then – Alia was everything they had feared that Adia and Aleo would become at the moment of their birth, and she seemed to confirm every fear that Helene had once had concerning Tíanna, when she had been tempted to slay the child while still in Atlantis. They struck a deal with Adia, who had known that it was coming, and though her grief was great, what else could she do but agree? In exchange for the power of Avalon behind her spell, Adia surrendered Alia to the isle that the child's powers would be bound before she killed everything around her and drove herself mad. Even then, they were nearly too late; Alia saw many things that were not there and could not be there, lost in a sort of madness for the rest of her life.
But the deal was done, and so the spell was cast: the Slayer line would continue, one girl in all the world, for it had been decided by the Shadow Men that it should be a girl, and at the death of each Slayer a new one would be called. What the Shadow Men did not know then was that we interfered with their spell, and decreed that each Slayer would be chosen by the God and the Goddess equally. The Slayer would be the one girl who could be called a true hero in every sense of the word – a warrior of Light with the potential to save the world in every way that she could. So do not despair that the essence of a demon lives inside of you, Buffy – you were chosen by a force of light greater than you could possibly imagine, and you were chosen for many reasons, all of them good.
When the spell was cast, Adia vanished from the Isle, back to her Order of Guardians, never to be seen or heard from again. Of the Guardians themselves, we do not know what happened to them or if they still exist today. Their secrets and their power, as well as the Scythe of the Slayer, have been lost to time.
Now, it was time to bind Alia. They went over the spell that Ferro had left them and worked on it for over a year, all the while keeping Alia locked in the caves over the Nexus so that her power would not overwhelm her. When they were sure they had added every safeguard, ensured that the spell would last for many, many years, Alia was released from her prison, free to work for her keep on the island, for they would not let her leave for fear that their spell would not last. A prison, perhaps, but a necessary one, and not just for her but for all around her. Alia had two children, a boy and girl, and then they had their children, but never more than two – this was not our work, just the power of the line; they rarely had more than one child. So it went for…well, for a long time, and each of those children has their own story to tell. However, we are concerned with but one, now.
After…well, too many years to count, the Isle of Avalon had withdrawn completely from the world – we had no choice, you see. After the Church rose to power and demonized the Old Religion, labeling its' practitioners worshipers of Satan and wives of demons, there was naught else that we could do. During all of this, however, one of the descendants of the Atlantean line had fallen in love with a young Druid who had rejected his powers. He should never have been brought onto the island, for he had been raised in the church, and feared that he had somehow signed the Devil's Book by being brought to the island. We were fully prepared to let him go, erasing the memory of the Isle from his mind, of course, to lead his own life. However, the girl – her name was Aimee – believed herself a freak and an outcast for being one of the few on Avalon with no magical power. Though we tried to be discreet, she was always watched, and therefore, when the boy – David Bënnu – hatched a plan to escape from the Witches' Island, as we were known, she begged him to take her with him. He agreed, and late one night, they vanished from Avalon.
How they made it through the veil of mists parting Avalon from the world, we shall never know, but it is apparent that they did make it. They faded into the mists of time, but their progeny continued. Whatever adventures or misadventures they had are also lost to time, for Avalon could not find them again. We in fact had nearly forgotten about the entire line, save for the ancient scrolls of the story that had been saved carefully by the historians of Avalon – it is from them that I tell you this story now.
Perhaps it could have gone on like this indefinitely were it not for the fact that over the millennia, the spell that originally bound the Atlantean bloodline has begun to weaken, to wear. Now, this alone might not have been dangerous – but the ancient enemy of humanity is the one who we must remember is the one whom we are fighting, and any chance that he can seize to take control is one he will take to unleash Armageddon: the Stoírm has been plotting his plot for an eternity, and he who is bound in Hell is always watching, always waiting, for any weakness through which he can break free and again attempt to finish his monstrous designs.
And so, our story continues through the descendants of Aimee and David, down through the ages, to a young woman named Jessica Benew, and the events which sparked the fire that has culminated today – the birth of one Alexander Lavelle Harris.
XII. The Trials of Jessica Harris
Jessica Benew was born in Sunnydale, overtop of the Hellmouth – we don't have proof as to whether or not this was contrived specifically, or whether it was just Jessica's dark heritage that led her to this accursed town. In any case, she met a young construction worker named Tony Harris while she was in high school. By all accounts, they fell in love – even though Alexander himself does not know this, though this was not his fault. They married out of high school, and Tony began working construction, while Jessica ran a daycare center out of the home. They were very happy, and Tony continued in his great joy when he found out that his young wife was pregnant.
