Tales of the Dorokusai

Back in 2002 or so I became obsessed with writing a story about angels and demons, science fiction and fantasy, martial arts and high tech weaponry. After a time the story petered out and I moved on to other things. As this is a project that I don’t plan to publish or do anything else with, I’m putting it all right here. If you do plan to read, please do so with some mercy and manage your expectations. It’s clunky and to say it is a homage to multiple sources is putting it mildly. Nonetheless, here it is in its unedited sprawling fullness, my unfinished novel Tales of the Dorokusai.

Chapter One : 1835

Diary of Lena Iziaslavich

April 16

I had the strangest dream last night.  I was in a big, huge place.  There were people everywhere.  Everyone was talking to each other, but I could only hear the sound of chimes.  I couldn’t understand what they were saying.  I looked around and couldn’t see any walls, I looked up and there was no ceiling, I looked down and there was no floor… everything was kind of see-through and bright white.  I started feeling scared- I didn’t know where I was and I couldn’t see Mama or Papa anywhere. I was too afraid to say anything. I didn’t want anyone to notice me.  

I told Mama about it when I woke up.  She smiled. “Don’t worry; it was just a silly dream, baby bear.” But it felt so, so real.    

April 17

I just woke up in a cold sweat… I had almost the same dream as the one from last night, only this time, it was… I don’t know.  I don’t know if it is just a silly dream after all.  I can remember the whole thing perfectly.  I found I was in the same place again, the white place.  Just like in the last dream.  Only, I didn’t feel afraid this time.  Everything was familiar to me.  Comfortable. 

No one saw me, so I sat and watched them for a while.  They were all so beautiful.  The women, even the men were beautiful.  They looked nothing at all like most of the people in our village.  I imagined that this was how the royalty of the world might look, all clean, prim and proper.  But no, these people were too perfect to be real.  I could only think of them as Angels.  

I stayed huddled at a distance, fascinated by them and lost in wonder at their strange robes and jewellery; I had never seen anything like it. I felt dirty and plain compared to them. Even their voices were angelic, ringing like the most beautifully clear bells I could ever have imagined.   These people looked like they were a part of some lost race that never knew disease, or hunger, or pain.  I knew it was a dream but I wished for it to never end.  

After what seemed like an eternity of watching these angel-people I felt that the mood of the place changed.  The clear chimes quietened, the voices dying down.  They looked at one another and smiled, and a feeling of happiness ran through me like a warm summer breeze, filling me with excited tingles all over.  A soft, motherly voice whispered inside my head. 

“Our decision has been made.” 

April 18

Dear diary, the angel dream happened again.  I was hoping it would.  I can remember it so clearly, and the strangest thing is it seemed to start right from the end of last night’s dream.  As soon as I closed my eyes I was there, in the white room.  All of the men and women were facing me, like I was their queen.  Their eyes glowed like an ocean.  I felt uncertain what to do, and a little nervous.  But they were all smiling, so warmly.  The music of the angelic voices was completely gone, replaced with an absolute silence that I cannot even imagine now, with the sounds of father cursing at the crops.  

Then without a sound, gesture or signal, the group in front of me slowly began to part.  I held my breath.  It was like watching the wind moving through a row of crops.  Sometimes when I stay at Nanna’s farm I sit and just stare at the crops. Sometimes I think that the lines of bending wheat are the fingers of Mother Nature running her hands through her creation.  The Angels continued to part.  I crouched into a ball, tucking my head in between my knees and digging my fingernails into my forearms.  It hurt, but the pain didn’t wake me.  If anything, it made me even more aware of myself within the dream.  Tears welled in my eyes, running down my cheeks.  

‘Stop being such a stupid baby’, I told myself, rubbing tears away with the back of my hands.  ‘It’s just a dream; pretty soon I will wake up, snuggled safely in bed with my sisters.’  That helped. My mind had cleared a little.  I think it was at that moment that I realized the angel-people were not moving anymore.  A long break in the crowd had formed, and it opened right in front of me.  At the end of the break a man stepped out, and it seemed like we were the only two living things in the dream.  A giant among giants, he stood taller and wider than any of the other angels and he had a glow that separated him from all the rest. His sense of comfort put me at ease, and all my little fears melted as soon as he came close.  Maybe it was because he looked a bit like my Uncle Georgii. His long silver hair flowed over his shoulders and down his back. He wore a strange pendant around his neck, and his robes were the purest shade of white I had ever seen. He walked over to me and helped me up, and said hello in a voice I understood, even though it still carried the sounds of chimes in my mind.   

 “Hello, how do you do?” I said (Like Mama taught me).  I didn’t want him to think that I had no manners.  He smiled at me, and I smiled back.  

That was when I woke up.  It was still dark, and my little sister Nikita was deep asleep beside me. What a dream.  I decided to get up and write all of it down, while I still remembered, and there it is.  But I just realized the strangest thing.  My forearms are stinging.  On each arm are four red welts, the size and shape of my fingernails in the same spot I dug them in during the dream.

April 22

Today at school I had a warm feeling in my stomach that lasted all day.   I didn’t know what it was.  It was the nicest stomach ache I ever had.  When I got home I told Mama about it.  She got an odd look on her face, then smiled and gave me a huge cuddle. Mama says that my body is probably getting ready for the change from a girl to a woman.  So, my body is just getting ready.  

I am so excited.  I can’t wait to become a woman!

May 1

I’m wide-awake in the middle of the night; I have my candle, and my diary.  I have to write about this, I won’t be able sleep until I do.  I just had another one of thosedreams.  They are getting more and more vivid each time I have them.  It is the strangest thing.  Even though I am fully aware that I am caught within a dream, the knowledge of the fact doesn’t make the place, or the feelings, any less real.  Also, I seem to be falling into the dream place more quickly, too.  As usual before bedtime I said my prayers with my brothers and sisters before lying down to sleep.  As soon as I was in bed I shut my eyes.  It felt like it was only the next moment that I reopened them, to find myself in the endless white room.  This time, though, it was practically empty.  It was just the giant and I.  

“Hello Lena,” he rumbled in his deep voice that tinkled through my mind.

He knelt down in front of me, and I was so happy to see him that I gave him a great big cuddle.  He was warm and soft like a giant cat, and I felt safe being close to him.  After a few moments he pulled away, resting his enormous hands on my shoulders.  He looked straight at me, up close for the first time, and I think I just stared at him, mouth wide open.  Even now, writing this, I can’t find the words to describe what I saw.  The most incredible eyes, I will never forget.  They were not even eyes.  His pupils were just two huge pools of darkness, and I saw the moon and the stars in them, like a reflection of the night sky.  The bit around his pupils were green like the brightest jewel in the world.  I almost fell over from the shock of looking into those eyes.     

I decided to look at his nose, instead.  

“Are you alright?”  I nodded to the nose.  He smiled. 

“Lena, you will soon be going through a very difficult period in your life.”

He paused.  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything.

“I am going to need you to stay strong.  One day you will understand.”  His voice was calming, relaxing.  I felt sleepy.  Can you fall asleep within a dream? 

“Uhhmm…please. Tell me what’s happening.  I know I’m dreaming, but you seem so real.”  

He gave me a gentle squeeze on the shoulders.

“Don’t worry about that for now, Lena.  Just believe me, and trust me.  I will be with you on every step of the road ahead”.

“Do you promise?” I asked him.

His great big eyes twinkled and he whispered, “Yes, I promise.”

That was the point at which I woke up.  The sky is getting brighter now, papa is already out in the fields.  I will go and help him. 

May 12

It is so cold.  I could not go to school today because of the snow, so I stayed at home and helped with the chores.  Mama asked if I was feeling well earlier, she said I looked pale.  I can feel these beautiful sensations taking place within me. I feel like the warmth in my belly is becoming stronger every day.  We cannot afford to go to a doctor, and I think Mama is getting worried.  She keeps looking at me with concern.  I ask her what is wrong, but she just shakes her head and tells me it’s nothing.  Mama is being strange.

June 03

My angel was in the dream-place last night, holding my hand. We were walking along a golden pathway that stretched out forever into the whiteness.

“Are you my Guardian angel?”  I asked him.

“I guess I am, Lena.”

All of a sudden I realized I did not know his name.  I wanted to know what to call my Guardian angel. I woke up, my mind filled with his big, soft eyes.  And then I knew his name.

“Volodimer,” I whispered.

July 25

I had a heated bath today and found myself rubbing the warmth in my tummy.  It seems to be growing.  I got excited, because I thought that it was a sign of me becoming a woman, so I called Mama.  She came in and just sort of looked at me for a bit with a blank look on her face.  Then she turned around and left without saying a word.  I got a scared feeling.  I could hear her talking to Papa, quietly, but couldn’t understand what they were saying. Papa said something in an angry voice. She came back, kneeling against the tub, her face worried.  She asked me, had I been playing any new games with the boys in the village?  I said no, I don’t really like the boys in the village very much.  They are all smelly, and all they do is play pretend fights.  Mama just nodded, staring at belly again, which I was rubbing. Then she left.  I am a bit worried something might be wrong with me.

August 13

My belly is getting bigger all the time.  Papa won’t talk to me and I don’t know why.  Mama has stopped asking me about what I have been doing with boys, I could only tell her the same thing all the time.  I don’t go near the boys, I don’t like them, and now when I go to school they all point at me and laugh anyway.  Most of my friends won’t come around any more to play.  I asked my best friend Sasha why she had stopped visiting. She said that her parents told her that I was a bad influence! I don’t know what to do, or why my belly is growing when all the other girls still look the same.  I keep hoping for another visit from my Angel. Maybe he can tell me what I have done wrong so I can fix it and make everything go back to normal.

August 15

Volodimer was there in the dream place last night.  I ran to him and cried and cried and cried.  He patted my head and cuddled me.

“Lena,” he whispered, “you have been chosen for a very special task in this world.  I know things are hard at the moment, but you must take heart.  Be strong and you will survive.  Your Mama and Papa do not understand what is happening to you and they may be harsh.  They may say things that hurt you, but in time you will understand, and soon I will be with you.”

When I woke up the pain was gone, and my pillow was wet with tears.

October 6

Papa has taken me out of school.  He told me I was to stay at home and help with chores until next year. I screamed and cried at first, but now all my tears are gone.  All I feel is this beautiful glow in my belly, which is spreading all through my body. I was doing the dishes when Mama came up to me.  She asked, “Have you been sick in the mornings at all, Lena?”

I said, “No, I haven’t even had a cold since my Guardian Angel came to me.”

She paused when I said that, narrowing her eyes. 

”Is this Guardian angel maybe a real person?” She asked me.

I said, “Sort of… even though I only see him when I am sleeping, I know he is real.  I can feel him when he touches me, and he makes me feel nice.”

When I said that Mama looked at me like she had seen a ghost.

She asked me to describe him, and I did.  She got a terrible look on her face and ran off to the main room.  She left the door open and I heard her talking to Papa.  After a few minutes I started to get scared.  I could hear his voice getting louder and louder. Eventually Papa came storming up to me. I flinched, splashing water over the edge of the sink.

He shouted, “Lena, you are never to talk to your Uncle Georgii again!  Ever! Do you understand?”

I was crying now, I was so confused.  Papa went red in the face.  I have never seen him so angry.

“I love my Uncle Georgii,” I cried, “He’s my favourite!”

And with that Papa roared, and I cringed in fear.

“You filthy bitch whore!” he yelled, and slapped me in the face so hard I almost blacked out.  Then Mama was screaming, and I could hear my little brothers and sisters crying upstairs.  Papa grabbed his coat, shouting at Mama that he was going to “fix this once and for all”, slamming the door behind him.  

Mama came running to me and screamed, “Look what you have caused Lena! Look what you have done to us!”  And then she turned around and ran upstairs to comfort the little ones.  I just stood there with my hands in the water crying, my face stinging and my heart hurting.  This is all too much, I feel like I will break.  I still don’t understand why all this is happening, and now I just want to die…

November 17

I have not spoken to Mama or Papa at all since the big fight. They are keeping me locked up in my room, and I only see Mama when she brings in food for me.  She will not talk to me; she only looks at my growing belly. She has disgust in her eyes.  I do not know what is happening outside of this house, and my Guardian angel has not visited my dreams at all.  I am so sad.  I miss my friends, I miss my brothers and sisters, and I miss Mama and even Papa.  I miss hugs and kisses.  All I have is this warmth in my stomach that convinces me to hang in there.  I feel like something big will happen soon.

December 03

It is my birthday today.  I am now twelve years old.  I feel so alone.

December 22

At last Volodimer came to visit me.  I ran into his arms.

“I am so proud of you Lena.  Your trial is almost at an end.  I am almost ready to join you,” he whispered.

