He shivers.”
A voice broke through the void.
“They are tremors, signaling his return to consciousness. He is through the worst of it.”
The other voice was just as strong, but female, almost familiar… Was it Gaia? Had he crossed over?
A wave of heat washed over him in response, wrenching him back to life. Pain seared throughout his entire body and he immediately succumbed to unrestrained screaming.
The female voice shouted to be audible over his eruptions of agony. “Dragos, bring me more of my honey and milk serum from the cabinet and more belladonna from underneath the table,” she instructed. “Dan, please fetch the meat and blood. Now that he is conscious, he will be famished after he adjusts to the pain.”
David continued to shriek as his body involuntarily thrashed, his supernatural powers of healing ineffective against the intensity of his wounds. He had felt nothing before like the torment he now endured, oblivion pulling him back towards its sanctuary.
“Stay with me, David, it will end soon,” the woman soothed. His vision was blurred, but he could see her silhouette as she approached him, pushing him back towards the bed. He caught her scent as she shifted, realizing she was human.
He was now delirious with pain, unable to fight the overwhelming desire to devour her, his survival instincts dominating his rational mind. He twisted in her grasp, baring his fangs, until she finally jumped on top of him, using the weight of her body to keep him still.
“David, listen to me,” she ordered. “You almost burned to death, and had we not intervened, you would have. Drinking my blood will not help you with the pain, but I can if you let me.”
David forced himself to focus on her words. “Yes!” he croaked between charred lips.
“I know your powers have been stagnant for centuries, but they are still inside of you. They are connected to your humanity, the part of you that still thrives. You must find them again.”
He didn’t have time to ask how she could have possibly known these things. “How?” he managed. His throat, tongue, and chest all labored painfully with the effort.
“Be still. Imagine yourself back in your homeland. Feel the wind and the rustling of the forest,” her voice dropped to a soothing whisper. “Remember from where you came.”
After so many years, the memories of his past surfaced, enticing him like a lost lover. The emerald hills rolled against the crisp, cloudless sky, as birds flocked around the branches of ancient trees, while wolves roamed the forest floor and fish leapt from anarchic waters. The lines between realms began to blur, the nimble fingers of unconsciousness cementing their hold.
“Now see me in the forest,” her voice instructed him. “Allow me to heal you.”
He opened his eyes to see a falcon perched on the branch of an unusual looking tree, one he’d never seen before. It held his gaze with rich black eyes as he approached her with caution. He glanced down to see that he was his former self again, life coursing through young, supple hands.
She crooned at him, commanding his attention to return to her, whipping up the air with her giant wings. The breeze shifted something within him, lifting the small hairs of his flesh as it glided across his skin.
His eyes flew open.
The pain was gone.
The woman straddling him offered a smile. “Well done, David.”
He was finally able to make out her features, his eyesight shuddering as it came back into focus. Long mahogany hair framed an oval face with skin the color of warm earth. Bright green eyes that rivaled his own burst brilliantly against it in contrast, rimmed by heavy lashes. She wore a linen shirt, damp with sweat, open at the neckline to reveal dozens of beaded necklaces, some that looped down to her waist. Her red skirt was drawn up around her knees, revealing bare legs unrestricted by stockings or shoes. Thin hoop earrings hung brazenly from her ears.
He looked past her to take in their surroundings. It appeared they were in a commodious cellar, the dirt walls haphazardly covered in rows of uneven stone. Tree roots interrupted their shoddy pattern, a few tendrils sweeping the impossibly clean wood floor. Several modest torches smoldered against the walls next to bundles of drying herbs, bringing warmth and pleasant aromas into the dark atmosphere. He noted a large cabinet overflowing with glass bottles, all filled and neatly labeled, hanging over a desk covered with chopped herbs and apothecary tools. His bed was the only other furniture in the room, the stiff linen stuffed with bits of straw and wool.
He returned his gaze back towards the woman removing herself from astride him, whose difficulty in doing so came from her condition. A full, pregnant belly swelled beneath her skirt as her naked feet hit the ground.
“Who are you?” he finally asked.
“Oh, forgive me,” she said as she waddled towards the desk stool, which she picked up to place near his bedside. “There was no time for introductions. I am Hekate, the matriarch of the Pădurii clan until my daughter is born. This is my home, where I care for humans and creatures in secrecy. You were lucky to be found when you were. You were moments away from certain death.”
“Hekate,” David sighed, grateful to have finally reached his destination. “I have been searching for you.”
She smiled, lighting up the features of her smooth, oval face. Her human warmth emanated from her, smelling strongly of sweet rose attempting to mask an undernote of black henbane. “And I have been waiting for you. We have much to discuss. But first, we must care for your physical self.”