Jessica, however, was not happy – in fact, she was terrified.
Jessica had, from an early age, inherited her many times great-grandfather's abhorrence of magic, and it was that fear which had overtaken her since childhood. Jessica had telepathic abilities, and, when it suited her, she could influence the minds of those around her. She also had some other quiet mental skills, and a disturbing influence over the elements around her. However, the Avalon Coven never sought her out, for instances of her actually using these powers were very few and far-between. She believed that she was a target of dark powers, and she began to take refuge in church. She got very good at ignoring what was around her – and this was of course fed by the mystic power of the Hellmouth at keeping its occupants free of worry while its demonic denizens wreak havoc on the world above.
She never told Tony about any of this, fearing that he would think her a freak and reject her. Instead she simply repressed, more and more, until it came to pass that any powers she may have had grew so weak from disuse that they nearly passed out of existence. And this may have been her life, had destiny not intervened.
Evil exists in the world today – and it always will; the balance will continue regardless of how we fight to keep good dominant over evil. And it is the nature of evil to find evil, to join together for want of more power and in worship of higher power. Power is everything to demons, and it is the dream of many vampires to break through the dimensional barriers – specifically through this Hellmouth, but also elsewhere – and try to bring the Old Ones back. Avalon's memory is long, but so are the memories of immortal demons, and the story of the Elementals is still known in certain ancient remnants of the Underworld.
An ancient demonic sect known as Tiocfaidh ár lá have dedicated themselves for many years to restoring the Elementals to power, to bringing about the Armageddon that their masters wish. They have known that their best way of doing so has always been through Rakia's bloodline. This may not have been important, but as I have said, the ancient Binding Spell had begun to dissipate through the bloodline – particularly in Jessica's case. Those brief moments when her power flared may not have been of interest to Avalon, but they were of great interest to Tiocfaidh ár lá. They recognized the taint of their master within her power, and set about trying to find her.
You see, now that they knew that the Binding Spell was no longer shielding Rakia's bloodline from the manipulation or influence needed to unleash Armageddon, they believed that Jessica may have been the witch referred to in the prophesy of the Doorway. Yes, that prophesy, Mr. Giles – but the Watcher's Council does not have the full prophesy, for they've never been able to decipher its meaning. Here it is in full:
From ancient line the power will rise
The Mother Witch will be born
And she will again open the Box
And the door will be born between the two worlds
And the Doorway will open
And Hell will pour out
From the Mouth it will belch
Like sulfurous magma
And there will be many who fight to close the door
Champions of mighty heart joined with demons of purest dark
But ultimately the power that affects those of both worlds
Will be the Key to close the Door.
Do you understand now, Mr. Giles, why that particular prophesy was so important to them?
All the while that Jessica and Tony were married – two years – neither of them knew of the desperate hunt being carried out for Jessica Harris. Instead, they lived in blissful ignorance. I have only had occasion to meet Jessica and Tony once, myself, which shall come later in the story. I do not recognize them from what I know of their past. You yourself have met them, I believe; you understand what I mean. They were once happy, truly happy. But alas, that was not meant to be. Prophesies are tricky creatures, and while there are those that can be fought, like this one, were the right people aware of what to do, as we should have been, there are also others – such as the one prophesying the Slayer to die, and yet she stands here victorious over the Master.
Well, what may have been done to stop this prophesy from coming to pass, we may never know. All we know is that after years of searching, Tiocfaidh ár lá was finally drawn to the Hellmouth, where they found Jessica, and sensed at once exactly what she was. They knew that they had found their goal – but they also could see, after watching her, that Jessica had repressed who she truly was. They could not force her to fulfill her accursed destiny as the Witch Mother if she was not open to the power they would need to force through her – she would have to become a true conduit before she could be used. It was decided that she would be tested – a Trial, to ensure that she was who they thought she was, that she could do what they so hoped she could do.
They travelled to the school that was located over the Hellmouth, and there they summoned a demon. The demon's name was Neithal – Mistress of Misery. She has the ability to become intangible, haunting her victims' lives, wringing every drop of happiness out of them, which she devours. If she chooses to not kill her victims, she leaves them insane, soulless animals with nothing left within them but sorrow. If they do not kill themselves, they are usually driven to kill most everything around them.
