06-07-2018, 05:46 PM
She seemed disappointed that she couldn't offer him more. He considered her request.
"Perhaps I can get something of his. But not in time for this evening."
He was quiet, letting her words sink in. The vision spread like a fog through his mind, the vast forest. Apollyon on his knees. Defeated. He could see it. And it was glorious.
He thought over the last few weeks. His solidity and equilibrium was as strong as ever, now, a tree embedded deep into the bowels of the earth. He was rooted as never before in the destiny before them. Her vision made that certain.
He had been reborn in this very room, as Khylsty. "One that purges." "The Whip." An Atharim, but more. The Remnant that purges. A double edged sword, cutting both ways.
A line from Revelation came to him.
"I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. Coming out of his mouth is a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. He will rule them with an iron scepter. He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty."
And then Kalki Purana. The Great Chastiser Kalki, consort of Padma the Incarnation of Lakshmi, reborn to defeat the demon Kali at the last age.
"The ascetic prince, Lord Kalki will mount His swift white horse Devadatta and, sword in hand, travel over the earth exhibiting His eight mystic opulences. Displaying His unequaled effulgence and riding with great speed, He will kill the millions of those thieves who have dared dress as kings."
Distorted over time, of course, but even so, the similarities were there. There and in many other mythologies.
And yet he, in the depths of despair, had cast aside his role in a fit of pique. Childish pride, he thought disgustedly.
Purged now, of such infantile reactions, he was more focused than ever. Iron changed into steel. His intensity had only grown stronger.
That day had been pain and pleasure all in one, Valeriya the chastiser, the whip, then, words a lash that ripped great strips from his back, tearing away the filth and dross that covered him, leaving him bleeding and naked and stripped of falsehood. His Padma. His Lakshmi.
The day she became his and he hers. His Consort.
Even as he remembered it, an idea came to him. It had been the reason Valeriya had come to see him in the first place. Something she'd wanted to show him.
He looked at her, curiously. "What about the bloodstone?"
"Perhaps I can get something of his. But not in time for this evening."
He was quiet, letting her words sink in. The vision spread like a fog through his mind, the vast forest. Apollyon on his knees. Defeated. He could see it. And it was glorious.
He thought over the last few weeks. His solidity and equilibrium was as strong as ever, now, a tree embedded deep into the bowels of the earth. He was rooted as never before in the destiny before them. Her vision made that certain.
He had been reborn in this very room, as Khylsty. "One that purges." "The Whip." An Atharim, but more. The Remnant that purges. A double edged sword, cutting both ways.
A line from Revelation came to him.
"I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. Coming out of his mouth is a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. He will rule them with an iron scepter. He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty."
And then Kalki Purana. The Great Chastiser Kalki, consort of Padma the Incarnation of Lakshmi, reborn to defeat the demon Kali at the last age.
"The ascetic prince, Lord Kalki will mount His swift white horse Devadatta and, sword in hand, travel over the earth exhibiting His eight mystic opulences. Displaying His unequaled effulgence and riding with great speed, He will kill the millions of those thieves who have dared dress as kings."
Distorted over time, of course, but even so, the similarities were there. There and in many other mythologies.
And yet he, in the depths of despair, had cast aside his role in a fit of pique. Childish pride, he thought disgustedly.
Purged now, of such infantile reactions, he was more focused than ever. Iron changed into steel. His intensity had only grown stronger.
That day had been pain and pleasure all in one, Valeriya the chastiser, the whip, then, words a lash that ripped great strips from his back, tearing away the filth and dross that covered him, leaving him bleeding and naked and stripped of falsehood. His Padma. His Lakshmi.
The day she became his and he hers. His Consort.
Even as he remembered it, an idea came to him. It had been the reason Valeriya had come to see him in the first place. Something she'd wanted to show him.
He looked at her, curiously. "What about the bloodstone?"