“Please, guardian angel.  Please help me… I can’t bear any more.  Everyone hates me!  I’m locked away from the world.  I have this fire in my belly that feels ready to explode, and I still do not understand anything!  Why, Volodimer, please tell me why!”  I looked up into his great big emerald eyes, and I saw them soften with tears.

“Give me one week Lena and I promise you, in seven days you will understand.  That is all I can tell you.”  He hugged me tightly.  “I love you Lena.  Soon I shall see you with new eyes, and you will forgive me.”

When I awoke my mother was standing above my bed.  She was crying.  I said “Mama!” and she rushed into my arms, both of us now crying. When we finally broke off I looked over to see Papa standing at the door.  He looked ten years older.  He held out his hand and I rushed out of the bed, into his arms.  “I am so sorry my precious little one,” he said as he squeezed me tightly.

December 30

Yesterday I gave birth to my baby.  My parents still do not believe me when I say I have never touched boys, nor do I understand how boys have anything to do with what has happened.  But none of that matters now.  They are proud.  Their grandson has a shock of silver hair, and beautiful big emerald green eyes. When the midwife asked me if I had a name in mind for my baby, I did not hesitate.

“His name is Volodimer,” I said.

And as I looked into the eyes of my son, I finally understood.

Chapter Two : 1851

Volodimer. Tula, Russia

I looked down at Svetlana, clutching her little brother, who in turn was gripping the sides of the ice sled with all his eight year old strength.

“Ready?”

“Of course,” she said; her tone strong and firm.

“Come on, Vlad!  Let’s go!”  Sergei squealed.

“Are you ready for a big one this time little bear?” Instead of answering he threw his small weight back and forward, full of excited impatience.   

“Okay, you asked for it!”

I sank my weight into the snow and drew all my strength up from the ground, forcing power up through my legs and waist. My torso snapped like a catapult, propelling the sled down the icy slope and easily passing the other sleds in a vapour trail of broken ice.  I could hear Sergei’s peals of laughter all the way down.  Suddenly I was mobbed with the cries of all the little ones wanting me to propel them down the slope next.

“Sorry children, no more today,” I laughed.  “I have to go home, but I will be back tomorrow.” 

They would not give up, crowding me with pink faces and hopeful eyes.  I shook my head.  “Next time all of you will get a turn, I promise.”   

They seemed happy enough with that, running off in a chorus of laughter and happy chatter.  A few of their fathers gave me odd looks.  I was not sure what those looks meant.  I did know however, that my stature was beginning to cause petty gossip around the village.  At the age of fifteen I was already taller, broader and more powerful than most of the other men in the village.  I trudged through the thick snow, head down, thinking upon this.  It had not been a cause of serious concern yet, but I was unsure of what the future might hold.  I had always been the biggest of all the children of my own age.  When I had reached puberty, however, my body had exploded in size almost overnight, and I continued to grow at a phenomenal rate.

“Can we go just one more time please Vlad?”  I was shocked out of my thoughts by Sergei, and surprised that I had already reached the bottom of the slope.  My legs were getting longer, I supposed.  

“Sorry Sergei, but we have to get home to help Mama with chores.  If you want though, you can ride my shoulders home.”  I had barely finished saying this before he was scrabbling his way up my back, climbing me like a tree.  I laughed, kneeling down to make it a little easier.  Once he was in position he put his soft little hands across my forehead to steady himself.  I stood up, offered my hand to Svetlana.  She gave me a frown and walked off ahead.  I sighed.  Svetlana had become as cold as the ice towards me since Alexander had left. Alexander was Svetlana and Sergei’s father, and the only people Svetlana had left now, as far as she was concerned, was her mother and little brother.  As we walked back toward our modest cottage my thoughts drifted back to that fateful day, five years before.

I had been barely eleven years of the age at the time, and it had been a school day.  The sky had become dark over the course of the day and by the time class was dismissed an ice storm had broken out.  Shrieking wind whipped the ice and snow into a whirling frenzy that stung every portion of my exposed flesh.  Wrapping a thin coat tightly around my shoulders I began the long walk home. The landscape was a whitewash, occasionally punctuated with the black, skeletal forms of dead trees.  I remember clearly being hit by a deep wrenching in my stomach, knocking me to my knees.  The icy ground chilled my shins and seemed to race through my body, channeling into the space behind my eyes.  I blinked hard, rubbing the palms of my hands deep into my eyesockets as this freezing pain seemed to grow.  As quickly as it had come it suddenly vanished, leaving in its place a blinding light, and then complete darkness.  For long moments I wondered if this was blindness, if I was permanently afflicted, and how I would find my way home before the blizzard consumed me.  Then the darkness cleared, but instead of the snow before me i saw my mother, huddled on the floor of the cottage.  Her face was a mask of blood and swollen flesh, eyes shining through the destruction, ablaze with fear.  I dropped my satchel and ran as hard asI could, my legs pumping through the deep snow at such a rate that it seemed I barely touched the surface.  I had gotten within a hundred yards of the cottage when my keen hearing picked up the screams of my mother, and the angry, drunken taunts of Alexander.  I could hear his words clearly, something I didn’t give a second thought at the time. 

“Liar!”  Alexander was literally screaming.  “You are a whore!  He must have a father, or did the devil put him in you?”

“Please, please, oh god, stop.”  Mother’s breathing was coming in broken gasps, her voice trembling.   

“I don’t know what else to say, you know that I would never lie to you.  Please believe me; I have never loved anyone but you!”      

“Enough!”  He roared, followed by another blow.  I was close enough to hear the sickening noise.  Alexander’s voice was low now, threatening.  “I am no fool… I should kill you…. for your lies… for giving breath to that devil spawn.” 

My blood boiled over and I hit the heavy oak door, still running.  It crumpled inward like wet paper, flying clean off its hinges and smashing into the opposite wall.  Instantly I saw my mother, exactly as I had seen her in my mind’s eye.  Alexander was staring at me blankly, drool still hanging lazily from his bottom lip.  An intimidating bear of a man, he was one of the few men in the village taller than me and thick set from years of working as a blacksmith.  My entrance had frozen him to the spot.  He stood unbalanced, looming over my mother, his blood-spattered fists still clenched.  The heat within me was raging like a furnace.  

“You!  Keep out of this boy… else I deal with you next!”  He spat as he spoke, his eyes out of focus, weight tottering from side to side. His words and fury were fuelled by alcohol but I could hear an element of doubt as his eyes flicked to the broken pieces of door scattered before me.  

Mother was huddled against the wall, seemingly unable to comprehend this new development.  Her eyes were red with tears and broken blood vessels, the rest of her delicate face was swollen in variations of purple, yellow and red.   

The heat within me overflowed, spilling out of my belly and filling every part of me, a red haze passing over my vision.  

“Stay back boy, I’m warning yo-” Alexander was mid-shriek but his voice was drowned out by the blood pounding between my ears like a thousand tribal drums.  All I saw for the next indeterminable string of moments was a disjointed puzzle of angry, sharp, red-tinged shapes.  All I felt was pure rage.  I do not remember anything else until I finally calmed down.  Alexander lay sprawled at my feet, his face now a match for mother’s.  He managed to cough roughly, spitting out the destroyed remnants of his teeth.  It seemed to take all his strength just to lay there and try to breath through his smashed face.  Mother had not moved, only now Svetlana was wrapped in her arms.  My own breath was coming in ragged gasps, and I had streams of Alexander’s blood running from my throbbing knuckles and up my arms, with flecks of it on my face, in my hair, rivulets spreading down my shirt.  I shook with the passing of such a massive dose of adrenaline.  Mother had passed out, I realised, thanking god for small mercies. She should not have to remember this. Svetlana was sobbing incoherently, her eyes soaked with tears and fixed on her barely conscious and occasionally twitching father.  She looked up then; our eyes met and there I saw, for the first time, her capacity for hatred.  

Some days after, when Alexander had recovered sufficiently, he declared through broken teeth and swollen lips that he was leaving.  Mother stood with me.  “Devil-spawn”, he whispered.  I don’t think he knew I could hear him, and I smiled to let him know I had.  I mouthed the words, “Get out.”  Fear passed through his discoloured face.  He turned away brusquely, shaking off Svetlana with careless anger, and limped out the door.  Mother lost her control then, and almost collapsed.  I was there to catch her, lifting her small body into my arms. She was heaving and shuddering, racking sobs tearing through her.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a heavy heart. Although Alexander was a drunkard and a violent man, he had loved my mother and given her two children to bear.  

“Is this what you meant?”  Her voice was barely a whisper.  “When you came to me in my dreams and told me about my challenges.  Is this just a part of it?”

I lay her down softly on her bed.

“In your dreams, mama?”  

“You said it then… my guardian angel… promised to protect me…” Her eyes were clamped shut, her face wet with tears.  I sat there for hours, holding her hand and stroking her forehead, unsure of what to say or do.  I prayed she was not losing her mind, and that I had done the right thing.  

I was painfully snapped back into the present moment by Sergei, pulling my hair as if it were reins.

“Careful you don’t make me angry little bear!”  I jokingly warned.

“Come on, horsey, hurry up!”  He was kicking his little heels into my chest with a drummer’s insistence.  I was forced to laugh.  He had been young enough at the time that he had not been permanently affected by his father’s sudden departure, and I had taken the role of stand in father for him in many respects.  What else could I do?   I had tried on so many occasions to do the same for Svetlana, but every time I had failed miserably.  I was beginning to lose hope that she would ever accept me as a brother again.  She still walked a few paces ahead of us, determined as always to prove her independence, determined to be the strong one. She had long black hair and dark features like her brother.  They both shared a strong pure Russian blood, blood they got from their father.  Lena was also dark, though her breeding was a little more mixed than Alexander’s.  I had never been told exactly where this mix had come from, and had never thought it appropriate to ask.  I received another kick from my little passenger.  “Come on Vlad, come on!”

“Okay, little monkey, hold on,” I said.  Taking a few steps forward I swept up Svetlana by the waist and jogged onward. Sergei squealed in delight and held me tightly around the forehead.  Svetlana didn’t even struggle or complain, which surprised me.  I think she was enjoying the small respite from walking through the thick snow.  After a while I slowed down as the exertion of the day caught up with me.  Besides, we were not too far from home now.  I could see the smoke from our fireplace.

The village that we belonged to was predominantly agricultural, though in the harsh winter months many of our people supplemented their agricultural income by producing handicrafts.  Lena, I expected, would be knitting in front of the fire as she was wont to do.  Her work was quite intricate and very popular with the buyers when we went along to the market fair once a month.

“Hyah! Go horsey, faster!”  Sergei ordered, lifting me away from my thoughts.

“No, that’s enough for now.  I am tired, and you never stop.  When do you run out of energy?”  I asked.

“Never!” he laughed.  I grinned, and took him off my shoulders to run the rest of the way home.   He sprinted toward the cottage as fast as his little legs would take him, giving me a chance to slow my pace and try, as always, to establish some sort of bond with Svetlana.

“Our brother has much youthful optimism,” I offered.  She said nothing, only staring ahead as we walked.  The wall that she had erected between us was almost tangible. I decided to take a more direct tact.

“You surely cannot dislike me forever.”

“I don’t dislike you,” She muttered.

I smiled. “Well, that is nice to-”

“Shut up. Dislike is too nice a word for how I feel about you.  I hate you.” She tilted her face up toward me, and her dark eyes were cold.  “I hate you more and more every day.  You are not my brother.  You are not Sergei’s brother either.  You are devil spawn, and our father left us because he knew the truth.  I pray every night for you to go back to hell.”   Her words were spoken slowly, carefully and without a hint of intonation.  She might as well have been describing what she had had for breakfast that morning, and I was all the more hurt for it.  I stopped in my tracks as she continued on, her long hair whipping in the rising wind.  And then I heard the scream.  Loud and high pitched, it cut through my soul like a hot knife through butter. Sergei.  A horrible feeling passed through me.  I looked into the distance at the cottage.  Nothing seemed out of the normal.  Svetlana had stopped and looked back at me, her eyes wide and fearful.

“Wait here,” I said to Svetlana.  She nodded her acknowledgement, panic obvious on her face.  I ran toward the source of the screams, which had been suddenly silenced. A cold fear had taken hold of me, urging me to abandon all caution.  As I ran, a flash of deja-vu hit me.  Something about this scene was all too similar to that of five years ago, which I had only just before been thinking upon.  The mad sprint toward home, the feeling that something violent was being visited upon those I cared for.  I did not like this feeling.  A small voice inside my head told me that things were about to get worse than that last time, worse than the drunken aggression of Alexander.  The voice told me in all certainty that I was about to experience something more horrific than what I could possibly have imagined in my wildest nightmares.  

