The First Age

He was frustrated. Not at her. At himself. The roots are deep. They permeate his mind and heart, wind and travel through every vein, every muscle, pulsing, feeding and corrupting. And he cannot see any of them until her words uncover it, lay it bare to the light.

The silence lingers, as he thinks on her words. Because they go to the core. "What is it you really want in life?"


He stares at her. To answer is to confess his sin again. "I only ever thought of being a hero. The slayer of the dragon. For my name to live on as the one who brought freedom. It was my prophesied destiny.

And he sees the point and is ashamed to say it. "I did not consider protecting my people from the fallout of my actions. I did not care that the Atharim scattered and burned to the ground. I did not think on the other gods or the chaos that would ensue in the power vacuum of his death. I claimed to protect, but I only wanted glory."

The greatest shame of all. "I was a boy, rash and arrogant, acting without thinking of the consequences. I was not a leader. Not a savior. I was not a true Atharim."

Somehow, she knew. In the bowels of the earth, this girl had learned sacrifice. Not dramatic sacrifices born of hatred and fear. Even difficult ones. But the sacrifice that came of responsibility.

In his mind, he saw her rage at Illarion, chuckled as he saw her slash at him. Rage and fire and love and tenderness. There was a balance to be found, here.

He shook his head and smiled at her. "I understand why you named me awakened so quickly. To know ones sin is only the first step. The easiest, in fact. Because it is the rooting out of that sin that takes the life time of struggle. I will fall, many times. But I vow I will never stop trying."

So....to her question. One he never considered before. "I have never looked to the future, beyond my immediate goal. I was a weapon with no life beyond my purpose. I have forged the Atharim to be only that. But you are right. It is not enough to kill the danger. Until that danger is gone, we must protect and shield them. We must consider the future of the world we intend to create."

He felt odd. For all his talk about protecting mankind from the gods, he cared little for people's individual lives. They were tools, allys or enemies. Expendable on a whim. Again, he saw Punit's face, heard the snap. And he felt deep shame.

He betrayed what he claimed to believe. He had betrayed the Atharim. His failure very nearly doomed the world.

Did he even want a crown? The roots were still strong. For a moment, he saw the clearing, felt the crown in his hand.

But with the pride now came guilt. Not like this. Not now. Not if he would be what he was meant to be.

He looked at Valeriya again. Anew. Her hair was tangles, her clothing rumpled and formless. And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She was a queen. He'd told her that before. His queen. His. Owned. No. She was more than that. Redemption, for a man who had never before sought it.

He held out his hands to her. "You are not MY queen. You are the queen. You will be a queen. The mother of this people. Not as a gift from me. But because it is already who you are. I will rule by your side, to shelter and preserve humanity from the dark."

He suppressed any twinge of pride. He had to rip this thing out of him. It had cost too much.
Edited by Regus, Jan 2 2018, 12:24 PM.

She smiled in satisfaction. He was beginning to understand. "Honor your sin, Armande, for only the sinful can repent. Only those who were asleep can be awakened. 'Life is but a dream from which we must all wake,' so say the Khylsty. Now that you are repented. Sin no more!"


"Now what will you do first, beloved?"
Her brows lifted in eager anticipation of his first proclamation as a true Khylsty.

Her smile was enough. He was Awake.

The room was quiet as he thought on the future. So much to do. For them to do. Him, first, of course. This was his world, not hers. He had to prepare the way before her, prepare her. She needed to learn the ways of the Above. He saw the way she and the others all looked at his wallet, at the medicine. Technology was magic, to them. But they would learn.

Apollyon lived. Somehow, though dead, he was alive again. Worse, the power and and awe he commanded had grown as a result of his attack. (He bit back the self-recrimination that wanted to spring up again. The words she had just spoken were still clear in his mind. "Honor your sin, Armande, for only the sinful can repent."
)

Instead, just as before, something about Apollyon tickled the back of his mind. He held on to the thread carefully, not pulling on it for it to snap away, lost deep in the recesses of his mind. No, he let his mind relax for a moment, dwelling on the thought that had triggered the reflex. Let the thread relax and pool and strengthen. Apollyon lived after being killed. Had grown in prestige. He had the thread now, was able to follow it.

And inwardly he smiled.

Clever. So very clever. The deathstroke of the Beast; his descent into the abyss, and then his return to life. And the whole world was filled with wonder and awe and followed the beast. Obvious.

There was still much for them to do. This was not a single battle, not against one man. It was a war and there were sides. In the ancient histories, the Atharim led the fight. But humanity had joined the cause.

For too long, the Atharim....he stopped himself. Valeriya was there, watching him. Waiting. And once again, he was plotting on his own. Old habits, he thought wrily. "Apollyon is worshipped as a god, now more than ever. The Atharim are scattered to the wind. And we Khylsty are few in number. We will need to build ourselves up, bind ourselves together. First, Khlysty, then the Atharim. After that, we will need inspire others to join us. This is not just our fight. It will not be won by us alone. Mankind against the gods. With us at the helm."

