Chapter 25: The Deal

As the weary pilgrim reached the top of the stairs the blinding white steps passed from the brightly lit garden into pure darkness. The illumination quickly evaporated and soon Julia was feeling along the wall of the staircase in pitch black. Her bare feet were cold and the chilly floor wasn't helping the situation.

"Tower?" she said in the dark so thick she couldn't see her own hand.

"I am here, Julia Stormson."

"Is it far?"

"You are close. This layer of adamantium you pass through now forms the floor of the throne room."

"Right...um...Tower? What does he want from us? What should I do?"

"Just be yourself, Jewel." the building said and used her own pet name. "Be courteous and don't lie. I've seen terrible consequences for those who would attempt to deceive the Greatest Evil."

"Huh. And do you really care what happens to me?" she said skeptically.

"Of course I do, as much as any other sentient creature. I do not enjoy the thought of someone I was conversing with pleasantly as they walked through me suffering a gruesome death only to be brought back to life and killed again. I am not allowed a presence in the throne room...I will only see what becomes of you later."

"Interesting...compassion from the building but none from the man himself."

"Never forget what and who he is. Save for the Dark One who opens and closes the gate to Silent Hill there are none more lethal than the Spirit of the Night Air. That is my final piece of advice for you."

The building went quiet as she worked her way farther up to its impossibly high summit. Coming at last to a thick wooden door it required pushing with her full body weight to move. Light returned and Julia slipped past the door into a gigantic chamber much like the one below.

This one though was devoid of color, beauty or charm. High, sloping walls covered with dead ivy converged on a point at the very top and center of the room hundreds of feet up. A thin plank made of whitish objects met the walls where Tower came to a point and ran down from there to the floor in front of her. Atop a flight of stairs as wide as the room the plank ended in the back of an exquisite throne.

Trampling over a fresh, soft green leaves that carpeted the cold floor she reached the steps and could see that the throne was indeed made mostly of skulls just like Victor had reported. The rest of it was metal, finely crafted and wrought by hand, twisted and gnarled like an old tree. It took her a moment to realize that the metal was the same greenish black material that Victor's suit had been made from. Taken aback by this at first she slowly understood why the knight had left out this crucial detail. He probably did not want to know the answer as to where it came from any more than she did.

Lounging in the great throne and seemingly bemused by her presence sat Nothing, the man of the hour, the lunatic who took over the asylum. Peering at her with his one good eye and suffering from a distinct lack of emotion he didn't seem to want to talk even as he rose from his seat. The buckles of the straight jacket he wore clanked against each other but when they settled the silence was overbearing. Julia felt the need to break it even if it wasn't for a good reason.

"So uh...do I bow or do I curtsy?" she joked uncomfortably.

"Kneel." he commanded with that grating voice which came from every direction. Julia found herself going to one knee almost involuntarily, the way one extends their hand without thinking when offered an unexpected envelope. Looking down at her own legs like they had betrayed her when she looked up the shade was gone.

"Rise." he said as he stepped out from behind her and again Julia curiously obeyed.

"What are you doing to me?" she asked through a sudden headache.

Circling around to the front of her he gently moved her hair from her face. Brushing the side of her cheek with his fingers he lovingly swept over to her chin and dragged his thumb down across it with a gentle caress. She did not recoil like she should have but for whatever reason she could still speak normally. "Are you going to rape me?" she asked.

"Battle brings death. Death brings sorrow." the Fater said while he circled her predatorily. "The living may not hear them but make no mistake. The dead are not silent."

"If you're dead then why are you touching me like that?" she demanded.

"I do not care for your bestial acts." he informed her. "You sweating meat sacks are unworthy of my attention."

"Yeah? What do you call that insanity down below us?"

"Good fun." the Dark Man said gleefully and his face twisted into a grin. Julia's heart stuttered at the sight of his traumatizing smile and she sputtered as he went behind her again. She still couldn't seem to do anything but stand there though it whatever he was doing to her left her free to at least ask questions.

"Is Victor alive?" she trembled when she recovered.

"Regrettably." he answered.

"Is he okay? Is Chuck?"

He did not answer or come into her vision and Julia waited in vain for a response. Ahead the empty throne stood and she had to know about it. "The metal...the one your throne is made from. It's the same as Victor's armor. Where does it come from?"

"The locus of my birth." he whispered in her ear. His hot breath smelled vaguely of damp caves and she would have shaken her head at the illogical nature of such a thing if she could.

"I don't get it." she said.

