07-03-2014, 05:29 PM
That night, Nikolai sat in his office to sort out these epiphanies. This was not the office of the Ascendancy, the room broadcast around the world as his seat of executive authority. This was the office of Nikolai Brandon: where Nik studied, thought, and escaped from the burden of the public eye. He was not particularly alone, never alone. His own thoughts were broad enough to constitute a whole second person, but power was his company. It surged through him when he glanced up to grapple a book from the shelf. It delved molten through his soul when he laid in bed and traced lines through the stone walls and molded what was once rock, cement, and stone into single slabs. This office, dim, cool, clean and quiet was his haven, his refuge. CSS agents stood outside, guarding the primary portal in and out. He could hear them once in a while when one came to trade off with another or during routine check-in's with Kremlin Security Command.
The weight of centuries loomed overhead, the burden of an empire literally positioned on his shoulders, but he bore it like the black robes of his Atharim initiation. It felt right.
He was usually a quick and efficient bather. He preferred order and cleanliness and took comfort in the routine that saw him clean, bright-eyed and ready to sleep, but this night he stood in the shower distracted by thoughts. What was he to do with the thousands of potential ... what to call them? Gods? Demigods? Ascendants? Certainly not brothers. Another may wield the sustenance of existence as he did, but none were his equal. He knew it in his heart. He was distinct. The first of them. The first and greatest god to walk the earth. It was not arrogance, it was simply fact.
His thoughts turned to the scars as they often had of late. The current Regus had not sent any more assassins. Was he cowed as Nikolai intended? It was hard to believe of a Regus. If the present one was anything like Wilhelm Rahvid he would be ruthlessly dedicated to his goal. Wilhelm had tracked his son's murderer from Bologna to the deserted peaks of Siberia. Their mutual astonishment was forever enblazened in Nik's memory...
Nikolai sat behind the wooden gates of the Datsan grounds, aching from being seated on a hard floor for hours within the three-tiered temple itself. He was a disciple of the Buddhist philosophy of Vajryana then: a simple, solitary individual who sought reconciliation between himself and the ability to manipulate existence. Ritual and meditation had been his practice, but attainment of enlightenment was never the goal: Nikolai already existed within the body of a deity, but his body was failing despite the will to survive. His third time poisoned by his own power, he needed help.
A man of seeming agelessness with a stern voice of a frozen river stood before him. 'Vajrayāna is the fastest method for attaining Buddhahood, Nikolai, but for unqualified practitioners it can be dangerous. From the time you resolve to accept initiation, the utmost sustained effort to devotion to the path is essential.'
Nikolai dipped his eyes in respect. 'I accept the dangers. I will die if I do not.'
His mind swayed, his head throbbed, and sweat poured down his brow despite the falling snow. Desperately ill for the third time in as many months, the man who would become his esteemed lama, or teacher, led him away.
'You must attain the vinaya of emptiness. Only then will you learn to control it.'
He raised a hand at Nik's start. 'Not yet. When you have recovered, you will begin upon the path.'
So long did he stand in the shower, lost in thought, that the water had wrinkled his hands and the steam rolled so thick he could not see across the room. He turned off the water and stepped out.
Long ago he ceased the need for meditation. As easy as breathing, threads of power curled through the room and the steam rolled in upon itself until it disappeared.
Hair still dripping and a towel around his waist, he did not so much as take the time to dry himself off before approaching a workstation, where, within a few keystrokes, he put in the order to summon Michael Vellas first thing in the morning.
The weight of centuries loomed overhead, the burden of an empire literally positioned on his shoulders, but he bore it like the black robes of his Atharim initiation. It felt right.
He was usually a quick and efficient bather. He preferred order and cleanliness and took comfort in the routine that saw him clean, bright-eyed and ready to sleep, but this night he stood in the shower distracted by thoughts. What was he to do with the thousands of potential ... what to call them? Gods? Demigods? Ascendants? Certainly not brothers. Another may wield the sustenance of existence as he did, but none were his equal. He knew it in his heart. He was distinct. The first of them. The first and greatest god to walk the earth. It was not arrogance, it was simply fact.
His thoughts turned to the scars as they often had of late. The current Regus had not sent any more assassins. Was he cowed as Nikolai intended? It was hard to believe of a Regus. If the present one was anything like Wilhelm Rahvid he would be ruthlessly dedicated to his goal. Wilhelm had tracked his son's murderer from Bologna to the deserted peaks of Siberia. Their mutual astonishment was forever enblazened in Nik's memory...
Nikolai sat behind the wooden gates of the Datsan grounds, aching from being seated on a hard floor for hours within the three-tiered temple itself. He was a disciple of the Buddhist philosophy of Vajryana then: a simple, solitary individual who sought reconciliation between himself and the ability to manipulate existence. Ritual and meditation had been his practice, but attainment of enlightenment was never the goal: Nikolai already existed within the body of a deity, but his body was failing despite the will to survive. His third time poisoned by his own power, he needed help.
A man of seeming agelessness with a stern voice of a frozen river stood before him. 'Vajrayāna is the fastest method for attaining Buddhahood, Nikolai, but for unqualified practitioners it can be dangerous. From the time you resolve to accept initiation, the utmost sustained effort to devotion to the path is essential.'
Nikolai dipped his eyes in respect. 'I accept the dangers. I will die if I do not.'
His mind swayed, his head throbbed, and sweat poured down his brow despite the falling snow. Desperately ill for the third time in as many months, the man who would become his esteemed lama, or teacher, led him away.
'You must attain the vinaya of emptiness. Only then will you learn to control it.'
He raised a hand at Nik's start. 'Not yet. When you have recovered, you will begin upon the path.'
So long did he stand in the shower, lost in thought, that the water had wrinkled his hands and the steam rolled so thick he could not see across the room. He turned off the water and stepped out.
Long ago he ceased the need for meditation. As easy as breathing, threads of power curled through the room and the steam rolled in upon itself until it disappeared.
Hair still dripping and a towel around his waist, he did not so much as take the time to dry himself off before approaching a workstation, where, within a few keystrokes, he put in the order to summon Michael Vellas first thing in the morning.