He saw red at the corner of his eye, saw the bloodstone on the floor where he had dropped it. He reached for it and handed it to her. "You are the key. You hold the key. The things in the boxes, the map. Your visions. They will guide us. We can go outside, today, you and I. So you may see your vision begin to become reality."

There was something else. He shifted forward, reached out to take her arms in his, his hands on her forearms and hers on his, leaning forward. Her eyes filled his. "I am Khylsty. But the others do not know this. The traditions must be honored. The rituals kept. First, I must be bound to them in whatever initiation ceremony you have. Let Matvei or any of the others never be able to say that I am not a part of you. That we are not one."

And then he smiled wickedly, let her see the desire for her smoldering deep in his eyes, ready to burst into a fiery furnace. Felt her legs against his, saw her inviting lips. His voice was deeper and huskier. "And then, when you are ready, I must be bound to you and you to me."


Edited by Regus, Jan 2 2018, 09:30 PM.

The Khylsty and Atharim would be bound together. Then Valeriya and Armande would be bound together, the purest of Khylsty bound to the leader of the Atharim. Therein, their two peoples would be one. Valeriya believed that Rasputin reborn was Khylsty, but Armande was right, the others did not know his heritage like she did. He took her hands and she welcomed the touch. "I don't think you understand, Armande. There is no joining the Khylsty. We were born in the dark. We existed below and those who were among us were all there were. Nobody has joined the Khylsty since Rasputin took us below."
Before that there must have been a way to become Khylsty, but Valeriya did not know it. "The others will accept you because I accept you."
She stepped close. There was only one way to be bound together. Radenyi.

He frowned down at her. He'd thought that when they came of age they might have the equivalent of a christening, a mitzvah, a holy dedication. When did they take their wounds? The burns on Illarion's face. A missing tongue. Castration. Were these not part of such a ceremony?

Still, they were her people. And he knew she would not hide the way from him, if there had been one.

Her hands were in his, rough and calloused and yet tender for all of that. She stepped close into his space. He felt the heat from her against his bare chest.

Was this invitation? His eyes searched hers for a clue. The emerald dark green eyes held no clear answer. Perhaps she did not know. At times, he felt she was his Hydra, for him to wrestle and fight, only for him to be bitten again and again by a head he'd missed.

And he relished the thought, that imagery. Such a woman was a leopard, a lionness, glorious. But beyond the fight and all it represented, he could see something far deeper. A potential for something great. Two people, complete equals, with strengths and weakness, challenging, pushing each other, helping the other to grow. Supporting the other. A worm of pleasure wound its way up through his chest, spread downward at the same time. A true partnership.

Bound, all as one. Support. Was there something she needed from him?

He paused, remembering, a memory tickling the back of his mind. They were in the cavern of the Sacred. She was sharing their history. "I am untouched by radenyi still."
Had there been a whistfulness there, in her eyes? In that word? Still.
It seemed to hang in the air. Again later. "Radenyi is sacred."
Sacred to the Khylsty...And yet it was denied her. She was of the group, leader, Eye of the Khylsty, and yet not fully allowed to participate. Did she long for it?

Their sacred ecstasy. That was how they were bonded as one. The idea was familiar anthropologically- many cultures living in deep isolation and hardship found in the ritual the bond to give them strength and purpose- and yet....It was deeply, profoundly and personally so very alien to him.

There was an element of submission in the ritual, of surrendering completely something very private for all to see. Neither was a thing he ever felt comfortable with. Neither submission nor surrender. Indeed, that was the entire point of the ritual, the complete subsuming of the individual into the group. Total one-ness.

And it has been denied her.

He couldn't help but notice his heart was beating faster. Was this something he could do for her? He took a deep breath, searching his heart.

Was he strong enough, to help her achieve this long held dream?

To be bound as one to this people....to this single woman...this Valeriya....

"Radenyi?" was all he said as he stared down into her eyes, looking for the flash of light that said he was correct.


Edited by Regus, Jan 5 2018, 12:30 PM.

Her eyes burned like green fires. To hear the word pass his lips spread the fire over her skin. She smiled a dark smile, but her voice deepened with reverence.

"Radenyi is sacred, Armande. The Eye watches over, but cannot participate. Rasputin was a seer, too. From his seed came the first Eye, a daughter. Daughters ever since have become the next Eye. Do you understand?"
Whoever was the Eye harbored the child that would become the next. Children among the Khylsty were dangerous. Too many would overwhelm the group, but too few would lead to their extinction. Of them all, though, no children were more important than those born by the Eye.