"How provincial." he said without concern as he circled in front of her. His dead eye never strayed from her face as he walked around her again.

Slightly annoyed she asked, "What's with the garden below us? Why is there when the rest of Nowhere is a giant battleground?"

"One cannot appreciate the subtleties of destruction without knowing also creation." he replied.

Unable to decide if he was being serious or feeding her nonsense Julia pressed on. "I want a straight answer. What's that ash you gave us? Where does it come from? Why did you tell us to put it on our foreheads?"

"Jonah in the whale, Noah in the Ark. What did they do just when everything looked so dark?" he asked and the pilgrim had no idea what the madman was talking about. Tapping on her shoulder Julia suddenly regained control of herself. It took her half a second to flash a blinding right cross at Nothing's chin. Catching her fist mid-air in his palm he glared at her for a second before yelling out a "Ha!" that shook the room.

"You have a fire inside you, Julia Stormson." he said almost in admiration and threw her hand away. "Your love of violence hath led thee to me. This pleases me, as you do."

Watching him warily and keeping her hands half closed in fists Julia didn't quite know what to think of that. "You and Victor Rosencrantz, sentenced to die in obscurity, could be so much more." he added.

"What are you talking about?" she said without dropping her guard.

"The holiest of rites, the bloodiest of charms. The whitest of wine in which all begins. I can lead you to the Sacraments...all thou needest do is follow them to salvation." he said seductively.

"The ritual you did?" she blinked. "Why the hell would we want to do that?"

Gesturing in the air he spread his arms out and indicated everything around them. "A scratch on the surface on what the Power of Heaven affords the faithful. The power, the immortality, the necessity...it matters not in the why, only in the do."

"You're crazier than you sound if you think we'd do that." she scoffed.

"Am I?" he smirked and her eye twitched. "All those books you took from the misty land...what do you think was in them? Why do you think your blushing bride saved them as a pack rat holds onto a shiny?"

"He kept them to make sure they didn't fall into the wrong hands." she asserted but the Dark Man only laughed. It sounded like throat cancer grinding against gravel.

"Is that what he told you? The lies we tell the ones we love..." the shade shook his head.

"All right then dickhead, you tell me." she snarled.

"How is it do you think Victor Rosencrantz knows so much of the Sacraments? Was it the teachings of Marcus Stone? Or could it be that he was searching for the necessary tools himself all these years?"

Her jaw hit the floor and Julia made a tiny squeaking sound instead of saying something. No, that was impossible. It had to be a lie, it had to! There's no way Victor would try something like that! If it was true then all the time they were together he hid this from her. No, she couldn't believe it...

"I...no, you're lying." she said stubbornly.

He shrugged and turned his palms up at her. "Deny it all you want but your heart knows the truth of things. Ask him, ask your beloved and see if his eyes can convince you of his innocence."

"But...he's not a murderer." she reasoned.

"Is he not?" the shade boomed. "How many have fallen to his blade? A hundred? A thousand? A killer kills. Even you, not so clean. Your fratricide is not unknown to me, lonely pilgrim."

Her eyes narrowed and Julia bristled at this man of all people judging her. "What the hell do you know!?" she snapped.

"Much. Hide from him, hide from all, hide from self but there is no hiding from me." he said and lowered his one eyed gaze to her level. "I know of thee, Julia Stormson. I know thou only feels alive here, in travesty, fire and blood. That your pitiful, wastrel existence outside the misty land is the true dream and only in the sanctity of combat does your mind clear, your spirit soar. Deny this truth no longer...the savage nature of your homeland burns bright in your veins."

She opened her mouth to say something in protest but she could not fully defend herself. There was that part of her which was glad to be going back to Silent Hill again and leave their ordinary lives behind. It was something she could never admit to Victor and hardly admit to herself...but it was true.

"Do not be ashamed, not here, not with me." he almost purred. "That flame, that undying joy in the midst of chaos...when you look inside for that warlike urge you will find me waiting for you with a helping hand..."

She didn't want to give the Fater the satisfaction of being right. "Your words are poison." she spat.

"And yours I recall perfectly. Your promise is binding, little leaf. Forget it not." he said mysteriously.

"Promise?"

"A knife, two stones, a misty day. I remember, Julia Stormson. I always remember." the Dark Man warned. "Flowers for your sires, blood for blood to blood."

"You...you were there that day?" she said in shock. He was talking about her last day in Silent Hill after escaping that terrible prison and the words she spoke to her parent's graves.

"Long have I watched over you. " he nodded and something clicked in her mind. "Pastor pascit gregem."