“Prepare yourself Volodimer,” the voice whispered.  It sounded like thousands of voices all murmuring at once, like dry snow crunching beneath the feet, the crackle of wood in the fire.  It was smoke and pain and misery, and it heightened the fearful thoughts racing through my mind.  The cottage was quiet and still as I reached it the open doorway. I realized that my pulse was thudding furiously in my temples, the sound amplified by the blood surging within me. I stepped onto the raised stone that served as a doorway.  Sheltered from the snow, I paused before the entrance.  Heat was spilling out from the small fire slowly burning at the end of the room.  I stepped inside and the hair at the back of my neck stood on end.  I began to tingle all over.  My vision blurred, and the colours in the room seemed to change from orange and brown to green and blue.   I shook my head; I needed to focus myself.  A trickle of sweat ran across my temple.

“Sergei!” I shouted.  My voice reverberated around the cottage.  There was no response.  I took a step into the living room and the stone underfoot seemed soft, as if I were stepping into melting snow.  I looked down and had to look up again as the ground swirled and pulsated before my eyes. I found myself thinking, “No, that can’t be.”  I took another step and had the same feeling of sinking into the floor.  I could have sworn that the stone had turned to quicksand. With a violent abruptness my vision exploded.  I went down on one knee, my left hand seemingly sinking into the ground.

“What…is…going…on?”  There was a whisper of sound and a blur of shape on the periphery of my vision.  I ignored the barrage of sensations and spun instantly, launching myself like a battering ram and striking the intruder, riding it to the floor in a flurry of limbs.  I was tripping on a mixture of chemicals pumping within me.  I could not see properly and the blood was pounding through my veins like a wild river, feeding my muscles, engorged and filled with inhuman strength.  I raised my free hand and readied myself to drive it down with full force.  The bandit below me gagged, struggling to speak. All of a sudden I had the sense that something was terribly wrong, though I still could not see through properly. My fingers lessened their pressure, and with my confusion, the blood lust subsided.  I blinked my eyes, willing the rage to clear.  My ears caught the smallest gasp.  It sounded like a word, spoken in a girl’s voice. My eye’s cleared and I perceived the face beneath me to be Lena’s.  I was choking my mother, who I was sworn to protect.  Instantly I released my grip on her throat, horrified at the angry purple hue of skin where I had almost crushed her windpipe.  Saliva glistened on her chin, and she gagged as she lay there, holding her neck with her own small hands.  

“Oh dear god.” I eased her up by the armpits until she was in a sitting position, and she began to cough.  I patted her back gently, in a state of shock and oblivious to everything but her in those moments.  Gradually her breathing returned to normal.  She eventually ceased her coughs, looked at me and whispered, “What’s happening?”  

Her voice was quavering with fear.  Her eyes were huge, the pupils dilated.

“I… I don’t know.” I mumbled.      

I realized then that I had to keep my head together.  I felt scared for the first time in my life.  I had no idea what was going on.

“Mother, I need you to just wait here for a moment.  Don’t follow me, and everything should be fine.  I need to find Sergei.”  She nodded, instantly agreeing.  I pushed back a wisp of hair from her face, and helped her to lean against the mud-brick wall.  To think I had almost killed her.  The marks on her throat throbbed accusingly.  My fingers had come within mere moments of destroying her very life!  I would need to learn to control this rage of mine.  There was no question of it.  She made a small choking noise, deep in her throat, and her dark eyes reflected movement. It took a moment to figure out that her eyes were not focused on me.  They were mirroring the image of something behind me.  I barely had time to even think of turning around to face the source of this horror.  I was far too slow.  A dark mass wrenched me off the ground and threw me effortlessly across the room. I flew through the air and smashed into the opposite wall, scattering a collection of wood sculptures.  A family of little wooden bears, a collection of wooden rabbits, a tiny tree sculpture filled with squirrels clinging to the branches; all smashed into pieces.  

I slid down to the floor and lay in a frozen, crumpled heap.  I had been thrown headfirst into a waking nightmare and had become a mass of jelly, only barely conscious, completely unable to move.  My vision was dark and blurry, as if gazing through a heavy mist.  I heard a horrible high-pitched squeal, a sound of pigs being slaughtered.  It cut through me like a knife.  Hot blood streamed in rivulets down the back of my neck. I somehow got up into a semi upright position by leaning heavily against the wall, my legs wobbling, my body made of rubber.  I fought to regain a semblance of equilibrium, and then my head imploded.  A sensation of images passed through my mind’s eye, insects and death, crawling over my open eyes and ordering me to stay where I was in no uncertain terms.  Blinking to stop the sweat and blood from getting into my eyes I could vaguely make out the image of a humanoid figure, dark in colour, holding Lena by the throat. The figures seemed impossibly far away and I struggled to keep my focus on them.  The creature turned to face me, but I could not make out any of its features. It raised its other arm casually. An explosion of light filled my head. Another wave of nausea gripped me. I gritted my teeth and fought these sensations before they overwhelmed me entirely.

“No”,I repeated like a mantra, “I cannot let this happen.”  

The dry, deathly voice whispered, “This is your time of reckoning, Dorokusai.”

My vision swam into focus.  Waves of strength washed over me.  

Dorokusai… I had never before heard the word.  But it seemed to trigger something inside, like a secret door opening.  For the first time ever in my life, I dared to hope that I might yet discover who I was.  This word, Dorokusai, meant nothing to me, yet at the same time I felt like it might hold the key to everything… I screamed as my mind was peeled back once more; a mass of cockroaches, maggots and burrowing parasites crawled over me, in my mouth, forcing their way into my mouth, my eyelids, all of them commanding me to stay, cease, not to resist.  I knew this was not real, although every sense told me it was recoiling with disgust and horror.  I resolved to fight this creature, regardless of the consequences, and in my struggle found that I was rooted to the spot.  I had no power over my body whatsoever; I was being held prisoner within myself.  Sweat ran in small trickles under my arms, and it had nothing to do with the heat from the fire.  It was an internal fire, and it burned like the sun.  My vision cleared and I could see, with horrible clarity, the scene before me. The creature was impossibly tall, taller than me by three heads at least.  Its hide was dark, and yet it seemed to possess a strangely transparent quality.  The colour of it was like nothing I had ever before seen.  It seemed to shift from green to purple to blue, and it shone from within.  It wore no clothes and was completely hairless, with nothing that I could see to indicate sex.  It had large, black eyes, and they covered a great portion of its oval shaped face, like some alien insect.  It seemed to have no mouth or nose at all.  It regarded me with those eyes, and I got the distinct impression that if it had a mouth, it would be smiling.  

Mother was almost unconscious now, in shock and deprived of oxygen.  Her kicks were pathetic, and accomplished nothing.  Her small hands had given up their fight. Her face was horribly dark now; her little eyes staring back into her skull so that only their whites showed. A small, pink tongue lolled out of her mouth, and blood flecked saliva bubbled out of her nostrils.  She began to rise up, out of the creature’s hands. She was no longer choking.  Barely visible waves of transparent light passed from her lower stomach and into the creature, and a part of me knew that it was taking her very life force from her.  All the while I fought the paralysis, straining against the invisible force that held me.  Somehow, I managed to force some feeling into my throat.  The sound that came out of me was low, almost a growl. “K…ki….lllll……..yy…..ooo….uu…” The effort was tremendous.  Every sound that passed out of my throat left it feeling ripped as if it had been roughed with sandpaper.  The creature quickly looked at me, then back again to Lena who now touched the roof.  She had stopped fighting, and she now hung suspended in mid-air like a lifeless doll, her skin a sickly shade of grey-blue.  I was urging forward with all my force.  I lurched forward an inch, accompanied with the sound of a snap, and I realized I had torn something in my right forearm.  The pain was sudden, and excruciating.  Vomit rose in my throat.  I pushed through the pain and found that my hand had risen an inch.  I moved it forward.  The creature looked around, bug-like eyes widening.  A wave of icy coldness powered into me.  I now felt even more frozen than before, and all feeling had gone, leaving me numb.  My eyes were fixed on the rag doll hovering before me.  I watched as the creature turned its attention toward her, spreading out its arms as if initiating some bizarre dance.  As its arms reached the apex of their movement, Lena jerked in midair.  Her head leaned to her left shoulder, and then snapped back to the right with a sickening snap.  A small trail of crimson trickled down the corner of her mouth.  

Her dead eyes seemed to stare at me in accusation.  

“Why did you not protect me, Volodimer?”  

I felt tears run down my frozen cheeks.  I was crying. My soul was being torn to shreds with the pain of witnessing the cruel slaughter of my mother.  Try as I might, I could not prevent it.  I could not do a single thing except look on in horror. The alien creature threw its head back in a silent laugh. The multi-collared light within it intensified.  Everything in the room was covered in layers of distorted realities.  The colours shifted before my eyes again.  I was seeing the room touched by the warm colours of the fire, but there were moments when it seemed as if flickers of other colours took over, covering the horrendous reality before me in unearthly blues and greens.  The underlying hum of power grew louder, and the raw force of it hissed like a great angry snake.  The light within the creature and Lena grew stronger, throbbing with power.  I could not look away, could not even shut my eyes.  I could only look on in horror as patches of blood appeared from various points on mother, sticking flesh to cloth.  Her eyes widened in pain, looking straight at me, her neck still lolling at it’s unnatural angle.  I had been wrong.  She was still alive… 

My stomach curled up.  A furious scrabbling tore at my throat.  I was going to drown in my own vomit.  I could not block out the sound of flesh tearing, ripping from the bone.  Mother opened her mouth in a silent scream.  The light was blinding now.  All I saw was the shifting, pulsating colours.  All I heard was the hum, which had almost reached the point of becoming purely white noise.  There was a pause, a gap in time, and the world lurched to a shuddering stop. I was struck with an epiphany, a resounding revelation.  I realized with insight and clarity that the whole of my life had led to this point, that this moment was the crucible that would determine the rest of my life.  The room suddenly funnelled into a laser thin beam and fired directly into the point between my eyes.  Everything and everyone I had ever known bounced around inside my head, ricocheting in a tumult of pain.  I broke down under the weight of it all.  My entire life froze at this point, this moment.  Everything was bathed in cool arctic blues and aquatic greens.  Were we underwater?  I watched myself, crouched on the floor.  I saw the creature, arms out to the side, and mother hanging before it.  The flames of the fire were fixed, frozen in mid-flicker. The scene fluttered, and then crawled into reverse.  I watched in disconnected fascination as she was lowered to the monster’s hands.  I saw myself lift up and hit the wall with force.  Wooden ornaments collected themselves from the floor and arranged themselves on the table that had repaired itself.  I watched as I was flung from the wall in reverse, landing in a crouch above mother. The creature was behind me, gripping my shoulder.  It then released its grip and rushed back, into the shadows.  The scene continued playing backward, getting faster, rewinding in a blur of memories.  Images of people I knew were projected onto glass and thrown into a pool of darkness. I saw Lena holding onto Sergei as they were carried away by a crimson tide, awash in a river of blood. Alexander loomed before me, laughing cruelly.  There were many others; childhood friends, adults from the village, their faces shifting too quickly to recognize.  The images zigzagged and collided with one another, shattering into random bursts of fine powder.  The world caved in and splintered, tearing jagged wounds throughout my mind.  I screamed.  The images cleared.  I found myself once again in the original moment.  Mother was once more suspended in the air, and for a moment everything was peaceful, everything made sense.  I closed my eyes and prayed to gods I did not believe in that when I reopened them I would be in my bed, the nightmare over.

Eventually, after long, unfamothable moments, I opened my eyes. The entire room, even the ceiling, was scorched black.  A cold wind rushed through shattered windows, causing the fire to jump and flicker. The small figure of my mother was slumped on the floor in an awkward, face down position. The creature was gone.  The nightmare had been real.  I got up to one knee and immediately regretted it as my head went into paroxysms of pain.  Surely my eyes would force their way out of my skull.  My knees scraped the stone as I forced my way over the broken form I had sworn to protect.  I gently turned her onto her side, facing me.  Her beautiful eyes were faded now, staring into infinite space, seeing nothing, doomed to see nevermore.  A lump formed in my throat, tears welling in my eyes and heart.  Blood ran in thick lines over her face, forming small puddles on the stone floor.  I closed her eyes with one small gesture, closing my own in grief.     

By nightfall I had the bodies of my mother and baby brother buried deep in the cold snow. Svetlana stood close to me now, somehow she had escaped the nightmare.  My tears turned to ice on my cheeks and in my young beard, and at that moment I became a warrior, hell-bent on revenge.  Death, I swore to myself, would come to the perpetrator of this most heinous crime.  The shovel was a numb object in my fingers.  I stood motionless in the sub-zero temperature, sweating.  The fires of revenge now burned within me, and they were all-consuming.  

“Svetlana, I’m so sorry…” I struggled to find the words.