A man appeared from behind her, David grateful to discover it was Danulf, confirming that he was the one who delivered David from his untimely fate. His skin now bore the ashen cast common to blood drinkers, blending against his brilliant grey beard and hair, but highlighting his deep blue eyes. Relief was instantly replaced with regret as David replayed their last encounter. “I am so sorry, my friend.”
“Bah,” Danulf shrugged his massive shoulders before handing Hekate a large carafe. David could smell the sheep’s blood from where he lay. “You saved my life, and now I have saved yours,” he made it simple. “We are even. Now I can boast that I am the only creature in history to be both nemorti and varcolac.”
David chuckled, wincing at the effort. He opened his mouth to thank Danulf for rescuing him when another man descended the staircase to enter the sick room.
“I see you are finally awake,” Dragos said as he handed several bottled tinctures to Hekate. His friendly expression contorted with disgust as he grew closer. “Ye gods, is that what happens to us in the sunlight?”
“Dragos,” Hekate chided him as she took the procured medicine to her desk.
“My apologies, sister,” he said emptily, his eyes affixed to the wounded creature before him.
“The two of you may leave us now,” Hekate commanded gently.
Danulf nodded his farewell, guiding an indignant Dragos away by the shoulders before he could vocalize his protestations. “We will have plenty of time to talk of war,” Danulf’s voice echoed up the staircase. “Let the man heal.”
Hekate watched them go, turning back to face him. “I’m sorry to say this, but my brother is quite right—you look terrible. Even as strong a creature that you are, the sun managed to scorch away several layers of your skin. Thankfully, I am proficient in the art of healing blood drinkers. You need an agent to stimulate your natural healing process before the skin will repair itself. Fortunately, I’ve perfected a salve to do just that, which I want to apply thoroughly before layering you in bandages. I will, however, need you to remain completely still throughout the process and it will be extremely painful. So, I am going to give you a concoction of belladonna, opium, and blood, which will render you unconscious. I would like to meet you in the astral plane so we can speak while your body convalesces. Do you remember how to do it?”
“I’ve only traveled unintentionally in my dreams,” David admitted, recalling his meetings with the Council.
“No matter.” Hekate added a pinch of the dried belladonna to the carafe of blood, swirling it around as she approached him. “When you fade away, look for a great tree that will be unusual to you, similar to the tree you found my familiar in a few moments ago. That is where you will find my projection.”
David nodded as she brought the finished mixture to his lips. He could smell the opium and the sweet syrup of baneful berries, mixed with something foreign. Hemlock? He wondered as he swallowed. Suddenly the herbal concoction was overwhelmed by the taste of human blood. David’s eyes popped open in recognition as a flood of Hekate’s memories began to overwhelm his consciousness. He tried to hold onto them, but they slipped through his fingers as intoxication prevailed, the last thing he saw before tumbling into oblivion was a falcon soaring through the skies, tailed closely behind by a crow.
* * *
He landed, his bare feet sinking into wet, slippery earth. He was under a canopy of strange trees, shaded from the sun, who could only trickle through the crevasses of the broad leaves that fanned out above. Insects buzzed around him as the calls of wild birds reverberated throughout the tropical foliage. He heard rushing water, realizing that he stood in the vegetative area of a great riverbank, and the mud that stuck to his feet was actually clay. It occurred to him that he was walking unharmed in the daylight, and he looked down to observe hands and feet that were once again flushed with life. Thrilled, he exited the cluster of plants into an open plain, letting the sun beat down on him freely. His skin welcomed it as tall, dry grass brushed up against his legs. He could now see the massive river that stretched out farther than the eye could, the same birds he heard singing hovering above giant, bulbous creatures that meandered happily along its muddy banks. Ahead of him was a magnificent tree, its large silhouette obscuring a sky streaked with the orange brushstrokes of early sunset. The wind seemed to whisper its name to him, acacia.
He moved closer, noticing a woman seated at its base, her long bronze legs tucked beneath a sheer white dress, rivers of hair billowing out behind her. On her arm, she held a stately falcon, who watched him carefully. When he was close enough to see her face, he saw that her eyes were a brilliant green. He remembered the sisters. “I have seen you before,” he realized aloud.
She smiled as she gestured for him to come closer. “Please sit,” she invited.
He found a patch of clean dirt to sit upon, unable to take his eyes away from her, thoroughly confused by what he was seeing.
“Do not doubt your instincts,” she said. “You have known me far longer than you can imagine.”
“Are you Hekate, the woman who is tending to my physical body?” David asked.
“She is my most recent manifestation,” she replied cryptically. “I am also one of the sisters from your dream.” She looked up at the branches stretching out above them like the arms of fervent worshipers. “I thought of bringing you to the woods of Gaul, to appeal to Davius, the Druid boy of the forest. But I wanted you first to remember your life with me.”
David was speechless, hoping his expression would suffice in imploring her to continue.
“Do you know where we are?”
“No,” he admitted.