If Jessica really was the fulfillment of the prophesy, then she would be able to call on her innate powers and fight off the demon. If she was not, then they had still managed to locate the Bloodline, which they had sought for centuries. They could call the demon off of her until she could procreate, and then kidnap the child and raise he or she for themselves to further their ends. Either way, they would be one step closer to finishing what their master had started so long ago, with Avalon blind to what was happening. Would that we could be everywhere at once! We could have spared this poor girl so much pain, so much suffering…but it was not to be.
Neithal began in the Dream World. Nightmares are easy to conjure for those who are born riding the blackness of terror they spread. For those who know what nightmares are, who know the power of dreams, they can use the nightmares for their own ends – learn from them until they overcome their terror, for instance. But Jessica, remember, had rejected her own power to the point that it was all but chained into her subconscious. She had no defenses, especially while sleeping. She would wake in the middle of the night bathed in sweat, plagued by dreams of which she had no comprehension – wars, plagues, destruction. She swam through rivers of blood and gore to find that her family was dead on the other side. It became so bad that Jessica would stay awake for weeks on end.
If Neithal could not reach her in dreams, then the demoness would wander in the waking world, however. Jessica was affected by a deep-seated sense of paranoia; she saw enemies wherever she looked. She could not stand to be in a large crowd, for fear of what she did not know but was sure was there. Tony began to avoid being home because Jessica cleaved to him. She could not bear to let him out of her sight, for he was the only one she did not suspect – but that was not for long, for the longer he stayed away from home, the more suspicious she became. Her agitation led to even greater fights between her and her husband; eventually, he began to avoid his home for even greater amounts of time.
Jessica sequestered herself in her home; she never went out, for any reason. What reason was there to go out when there was so much to fear? She lost all of life's simple pleasures – Neithal, feeding both upon Jessica's energies and the darkness of the Hellmouth, had a vast source of raw, uninterrupted power with which to fuel her torments. Jessica became locked in a sort of dream-state, where she could trust nothing her eyes could see. Demons, ghouls, goblins and terrors glimmered through her peripheral vision but dissolved when she turned to look. She felt hunted wherever she went, and in an effort to escape, she took to sleeping in greater and greater increments.
But there was no escape, even in sleep, for these things were created from her own darkness, her own nightmares, and how can a waking nightmare be escaped in sleep? She alternated between sleeping for days on end and staying awake for a week. She stopped eating, nearly altogether. She could have no water unless it was filtered, for fear of poison and also simply fear. Her friends avoided her, her family refused to speak to her. She, in short, was abandoned by all those who, if they had stood beside her, may have helped her through this. On the other hand, however, those that may have leant her strength would themselves have likely become targets for Tiocfaidh ár lá, for they felt that nothing must interfere with their test.
It was…a very, very changed Jessica Harris who staggered into Father Thomas's church service, one cold, bitter morning. Service had let out, and he was about to close the door when in came someone who he wasn't even sure was human. She was thin to the point of wraithlike, pale as ice. Her hair was greasy and unkempt, her eyes hollow and bruised. Had she not once been a member of his congregation, he would never have known that this was once the bright and beautiful Jessica Benew, who had become the smiling Jessica Harris one bright summer day.
It was the first and last time that Jessica ever attempted to hide behind the religion that she had once sheltered herself in, so long ago. She gave her confession to Father Thomas that morning – a conversation we would have known nothing about, while we were trying to piece together this story (a part that comes later) had it not been for a curious young nun, Sister Arielle, who listened.
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," the girl said. Her voice was a hoarse, horrible croak; it sent shivers down the spine to listen to it. It was the voice of someone haunted, someone possessed of a sort of death of the soul that you could see in those who thought of suicide. There was nothing more pathetic, more pitiable…or more terrifying. "It's been…so long since my last confession…"
"All matters of time are not important to God, Jessica." Father Thomas is trying to be gentle, trying to not spook her as you could spook a wild animal if you startled them. He wants her to stay, wants to help her, to save her, as he always does. There's not a soul that the good father would not choose to attempt to save, and this is perhaps what has driven Jessica to him. Months of the hell that she had somehow been given, unfairly, for who could possibly deserve this unless it was someone so bad, so terrible that they called it upon themselves with their actions? She must be responsible. Must be.
"Time…" she says bitterly now. "I don't even notice it anymore. The drinking helps, of course. Guess my liver's shot to shit by now." The crude words fall easily from lips that had once been given to smiling, and for a moment Thomas can't speak, overwhelmed suddenly by a sense of otherness in Jessica, something that when she had been so bright and beautiful had been hidden. But now there is something there, something extra behind that bitterness…something dark and angry, daemonic. He fights the urge to begin thinking the prayer of the exorcist.