Her small face was grim; her eyes blood-red from hours of crying.  

“I want to be there.  When you find it, when you… when you strike it down.  I want to see it die, I want to take it’s head, spit in it’s eyes, I want to dance in it’s guts and make it scream.”  She was staring at the fresh snow that marked the bodies of her mother and brother, and I knew there was no use arguing.  We both wanted the same thing.

Vengeance. 

Chapter Three : 1851 – 1854

Nomad

The shovel dropped from my numb fingers, quickly disappearing under a pallid fall as I knelt in the arctic frost, the snow attempting to bury me also.  Heading inside I gathered a small pack from my bedroom; filling it with my few belongings.  The family savings I took from Mother’s night box; it was a meagre amount that she had barely managed to scrape together from her years of selling crafts at the local markets.  Most of her earnings had been appropriated by Alexander, had gone into his alcohol fuelled days of gambling and his wild nights of partying.  I absentmindedly thrust into my belt a thick knife, over my shoulder I slung my hunting bow and a quiver.  I stared for a time at my fists and imagined destroying his face with them, my anger knowing no bounds.  How dare he, why wasn’t he here to fight that monster with me?  Was that not the duty of the father; to protect, to keep safe from harm?  I made my way back into the living area; looking over at the smoking embers of the fireplace, I watched for a time as Svetlana sat huddled on the floor before the fire, rocking back and forth, wrapped in a patchwork quilt.  She had made it herself- a present for Sergei’s birthday. His life; cruelly cut off; put to an end before he even had the chance to grow into the great man he was destined to become.  I winced at the dark flecks of blood now soaked into the weave, creating unruly marks of tarnish on a thing of sweet purity.  I cried then, no longer trying to hold back.  Finally, I gently gathered Sergei’s ‘sleeping friend’.  It was a small brown bear that Sergei had named Boris. Boris was a derivative of Borislav, meaning ‘small’.  He had slept with Boris every night since he was an infant.  I kissed Boris on his worn velvet nose and placed him, with utmost reverence, inside my pack.  His button eyes stared at me like the dead eyes of my buried mother and brother, accusingly and without pause.

I made a vow.  I would return only once I had avenged their deaths.  I would bury them properly, with a priest to deliver the proper prayers to commend their souls to Heaven.  But until then, I had to find their killer, and destroy it- only then could their souls truly rest.  

Svetlana had refused my attempts to convince her to stay in the village.  

“Tell me, what reason do I have to stay? Our family is buried, I have no friends, you have seen to it that father is gone and never coming back… There is nothing here for me, and nothing you can say will change that.  All of this, Vlad, all of it, is your fault.  Now you will do this for me.  Take me with you.” 

Her words stung me.  We stood within our family home, now a burnt-out shell. The fire had died, and it seemed as if the place was an open wound.

“Your father… he would not be happy with this.  You should be with him.  This road, this path I have to take will be long, and I wager it will be dangerous also. Even if I make it, and I don’t even know where I’m going… I cannot guarantee your safety, sister. Please.  Reconsider.”  

She waited while patiently while I spoke, but her small arms were crossed, her stance defiant, her lower lip stuck out.  I knew that nothing I could say would make the slightest bit of difference.  

“I’m going with you, and I’m going to make sure you do this.  You’re killing this thing, and I’m gonna be right there when you do.  You owe me that much.”

“Ahhhh… Very well then, gather your things, there’s nothing else I can say.  I’ll load Irinei and pack the last of our provisions.”  Irinei was our strongest horse, a Yakutian breed that was able to withstand the harsh climate of our land and the rigours of the kind of work we required. He had a thick coat and was heavily muscled and had been with our family since Alexander won him in some gamble or another.  He would be best suited to make this journey with us.  Within the hour I had Irinei fed and shod, saddlebags loaded, and Svetlana getting familiar with sitting at such a great height.  She had never been fond of horse riding and had refused to do it, however I had urged her to do so now.  I was prepared to travel far and wide to track down the fiend and did not care to indulge her protests of sore legs or weak stamina.  By this time the sun was already at the horizon and casting its last weak beams, the skies low and cold like a greatbed sheetthrown over our heads. We would have to leave in the morning; the day was far too late to begin now.  

“We stay here tonight.  You can sleep in my bed; I’ll stay awake and keep guard.”  There was a deep part of me that knew without doubt the fiend would not be returning, knew that it was long gone.  But still I would stand guard, for Svetlana’s peace of mind, and because I needed time alone to think, to contemplate the enormity of what was before us.   

“I want to sleep in mother’s bed.” Svetlana said simply.  She was beyond tired, and I couldn’t begrudge her this. I was envious of her age, the fact that she could still be the child, the one afraid and in need of protection. I longed to curl into a ball in that bed also and cry myself to sleep; but that was not my role, and in fact it never had been.  I knew this and had made peace with it long ago.  

“Of course, yes.  I will look over you and keep you safe.  I promise you that.”

She looked at me with a strange expression and for a moment it seemed as if some of her anger toward me had disappeared. Then as soon as the moment came it passed, and the stone wall came down again.

“You didn’t protect us today; I don’t expect it tonight.  You might as well sleep yourself, for all the good you can hope to do.”  With that she turned on her heel and stalked into mother’s room, slamming the door.  I almost laughed.  Even now, after all this, she would not let go of her anger.  Good.  It would be necessary to fuel her, this anger, when the way became difficult, when she grew tired; when the reasons for what she was embarking upon became cloudy, the anger would see her through.  

Hours later the sky had become clear and the moon hung heavy and luminescent, the night was at its peak and would from this point only recede and succumb once more to the sunlight.  I was sitting in mother’s rocking chair, listening to the stillness of the night and the rustling of a slight breeze through crops, intermittently interrupted by faraway animal calls.  The day’s events seemed like a hazy nightmare in this twilight hour and I wished to a god I did not believe in that they had been.  As I stared into the infinite blackness of space and the stars beyond, the moon began to pulse; subtly at first, and then with insistence.  It grew in size until it encompassed my entire range of vision, now oozing into the room, enfolding me within a cocoon of ivory that had no end and no beginning. I told myself I had fallen asleep, and as such I did not question the illogical nature of what was happening.  Something struck me as familiar about this however, like a dream I had dreamt before.  It was like a waking dream, as you have when you are not quite asleep, still aware of your body, but unable to move.  I could not wake up from this state and yet I was in complete control of my ‘dream self’. I walked through the boundless whiteness of the moon’s embrace and all of these things went through my mind, at which point I decided to test the boundaries of this space.  I called out at the top of my voice, and the sound I heard was a strange cacophony of bells, chiming loudly and droning throughout the whiteness.  The noise itself seemed to define certain limitations of space, as a blind man might tap a cane to use returning echoes to perceive his environment.  I called out again and could now fathom massive pillars running vertically, all around me as far as I could see.  My gaze ran upwards, the columns ascended beyond what seemed like faint clouds far above in the heavens; I viewed downwards to a ‘floor’ that ran equally as far below me, also shrouded in a faint galaxy of cloud matter.  I was suspended in the middle of this space and the mere thought of attempting to comprehend direction or dimension was enough to make me feel nauseous.  In this place I just had to be, and not try to perceive.  So, I hung there, now content to enjoy the tranquility of this strange dream.  With that relaxation a sound came rolling in, like a dust storm come to dirty up the serenity of my mind.  

“Home sweet home, as the humans say, eh Volodimer?”  That voice; the one like broken glass and crackling smoke, the one that had spoken to me earlier in the day, now spoke to me once more.

“Who goes there?”  I chimed out and the sound tolled through the smoke, the residual echoes of our voices sparking off one another.

“Who indeed, and how sad that you should have to ask, poor young Dorokusai…”  That name again.  I stayed my questions, and now looked as hard as I could, seeking the source of this voice that sent chills running up my back.  “It is a complex question you ask, and perhaps not the right one, in this situation.  For I am Orulum, and had you possessed the wisdom and knowledge that is your birthright, you would instead have asked Why or How.  For the Who is the least of your concerns, and the last piece of the puzzle that would reinstate that which is so sadly not yours as of this moment.”  A faint chuckle echoed around me, and still I could not spy this creature.

“You speak in riddles” was all I could manage.  It was so strange to talk and hear my voice clanging like church bells that listening was preferable to putting a sentence together.  Besides, I had no idea what this voice was telling me but a part of me knew it would be best to listen as carefully as possible.

“A terrible day for you Volodimer, and yet in truth it will be remembered by the fates as a day of great change, and a necessary event on a cosmic level.  Calm down, the rage in your heart is impressive and not surprising, but it will do you no good here, so I suggest you leave it for those more deserving.  Namely, the Beast of Shades, Bolar, the Drinker of Dreams, and other such titles as it has warranted and seen fit to stalk by this past score of centuries.”

My anger turned quickly to eager curiosity; this voice knew the identity of my family’s slaughterer and what’s more, was my only key to finding it.  “You know this thing, this creature, you name it!  Help me, tell me where I can find it, it must be destroyed and I will not cease until this has been done, or I will die trying.”

“Name it I can, know it I do; alas, little Dorokusai, find it I cannot.”  Another chuckle, slighter this time, but crackling with contempt.  I bellowed my frustration and for a moment it seemed as if the columns around us shook almost to breaking point as the great bells rang out and reverberated throughout the air I hang suspended in.  The voice paused in the aftermath, took a deep breath as if weighing up a matter of great importance, and then spoke once more.  

“I can do one thing for you, but I ask that you, in turn, do something for me.”

 “Name your terms.”  I did not know what I could possible do for this dream entity, and I did not care. This dream had become all too real and I would do anything to avenge Lena and Sergei.  I would sell my soul to the devil itself, if He did indeed exist.

“I ask of you that when you do find the Beast of Shades that you do not hesitate, you must destroy it immediately.”

I waited a moment, and when it was clear that this was the entirety of the voice’s request, I murmured in disbelief, “This is what you ask?” 

“Yes,” its voice slithered like snakes across my skin.

“Then we have a deal.  Now tell me, where do I find this creature?”

“Far, far south you will find a place where the sand runs red with blood, where the sun endeavors to burn out your eyes and the wind’s wish is to rake the flesh from your bones, there you will find it.  Seek out the place where a thousand souls call out for gore, where the walls ache with the sound of battle, where life and death and misery and glory are all that exists.  And remember our deal, young Realm Walker; do not disappoint me, for it will surely mean the end of you.”  With that the whiteness began to shrink away from me, and details of the room around me began to show through the l=luminescence.  I panicked and called out quickly, while I still had the chance.  

“What am I?”  The whiteness had all but faded now, and I saw a suggestion of a silhouette within it of a spider hanging by a thread.

“That is not for me to say… I suggest you hang your head and pray for answers.”

 I blinked.  It was the cusp of dawn, and already bird calls were ringing out.  I rubbed my eyes and sat for a moment, making sure I did not forget a single detail of the strange dream.  Making my way over to the window I stared out at the crops as they began catching the first weak rays of sunlight, and then I noticed something which gave me a sense of reoccurrence.  It was a spider, hanging in the shattered window, spinning its web.  I stared at it for a moment and it froze, and I could imagine we were staring at each other, sizing the other up.  A draught of air came out of nowhere and swept it out into open space, and it disappeared into the fields beyond, leaving its half-completed web suspended.  It glistened invitingly in the dewy morning air, ready to catch any unawares prey that may happen upon it.  I frowned, picked up a broken table leg and destroyed the web, wrapping its entirety around the wood, and then hurled it, hoping that some freak chance would see it crush that little spider into oblivion.  I looked around, saw that our home was still destroyed as I remembered it, and knocked on Mother’s bedroom door, then prepared Irinei for our travels. The mission began, now.

Though the years had been hard, we had banded together in times of danger and need.  She was sixteen now and had become a woman in many aspects, she was taller now than her mother, with the same dark beauty that caused many men in the village to be envious of Alexander’s nights.  The years of trekking had tanned her skin darkly, had fashioned her physique into one of muscled athleticism and all the horrific and challenging events of her life had made her tougher than she should have ever had to be.  

Three winters had passed and things had changed.  The desire for revenge had ceased burning like an inferno; now it was a thing of buried embers, almost forgotten, yet the slightest disturbance could still bring that vengeful fury to the raging to the surface.  Memories of that day refused to leave me and often ran through my mind during the day and dreams of a night as if taunting me, never allowing me to forget.

I realized that the intense cold that I had acclimatized to over the course of my life had gradually lessened as the weeks became months, the months passing by into years.  We had trekked over the mountainous rages known as the Urals. Upon coming to the boundary of the black sea, I constructed a makeshift raft and oar.  I rowed without pause for weeks on end, pushing myself to the brink of an exhaustion that never fully came.  I reached land and hit the ground running.  I was alive like I had never been, my destination closer with every step. I marveled at what I came to next. It was a dense forest, mainly coniferous but also populated with deciduous beech, poplar, walnut and oak. Completely untouched by man.  