“The great fertile Nile in Egypt, where human life began,” she explained proudly, the gold tones in her skin shimmering in the sunlight.
“I have to admit, I know little about the land. Its written history is hard to find, though I do own several ancient scrolls,” David explained. “The language always gave me trouble, but Lucius has told me stories.”
She laughed, her voice harmonizing with the warbling birds. “Yes, he also hails from this land, though there are parts even he does not remember. I took his memories from him when he cursed me, but they come trickling back to him from time to time. But perhaps I should start from the beginning.”
Thoroughly intrigued, David stretched out on his patch of earth, resting on his arm as he nodded for her to continue.
Egypt, The Beginning
“At the beginning, there was nothingness, only a swirling mass of chaos and heka, the most ancient of magics. When chaos reached its peak, heka blossomed, manifesting itself into the first He of the skies and the first She of the earth. He formed the constellations and the planets, the clouds and the sun, while She became the dirt, the mountains, the rivers. Eventually, She also created life—animals, plants, and insects—all fragments of Her Divine Essence. And then one day, She was corporeal, in the form of twins, the first demigods to walk the earth—Heka and Lilith. They were identical in appearance except that one had green eyes that mirrored the forests, while the others’ were a glorious sky blue.
“The twin goddesses loved their earth and all that flourished within its vast, fertile womb. Content to be alone, the sisters longed for nothing, until one day the earth created the first human life, a life unlike anything they had seen before for it was made in their image. Confused, they looked to the skies, wondering if this particular magic came from the Great He they had left behind, but they found no answers. They did learn, however, that the Great He of the Sky had also fragmented into a set of two, a pair of brothers, a god of Light and a god of Darkness. The sisters decided to bring the brothers to earth to join them in physical form. Light breathed souls into the humans, souls that differentiated them from animals and plants. And so, life began.
“Understanding that with the male gods and humans roaming the earth their heka required protection, it was decided that Heka would bear it all, continuing to birth humanity, while Lilith would serve as her protector. As Heka watched her human children grow and evolve, she realized they needed direction and guidance, to be taught how to set laws to keep peace between them and how to grow food to survive. She asked Light to help her, for he shared her innate desire to guide and foster human evolution. The two made the perfect pair, guiding them into an enlightened existence unfathomable prior. Yet what they failed to notice during this time of innovation and expansion, was the deep resentment the other brother, Darkness, was beginning to harbor towards Light. Where Light cherished harmony, Darkness wanted dominion over mankind. He thought humans were foolish and weak, unable to understand why they were allowed to control the earth that Heka and Lilith created. He believed they were meant to serve the gods, for it was the gods who came before all else, to whom they owed their very lives. But he was outnumbered—Light and Heka saw humans as extensions of themselves and Lilith believed humans existed to cultivate and protect her beloved earth, therefore worthy of her loving protection and care.
“Eventually, the humans began to revere the quartet as sacred divinity; Heka became Isis, the mother of mankind, and Lilith became Nephthys, goddess of death. They named the god of Light, Osiris, and the god of Darkness, Set. Isis and Osiris were the mother and father of humanity, husband and wife, while Nephthys was paired with Set. The humans also decided that Set would be a deity of death, the pairing of their male and female gods revealing their curious desire for polarity and balance. Nephthys accepted her role as Death Goddess, understanding not only the sacredness of transitions, but realizing souls required protection as they navigated the Realms of Existence. At this time, there were only three: the astral plane, where deceased souls awaited reincarnation, the earth, and the Underworld, where souls returned to rest. It was the job of Nephthys to choose which souls that would reincarnate on earth and those who would descend into the Underworld under Set’s guardianship, guiding them safely to their destinations. Unlike her sister, Nephthys assimilated into the physical world of the humans, becoming an integral part of their everyday affairs. She gave council to those who needed it, presided over disagreements, and allowed the dead to speak to their loved ones before their final departure.
“Set was displeased with his role, one that he viewed was inferior. He had no qualms about presiding over death and destruction, but he wanted to be adored like his brother and his brother’s wife, not feared. Humans abhorred the notion of dying, for they did not understand it, nor the process of reincarnation, and they projected those detestable feelings onto the Underworld’s ruling deity. He also loved the prospect of war, which only deepened their fear of him, for if one crossed him on the battlefield, they and their men were surely doomed. Set’s only consolation was the lust he developed for Nephthys, which grew stronger as the years passed. He was unable to create life as his brother could, but he discovered that with his body he could create inexplicable pleasure when intertwined with Nephthys. She adored this part of their relationship, which kept her loyal to him for many years. Eventually, she would be the one who taught the act to humans. Unlike the gods, however, humans could create life in this way. After that pivotal moment, Osiris and Isis no longer had the exclusive responsibility of constructing bodies and souls, and could stand back and let the humans procreate on their own.
