Aletheia Chapter one

Aletheia
Chapter One

Darkened hearts breed cloudy minds. ~ Henner the Wise


Walking.  Walking. Everywhere desolate.  Everywhere the fruits of despair. Every day walking. Wandering. Hating. 

Ruined. Ruined. All is destroyed.  All is hopeless. All others that were are departed. Every day walking. Wandering. Hating.

Nothing. Nothing. No buildings.  No birds singing. No phones noisily ringing.  Just walking. Just wandering and hating.

No hope.  No joke! And the one present speaks.  His voice musical and grand. Like a mighty river pouring over a precipice, his soliloquy falls.

And so the world croaks
Like a toad when it is squashed.
That one I do hate.
That one who  speaks of love and then destroys all who dare defy.

I know the truth and the truth imprisons me.
Selfish am I
says that one.
King I shall not be;
Creator of life I shall not be
says that one.

Destroyer of the world
is that one.

Choice given, more followed me have they.
Few trusted the way of that one.
Vile book had it not been for thee,
all mine would they have been.

Stuck am I.
HERE!
On this damned rock.

That one shall not be.
Demonstrate shall I
that hate be strong.

The cosmos
it be that one's.
HA!
No one's it shall be.
I killed that one once.
Those three will I kill now.
Fall shall they.
Blood will flow again once.
Once the metropolis comes down.

Plead shall that one.
"Mercy!"
shall that one scream.
All lost shall be.
And all for greed.

I shall not rule.
Neither shall he!

         Darkness flies in the air as the speaker grows silent. The atmosphere thickens and compresses the air.  Lightning strikes.  A tree splits and begins to billow almost imperceptible black smoke.  There is no rain anymore. Neither is there any sun to be seen. Only lightning reveals the darkened world. 
 
         For many years, the soliloquy speaker has wandered in the dark.  Noting the ruin, which he had caused.  He would never admit it, but he had been wrong.  Pride had filled him, and he rose against the one that had not only proclaimed love, but also given love.  He charged the innocent with attributes he himself was guilty of.  He would not give in, though all was lost.

         Nothing escapes the dust smothering the world. He hasn't either,  though his form is not much unlike the dust.  For he is a mystery.  A spectral free moving form. Dark as the night he flows.  Bright as the sun he goes.  A mystery.

      Mysteries are an enigma.  They were designed by the mighty king to serve in his court, though in practice their employment is very broad.  They are shape shifters in that they can take physical or spiritual form.  They have many unique abilities which caused them to be feared and respected.  What they are, exactly, is enigmatic and steeped in legend.  Let it suffice to say that their name fits.

         He is not alone on the planet.  His collaborators also roam the ruined rock. They are fellow mysteries. Yet, their companionship he seeks not. They are weak.  They are fearful.  He will settle with them later, but now he plans. 

         He plans the final battle.  He knows the city as well as the king himself.  He knows it is seemingly impenetrable.  So, he makes plans.  Plans of what technologies he may employ to get through the defense.  Somehow, he persuades himself that he can in fact take the kingdom by force.  It will be difficult but he has the drive necessary to overtake the very throne room of the mighty king.

         In addition to scheming, he remembers. He wanders the dark planet, going from place to place.  He has been in every region, and his efforts produced great effect wherever he was.  Now, he recollects all that has been done.  All he did.  All his enemy did.  All everyone ever did. It is hard for him, even him, to take it all in.
         
      And yet, the memories flow.  Recollections of the previous epochs stream into his mind in a single file line.  One after another, they blast his consciousness into the realm of memory.  In a dreamlike state, he swans over a mountain of debris.  All the tragedy piling up in his psyche.  His twisted and deranged thoughts hold no remorse, only an emotional disappointment at his own failure to succeed.

         You see, he had not counted the cost at all at first.  He had only thought of rebellion without planning his own government.  He was jealous and thought more highly of himself than he ought.  He was certainly beautiful, intelligent, and grandiose in every way, but he had been given all those things by the mighty king.  All Mysteries were designed and made by the mighty king himself. 

         Though he was given life by the mighty king, he wanted more.  He held the highest position, standing in the throne room next to the king daily. Yet, he was not content in his position.  He wanted to be part of the king's innermost circle.  He didn't care that no one except the three was in the innermost circle. He wanted to be equal with the three. 

         At present, he was desperate to throw himself into the highest position by any means necessary.  He was at the end of his time and deep down in his soul he knew it. He knew that the king was coming and he was going to die for his crimes, but he was determined to make the three pay as well.

         From this hopeless position he positioned himself with hope.  Spurious hope.  Hope which was to be mightily razed in the coming days.  Yet, he grabbed hold of the hope. He believed that perhaps he was mightier than the mighty.  He believed he could stand alone. 

         The time would come for him to stand before the mighty.  The king would return to the world one more time.  It would be his final chance. The final act would commence as the city landed on the great plain. He would be ready to make his penultimate stand.