I fought wild boars, bears, lynx and leopards, as well as hungry wolves.  None of them stood a chance.  The climates changed.  The flora and fauna changed as surely as the seasons drifted by.  I passed villages with buildings and temples constructed in ways that intrigued me.  Inhabitants of these villages often seemed as if they belonged from a different world, their garb and languages complex and foreign.  I could not comprehend the ways of these people much of the time.  I did not want to.  I only needed to continue; and as I did, the world around me continued to change.  I drifted like a ghost, driven by the inexplicable need to keep heading south. Eventually I reached a land that seemed as to be on the opposite end of the earth to Tula.  The snow, the blizzards, and the extreme cold of my birthplace had been replaced with a land of sand storms, a seemingly never-ending desert, and an unrelenting and merciless heat.  Intense sun coloured my flesh.  And this, I realized, was my destination.  

The natives were Arabs, and they travelled on strange, hump-backed creatures that I came to know as camels; animals bred to survive in a land where water sources were few and far between. The natives themselves possessed dark olive skin and dark eyes; as a people they were mysterious and foreboding in their energy.  They wore full-body robes to protect them from the sand and the damaging effects of the sun.  They mostly travelled in small nomadic groups.  These were the Bedouin.

I found them to be extremely hospitable.   I found I had only to drink water, coffee or tea with a tribe, or kiss their tent, to secure welcome and sanctuary for three and a third days without question.  I became friends with the members of one particular tribe who insisted I stay longer.  Their kindness was disarming, and I had grown weary of traveling, so I acquiesced.  The tribe consisted of three families, a total of thirty-two people. The longer I spent with them, the more I grew to love them.  In a way, they became my second family.  They marvelled at my size, the colour of my skin, the lightness of my eyes.  I quickly learned their language.  I told them stories of my childhood, about Tula, about a land of snow and cold. They would gather around me, listening in wide-eyed wonder, and asking the most endearing questions.  

“What is snow?” asked Omar.  One of the youngest, he reminded me of Sergei. I was especially fond of him, though it sometimes pained me to look into his eyes, to see a reflection of the same youthful innocence that little Sergei had possessed.

“Snow, young Omar, is very, very cold water.  Imagine an almighty rain of cold water, so cold the particles have ceased to vibrate, and fused together with other drops of rain.”

“Does it not cause pain?”  Asked Ramadan.  At the age of more than sixty years, he was the senior member of the tribe. He had a thick beard, whiter than grey, and his long hair was in itself akin to a shock of snow.  He had quick, intelligent eyes, and a rapier wit to match.   

“Sometimes, yes, the snow falls hard and sharp.  Other times it floats from the heavens with a soft and tenderly caress.”  

Ramadan’s eyes twinkled as he rocked himself on his chair.  “Much like a woman, eh Volodimer?” he grinned.

Everyone laughed, even the ladies. Shortly they ushered the children to their straw mats, sensing the talk becoming bawdy.  Ramadan and I were left to speak alone, strong native liquor fuelling our words and building a sense of empathy between us.  We spoke for hours until I judged the time right to delve into a matter of great significance.  I leaned forward, almost conspiratorially.  

“Tell me something friend.  I have heard stories; tales of a place called the Blood Pit.”

Ramadan’s face stiffened and I pressed on quickly, sensing his immediate discomfort.

“You were once a famous figure in the same place.  Many say you were a legend of sorts, an undefeated champion of the combat arena. I wish to enter this place, this Blood Pit.  I wish to fight on the sands of combat.  I need you to show me the way.”

Ramadan cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand.  Old, faded scars criss-crossed it, resembling jagged forks of lightning, frozen in time. He cleared his throat, almost unable to speak for a moment.

“The blood pit, you wish to fight within this place of horror.  Ach, the feeling of invincibility youth breeds- it seems like many lifetimes since I was filled with the same foolish mindset.  You know not what you ask.”  

“Please… you must tell me,” I pressed. The old man’s grizzled face bunched slightly, his eyes glazing over in thought.  

“Volodimer, listen to me.  It is no glorious thing to slaughter one’s fellow man.  Especially not when it is for the amusement of others.  I fought purely to buy myself and my family out of slavery.  What can you possibly hope to gain from this?”  He spoke softly but his tone carried strength.

“I would seek an audience with the King of this land.  There is something inside of me that compels me to stand before him.  I have travelled many long years, and lately I have had… visions, of sorts.  They compel me to seek out the arena of death, and from there, the King.”   

“Please Volodimer, ask me no further of this place.  It is unholy and reeks of death, of greed and corruption.  You would best avoid it at all costs.  The man you seek is known only as the Sheik, and his desire for power is exceeded only by his reputation for acts of wanton bloodlust.”

“Very well, friend, I respect your wishes, and will ask no further.”  

He visibly relaxed at this.  “I only deter you from this course of action out of friendship, Volodimer.” 

I placed my hand on his shoulder, the sinewy muscle under his robes still evident even at his old age.

“Give my love to the young ones, Ramadan.  I leave at once.”  I stood and turned, quickly making my way from the tent so as not to prolong the old man’s concern.  I had gleaned from his mind the location of the Blood-pit, and I began the long trek toward it.        

Chapter Four : 1856

Berserker

The unwashed masses of the Great Desert had claimed me as a hero, of sorts. A champion of the Blood-pits. I was a demon in mortal form, some whispered. My true identity was unknown; I had not been seen without my great bronze helm, completely obscuring my face. So, the people bestowed upon me a title, befitting my nature in combat.

They called me, simply, ‘Berserker’.

Thousands of people travelled from all across the land to witness me fight in the arena. They journeyed for days, weeks, in order to see if the tales were true. To behold the true ferocity that none could comprehend without seeing with their very own eyes. Entire villages would travel in great convoys, making the perilous trek over and through the most unforgiving terrain. To see me fight, maim and kill. With the spectators came fighters also, combatants of all sorts, from all over the world, wishing to challenge me… I had taken on an almost iconic status to those wanting to prove their mettle in battle. All so far had fallen.
And now, once again, I hear them cry for me. The sound waves echo through the passageways, reverberating through the thickest of stone, to reach me in my underground abode.
They chant the moniker, over and over, like a thunderous war cry. “Berserker! Berserker! Berserker!”
The first time I heard the chant was less than a year ago. It had made me feel almost sick to my stomach. Now I have become accustomed to it. I barely hear it. They cry for the Berserker. In doing so, they cry for death, for blood, gore and chaotic brutality.

It was early morning. A bell sounded, some time before the day’s combat. I lifted my helm from a wall mount and paused, surveying my surroundings. The granite walls were imposing. Impenetrable. A basket of fresh berries, fish and fruit sat in the corner, next to a pitcher of ale and another of water. The room itself was no more than eight by six feet, with little clearance above my head when standing. It was buried deep beneath the arena in a maze of tunnels and passageways. I lifted the helm over my head, quickly fastening the leather straps to the heavy bronze armour I wore always. I knew in advance what awaited me.

There would be a fierce sun, blinding light reflecting off the sand, off the walls. And the ever-present, merciless wind, whipping the minute particles of sand up into the air, creating swirling patterns of chaotic frenzy. As if possessed by a spiteful demon of the elements, the sand lashes savagely at the combatants. It stings painfully at exposed skin, and chokes those who breathe deeply. It strikes savagely like needle sharp daggers into the eyes of the unlucky, causing horrible pain, and for some, blindness.
When I first stepped foot into the arena two years ago, I it seemed as if I had stepped directly into purgatory. Even now I could not bring my senses completely immune to these horrors.
Two years… It seemed more like two lifetimes. I had fought, and beaten, hundreds of opponents. There was, it seemed, none who could best me.

I reached up and flicked my thumb over a catch in the wall. A brick to the right of me creaked. I made my way over to it and grabbed the granite edges with the tips of my fingers. It slid out of its concealed niche smoothly. Behind the hidden wall lay my weapon of choice. It was heavy- at least two hundred pounds. Measuring from end to end it was longer than most men.
Constructed purely of rock, it was my preferred method of despatch in group fights. It was heavy enough so that only I could use it, and to devastating effect.

In little time I had made my way to the thick metal gate, shielding myself from the expanse of sand that made up the Arabian blood pit. Waiting for me was Abdul. Standing at over six feet he was broad and dark, with a keen eye for trouble. He had been my gate sentry ever since my very first fight.
“What now, Abdul?” I prompted in the native tongue, hoping for some prior information on my adversaries.
“Six men of ebony skin, savages from the west. They are of little threat; they wield crude spears and are here merely for the entertainment of the audience.”
I could see them now in my mind’s eye. They stood close together in a small, dark room of stone. Their faces were grim, and they prayed silently to their gods for strength and courage. They wore only brief coverings fashioned of animal hide; the majority of their beautiful black skin exposed. They had little doubt as to their fate, and a pang of guilt struck me. I quickly forced myself to push the images out of my head. I did not wish to build any emotional rapport with these men. A coldness settled within me. For another day, at least, I was the Berserker.
“Another thing. You face a contender from the far east, a strange figure dressed completely in dark cloth. Like yourself, this one also covers their face.”
That was most strange. Contenders usually fought for the opportunity to garner recognition and adoration, feeding pride and ambition. I spat against the wall, caring little.
“Say no more. I stand ready.” Gripping the leather-bound hilt of the mighty stone axe, I waited for Abdul to open the gate. Ducking to walk under the low clearance, I scuffed into the sand. The crowd erupted. The sensory feedback was exactly as I had predicted.

On the opposite side of the cylindrical arena, another gate opened. The crowd erupted once again. My opponents slowly made their way onto the field, looking around and tasting their own perceptions of the blood-pit for their very first time. The slaves blinked to clear their vision, theirs steps erratic and unsure. Looking across the arena they saw me for the first time, a veritable giant clad in armor and bearing an unfeasibly large axe. Their faces showed an instant and intuitive fear. They made small utterances of disbelief and took small steps back, seemingly in unison. From behind them a figure disengaged from the shadows, gliding forward with a fluidity of movement I had never before encountered. The figure, no more than five and a half feet in height, made a small motion to the slaves to stay where they were. The crowd went quiet, as intrigued as I was by this mysterious stranger. I began to make my way into the centre of the arena, the Armor making my footsteps heavy. Clump. Clump. The sound of my mass on the hard-packed sand combined with my visage usually froze my opponents to the spot, but this stealthy foe showed no physical sign of fear whatsoever.

A feeling took hold of me, leaving me with the certain knowledge that this was no man I faced, but a woman. She came closer, moving like a shadow; like a gentle breeze, her footsteps leaving no mark on the sand. We reached the centre in unison, neither of us making move to attack. The people in the stands began to voice their discontent, slowly at first, then with increasing volume and pitch. Still neither of us made any threatening movements. The stranger stood only slightly out of the potential range of my axe, regarding me with the same level of intensity as I regarded her. Without warning, a word was thrown into my mind like a dagger.

Dorokusai

The call jammed my thoughts in an instant. No, not a call, it was a mental assault. I staggered, numbed by the word I had not whispered through my psyche since the day of Bolar’s appearance.
Then without warning, her attack came. With a flash a wicked looking curved blade, roughly three feet in length, appeared seemingly from thin air. The shadow leapt forward in a blur, striking diagonally in a lightning fast sweep. I almost did not see the strike, still reeling from the mental bombardment, and I managed to step out of harm’s way purely out of instinct.

The sword turned at an impossible angle and swung again. It’s fiercely sharp edge audibly hummed through the air, not just a length of metal but an extension of my attacker’s body. I raised my axe with not a moment to spare, only barely managing to parry the attack. Once more the sword flashed, instantly changing course and being drawn into a ready position. The small wielder of this incredible weapon then sprang up and back, turning like an acrobat up high in the air before landing softly on the sand, a full twenty feet away. I gasped in amazement. The entire attack, from beginning to end, had occurred in the space of a heartbeat. The crowd roared their approval. Rarely before had a single foe given the fabled Berserker even the slightest pause.

A touch of hot air passed my neck. A realization crept over me. The sword had pierced the tiny opening in my armour that separated helm from chest plate. I had been hit, a near fatal wound, without my awareness! The helm was loose now, the straps the only thing to be cut, the blade missing my skin by the smallest fraction. My vision impaired, I realized I would have to abandon my helm altogether.