"Jessica, what has happened?" he asks quietly. He must know, must understand what has wrought this horrible transformation in this most favored of God's daughters.
"I don't know!" Jessica snarls, suddenly enraged. "Why the hell else would I be here?! LOOK AT ME!" This last is a scream, one that she has been holding within herself for so long that it fights its way out like an animal clawing out of a bear trap. "I don't know I don't understand why this is happening and always it's there and everything's wrong and dark and I don't know I don't understand…" She starts off strong and angry but her words all run together, a babble of a hurt and bewildered child, but a child that could fly into a rage at the wrong words.
"I've noticed that you don't come to church anymore," he begins gently. "Maybe we can start with that, and you can tell me."
"What is there in church but empty religion with its empty promises and an angry God that turns a blind eye to suffering, saying that it makes you strong?" she asks, her voice vicious in her anger. "If God hasn't noticed what I'm going through by now to stop it, then He must be alright that it's happening, right? I must be so evil, so dark to deserve this…" Her fists are clenched so hard that she's drawing blood. She absently licks the crescent cuts away, and Father Thomas feels an irrational urge to stop her, to stop the behavior before it gets worse. He wants to shelter her from the dark so that she can't hurt anymore.
"What's wrong? What's happened to you, Jessica? Where is that bright child who once sang in my choir?" he whispers sadly.
"I think she's dead," Jessica says quietly. There is grief in her voice now, a grief so profound that Father Thomas can't understand what raw pain there must be behind it for her voice to reach such a lamentation. "I think that I've lost her and there's no finding her again."
"How was she lost?" When all else fails, be practical.
"For…months…I don't know…last Spring, maybe…it's like…I'm never alone…" she whispers haltingly. He can feel an urge in her, an inclination to expel the poison coursing through her with the words, but it's almost like something's fighting her, though whether it's from inside of her or outside of her, there's no telling. "Everything is dark. Everything I touch breaks. I have to lock myself in the basement so that I don't shatter another thing I love." Her voice is getting stronger now, as though she's needed so bad to tell this to someone that…he doesn't know. He doesn't know.
"Everything is dark. I can't see the Sun anymore, can't feel its warmth. All that I have is the night, the dark, cold night and all its shadows. I'm never alone…there's something, someone. There's no good left in the world, Garrett, there's no light. It's all black. All night. And. I. Don't. Know. How. To. Stop. IT!" And she is crying now, crying which is perhaps the first step toward finding a remedy for her.
"Jessica," he says. "Come here." At first she resists, but her body is so hungry for touch, for comfort, that her feet betray her and she finds herself staggering into his embrace.
"Help," she whispers. He holds her all the tighter.
"I will." It is a promise, a pact that can save her, that can stop this.
It is a pact that can never be made. For in that moment, his crucifix swings around his neck, and the moment it touches her neck she screams and jerks away, horrified. The crucifix has left a dark red welt on her neck, sizzling with burn. He leaps away with a shout of horror. For in the instant the blessed metal touched her it burned hot with holy fire, and that fire illuminated a shadow, a shade, an unnatural darkness clinging to Jessica, leaching off of her energy, lapping up her tears.
Neithal has been revealed. The Demon of Misery reels back, flies back, beautiful in her horror. Her hair is long and waving around her head in a phantom wind. It is black silk, like dark diamonds, coffee and bloody chocolate. Her skin is pale and misty, and she is nearly translucent. Her eyes burn a fiery garnet red, splintered into jewel-like facets that pierce through you and learn everything about you in an instant. Her nose is large, shapely, made for sniffing out the goodness in you that she may better devour it. Her lips are large and blood-red. Her arms end in nothing, for a phantom needs no hands. She has no feet either. She is clothed in swirling darkness, a tantalizing evil that shifts around her with every move. She has no pubis, no vagina, and it is a horrifying missing thing, for somehow she has wondrous breasts and large dark nipples that inspire arousal. Moths to a flame.
Jessica screams and screams the scream of the truly hysterical. This is too much for her to bear, to truly see the image that has lived in and out of her nightmares, always hovering, always fattening off of the good and feeding the bad. In Neithal, Jessica sees true evil and so weeps at the hideous longing that sweeps out from that bad bad place that she has suppressed for so long. There is glory in this evil, such wondrous darkness. Cold earth, buried forever but rising through the surface as the worms sing songs of ancientness behind you and you are so sure of your power that you could fly and fight together, burning in midnight flame and hurting and destroying without care or conscience.