"You sent me that newspaper clipping. You were the one on the phone who sent me to the basement in Brookhaven." she accused.

"I only directed you where you needed to go..." he bowed low. "But luring thee under the earth to that place of rust and gallows, 'twas not me."

"Who then?"

"Ah, but you met and buried him long ago in that place where no light shines and no evil goes forgotten." the Dark Man said in sing song voice that did not match his words.

He was of course referring to her brother and the prison below Lake Toluca where she and Victor almost died. She remembered Alex saying something about voices guiding him before she killed him. "Was it you? You driving him mad?" she asked evenly.

"That tortured soul brought no tribute to Nowhere." he shook his head. "But listen I do, listen and wait. And a promise made to the dead in vain is ruin, as the dead of the misty land do not forget. They'd be so disappointed..."

"My parents? I don't think...well at least I'd like to not think they wouldn't." she said. It was true though that things hadn't just gotten bad during the attack on the Order's base, they would have been life ending had the Fater not saved her. She doubted her body would have happened to be respectfully buried by her folks. A combatant rarely had the chance to choose when and where they died...in Silent Hill her options were as limited as they came.

"You're immortal, aren't you?" she asked. He cocked his head to the side like this was a silly question and Julia admitted that it was. "I want to keep my promise. If I die somewhere...what will it cost me to be buried with my parents?"

"Thou would deal with the Lord of Obsidian?" he said and crossed his arms.

"If I have to."

"Yes...yes. What are your terms?"

"Bury me next to them. Find my brother and bury what's left of him there as well. And if Victor is dead, do the same. We'll all be together again in the end." she spelled out.

"Done." he nodded like a Persian king addressing an underling. "And you will honor me in the event of my passing the old way. Bury me deep in the loving earth of the misty land and nowhere else. Plant a sapling over my body that I might live again in the green."

"You want me to plant a tree over you?" she asked quizzically. "But you can't die."

"Do you agree?" he ignored her.

"Yes, fine, whatever."

"So begins a contract bound in blood, yours and mine." Lifting a gleaming knife that had appeared in his hand the Fater dragged it across his palm. Black blood sprang out of the wound and he handed the blade to her pommel first. Unsure if this was a good idea Julia nevertheless touched the tip of the blade on her palm and pulled. Her skin parted like water from the ultra sharp blade and she cut herself deeper than she meant to. Taking the knife back the straight jacketed shade offered his dripping hand to her.

Reluctantly reaching out to lightly grasp it Julia's hand was crushed by the Fater's grip. Her open wound came into contact with his and the cold, inky blood of the dead man hit hers almost like a living creature. Frigid, burning liquid crawled into her skin and lanced into her arm. Yelping from the shock and wrenching away the pilgrim could not escape the merciless bear trap of a hand shake she was stuck in. Tugging away from him with both hands and her whole body she couldn't move Nothing an inch as the cold darted up her arm. Creeping from her shoulder it rushed down suddenly towards her heart. The glacial stream hit her with a force akin to a physical blow and Julia's knees gave out as an uncaring Nothing continued to hold onto her.

Her chest seized up and pilgrim gasped just before simply falling over. The shade then finally let her go and Julia convulsed on the floor among the leaves as the arctic chill that had taken hold of her body slowly subsided. It was many minutes before she felt recovered enough to speak, let alone stand and Nothing loomed over her without a word.

"The...fuck...you do to me?" she coughed.

"Made true your promise. I feel your mistrust but fear me not. Us four, children of the misty land, we will end this threat to the fatherland together."

"Us four..." she echoed as her brain began to work again. Looking up at him from the floor she asked, "You were born in Silent Hill, weren't you?"

Flourishing with his hand Nothing did not verbally answer. "What about Chuck? Isn't he from Canada?"

"Ah, back to those lies of the innocent. A light inaccessible."

Gaining the strength to get to her feet Julia shivered though it was not cold. "He must have been adopted or something. Did his parents never tell him?"

"Those of the Place Of Silent Spirits find their way back to it more easily than the uninitiated."

"Why did you help him? Visit him in the hospital? I always wanted to know."

"Now, at last, the masks had fallen away. The strings of the puppets had become visible, and the hands of the prime mover exposed." he rambled to no avail.

"You're a pain, you know that?" she sighed.

"Pain?" he gawked. "I know pain that tears at your atoms. Sings to you at night long after it has departed. So-" he cut himself off and froze as he stared off into space. Julia was going to ask what was wrong but he held up a hand and no sound came from her voice when she tried to use it.