"The womb of the Eye is like holy ground. Only a chosen seed can enter it. My partner will be selected by the whole group to be the father of the next Eye. Don't you understand? That is why Illarion intervened. It is why I am untouched. My partner has not yet been chosen."


She gripped his hands fiercely. "They have to choose you."
Desperation thrummed her voice. She would be devastated if anyone else but Armande was chosen.

At her words, Armande felt something tearing at his insides and rage threatened to overwhelm him. No! NO! His eyes gripped hers, holding them tightly. He would not let go, not now. He remembered Valeriya above, her screams at Illarion when she had been ripped away from him. "You dare to tell Rasputin what to claim? You?...Armande is MINE! You WILL NOT take him from me!"


Now it was his turn, as he felt the possibility that she could be wrenched from his grasp. Worse, that she would be another's. Violently, viscerally, he rejected that thought with every fiber of his being. It will not happen. His hands gripped hers as fiercely, a growl emanating from his chest. "They will not take you from me! You are MINE!" He took a breath to calm himself. His heart thundered, the galloping of a thousand horses.

"They <strong>will choose me,"</strong> he said simply. Fact. It would be fact. Fate and God and the universe might have a hand in what was happening, but he refused to believe he had no say in the matter. Even Valeriya knew the need to act when opportunity presented. It had been she who orchestrated the Exodus, despite the losses to her people.

"You and I might only be part of a larger vision. But I believe in that vision. And I do not believe that we have no say in making the vision a reality. You will be mine and I will be yours. This I vow." And God help anyone who thought to keep them apart.

His eyes burned with blue fire, blazed, and he bent down and kissed her hard on the mouth, a strong kiss of promise.

And then he pulled away reluctantly, going over what to do in his mind. He had shed the Regus. He had left the idol. That didn't mean he didn't have a role to play in their beliefs. He paused, looking at his old armor and tunic on the ground, his blades. He could present himself to them as he had first appeared to them. Demand as Rasputin returned.

But this would be delicate. Could be delicate. To walk the line. He had no desire to kill any more than strictly necessary. None, if it could be helped.

It felt strange but even as he thought and planned, he seemed to split into two people. Armande considered his words and arguments even as he slipped on a simple cream colored tunic and pants. He still put his heavy boots on, though. And it only took a moment to decide to reach into his pack and pull out his gun and slip it into his pocket. They knew blades. He had not seen any firearms among them, however. The ones outside were locked in their cases.

The other Armande paced and seethed, an animal, hungry, raging. The lizard brain, the limbic system. All of his most base desires and hungers vied for control, all seeming to revolve around this woman and the group that would control her. He wanted to trample and to tear. He wanted to fuck and to feed.

Armande the mind calmed himself, readied himself and walked out the door to the outer room where the other Khylsty waited. He hoped Valeriya would be next to him in this. Armande the animal noted placements, where people stood, their body language. Armande the mind clothed himself with reason and logic, passion and persuasion. Armande the animal wrapped violence and death around him like a cloak.

The room quieted and he gave them all a genial friendly look. Not penitent. Despite everything that had happened, that was never a face he could wear.

"The Eye has seen!" he intoned. He looked at Valeriya with respect. "The Khylsty have returned to the Above after 140 years, seven generations. The time appointed has finally come. Here, from this birthing chamber, the Khylsty will soon burst into the world to take their place. We have come home."

His use of the word 'we' was purposeful and not lost on a few. "The Eye has seen. You have all seen her carvings on the wall depicting the return of Rasputin, the Father." He did not mention the face on the walls was his own. He did not make the claim himself. Without even saying the words, they would make the connection. Let others proclaim his identity. It was always stronger coming from others. "You will yet see her other visions of the Above and the Khylsty come true."

And now, he paused. This was the hard part. He had been Regus. But he had rejected the idol that had gone with it. This felt akin to the sow returning to the mire once freshly bathed. The dog returning to its vomit. But for him to claim the right of Bond with the Eye, he had to be what they believed him to be. He did not look at Valeriya.

Instead, he found Illarion's face. The man was somberly looking at him, but there was no hostility in it. He was sure of the answer. "Illarion, who do you believe I am?"

The man looked at his sister for a moment. Armande could almost imagine him making one final decision. If there was ever a time for him to make a play for her, it was now. Armande smiled at him, a brotherly smile. The future of the Khylsty is in your hand. It was trust. Faith. He hoped it was not misplaced.

"You are Father Rasputin, returned. And my brother."
Armande smiled at him even as he breathed relief.

"I am your brother." And he looked at another of the Khylsty. "And yours." And to another. "And yours." And then he quoted. "Look, my mother and my brothers and my sisters," as he spread out his hand to include them all.

"I am no longer just the Regus Armande Nicodemus, leader of the Atharim. I am Khylsty. I have Awakened, cleansed of my sin. I take my place among you as one of you in all things."

There was some commotion. They hadn't known what to expect.