“And so, life continued on, the four gods living for many years in peace, coming to the aid of the humans when called. Set seethed quietly in his resentment, leaving his brother and wife alone, for he enjoyed his life with Nephthys. They had their own palace in the Underworld, but they often worked on earth, even joining Osiris and Isis on occasion in their palace made of precious gold, surrounded by trees and luscious gardens brimming with flowers. Humans erected elaborate sculptures in their likeness which they visited each morning with fresh milk, honey, and bread as offerings.
“Then one fateful day, Nephthys, dirty after a long day on earth, decided to sneak a bath in the Nile. Over time, she had become further drawn into the human experience, donning the disguise of a kite so she could interact with them whenever she felt called to. Bathing in the clear waters was one of her favorite pastimes, learned by watching the young women do the same.”
“Wait, I know this story…” David murmured, although he had not intended to interrupt.
Hekate’s face was stone. “On this particular morning, Osiris had left the palace to take a walk amongst the marshy flora of the Nile Valley. He loved to be amongst the greenest part of the desert, listening to the gurgling waters and breathing in the sweet morning air. He caught sight of his sister-in-law bathing, joyously untamed and feral in his favorite place, and he fell in love with her. He had glimpsed her before in passing, of course, but never had he witnessed her raw, unrestrained beauty in such a way. These feelings were foreign to the young god; he could comprehend love for his companion Isis, brotherly love for Set, and agape love for mankind. Yet this feeling was different, a yearning for her to be his, the desire to take her into his arms. As he tried to reconcile these feelings, she noticed him watching her, her eyes meeting his in a moment that sealed their fates forever—for she fell for him as well.”
David suddenly felt his body tremble, the world around them responding with a sharp shift of wind. Hekate’s long white dress fluttered around her like the falcon’s wings. He forced himself to focus on her words.
“Years of longing passed as Osiris tried to distract himself with his affairs. But soon he was writing poetry to her, inscribing his proclamations of love on sheets of papyrus and hiding the scrolls in a tamarisk tree near the part of the river where she swam. She discovered them one day and wrote back to him, the two beginning a daily correspondence where they could pour out their devotion to each other secretly in verse. They both hoped it would be enough to sustain them until late one evening, Osiris stumbled upon her in her waters again, and this time, he could not resist approaching her. She took him into her arms without hesitation, teaching him how to make love, an experience unlike anything he had ever felt. Their love was so powerful, they created the impossible—divine life within her womb. She would eventually birth the first gods to ever come from the coupling of divine beings—a set of twins, named Horus and Anubis.”
David sat upright, suddenly wanting very badly to flee. “Why are you telling me this story? What does this mean?” The branches of the acacia tree thrashed as the turbulent air around them raised in intensity.
Hekate stood, her falcon giving a disapproving squawk. “You must hear what I have to say, David. The story is far from over.”
She grabbed both of his hands, and instantly, they stood in the tomb of an ancient pyramid. David took a sharp inhale. The room seemed to glow unnaturally, for its walls were constructed entirely of gold, covered in scores of hieroglyphics. Piles of the precious metal clustered every inch of space, interrupted only by colorful jewels and the painted sarcophagus that was situated at the center.
“Nephthys worried that Set would discover their affair,” Hekate continued, turning his attention back to her. “She feared it would ruin the harmonious life they had built, convinced that Set would attack Osiris and murder her children. So, she approached her sister, confessing everything.”
“I had a vision of the sisters in my dreams,” David told her.
“It never ceases to amaze me how powerful your mind is,” she briefly appraised before she continued, not offering David a moment to grow bashful. “Isis held no ill will towards her sister, nor her husband, for she did not understand romantic love,” she explained. “Instead, she shared her sister’s apprehension of their family’s fate. They decided that Isis would take the boys under her wing and proclaim to the world that the children belonged to her and Osiris. Although it pained him, Osiris agreed to the masquerade, also understanding that he would have to stay far away from Nephthys for the story to be believed. He agreed to it only because he believed it would protect her and their children.
“After the twins were born, Nephthys disguised herself and went into exile. Although she tried to distract herself by becoming involved once again in the affairs of men, she eventually fell into a deep despair. She longed for her children and for Osiris, and eventually her melancholy consumed her. She attempted to end her own life, hoping that in doing so, her soul would float about the astral plane in peace. It was her grown son, Anubis, who stopped her, knowing all along that she was his real mother and had been searching the realms to find her. Finally, being reunited with one of her sons proved vitally restorative for Nephthys, a beginning in lifting her from her dismal state. Still concerned for her wellbeing, Anubis covertly petitioned Osiris to let him guard the entrance to the Underworld, hoping to keep his mother from death’s alluring pull while protecting her from Set, should she ever be forced back into the Underworld. Osiris quickly agreed.