Any path to the Divine is something that is good, something that is right, whether you use it for unscrupulous ends or not. Father Thomas is one of those few souls who is truly good, truly merciful. He embodies everything that is good in humanity, so Neithal cannot feed off of him. But he can hurt her. He throws himself in front of Jessica.
"Be gone, demon! Torment this child no longer!" And he holds the crucifix above his head. Neithal jerks away as it burns brighter. "I command you to leave! BEGONE!" And miraculously she is gone, gone, gone. Jessica begins to laugh hysterically. Father Thomas turns to her with his benign smile. She is still laughing hysterically when Neithal bursts through the floor with a screech of rage and vanishes straight into Father Thomas' body.
There is a ripple of pure darkness…Neithal is flying away from the body…Father Thomas' face is frozen in horror at touching such pure evil…he is falling…blood is everywhere, somehow, dripping from the rafters, from the balcony…so much blood…surely one human cannot hold this much…
And something within Jessica Harris snaps that day. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" But it is too late. The one that could have helped her is gone. Dead. It is her fault. And she has been pushed one step too far.
Those of Sunnydale, California who are Jessica's age still remember that day. There is a ripple of pure power that is loosed upon the Hellmouth, a darkness and a yearning and a rage. Jessica is hovering above the ground, so pale, so inhuman. Her eyes glow a furious black. There is nothing within her that is human, that is good. That is merciful. Neithal shrinks back, but it is too late. "Die," Jessica says coldly. Neithal can do naught but obey the power of the Bloodline. She ripples and shrieks and convulses and melts into a puddle of black acid that burns an evil stain into the stones of the chapel.
Tony Harris ran all the way from his construction site that day to the chapel, driven by what he did not know. When he arrived he found his wife unconscious next to the gruesome demise of Father Thomas. Still driven by love for Jessica, he grabs his wife and runs from the scene. He takes her clothes to a dumpster and strips her unconscious body, wrapping her in his coat. He sticks to back alleys and back streets and carries her all the way home.
Sister Arielle steps out of her corner. She is frozen in a horrible rectus of sorrow and fear and pain. She cannot speak. She will never speak again.
It was necessary for us to erase her memory of the event when we gleaned the information from her mind. She still says not one word, but she is happy. She doesn't remember the cause of her vow, only that she uses it in service to God. She is, I think, one of the truly good souls in that convent, even to today.
XIII. Jessica's Nightmare and the Birth of the Doorway
Tony's rescue of Jessica did what it could to reconnect the couple, though it also distanced them. Tony is one who is affected by the magic of the Hellmouth partly because it is in his nature to ignore what is inexplicable and rationalize what he can. He never spoke of the incident to his wife, and she did not speak of it to him. It was enough for both of them that, without Neithal's ministrations, Jessica was regaining weight and confidence. They did not watch the news, did not speak of the investigation that had Sunnydale rife with gossip at the wonder of what had happened at the Church. The one nun who could have told the police what had happened was under a self-imposed silence and would not speak. All that anyone knew was that the mangled body of Father Thomas was found, completely drained of blood, among a gore-splattered chapel near a strange, acidic burn stain.
There were, however, three groups intensely interested in what had happened in Sunnydale, California: The Isle of Avalon, the Watchers' Council, and Tiocfaidh ár lá. Of the three, only Tiocfaidh ár lá knew what had happened, of course. The Watchers sent their first operative to the Hellmouth that year, and we sent ours. The Council was interested in the demonic aspects of the mystery. Avalon was interested in the ripple of power that was released when Jessica unleashed her rage upon Neithal. Both were sent to the Church. What the Council found, I am not sure. We, however, had not heard of Sister Arielle at that time, and so we were not able to piece together what had happened until it was far too late. Our curiosity aroused, and an ancient sense of fear that we could not explain, however, prompted us to action. We decided that we would keep a watch over the Hellmouth, for there had been a happening there that simple dark energy let out from the portal could not explain.
And so we left, none the wiser of Tiocfaidh ár lá's plans.
Tiocfaidh ár lá had achieved what they had been waiting and watching for for so long, and had only been waiting for our departure to put into place the next stage of their plan. Jessica had fulfilled the prophesied requirements to the point where there could be little doubt that she was indeed the Mother Witch of legend. Now their plans could reach full fruition. They travelled out into the desert that borders the North of Sunnydale, and there they summoned the wraith of their master.