The crowd hushed as I removed the heavy bronze helm, tossing it heavily to the side. Never before had I shown my true visage in the arena before, and a murmur of amazement passed through all those assembled.
“Who are you?” I demanded of the black-garbed assailant.
“I am just like you, Volodimer.” As I had gauged, the voice that rang across the open sand was female, only raspy and muffled from the cloth over her mouth. “I am Dorokusai, and I have come to pass judgment. Defend yourself with all your skill if you hope to see the light of the coming day.” With that she vaulted high into the air. I looked up and was dazzled by the sun, her figure only a tiny speck barely visible before it’s brilliance. “This is not possible,” I thought to myself. Squinting my eyes, I looked upward once more, seeking out her point of trajectory. A peculiar sound, like a sudden release of air, pierced the atmosphere. Once more battle instinct kicked in and I dove to the side, collecting the abandoned helm and gathering it to myself as I rolled and extended, launching into a fast sprint. The ground behind me exploded in a sudden plume of smoke and fire, the sand scattering in a five-yard radius.

Looking back, I saw the shadowy fighter land in a light tumble, springing like a cat to her feet, sword at the ready. I quickly changed the direction of my run and at the same time threw the bronze helm like a great metal discus directly at her. Without pause she leapt directly at the small meteor. There was a flash of light and the helm separated into two pieces, both of them veering separately to either side of her body as she harried onward. I swung my bulk and, using the moment of her action against her, brought the great stone axe down and across, a cut intended to separate her torso in twain. The axe passed through thin air, landing hard in the sand before I realized what had occurred. The female was running up the length of the axe’s handle, the sword flashing across at me. I fended the cut with my forearm, the sharp metal glancing off my forearm bracer. Once more I attacked, this time a straight right fist that landed with a satisfactorily meaty thump upon the face of my attacker. It was followed by a left hook, which she managed to evade. She threw her sword to the side. “Let us fight unarmed, then, Volodimer of the Axe.”

This small utterance was followed by a speedy volley of kicks, three in quick succession, all of them hitting me at the same point of impact. A wound opened above my brow and began to bleed at once. I was caught unawares by a strange, circular movement of the deadly woman’s hands. A deadening sensation of impact echoed through the dense armour covering my side. Suddenly I was pitched backward. I landed heavily, the air rushing from my lungs in a heavy whoosh.

“Remain where you are.” I had little choice. My limbs were virtually paralysed. My entire body had been rendered immobile.
The sun burned my eyes as I lay on the sand, no noise reaching my ears save a deep throbbing from my brow. A shadow covered the sun. Like a solar eclipse she filled my vision. Crouching down, she placed her gloved hand over my sweaty forehead, her fingers coming away bloody. A pair of slanted eyes, dark like polished onyx, regarded me with a gaze of intense interest. Her words, when they came, were spoken slowly and in measured tones.

“You are here out of a foolish desire for revenge. I can see no future for you if you follow this path. I will return when and if you can let go of this mortal emotion, only when you seek your true destiny.”
She rose up, out of my vision, and once more the sun blinded me. After a moment the numbness left my limbs, and I was able to stand once more. The crowd murmured amongst themselves in disbelief.

“The Berserker has been defeated!” “The small stranger has crushed him!”
My anger rose, a small note of dissention at first, snowballing as the comments continued. Picking up my axe I noticed the group of black men staring at me, wondering what my next action would be. The woman was nowhere to be found. Damn the gods! I lifted the axe, funnelling my fury into it. I brought it down and across, letting it swing in a wide arc, and then I simply let it go. It screamed across the arena, leaving a vortex of disturbed air in its wake. I turned my back and walked back to my private dungeon. The sound of destruction barely registered in my mind, and I did not turn to see the remains of the slaves, a mass of bloody pulp and twitching body parts, intermingled with the stone axe still embedded in the sandstone wall. A cheer went up from the crowd as Abdul allowed me back into the darkness of the underground maze, an expression of curiosity and fear painted on his face.

The Berserker was still the king of carnage, but for the moment Volodimer had more to think upon.       

Chapter Five : 1868

Hallowed be the name of Azrael… the blood runs through the veins of all his offspring, our clan Dorokusai.
My name is Volodimer. I have been known by many names. The Axe. Beserker. Nomad. Devil. Son. Brother. Sinner. Death. The clan Dorokusai can trace its roots all the way back to the First Family. The Dorokusai known as Azrael began to document his story on clay tablets many thousands of years ago. Throughout the centuries there have many receivers of the blood, the heritage.

Some have been immortalized as not only perfect warriors. We have had poets, philosophers, astronomers, mathematicians, creators… and destroyers. I have, over the long course of my life, read through and studied much of the documents and diaries of my spiritual ancestry. Held in an ancient vault in one of the clan estates are all that has ever been written by the Realm Walkers. This journal I begin will be placed with all the rest, for the bearers of our heritage to learn and benefit from. Through these words will they know me and through them will I live on in mind and spirit.

The clan Dorokusai can trace its roots all the way back to the First Family. The Dorokusai known as Azrael began to document his story on clay tablets many thousands of years ago. Throughout the centuries there have many receivers of the blood, the heritage.
Some have been immortalized as not only perfect warriors. We have had poets, philosophers, astronomers, mathematicians, creators… and destroyers. I have, over the long course of my life, read through and studied much of the documents and diaries of my spiritual ancestry. Held in an ancient vault in one of the clan estates are all that has ever been written by the Realm Walkers. This journal I begin will be placed with all the rest, for the bearers of our heritage to learn and benefit from. Through these words will they know me and through them will I live on in mind and spirit.

A disruption had occurred, a long time ago, which had polluted the essence of all that is holy. I stalked the macabre source of this disruption. In my dreams l had hunted this one for long… a beast of cruel drives and ceaseless hatred. Born human and long since passed to the other side; this one was living out a pact with death. My path on this night was clear and without remorse, though whatever would happen from here, none could say. The Guardian of the Eighth Realm is demanding of its champions, and they move in uncertain ways. As the moon grew before my eyes the wind caressed me gently, carrying with it the scent of my quarry. For thirteen years, three days and two nights l had tracked this wraith that called itself Bolar, and now, at long last, l had finally drawn close.

I reached for my flagon and took a long draught. The mix of spring water, pulped berries and absinthe worked its way down to my innards where it mixed with my bloodstream, alighting core receptors behind my eyes. Closing them, l breathed a prayer of protection and mentally shifted from the physical world into the spirit world. The dull lights of lost souls and disembodied ghouls solidified before me, and all around the atmosphere took on an eerie green hue. As always in this realm my presence did not go by unnoticed. Mentally connected now with both physical and spirit worlds l could hear the whispers of the night travel at great speed, shooting out like a barrage of arrows in all directions, all transmitting the same message: “Volodimer is here…Volodimer has arrived.” Gritting my teeth l reached behind and grasped my familiar axe, the mighty Demon Cutter.

Echoes of memories played on the fringes of my mind. These were not my memories though. While the axe is not a living organism as such, it possesses about it a basic psyche. While in the spiritual realm the axe and I become an integrated whole, and as such share thoughts and emotions. Though its true origins are shrouded in myth, I knew that the axe was designed and created for a sole purpose- the destruction of supernatural fiends. This made the axe and I a match made in heaven. The axe yearned consistently for the kill, and I craved the death of all demons in this world, one appetite feeding the other.

The weeds in this field were long and swept my legs, almost as if they possessed a life of their own and wanted to drag me down. The spirits of the night rose and passed by, haunting the fields where years ago they were cut down from this mortal plane. Old spectres roamed, unseeing and without intention, focused on a lifeline that did not exist and that bore no impact on reality any longer.

As l tracked my target, the strangest sensation passed over me. I halted at once. Looked around. The sensation passed as quickly as it had come. I could see nothing that could have triggered it, save the ceaseless movement of these intangible figures. My vision focused on one of them, perhaps thirty feet away from me. He seemed to carry with him an internal light, a glow that the others did not. And then, with another rush of this peculiar sensation, the figure also stopped, turned, and looked directly at me!
Even though there was a distance between us there was no mistaking the look of recognition in his eyes as he began, slowly, to walk toward me. It seemed he was sizing me up and considering how best to approach this new situation. I wondered briefly, “how must I appear to this man? Does he see me as a ghoulish apparition as l see him?”

“Who goes there?” he demanded.
I was stunned- he had awakened to my presence! Though his image blurred and indistinct, I could make out a young man with long golden hair, loosely braided. The crude armour and heavy broadsword he wore indicated a time hundreds of years ago, but when? The ghost had a strong, smooth face and piercing blue eyes that regarded me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. I decided to make contact.

“I am a friend, young one. My name is Volodimer and I am a nomad, a traveller. I seek to bring no harm or danger.”
Still he stood there on guard, motionless. I took a small step forward.
“Do you have a name, young one?” I began to take another step forward and then stopped as he stiffened with fear.

“Stay where you are!” The voice quavered with fear. As I looked closer, I began to see more of his features, almost as if he were growing in detail with every passing moment. His eyes kept going to the axe in my hands.
“Demon cutter,” he breathed quietly. He knew! I felt a wave of uncertainty. What was going on here? None of this made sense. Human souls do not interact with the living of their own free will! What to do? The figure was now backing away slowly, not taking his eyes away from the battle-axe in my grip. So, lifting the weapon up and securing it once more at my back, I moved forward hesitantly.

“Look, the weapon is away. I mean you no harm, I merely wish to speak with you,” I offered. The light inside of him began to slowly increase in intensity. It seemed as if all the light around us were dimming and he in turn were absorbing it, and the brighter he became, the more anxious he grew. My mood, however, was darkening. My patience with this disembodied spirit was wearing thin and it seemed as if this were becoming a situation that would not be quickly resolved. I was not in the habit of entertaining lost souls at the best of times, and this fearful creature was delaying my true mission. I had not forgotten that with every moment I wasted, Bolar was out there wreaking death and pain among the innocents that I was created to protect. I was determined that Bolar would not escape.
“Speak now, damnable creature or away with you!” I thundered.

“You are the man known as The Axe? The man who destroys demons and hunts down the evils which plague us?” He seems less fearful now, more…excited, almost. The light within him dims once more to a dull glow.
“Aye, I am all these things and more. I am on the hunt now, and though you have piqued my interest, I must delay no longer. Tell me who you are and how it is that you know of me.”
“My name is Darius sir,” the spirit said.
My anger had subdued somewhat by this stage, but I was now unsure of whether to continue with this mystery or to head off once more after Bolar. His scent was growing fainter with every passing moment and I could ill afford to allow much more time to pass.
“I know of you because you are the stuff of legends,” he exclaimed, seemingly in awe.

My curiosity was bubbling; none of this was making any logical sense. I found myself desperately wanting to ask “How is this possible when you lived your life hundreds of years before I ever existed? You cannot possibly know of me, for in your lifetime I had not yet come into being!”
He looked at me patiently, waiting for me to speak. I decided to err on the side of caution and say nothing for the moment, for to inform a spirit that they are physically dead and no longer belong of this earth can lead to altogether unpredictable outcomes. We stood no further than five feet apart at this point. Beyond this spirit before me lay the open field, with dense forest at the edges of the clearing. It seemed this field was used for the grazing of cattle at some time in the past, but now it lay dormant and devoid of life. Angels sang their hymns above, their music filtering down through the heavens to be heard only faintly by my hyper-natural ears. The sky was breathtaking in its clarity, even through the emerald mist, and it seemed you could almost reach out and touch the stars above. We stood there and absorbed the fullness of this moment, neither saying anything, both of us closely linked on the universal consciousness.

Then, softly, there was a dull rumble on the ethereal plane. Darius cocked his head as if attempting to physically hear this ethereal disruption. The hair literally stood up all over my body as a wave of static electricity overtook me. The rumble was growing stronger in power, and as Darius looked at me I felt once more the strange sensation I had felt earlier, something I had yet to define in nature. Something I had in all my years of supernatural dealings never before encountered. This, in itself, disturbed me greatly.

We both sensed the approaching energy of something cataclysmic in nature, and my hand instinctively crept toward my back where Demon-Cutter was resting in its sheath. The axe was tingling with the anxious anticipation of battle, and as I released it from the leather restraint, waves of blood lust overtook me. I shuddered in shock. Demon-Cutter was alive in a way that was totally alien to me. Darius took a step back, his fear obvious as my frame absorbed the gothic power. As I looked into his eyes I siphoned his thoughts, and for a brief instant I had a complete understanding of what this creature known as Darius consisted of. The tremendous energy I had tapped into, combined with the power of the axe, had heightened my psychic senses to the nth degree. I was at once Darius and Volodimer, existing both in my own body and his body simultaneously. His molecules for a split second vibrated on the exact same frequency as my own, and time ceased to be. The purity of his soul came rushing through me with such force that I physically doubled over.