“Meanwhile, with her sister in mourning, Isis was left unguarded. She was strong and formidable in her own right, but being the only creature bearing the world’s precious heka left her vulnerable. The weight of it grew heavy, consuming her like despair consumed her sister, isolating her from humans and gods alike. She remained stowed away in their earthly palace, distancing herself from Osiris and their new sons, who only reminded her of her lost sister. They had no choice, but to leave her in peace.” A rueful look passed across her face. “It was Set who finally reached her,” she continued after a pause. “He had discovered the letters between Nephthys and Osiris admitting their love, and it inflamed his already standing jealousy and contempt for his brother. He believed Osiris tricked her into falling in love with him and that Nephthys’s exile was his fault. He was incensed that she had left him as well, spending every moment he could searching for her.”
David watched the hieroglyphics that were etched along the walls of the tomb swirl themselves to life, images moving as if he was witnessing the transpired events in the present. He gasped as he recognized Lucius, his skin still pale in comparison to the green eyed, bronze goddess seated not far from where he stood. He watched Lucius storm into her throne room, completely shirtless save for thick gold jewelry around his neck and arms. On his crown was a jackal headdress, similar to the one worn by Anubis, except that it did not obscure his angular face nor his burning topaz eyes. His original body was still very tall and narrow, but his arms were defined by muscle, his hands so long and narrow, they appeared to be clawed.
Isis had been draped listlessly over her throne, her eyes curious as she watched him approach her.
“Osiris has been consorting with my wife,” he hissed as soon as he reached her. “I found physical evidence of their adoration.” He tossed their letters at her, the ripped papyrus trickling down to the marble floor like feathers.
“I cannot control what Osiris does,” Isis responded, apathetically.
Lucius made a sound of disgust. “You are both fools. Humans couple and are bound by invisible ties—you are gods and you cannot manage to honor the same commitment? Nephthys was my wife, my companion in this world, and because of my vile brother, she is now missing. His betrayal is unforgivable. You should feel the same as I.”
Isis frowned, her jade eyes catching the candlelight, their brilliance overshadowing the actual jewel that lay at her throat. “I feel nothing.”
Lucius paused from his rant, realizing her dismal state. “You are the Creatrix, the Divine Mother of mankind, loved by all. How could you possibly be morose?”
She met his eyes. “I am no longer needed. The humans sustain themselves. Osiris sees to the worldly affairs with our children. My sister has fled our homeland. What else should I feel?”
“Rage,” Lucius replied with a snarl. “You should feel rage at what he has done to us all.”
“And yet, I do not,” Isis sighed. “Leave me alone now.”
Lucius turned to retreat in exasperation, before he paused. He reached up to remove his bestial diadem, sending his long, atrous locks down around his shoulders. He approached her, climbing the stairs to Isis’s throne with careful steps, as one might approach a feral cat. She apprehended him with widened eyes as he slipped his fingers around her neck, cupping her face as he kissed her. She allowed him to continue for a moment before pulling away in surprise. “What exactly are you doing?” she whispered, though her expression had warmed from his kiss.
“What our mates do with each other. It is only fair that you might partake in such pleasure. Why should you sit here alone in misery as a result of what they have done?”
Isis considered his point for only a moment before she met his eyes, her jaw set in determination, an expression common in her sister. With one easy movement, she released the clasp that held up her dress, letting it fall around her feet. “Then show me,” she agreed.
Lucius scooped her into his arms.
“Hoping to heal his broken heart and create his own children, he seduced Isis,” Hekate’s narrative voice shattered the vision. David observed that her once impassive face now betrayed wistfulness as she retold her story. “They made the physical act of love, but it was not the fruitful coupling Set had secretly yearned for, and it was not what Isis had hoped it would be either. She was no closer to understanding romantic passion than she was before. But what neither Isis nor Set had anticipated, was that in Isis giving of her body, she gave Set a part of her soul, infusing him with heka.”
“Manibus Ignem.”
“His hands of fire,” Hekate nodded. “And perhaps most importantly, it fine-tuned his intelligence, twisting it into the art of deceit. Set used his newly honed guile to finally enact his vengeance on his brother, tricking him into diving into the Nile to save who he thought was a drowning Nephthys, only to have Set hold him under until he died. His vengeance still not satisfied, Set then separated Osiris’s body into forty-two pieces and scattered them all across the land so that no amount of magic could ever resurrect them.
“Nephthys felt Osiris’s death in her bones, jarring her out of her melancholia. She flew back to Egypt, horrified to learn of her beloved’s murder at the hands of her husband. Determined to reverse the deed, she transformed into a raven-colored kite, scouring the ends of the earth to collect each piece of Osiris’s dismembered corpse, bringing them to her sister who she begged for assistance. Equally furious that Set has murdered her companion, Isis complied.”