"Victor Rosencrantz suffers." he reported breathlessly.

"What!?" she said and had her voice back. "Go help him!"

"He is well hidden." the Fater said sadly. "He must call for me, as you did. And the Lightening must commence before the adjourning of Nowhere."

"I'll go!"

"No. Thou will wait." he decreed. "Da patientiam."

Waiting was the last thing Julia wanted to do if Victor was in trouble but it appeared that she didn't have much of a choice. Trapped in Nowhere for the time being she could only hope that whatever was happening to her man that it wasn't permanent.

The dolls somehow stayed one step ahead of him the whole time and lurked behind every corner. It wasn't long before he ran out of sewer and they beset him on all sides. They walked slow and clumsily but there were far too many to defeat on his own. It would take a miracle to save him now.

Back in that familiar room with those familiar people he was again holding the hammer but put it down as he was sure that he was done with it. Again the pudgy man who he simply didn't care for spoke first. "If you don't want to go back you'll be a good boy. Do you want to be a good boy?"

There were vague memories of a sewer and a thousand homicidal puppets that if he remembered correctly was no fun. He would indeed be a good boy.

"All right. What is your name?"

He rightfully didn't know his name but that hardly mattered here.

"Your name is Steve."

Steve. He repeated it but it rang hollow and untrue.

"I want you to take that nail out of the wall. Yes, that one there."

He did as he was told and pulled the increasingly familiar nail from the increasingly familiar wall.

"Now put your hand on the table, Steve. Yes, that's good. Now drive the nail through your hand."

That didn't seem like a good idea and he said so. Back in the sewer the dolls inched ever closer to him and silently promised his doom. The sound of their knives dragging along the wet brick reminded him of another sound entirely, a sound which he learned to dread long ago. A terrible monster with an oversized knife that was more of a...

Sword! He looked at his hand and that old, familiar, home made blade appeared in his hand. The puppets began to laugh in unison like a chorus of chattering wooden chairs and it was among the one of the worst things he'd ever experienced. He surged forward to meet them anyway.

Sitting in a derelict apartment in Noir York he rested in an old recliner that was close to breaking. On his right a large, open window let freezing cold air in with the light snow that was falling. In front of him was a television so old it still had knobs to change the channels. On it was a show that was compromised entirely of photos. He watched it for what seemed like hours until he saw an old photo of a house burning. His house. With his mother inside.

"You're doing well." the TV said in a friendly, comforting voice.

I am?

"Oh yes. Already the fat man is losing his grip on you." The picture on the TV changed to a demented man in black scraping the skin off of a wrist.

Never liked him anyway.

"You have to trick him. Pretend to do what he wants. Don't worry, I'm with you." it said and the photo changed to a picture of a pretty girl with dark hair whom he cared deeply about.

Cool.

The appliance shut off and he turned to see a pink flamingo standing next to him. Its eyes were glowing red and it said, "mIRroRs ArE mOre fUn THan teLeVisIOn." in a harsh, undulating voice.

Are they?

The flamingo's eyes burned like lit cigarettes and bored deep into his soul. "th3 Fl3Sh 0F f4l13n aNg3ls."

Stretched out on some kind of machine he waited, naked and alone. Limbs restricted and body chained in place a large sign above him read 'OBEY' but not who or what. After a moment the chute above him began rattling and out of it poured a deluge of red hot coals. They hit him by the dozen and he screamed while smelling his own burning flesh.

Back in the familiar room he it was just him and the pudgy man. Knowing now that there was some connection between the fat man and the pain he admitted that the TV had been telling the truth.

"Hello Steve." the man said.

Hi there.

"Will you put the nail through your hand now?"

Oh yes.

Pretending, just like he was told. Placing his hand on the table he lined up the nail with the center of his palm and drove it down. There was no pain and the pudgy man seemed to be pleased. "Great job. Now we're going to play another game. You're going to kill everyone in the room. Don't worry, they're bad people."

He slaughtered entire room of people, animals, monsters over and over again. Sometimes they were humanish, sometimes they weren't. He made sure all of them fell so he wouldn't go back to that room with the coals. Once or twice he lost and was burned, forced to start over again. Something told him it was okay and another part of him enjoyed the carnage.

Damn that pudgy man! All of this was somehow his fault. He wished he never met-

He stopped fighting, stopped moving as the realization hit him. The room with all the bodies disappeared and he was strapped to a bed. There was an old man and a pudgy man and...he...his name was Saffros.

Victor woke up and just like that his tortured dream was over, but he was still screaming.