The Stoírm, though he was no longer flesh, was just as strong, just as terrifying as remembered in legend. His fury at being summoned by humans was great, causing a ferocious sandstorm that would have killed each and every one of his cult had they not been able to send the equivalent of a telepathic bomb into his mind, flashing their allegiance and their plan to him. The Stoírm knew at once what this meant – the furthering of his goal, the last step toward cementing his Armageddon. He allowed his spirit to be placed reverently within a bloodstone crystal, for as I've said before crystals have infinite storage space within them, and also serve as focusers of power.
During all of this, Jessica and Tony were attempting to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives. Tony had been promoted at work and it was decided that they would celebrate with a dinner at home. Wine was uncorked and dinner cooked, and that night they met again as husband and wife in flesh as they had not for months. After this, they fell into the deepest of sleeps, as lovers often do, for there is no safer place that a human being shall feel that beside those they love. The storm that blasted outside of their windows never woke them, though it woke the neighbors – being as it was that the storm was only concentrated over their city block. Wind lashed the windows next to lawns that were perfectly dry. Fierce thunderheads battled for dominance over a clear night sky, and lightning forked the air over the street singled out by the storm.
In the light of the lightning bolts arcing throughout the sky, the High Priest of Tiocfaidh ár lá travelled to the Harris household. Tonight's timing had been planned perfectly during the desert. A lunar eclipse was due to start soon – and it must be during this time that this most powerful of evil magicks was to be performed, for it erased the sight of the Goddess from the night, leaving only blackness, death and mystery. In short, it was the perfect night for conjuring the Harbinger of Armageddon, and this was what the High Priest intended to do.
Into the Harris household he crept, up the stairs, through the rooms, until he stood above the sleeping forms of Tony and Jessica Harris. Dust stolen from a faerie spirit most commonly known in folklore as a Sandman ensured their continued sleep. The High Priest stood still as a statue, only his breathing indicating that he was human, alive. There he staid, not moving to so much as blink…until the clock struck 2:37 a.m., and the lunar eclipse began.
Withdrawing from a sacred shamanic pouch near his waist the bloodstone crystal, the Priest waited, waited, calmly waited. The Mother Witch slept on serenely, unaware that her fragile peace that she had finally found again was about to disintegrate once more. The powerful, white light of the Moon flashed brilliantly, in vain, a white diamond screaming to Her children that evil was abroad in the land. No one heard her, not even Avalon, for they did not know then to look.
The Moon vanished into darkness.
The Priest slowly lowered his and placed the burning hot crystal directly over Jessica's heart. Though the brain controls the body during sleep, it is from heart and subconscious that dreams emanate through our being, guiding us into the Dream World. The burning, hellish stone invaded Jessica's body with a whisper, a sigh of pleasure, pleasure derived from all things horrible, the power of entropy and of destruction, of death and blood and fire that burns all in its path. Jessica was powerless against the Stoírm's rape of her mind, and she was consumed, whisked along the fire of the crystal that burned her very veins to parchment, and found herself in a nightmare.
She was swirling, flying through the ether, a vaguely hard substance that could be stepped upon that glowed green like acid, green like poison and vileness and wickedness. Green like greed, green like…she spun spun spun until dizzy dizzy dizzy, and she was suddenly aware in the eerie twilight she was trapped in that she was not alone. She turned to find the Stoírm standing there, regarding her calmly.
It was a marvelous creature, marvelous in the nature of evil. Pale as ice, perfectly formed in human shape, its muscles bulged and flexed. His erection was mammoth and waiting for her, and she found herself warm and cold and aroused and repelled all at once. Wings spread out behind him, and she could feel his aura. He was the Prince of Night, King of Sorrow, Master of Misery, but his eyes…when she looked into their cold blackness, she recognized him.
"You," she whispered. Kinship here, family here. This was who she was, this was what had killed Father Thomas. Demon. The word sprang into her mind unbidden, and she knew it was from him. There could be nothing human where they were, her and her many-times great-grandfather. She could feel something bright and warm leave her, and there was nothing but the devil left, the darkness she could try and try to suppress but was so strong within her. There was nothing but excitement left, nothing but her stiff nipples and the wetness between her thighs and fire that was burning all around her and burning her too but not burning her, no. This was evil.
They flew together, then, and they spoke wordlessly. Landing suddenly she knew that they were in a large city but where they were she could not say. She could feel her power coursing through her and saw that she was dressed in white – a wedding present. She felt herself laughing hysterically, felt the laughter bubbling up and over like acid through her stomach. She danced through the streets.