David’s eyes were pulled towards the sarcophagus, which had now opened to reveal a corpse wrapped entirely in strips of linen bandages. Emotion caught in his throat as he saw Nephthys folded over its edge, stubborn tears escaping down her cheeks though she fought them away. Isis stood at its head, murmuring silently with her hands stretched out above it. Heavy incense choked the air, swirling around them as energy pulsated beneath Isis’s palms. He recognized Anubis, who stood next to his mother protectively, a hand placed on her shoulder. With his head cast downwards under his headdress, the eyes looking upwards appeared wicked, beads of shining glass set in the narrow face of a jackal.
“It is not working,” Nephthys cried out in volatile frustration, slapping her hands on the rim of the sarcophagus.
Isis dropped her hands, matching her sister’s vexation. “I am the goddess of life and you are the goddess of death. Our son, the god of funeral rites, stands beside us. I do not understand what more we need.”
“Blood,” came a soft reply from the shadows.
The three gods looked up to see a man moving towards them with an unusual crop of golden hair, bright against his complexion. Nephthys let out a gasp in instant recognition of her other son.
His stoic expression melted at the sight of her, disarmed immediately she ran up to throw her arms around him. Again, David felt a strong pang of emotion, watching mother finally reunited with son. She held him tightly for a moment until they both were able to collect themselves, pulling herself away so he could speak.
Horus’s face was stern but handsome, with the same herculean build as his twin brother and the same cerulean blue eyes they inherited from their mother. The only difference between them was their hair; his, a golden flax that contrasted against the coal black hair of the jackal crowned Anubis. “Blood,” he repeated, “is the only part of him that is missing, the substance that sustains life on earth. We all share the same blood, but none so powerful as our uncle, Set, for it is identical to that which once flowed through the veins of our father.”
Anubis looked at him. “You are right. They also shared the same soul once, before they split into separate beings.”
Horus nodded. “Set’s blood is the key that will bring Osiris back to life.”
The flesh on David’s skin prickled as he watched Nephthys rise to her feet with new resolve, wearing a look evocative of the Morrigan, the two sharing the same wild, cropped hair, the same fierce blue eyes. “I will do it,” she declared.
Horus looked admirably at his mother. “It can only be you, for you are the only one Set trusts. You must bring him here before we can resume the ritual.”
Suddenly the vision shifted, lifting away like a curtain to reveal a similar arrangement, with Set now suspended by cords that bound his arms so he could not bring forth his flames.
“You may bring Osiris back, but he will never be the same,” he mocked them as the two sisters raised their hands over opposing sides of the body. Anubis waited nearby, anointing the bandages with precious oils, a rite that would eventually become Egyptian custom.
A knife glinted in Horus’s hand as he nervously tightened his grip, his attention affixed to his uncle as he waited for the signal to attack.
“You will never be able to truly stop me,” Set continued to taunt. “I am the most powerful god among you all, now infused with both masculine and female power. I have killed my counterpart, for darkness always presides over the light—night always consumes the day. Do you not see how the humans now cower before us? How their land is barren and dry at my hands, and how they beg for my mercy?” He laughed. “There will never be anyone who can surpass my power. Even if you do manage to bring my nefarious brother back.”
The sisters ignored him, beginning to chant over the mummified body of Osiris. The air in the room began to stir as they pooled together their opposing energies until it funneled into a palpable force with an intensity so strong, it threatened to consume the chamber and its occupants.
Horus advanced to cut Set free from his bounds, prepared to place his body on top of Osiris for the bloodletting to occur. Unfortunately, Set had anticipated his move. As soon as Horus cut the cord, Set kicked his legs out from beneath him, shoved him to the ground and with one brutal sweep, plucked out one of his eyes.
Nephthys wavered in horror, but both sisters held fast to their chant, knowing it couldn’t be broken. Anubis, however, leapt to his brother’s defense. But Set’s hands were already ablaze, smirking as he turned one fist towards each brother, prepared to immolate them in unison. Nephthys, unable to hold back any longer, finally broke out of her trance. “Set, no, they are my children!” she shrieked.
Set faltered for a moment, his eyes wide in surprise. It was all Horus needed to pounce, slicing the thin flesh of Set’s throat from ear to ear. The brothers then grabbed him, lifting his body over their father until his gurgling blood coated the corpse’s bandages in visceral red. Set crumpled to the ground, dead, as the mummified corpse lifted itself up from its sarcophagus.
Nephthys flew to her resurrected lover’s side and began ripping away his bindings. But the face she revealed was not Osiris, but one that was ghostly pale, with coal black eyes and a set of shocking fangs where his teeth should have been. The creature she uncovered grabbed her and without a moment of hesitation, sunk its teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. She gasped, but did not fight him, her mournful eyes closing as she submitted willingly to what she knew would be the end to her suffering on earth—it was clear Osiris would never return.