“What is happening?” I wondered. Raising the axe before me I witnessed something that by all rights should not have been.
Emanating from the ancient runes inscribed along the surface of Demon-cutter was a glowing blue light, throbbing in perfect synchronicity with the building ethereal disruption. The ground began to shift, the soil billowing skyward intermittently. The forces at work here were completely unknown to me. Sweat began to bead across my forehead as I fought to maintain a sense of equilibrium. Whispering a silent prayer of protection, I knelt down and brought the haft of Demon-Cutter to rest on the ground, then placed the flat edge of its mighty blade against my forehead.

Contact

The world around me began to fade and then slowly drew back from my vision, leaving a void of white nothingness in its place. The colours of the outside world melted past my peripheral vision, until finally there was naught around me but an infinite emptiness. Rising from my kneeling position I stood and gazed around. This was the place the old ones named “the Sanctum,” though it was more a state of being than an actual place. The Sanctum existed in the space between the moment to moment of life. If life were a film, the Sanctum would be the infinitesimal space between the frames. In this place the future, the past and the present were no more than childish concepts. The basic principles and theorems held in support of a fully functioning universe were meaningless.

I called out a silent command. Out of the void the shapes of the reality I had left behind began, once more, to become visible. I stood there and held witness to the whole landscape reforming. Still frozen in time, the shapes of the trees became sharper, as did the clouds and the forms of the wandering ghouls. Like a rough line drawing all of these shapes were forming before me, on an infinite white canvas. My vision focused. Out of all these shapes, one would lead me to the source of this disturbance. I knew from experience that ethereal disruptions of large scale did not occur as course of nature. From my toes to my head, every muscle in my body tightened in anticipation.
“Come to me, by the power of the infinite, reveal yourself”,” I growled. I wanted to get to the bottom of this. Demon Cutter and I ached for it.
A light flashed, and directly before me before me was the one shape I sought, the answer to my question.
Darius.

“This is what you seek, fool Volodimer,” whispered an ancient voice, belonging to an entity so old that it had no title, and was thus referred to as “The Ancient,” or Orulum as it preferred.
“Speak not harshly of a diligent servant of our mutual master, wise Orulum.” I spat out in contempt.
“I can see there is no love lost between us, though your mortal words would have me believe otherwise. I had thought that there would be a direct correlation between both the memory and the lifespan of the Dorokusai. Though you outlive the wretched human race by at least a half-century, you still are as short lived to me as the ant is to you.” The words of Orulum were whispered with tones of scorn that cut gaping holes in my spiritual armour.
“Be silent now, old one! Do you have no respect for the Hammer of Yaueh?” I bellowed.
“I respect only that which I fear… nothing more.” Orulum spoke these words with quiet authority.
“Pray tell, wise Orulum, what is your subject of interest in this matter? The old ones do not make contact with their servants without reason.” I was now speaking in a way that conveyed the respect commanded by one such as He.

Orulum was silent for a moment, a heartbeat that defied definition of time. Though the relationship between Orulum and myself was tenuous at best, the boundaries that separated Dorokusai from Archangels always prevailed. I had long since learned that the puppet does not continue once its strings have been severed. To press for answers would be counter-effective, and very possibly dangerous. And so, I waited for a response, knowing that patience and respect were my greatest allies.
“Look closely, Volodimer of the Seraphim”, hissed Orulum, “for your eyes may yet perceive what your heart already knows. Do not shrug aside the most obvious solution, as it is most often…. the correct one.”
The most obvious answer…Darius…Bolar…Etheric disturbance…the answer was close, intangible, and just beyond reach.

Even now, Darius could not believe it. The giant, Volodimer, had been standing right before him. This creature, this man who had up until now existed purely in the form of stories and legend, had been conversing with him. He shook from head to toe. That their time together had been so brief was regrettable, the manner of Volodimer’s leaving- unbearable.
“I must go”, he had uttered. The strange storm had left as quickly as it had begun, receding back across the plains until it was nothing more than a memory. The earth had ceased to quake, and the air had reclaimed its eerie green darkness, a stark contrast to the angry purple hue that had enveloped the atmosphere mere moments ago.

And then Volodimer was up and leaving, and Darius” soul cried out in pain.
“Do not depart and take with you this great awakening!” Darius pleaded sharply, as Volodimer turned and sheathed once more his mighty axe. Suddenly desperate, reaching out imploringly.
“Please, I beg of you, do not leave!” Still Volodimer did not respond, but only moved away, head down, face grim, eyes set on the direction of his prey.

Darius, angry now, “You appear, bringing to my attention this dimension of strange and wondrous things such as I had only dreamed of; and then just as quickly you leave, closing this world once more, so that I may only possess this faint memory of what may be…”

Volodimer felt torn, the mystery before him somehow linked with his hunt for Bolar; and he could not shake the strong feeling that to abandon Darius would be folly, the words of Orulum still echoing in his mind…
“Do not abandon me Volodimer,” Darius whispered to the wind.

Guilt pressed on me…. Possessing immortal wisdom had instilled an unwavering intuition in me, and hard that I may try to ignore it, always the intuition overrode the mind. It had always been so throughout history, with every ancestor who bore the blood of Dorokusai. I stopped once more. Stilling myself, I gazed ahead at the brilliant stars, absorbed in their lustrous beauty. My sight was returning to the realm of the human world, and once more the earth was bathed in the arctic blue glow of the stars and the shining light of the earth’s moon. Filled with peaceful resolution I doubled back, my heart pulling me to my next destination, my choice made.

Off in the distance I spotted him, staring off into space seeing only violent red flashes of internal anger. Such strong emotion I could feel even from a distance. When I drew near, I made a small noise to alert him to my presence. Darius was jerked out his thoughts. After only a quick moment he collected himself and snapped to attention. I was surprised at the speed with which he had changed, both physically and emotionally. I could sense that his anger had immediately reverted into an almost neutral expression at the sight of me standing before him. It was, I had thought at the time, a strange, and almost unnatural change, especially in short space of time. Who, or what, was this creature?

\
“Hail, Volodimer of the axe.” His voice was disinterested. I frowned and scratched my head. What on earth was happening? If only I had the answers, all of the answers. Unfortunately, it was never quite that easy to make sense of the spiritual world that lay in between the other realms. Even the Dorokusai could encounter new problems, which we did, on many a frequent occasion. We were the primary arm of Yaueh, yes, but infinite wisdom was not part of the deal.
I cleared my throat. “Now hear me Darius and hear me well. You have presented me with something of a mystery. I must admit to you that something in this entire scenario in which I find myself does not make sense. Ah yes, I confide in you quite frankly that at this moment I am quite simply puzzled, and while I desire the opportunity to delve further into this mystery, I must also continue on with the mission at hand.” Darius stared at me with uncertain eyes, and I could smell his hope bubbling just beneath his calm exterior. His innate curiosity indicated to me that he would like me to continue. I took a deep breath. I had never been as unsure of any decision I needed to make. Not for a long time. The devil on my shoulder was gouging deep metaphorical wounds of uncertainty in my mind. “No”, I thought. Follow intuition always. No regrets, no dwelling in the possibilities. It was time to set the final ball rolling. I stepped up closely to him, bending down enough to meet his eyes. Our faces were mere inches apart. I had a brief flashback of our unintentionally mind meld. I hoped I was doing the right thing.
“So, it seems to me that the only option that remains open to me is to keep you close whilst in pursuit of my target, at least until I can reach some kind of resolution.” Darius looked up, eyes shining with instant exhilaration.
I continued on. “I need to study you, and I suspect you would desire also the opportunity to study me”- (Darius nodded in affirmation) – “So follow me as best you can, and we shall observe together where this strange twist of fate leads us. Are you in agreement?”
“As you wish, master Volodimer.” Darius could not quite believe this sudden turn of events, and to be quite honest, neither could I. But the decision had been made, and as the say, the die had been cast. Exactly where this new tangent would take me, I would not have ventured to guess, and if I had, I am positive I would have been terribly, horribly wrong….
So, with that I pivoted and immediately set off once again, taking great strides at what would have been for Darius a blistering pace. But keep up with me he did, and as I cantered through the lush forest I heard him running behind me, silent except for the sound of his breathing, and his extraordinarily light footsteps. Then again, I was dealing with a spectre, though one that seemed to be anchored strongly to the physical world. Ah well, another time to get into these sorts of questions.
The forest was brightly lit by the moon, making it easy for me to pick out Bolar’s virtual trail of destruction through the dense undergrowth. A broken twig here, a footprint in the mud there, and the strengthening residual scent of foulness. Fresh on the hunt once more I fell into what the Dorokusai call the “Primal State.” Unbeknownst to me at that time, the Primal State was destined to become controlled and integrated into a system of Demon tracking by Khan, my spiritual son, in many years to come. But for now, the Primal State was a savage and animalistic state of being, and that was exactly what I was experiencing. And I revelled in it. Every sense was heightened, my body reverting to some pre-human genetic memory. I began to lope rather than run, my neck craning forward as I lost myself in the electricity and sheer thrill of this animalistic state. I was the wolf, my lupine teeth forcing their way out of my gums into a wicked and hideous parody of the were-wolf. I was the owl, my eyes scanning ahead for miles, talons tearing free from beneath fingernails. The night air electrified me, and I never wanted it to end. Adrenaline pumping, nerve endings firing, muscles elongating and contracting. I was the Beast of the Axe, and Bolar was locked in my sights.
Darius was, understandably, terrified. And after the first hour, exhausted.
“Please, Volodimer, I must stop…at least for a short while.” Darius was doubled over, panting like a wounded dog. Humans, I have always thought, are such frail creatures.
With a silent mental command, the Primal state immediately reverted, bringing me back, at least superficially, to some semblance of humanity. With the change (and the absence of pain numbing endorphins) came a searing ache in my gums as the lupine fangs receded back into their hidden cavities. I had to rub my hands together to stem the trickle of blood, as talons forced their way back into their organic sheaths.
“Very well. As it stands, we have made some acceptable progress this night.” I was lying. The scent of Bolar would be very faint indeed if left too long.
“Shall I gather some kindling for a fire, master?”
“No fires. We move silently and without illumination.” Darius was still breathing heavily, his long flaxen hair plastered to his sweaty brow. I studied him intensely. He stood just over six feet in height and was of a lean but muscular build. He had a pale face, covered in sweat (I didn’t think spectres sweated? Strange, yet another mystery to add to the mix of Darius.) He bore marks of combat. His face was marred by old scars, every one of them a badge of conflict.
He was shining perhaps not as brightly now as he had earlier, but the spiritual effects of the mix in my flagon had long worn off, so I did not reflect too long on this. Strangely, the longer I spent in his presence, the more solid he seemed to become. After a couple of minutes in which Darius’ breathing had returned to normal, I broke the silence.
“So Darius, why not tell me something of yourself?” At this point the young man had seated himself, cross legged, on the earthen floor. He was engrossed in the night sky, made vivid by a complete lack of light for miles around.
“What is it that you would like to know?” He was looking at me with wide eyes, his aura faintly pulsing with a hue of innocence.
“Why don’t you start with the year of your birth, tell me a little of your childhood, other such things. I need to understand who you are to decipher this mystery that confounds me, you see?”
Darius slowly nodded his understanding. And with that, he began.
“I was born in the year of 1702 AD, as far as I know.” I suppressed any signs of expression on my face. So, he had lived over a hundred years ago and he possessed no knowledge of his passing over to the other side. Obviously, something was anchoring him to the physical world, and with such strength that I had not before witnessed. He sat before me almost as vivid and tangible as the tree he leant against, and the question was- why was he here? What had he yet to achieve, or what was he waiting for? All these thoughts passed through my mind within the space of a heartbeat, and as he continued I once again willed my mind to fall silent.
“I was born an only child. I never knew my mother. I am told she died when I was only very young. I do not remember her at all.”
“My father was a mercenary. He did not tell me anything of what he did, but as a result of his career choice, all through my childhood we travelled constantly. He did his best to raise me into a good, strong man, though I am sure he found it terribly difficult at times. I had a hard upbringing, and when I was young the children taunted me for being an only child, for not having a mother… I found these jeers and insults painful always, and maybe for that reason, and because of the constant travel, I never seemed to make any friends when I was growing up. I was always alone. My father was unapproachable, and only on hand to give discipline whenever he felt it necessary. I suppose that some good did eventually come of all this suffering, however. I learned how to maintain always a shield of strength, and I gradually learned to fight. I assume that through a combination of the bullying of other children and the beatings I received from my father I became somewhat impervious to pain.”
Darius abruptly stopped talking and stared into space, looking at nothing at all, rather reflecting on this part of his life. I could not help but feel sympathy for the poor young man, I too knew the pain of being different.
“Please, Darius, continue,” I said.
“I do recall a changing point in my life. There was this one child who seemed to find particular pleasure in making my life as unpleasant as possible. My father and I had just moved into a new province, and as always, I was finding it impossible to fit in. As I was saying, this child, Manfred was his name, he was always at my throat, so to speak. We attended the same school; my father had the spare resources to send me to the best centres for learning everywhere we went. I had the good fortune to receive a thorough education up until I reached the age of sixteen, at which time I began my military service.”
“As I was saying, this Manfred and his friends would beat me up on the way to school, in between classes and so forth. After a couple of weeks of living in terrible fear I decided no, I would take no more. I could not live with myself, and I could not live with such constant terror. It was quite literally terror, you understand. So, I decided to take circumstances into my own hands.” Darius looked down at his knuckles, the scars criss-crossing them in jagged lines.

ell. You have presented me with something of a mystery. I must admit to you that something in this entire scenario in which I find myself does not make sense. Ah yes, I confide in you quite frankly that at this moment I am quite simply puzzled, and while I desire the opportunity to delve further into this mystery, I must also continue on with the mission at hand.” Darius stared at me with uncertain eyes, and I could smell his hope bubbling just beneath his calm exterior. His innate curiosity indicated to me that he would like me to continue. I took a deep breath. I had never been as unsure of any decision I needed to make. Not for a long time. The devil on my shoulder was gouging deep metaphorical wounds of uncertainty in my mind. “No”, I thought. Follow intuition always. No regrets, no dwelling in the possibilities. It was time to set the final ball rolling. I stepped up closely to him, bending down enough to meet his eyes. Our faces were mere inches apart. I had a brief flashback of our unintentionally mind meld. I hoped I was doing the right thing.