He raised his voice. "This I promise you. What the Eye has seen will come true. The Khylsty were hidden for mankind's greatest need. You all have a destiny with us and with our people. All of us will be one!"

Matvei had been silent the entire time though his eyes glittered. He could sense the shifting in power. With Illarion's words, he had lost prestige. His last chance was coming. What choice would he make?

If there ever was a time for him to act, it would be now. Animal Armande hoped he would. He hungered to plunge his hands into the heart of anyone that would keep him from Valeriya, to rip it out, the still beating heart in his grip, blood dripping down his arms. To watch the brains spray out from the bullet, to feel the recoil in his arm and shoulder.

"I stand before you, brothers and sisters" his voice faltered. This was harder than he expected, these words. He changed what he was going to say. "I stand here, to claim my right to be bound to the Eye. Time has come full circle. She is the Mother. I have been proclaimed the Father. Ask her if she is willing. I am willing. Let the fulfillment of the destiny of the Khylsty begin with our union."

What that meant, he wasn't completely sure of. Not what they expected, surely. No seed would ever spring from his loins again. He had seen to that. He knew what that meant and would not unleash another god into the world. It had been the only way, after Lissandra.

More importantly, he knew that when the time came to tell Valeriya, there would be a price to pay. But he was willing to do what was necessary and pay the price for it later. This was no longer about preserving the line of the Eye underground. The time for fulfillment was here. The rules had broken.

He waited, watching. Animal Armande paced, ready to pounce.


Edited by Regus, Jan 8 2018, 01:15 PM.

The moment stretched out. Matvei's eyes seemed to scan the group, mentally taking a poll. He had his supporters. But success was hard to argue with. And he and Valeriya had led them to the Above, though no one truly knew what that meant, what awaited them.

More importantly, Armande saw Matvei looking in his eyes. They were blazing fires of blue. Valeriya was his. By right. By fate. By nature. Not a soul would keep them apart. Not in this world or any other. This was husband claiming wife. Lover claiming mate. Parent claiming child. Brother claiming sister. Friend claiming friend. It was tribal in that most basic bloody and animal way where humans showed themselves to be little more than primates themselves, the veneer of civilization ripped away to reveal the brutal selfish struggle of natural selection, life verses death, the selfish struggle of the individual gene. The tribe was all. Valeriya was his tribe. And no one would seperate him from hi tribe.

Certainly not this pathetic man in front of him. His eyes moved to the door and Armande knew that Valeriya was there, watching all. He smiled tightly.

Part of him thought this was ridiculous, pleading before a crowd for what was his right. He was an adult. She was an adult. Their bonding and coupling concerned no one but themselves. But this was a simple religious oligarchy. The teachings held everyone together. It governed all. In time, they would see how much more complicated the world was. But for now, he had to work within the confines of their group.

More importantly, faith governed her. It was the core of her. It was not false to speak her language, to align himself with her group. He did have belief, after a fashion.

There was one simple objective fact that was completely undeniably irrefutable.

He HAD been led down to them. They- more importantly, SHE-
had been waiting for him. And Valeriya was the companion and partner that he hadn't realized existed. Together, they would defeat Apollyon and the returned gods. Together.

Matvei swallowed faintly, so that Armande was sure only he saw it in the faint light. "Father Rasputin speaks truth,"
he said, perhaps a bit more weakly than normal. he swallowed and his voice picked up.

As the man spoke, he felt the tension leave his body. No blood would be spilled this day. The Khylsty would remain at their current number. "There can be no more fitting choice as consort for the Eye than Father Rasputin. So let it be decided."


A murmur of assent and that was it. They were not big on ceremonies, it seemed. Or else Radenyi superceded all. He looked at Valeriya. They had not even asked her assent. But she was willing, had said it was their choice. Part of him found it barbaric even as he rejoiced that it was done.

She smiled at him, green eyes burning brightly.

It was done.

He nodded and went to stand in front of her. They had no ceremony but he would say something- to her. He took her hands- her rough and hardworking, tender and small hands- in his, looked down at her, and spoke softly, voice low. This was no one's- not the Khylsty. Not God's. Not the universe's. It was theirs and theirs alone. No one defined them but they alone.

"I am yours. You are mine. Now and always." Simple. Direct. True.

And he bent down and kissed her lips tenderly.

((Valeriya modded with permission))

Armande was power and strength wrapped within the body of a man. No, he was more than a man. He was hers. The tenderness with which he drew her to him was short lived. The seduction consumed her. She transformed into the beast he found Below, though her body was clean and her hair was shining, she clawed at fresh blood. Where this being of power and death kissed her tenderly, Valeriya was his opposite, a being of ferocity and heat that was helpless as a pup in the Above. She coveted all that Armande was, and she drew him into her doing so would transfer all his power and death to her. This was her victory, and hers alone.