Isis realized what was happening and extracted the sword from a shocked and frozen Horus, plunging it into Osiris’s heart from the back. The two lovers collapsed into his tomb together. Isis rushed to the sarcophagus only to learn she had been too late, both her sister and her husband were dead, lying together in a mess of blood and tangled limbs. She whipped around to see that Horus had also expired from his wounds, his yellow hair radiating out from his handsome face like the sun, his expression peaceful beyond the horrific gore of his removed eye. She almost collapsed then, but made the gruesome discovery of Horus’s detached eye lying not far from where he lay. She forced herself to retrieve it, placing it gently back into his skull so that he would be whole when he arrived at the Underworld. Then she draped her body over his and succumbed to her building lamentation.
The ground trembled with her pain, collapsing the towers of gold treasures that lined the tomb. Isis was despondent as they crashed to the floor, rooted to the floor where she lay with Horus, even as the earthquake split the land in two, the volatile chasm swallowing everything around her.
Hekate’s voice melted the apocalyptic scene away. “At the last moment, before she was also consumed by the edacious crater, a falcon appeared, pulling her from the wreckage and delivering her to the muddy banks of the Nile. Although she thanked her familiar, she no longer had any desire to be on earth, even as much as it needed her. She freed her consciousness to the astral plane and transformed her body and heka into a graceful acacia tree, so that she could exist, undisturbed, for centuries.
“Anubis, in the meantime, had seized Set’s soul as it lifted away from his body, dragging it down to a realm called Tartarus, the lowest point of the Underworld where only traitorous, banished creatures dwelled. Since that time, other gods from different pantheons have also used this place to send their most despicable entities, which added a fourth realm to our world. Set, with all his intelligence and cunning, eventually became its ruler, lying in patient wait for the day he could enact his revenge against those who deceived him.”
“Why do you tell me this tale?” David finally broke free of his spellbound stupor, his mind spinning at the parallels being laid out before him.
“None of the Ancient Ones remember their lives as Egyptian deities, but this is our history. Your history. I am the only one among us who truly remembers.”
“You are Isis.”
“I am her reincarnated.”
David stared in awe. “Is there more to this tale?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “The second part of this story lies within your own memories, but they are buried deep within your unconscious mind where even I cannot reach. I would like to try, however, by telling you what I have been told and what I have witnessed, in the hopes they will return to you.”
“Yes, please continue,” David urged.
“Osiris and Nephthys ascended to the Upperworld, a place above the earth where they could exist peacefully. It soon evolved into a collective realm for all the gods, similar to the territories we create on our earth, with each pantheon in its respective space. It became the fifth and final otherworldly realm.
“Anubis, the only earthbound god remaining, realized Isis had left the heka vulnerable to anyone who might discover it. Magic had already begun to trickle out of the Acadia Tree into all the plants of the earth through their networks. Anubis feared that eventually the heka would dissipate entirely and the Acadia would perish. So, he created a council of ethereal beings manifested out of the four elemental properties of earth, who would protect the tree and its power from harm. The Council also became responsible for maintaining order on earth in the gods’ absence, ensuring ma’at, or perfect balance, so that life could continue on. It was the very presence of the Ancient Ones on earth that had once kept that balance.
“Ironically, the humans would begin to call Set’s Underworld the Kingdom of Osiris, believing he was the one who would greet them when they died. But Osiris and Nephthys were actually hiding peacefully in the Upperworld, freed of Set’s hateful presence. It was Anubis who took over the Underworld, or Duat, as we called it, aided by several other gods the humans created.
“The story could have ended here, but eventually Nephthys grew restless once more. She had become deeply attached to the earth during her time there and longed to be back amongst her people. She discovered that gods could visit earth in the form of apparitions, and when she did, she found herself drawn to the lush hills and waters of Ireland, far away from her homeland and its painful memories. So in love did she become with the land, that she began to whisper stories to the ancient Druids, telling them tales of a god and goddess so strong and noble, they would protect the Celtic people for centuries. Convinced, the Druids siphoned heka out of the trees, bringing Osiris and Nephthys back in the form of demigods who they called the Daghda and the Morrigan.”
David shut his eyes, overcome with emotion. “Go on,” he whispered.
Her voice seemed to detach, tumbling over the hills that he now saw himself surrounded by. “Morrigan knew Set would never find them in different bodies; humans were creating new gods at an alarming rate, the ancient originals powerless to stop them. But although it was a time of divine expansion, it was also a time of peaceful co-existence, all deities complicit in an unspoken agreement to maintain the proper balance and continue fostering the evolution of man. What Morrigan did not anticipate, however, was that their reincarnation meant the complete dissolution of their former lives, their memories scattered to the wind. Fortunately, they still maintained their love for each other, and Morrigan bore a painful longing for children she could not recall. Save for that, Osiris and Nephthys were no more.