“So, it seems to me that the only option that remains open to me is to keep you close whilst in pursuit of my target, at least until I can reach some kind of resolution.” Darius looked up, eyes shining with instant exhilaration.
I continued on. “I need to study you, and I suspect you would desire also the opportunity to study me”- (Darius nodded in affirmation) – “So follow me as best you can, and we shall observe together where this strange twist of fate leads us. Are you in agreement?”

“As you wish, master Volodimer.” Darius could not quite believe this sudden turn of events, and to be quite honest, neither could I. But the decision had been made, and as the say, the die had been cast. Exactly where this new tangent would take me, I would not have ventured to guess, and if I had, I am positive I would have been terribly, horribly wrong….
So, with that I pivoted and immediately set off once again, taking great strides at what would have been for Darius a blistering pace. But keep up with me he did, and as I cantered through the lush forest I heard him running behind me, silent except for the sound of his breathing, and his extraordinarily light footsteps. Then again, I was dealing with a spectre, though one that seemed to be anchored strongly to the physical world. Ah well, another time to get into these sorts of questions.

The forest was brightly lit by the moon, making it easy for me to pick out Bolar’s virtual trail of destruction through the dense undergrowth. A broken twig here, a footprint in the mud there, and the strengthening residual scent of foulness. Fresh on the hunt once more I fell into what the Dorokusai call the “Primal State.” Unbeknownst to me at that time, the Primal State was destined to become controlled and integrated into a system of Demon tracking by Khan, my spiritual son, in many years to come. But for now, the Primal State was a savage and animalistic state of being, and that was exactly what I was experiencing. And I revelled in it. Every sense was heightened, my body reverting to some pre-human genetic memory. I began to lope rather than run, my neck craning forward as I lost myself in the electricity and sheer thrill of this animalistic state. I was the wolf, my lupine teeth forcing their way out of my gums into a wicked and hideous parody of the were-wolf. I was the owl, my eyes scanning ahead for miles, talons tearing free from beneath fingernails. The night air electrified me, and I never wanted it to end. Adrenaline pumping, nerve endings firing, muscles elongating and contracting. I was the Beast of the Axe, and Bolar was locked in my sights.

Darius was, understandably, terrified. And after the first hour, exhausted.
“Please, Volodimer, I must stop…at least for a short while.” Darius was doubled over, panting like a wounded dog. Humans, I have always thought, are such frail creatures.
With a silent mental command, the Primal state immediately reverted, bringing me back, at least superficially, to some semblance of humanity. With the change (and the absence of pain numbing endorphins) came a searing ache in my gums as the lupine fangs receded back into their hidden cavities. I had to rub my hands together to stem the trickle of blood, as talons forced their way back into their organic sheaths.
“Very well. As it stands, we have made some acceptable progress this night.” I was lying. The scent of Bolar would be very faint indeed if left too long.

“Shall I gather some kindling for a fire, master?”
“No fires. We move silently and without illumination.” Darius was still breathing heavily, his long flaxen hair plastered to his sweaty brow. I studied him intensely. He stood just over six feet in height and was of a lean but muscular build. He had a pale face, covered in sweat (I didn’t think spectres sweated? Strange, yet another mystery to add to the mix of Darius.) He bore marks of combat. His face was marred by old scars, every one of them a badge of conflict.

He was shining perhaps not as brightly now as he had earlier, but the spiritual effects of the mix in my flagon had long worn off, so I did not reflect too long on this. Strangely, the longer I spent in his presence, the more solid he seemed to become. After a couple of minutes in which Darius’ breathing had returned to normal, I broke the silence.
“So Darius, why not tell me something of yourself?” At this point the young man had seated himself, cross legged, on the earthen floor. He was engrossed in the night sky, made vivid by a complete lack of light for miles around.

“What is it that you would like to know?” He was looking at me with wide eyes, his aura faintly pulsing with a hue of innocence.
“Why don’t you start with the year of your birth, tell me a little of your childhood, other such things. I need to understand who you are to decipher this mystery that confounds me, you see?”

Darius slowly nodded his understanding. And with that, he began.
“I was born in the year of 1702 AD, as far as I know.” I suppressed any signs of expression on my face. So, he had lived over a hundred years ago and he possessed no knowledge of his passing over to the other side. Obviously, something was anchoring him to the physical world, and with such strength that I had not before witnessed. He sat before me almost as vivid and tangible as the tree he leant against, and the question was- why was he here? What had he yet to achieve, or what was he waiting for? All these thoughts passed through my mind within the space of a heartbeat, and as he continued I once again willed my mind to fall silent.

“I was born an only child. I never knew my mother. I am told she died when I was only very young. I do not remember her at all.”
“My father was a mercenary. He did not tell me anything of what he did, but as a result of his career choice, all through my childhood we travelled constantly. He did his best to raise me into a good, strong man, though I am sure he found it terribly difficult at times. I had a hard upbringing, and when I was young the children taunted me for being an only child, for not having a mother… I found these jeers and insults painful always, and maybe for that reason, and because of the constant travel, I never seemed to make any friends when I was growing up. I was always alone. My father was unapproachable, and only on hand to give discipline whenever he felt it necessary. I suppose that some good did eventually come of all this suffering, however. I learned how to maintain always a shield of strength, and I gradually learned to fight. I assume that through a combination of the bullying of other children and the beatings I received from my father I became somewhat impervious to pain.”

Darius abruptly stopped talking and stared into space, looking at nothing at all, rather reflecting on this part of his life. I could not help but feel sympathy for the poor young man, I too knew the pain of being different.
“Please, Darius, continue,” I said.
“I do recall a changing point in my life. There was this one child who seemed to find particular pleasure in making my life as unpleasant as possible. My father and I had just moved into a new province, and as always, I was finding it impossible to fit in. As I was saying, this child, Manfred was his name, he was always at my throat, so to speak. We attended the same school; my father had the spare resources to send me to the best centres for learning everywhere we went. I had the good fortune to receive a thorough education up until I reached the age of sixteen, at which time I began my military service.”

“As I was saying, this Manfred and his friends would beat me up on the way to school, in between classes and so forth. After a couple of weeks of living in terrible fear I decided no, I would take no more. I could not live with myself, and I could not live with such constant terror. It was quite literally terror, you understand. So, I decided to take circumstances into my own hands.” Darius looked down at his knuckles, the scars criss-crossing them in jagged lines.

ell. You have presented me with something of a mystery. I must admit to you that something in this entire scenario in which I find myself does not make sense. Ah yes, I confide in you quite frankly that at this moment I am quite simply puzzled, and while I desire the opportunity to delve further into this mystery, I must also continue on with the mission at hand.” Darius stared at me with uncertain eyes, and I could smell his hope bubbling just beneath his calm exterior. His innate curiosity indicated to me that he would like me to continue. I took a deep breath. I had never been as unsure of any decision I needed to make. Not for a long time. The devil on my shoulder was gouging deep metaphorical wounds of uncertainty in my mind. “No”, I thought. Follow intuition always. No regrets, no dwelling in the possibilities. It was time to set the final ball rolling. I stepped up closely to him, bending down enough to meet his eyes. Our faces were mere inches apart. I had a brief flashback of our unintentionally mind meld. I hoped I was doing the right thing.

“So, it seems to me that the only option that remains open to me is to keep you close whilst in pursuit of my target, at least until I can reach some kind of resolution.” Darius looked up, eyes shining with instant exhilaration.
I continued on. “I need to study you, and I suspect you would desire also the opportunity to study me”- (Darius nodded in affirmation) – “So follow me as best you can, and we shall observe together where this strange twist of fate leads us. Are you in agreement?”

“As you wish, master Volodimer.” Darius could not quite believe this sudden turn of events, and to be quite honest, neither could I. But the decision had been made, and as the say, the die had been cast. Exactly where this new tangent would take me, I would not have ventured to guess, and if I had, I am positive I would have been terribly, horribly wrong….
So, with that I pivoted and immediately set off once again, taking great strides at what would have been for Darius a blistering pace. But keep up with me he did, and as I cantered through the lush forest I heard him running behind me, silent except for the sound of his breathing, and his extraordinarily light footsteps. Then again, I was dealing with a spectre, though one that seemed to be anchored strongly to the physical world. Ah well, another time to get into these sorts of questions.

The forest was brightly lit by the moon, making it easy for me to pick out Bolar’s virtual trail of destruction through the dense undergrowth. A broken twig here, a footprint in the mud there, and the strengthening residual scent of foulness. Fresh on the hunt once more I fell into what the Dorokusai call the “Primal State.” Unbeknownst to me at that time, the Primal State was destined to become controlled and integrated into a system of Demon tracking by Khan, my spiritual son, in many years to come. But for now, the Primal State was a savage and animalistic state of being, and that was exactly what I was experiencing. And I revelled in it. Every sense was heightened, my body reverting to some pre-human genetic memory. I began to lope rather than run, my neck craning forward as I lost myself in the electricity and sheer thrill of this animalistic state. I was the wolf, my lupine teeth forcing their way out of my gums into a wicked and hideous parody of the were-wolf. I was the owl, my eyes scanning ahead for miles, talons tearing free from beneath fingernails. The night air electrified me, and I never wanted it to end. Adrenaline pumping, nerve endings firing, muscles elongating and contracting. I was the Beast of the Axe, and Bolar was locked in my sights.

Darius was, understandably, terrified. And after the first hour, exhausted.
“Please, Volodimer, I must stop…at least for a short while.” Darius was doubled over, panting like a wounded dog. Humans, I have always thought, are such frail creatures.
With a silent mental command, the Primal state immediately reverted, bringing me back, at least superficially, to some semblance of humanity. With the change (and the absence of pain numbing endorphins) came a searing ache in my gums as the lupine fangs receded back into their hidden cavities. I had to rub my hands together to stem the trickle of blood, as talons forced their way back into their organic sheaths.
“Very well. As it stands, we have made some acceptable progress this night.” I was lying. The scent of Bolar would be very faint indeed if left too long.

“Shall I gather some kindling for a fire, master?”
“No fires. We move silently and without illumination.” Darius was still breathing heavily, his long flaxen hair plastered to his sweaty brow. I studied him intensely. He stood just over six feet in height and was of a lean but muscular build. He had a pale face, covered in sweat (I didn’t think spectres sweated? Strange, yet another mystery to add to the mix of Darius.) He bore marks of combat. His face was marred by old scars, every one of them a badge of conflict.

He was shining perhaps not as brightly now as he had earlier, but the spiritual effects of the mix in my flagon had long worn off, so I did not reflect too long on this. Strangely, the longer I spent in his presence, the more solid he seemed to become. After a couple of minutes in which Darius’ breathing had returned to normal, I broke the silence.
“So Darius, why not tell me something of yourself?” At this point the young man had seated himself, cross legged, on the earthen floor. He was engrossed in the night sky, made vivid by a complete lack of light for miles around.

“What is it that you would like to know?” He was looking at me with wide eyes, his aura faintly pulsing with a hue of innocence.
“Why don’t you start with the year of your birth, tell me a little of your childhood, other such things. I need to understand who you are to decipher this mystery that confounds me, you see?”

Darius slowly nodded his understanding. And with that, he began.
“I was born in the year of 1702 AD, as far as I know.” I suppressed any signs of expression on my face. So, he had lived over a hundred years ago and he poss