Snow fell around her and she shivered though whether it was in cold or delight she could not say. She felt others around her and saw that many were staring at her and she laughed again. With a flicker of thought three people were dead at her feet, their blood pulsing through the snow burning ruby rivers and she giggled and danced to the music pounding from her heart. The screams of the dying coursed through her as she flicked a finger and buildings toppled. Was he still with her, her father-lover? She did not know nor did she care as she ran up a building in a single bound and then crumbled what looked like a post office with a clenched fist and a thought.
There was no guilt here, there was no craven groaning. She was what she was, beautiful in her power. She was power, absolute and pure, and there was nothing that she could not do, no one that could stop her. She burned with the knowledge and danced with the stars, swam through the oceans and burned in the fires of the volcanoes. She burst through the veil of realities and found that Otherplace where he was waiting for her, where she knew that he would be. He was like a fertility god, the father of evil, really, erect and waiting for her. She felt an ancient hunger, like a sung spell, course through her and she was suddenly naked in front of him, wet and burning.
He took her hard, raped her and loved her and cursed her and kissed her all at once. They never spoke a word to each other, never had to. She was flying among the stars, trapped in ice, trapped in diamonds that whispered their secrets to her, whispered to her of her evil, her mastery. She knew that this was where she belonged. Knowing that, she wept, and in the tears her human side began to wake up again. The green mist dissolved and she was alone, and she was bleeding, the bastard, but who was the bastard what had happened?
Why was she so cold?
Jessica and Tony both started awake at the conclusion of the storm to a world gone mad with color, for such is the way it is after storms. The grass had a wild zing to it that it did not usually have, the sky a deeper cerulean. There was a red rash on Jessica's breast over her heart that she did not tell Tony about. She did not remember the dream, though whether that was simple repression or magical intervention I cannot say. She was, however, filled with a sense of psychic intuition, and intuition she would have scoffed at and denied mere months ago. Now, however, she embraced it as a certainty of goodness.
Jessica was pregnant, though how she knew it she could not say.
It soon became apparent to Tony as well, and by all accounts they were both very happy. It seemed to them as if the basic goodness of the world that all hardworking, good people should inherit was again with them, as if the malignant past could no longer hurt them. So much hope rose within the swelling of Jessica's womb.
It was not a normal pregnancy, even from the start.
Jessica had been warned that she would crave strange foods, but surely this desire for rare meat was not normal? She refused to question this, however, and simply researched recipes that would instill her child with good protein. She would then feel hot flashes of amazing incandescence, burning flames shooting through her entire body that would leave her sweating and heaving on the floor with no memory of fainting. She would not tell this to Tony, however; she feared for the happiness, the normalcy that they had only just now achieved again. Following the hot flashes were icy shoots, numbing pain that spread out from her fingers until it seemed that her entire being were frozen alive, a statue, marble and nothing else. She shivered and shivered until she bruised herself and no amount of heat could help her. Still she said nothing to Tony.
The psychic nature of the baby continued to be inherent as Jessica's own flashes of intuition began to grow along with the swell of her belly. She knew who each caller on the phone was without needing to check, she could tell the truth from a lie before the speaker had even finished their sentence, and when she was in a hormonal mood lights would flicker on and off, the walls would swell slightly. She pretended she did not notice this, however, and insisted on consulting an electrician. I must, however, counsel pity for the child. She was not ignorant, far from it; she was simply afraid, and she had every right to be, considering what she had been through. She repressed as hard as she could to protect her own psyche, as any of us might have done in her situation.
In any case, it was not possible to ignore the increased term of her pregnancy. She had fully expected to be pregnant for the full nine or ten months, but she was at near eleven months before she finally consulted a doctor. She was terrified, and had been waking up with increasing nightmares of a still birth, a stone baby inside of her that no longer had even the semblance of life. The truth, however, was stranger: the babe was healthy and indeed still growing within her. The doctor was not sure how this was possible, but there could be no denying the truth.
Jessica returned home, determined to tell everyone that it was a simple medical condition. She would not consider any other option. So she continued to eat as healthily as possible, to aid Tony as much as she could in the building of a nursery for their child. She researched baby names and picked out Alexander or Alexandria (even though she knew it was a boy, she felt that she needed to include a what-if scenario girl's name). She would name her child "Defender of Mankind," and he would grow up strong and good, expelling that darkness which had plagued her before his birth and forced the circumstances in Father Thomas' death that fateful day in the chapel.
She carried the baby inside of her for a year and a day, exactly as long as her ancestor Rakia had once carried her daughter, though Jessica did not know this. She was rushed into the hospital that night. Those who were working inside the hospital never forgot that night.
In the middle of the night, close to midnight, the sky began to darken. A massive cloud, just one, so heavy that the Earth seemed to shrink under its weight, an evil, smothering blanket. The very air stank of ozone, the ground trembling slightly. A boom of thunder that sent shivers through the foundations of even the crumbling castle on the outskirts of Sunnydale heralded the start of the storm of the century, as Sunnydalers jokingly refer to it now. Lightning struck in crazed patterns, drawing pictures of suffering and starting fires the fire department could not fight, for with the lightning came the rain, nearly a monsoon, a torrential downpour that wiped away everything in its path. Sunnydale flooded for the first time in a century, cars wiped down the road.
In the midst of this, Sunnydale Hospital was trying desperately to keep its doors open on a backup supply of electricity as they tried to keep the survivors of the storm safe. It was in this chaos that a man and his enormously pregnant wife appeared in the emergency room. Tony was supporting Jessica but looked about to collapse from the weight. The doctors and nurses rushed to his aid, and as soon as they strapped her to the gurney, the thunder cracked once again. The clock had struck midnight; the day after the year mark had begun, and the Witching Hour was beginning to unfurl.
The trauma of the birth was such that Jessica barely remembered it. The babe had grown so large within her that it was fighting its way out of her womb, tearing it. Blood soaked the sheets and the orderlies had to fight a hysterical Tony Harris out of the room as his wife appeared to be dying on the hospital bed. His worries were not groundless; it was the nature of the child that his mother should die that he might live. The baby did not know this, of course, but it was true. Jessica Harris slipped from this life at 12:49 a.m. that day, as Alexander LaVelle Harris screamed his first breath.
The Stoírm made one mistake here, you see, for it was he who had conjured the storm, a sort of demonic celebration of the birth of his heir, the prophesied Doorway. His Tiocfaidh ár lá stood outside the hospital, ready to kill Tony Harris and take the child with them, for the mother was prophesied to not survive the birth. But, as you all will have learnt, prophesies are tricky creatures. Jessica Harris did die that night. But she was descended from Rakia and from Ferro, from Pandora and Necrom, from Adia and Aleo and Alia and on and on, the greatest of Bloodlines to exist on the planet. She was strong in ways that no one else will ever be strong. And when that final burst of thunder, that final shock of lightning slammed from the Astral Plane into our world, Jessica's spirit, carried by a great sense of purpose, somehow found the strength to turn from the Light that all souls cross into and slam back into her body.
At 1:00 exactly, Jessica gasped a breath, then another. Her heart thumped wildly, spurting blood everywhere, and the surgeons were forced to work for another hour to stop it. Sometime around 2:30, Jessica was wheeled into recovery and she and Tony were presented with their child.
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A/N: Finished! With Part I, at least. Now I just have to keep going with Part II...sigh. Huge, huge sigh. It's not that I'm not enjoying writing this, because I definitely am, it's just such a huge thing to keep going with. Ugh! Well, I am at least hugely proud of this thing, so whether you guys like it or not, I have no regrets about posting it.
Now, as I've said, the next chapter should be up by the end of next week (again, let me say this is the very latest that it should take, seeing as how I've only got basic stuff and editing left to do on it), so don't think that I'm leaving you hanging out of my love of cliffhangers - I'm not even kidding, the thing was past fifty pages when I stopped to check and I just wasn't sure whether you guys were going to want to read something that huge in one sitting.
Notice how I've broken it up, though? It helps to stand up and walk away sometimes.
And I do know that it's a massive amount of information here, but all of it is important to the story at large, so don't skip over parts of it. Please. For cookies?
Anyway, I'll just finish here by shamelessly fishing for reviews. If there are any questions that you might have, please include them in your review and I'll answer them in next chapter's author's note. Other than that, I hope you've enjoyed reading this massive history.
PIMPAGE!! Real quick: Nightmare Revisited is an amazing album that I've bought, and features such wonders as "Sally's Song" by Amy Lee of Evanescence, "Kidnap the Sandy Claws" by KoRn, "What's This?" by Flyleaf, "This Is Halloween" by Marilyn Manson, and "Making Christmas" by Rise Against. It's a wonderful album and should be included in all libraries. Also, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Score album is truly a wonder and is heavily recommended to all fans of the show.
Great weekend, guys. I think I have carpol tunnel.