“Regardless of their absent memories, Daghda and Morrigan lived contentedly among the Celtic tribes, joined by a pantheon of gods who became their brethren in the truest sense. Daghda was named patriarch of their family, who the Druids called the Tuatha De Danann. Morrigan was never again able to conceive, but the earth had given her the power to shape-shift, which produced a strong, maternal connection to the animals she invoked, particularly the wolf, the horse, and the crow. She thought of them, and the Celtic warriors she protected, as her brood.
“In the meantime, Set had been waiting patiently in the Underworld for the moment he could strike. The instant that Morrigan and Daghda reentered the physical world, a crack appeared in the fabric that separated the realms allowing Set to rise to the surface in non-corporeal form. He made a deal to switch places with a snake daemon called Typhon, who had offered aid to the Council throughout the years with their less pleasant affairs. He used Typhon’s body to make his way to Egypt, happening upon a young madman who worshiped at the foot of an acacia tree, raving to all who listened that the tree whispered secrets to him. The Council knew about the man, but believed he was harmless and paid him no mind. But Set knew better, for the man had discovered the body and dormant magic of Isis and was obsessed. Set’s spirit slipped out of Typhon’s body to possess the handsome young tree-worshipper and pulled Isis out of hiding. He then convinced her to come to his home so that he could care for her, and Isis, not knowing he was anything other than a human, agreed.
“After several days together, she fell for his charms and allowed him to lay with her. When she awoke, the apparition of Set was by her side. He informed her that he had cursed her womb, and that from that point on she would birth one daughter, who would birth one daughter, and so forth, each new child taking her power until she withered and died. They would be his daughters to call upon when he needed them. Devastated, Isis tried to enact revenge, but Set was not yet physical and could not be harmed. He told her he would lift the curse if she brought him to life. I’m sure Lucius has told you the rest,” Hekate added.
“He said a powerful sorceress brought him to earth, first as a dragon, then as the creature he is today. Flawed, he says.”
Hekate nodded. “So wicked was his soul that it could only be housed by a beast. Isis discovered the only way she could give him human form would be to use the body of the young man Set had once possessed. She had to pull out the poor man’s soul completely before sending Set’s soul permanently back inside. She never forgave herself for this act, for her actions went against everything she represented—she was a goddess who created life, not destroyed it. Heartbroken, she withdrew immediately to the empty, mountainous hills of what would one day be Transylvania to birth her first daughter and wait patiently for death.”
“Why do you call her she, if you are her, reincarnated?”
“I have detached memories like yourself, but I have long practiced their retrieval. I can see the timeline as if I am standing witness, but my true perspective is in the eyes of the mortal woman, Hekate. Just like you are David, above all else. I am the first time Isis has truly reincarnated, for it took our family generations before a vessel was created that was strong enough to house both her soul and her heka.”
“You are one of the daughters then.”
“I am. Lucius never lifted the curse. In fact, with his rebirth came the additional curse that no other god would ever be able to reincarnate on earth again unless he explicitly allowed it. He created his own network of daemons and creatures to serve him, including other blood drinkers like himself.”
A thought occurred to David. “What about your brother, Dragos?”
“Having a twin was what ensured my body would be strong enough to house Isis. He absorbed any human weakness that would prevent my body from serving as a sound vessel, but please don’t ever let on that I referred to him as weak.” She gave a playful smile before continuing. “Morrigan did not remember her sister on earth, nor did she learn of the beguilement, until well after she and Daghda returned to the Upperworld, after the Celtic people continued to expand their territories and change, the Christian religion replacing the religions of old. As soon as they ascended, their full memories returned and Morrigan discovered that her sister was not only trapped on earth, but was now joined by their nemesis.
“Morrigan refused to accept what had transpired, calling upon all the gods and goddesses in the Upperrealms to inform them of her sister’s tragedy and Lucius’s new reign on earth. Not one among them provided her with a solution, and Lucius had made it impossible for any of them to return there even if they were willing to help. Although she was furious that they had allowed her sister to be harmed, she petitioned the Council to help her find a discrepancy in the curse so she could go back.”
“Wait,” David interrupted her, softly. “I remember.”
It was as if a piece of him had returned.
He could see her clearly, holding her head in her hands, crumpled against the ancient oak tree. They were in the Upperrealms, an enchanted forest of swirling colors and vivid greens, surrounded by midnight skies that housed shooting stars and spinning planets.
David was unable to comfort her, his own heart broken.
“You cannot ask this of me.” Tears streamed down Morrigan’s face. “We just settled in here.”
“It is the only way,” he said, sinking into the moss beside her.
“I will tear him apart,” she muttered.
“I do not doubt that you shall,” he told her with a sad smile.
Morrigan stood, her sorrow replaced by indignation. The skies around her responded to the shift, lightning crackling throughout the darkening, thunderous sky. “We created the damned place, how can we be ousted from it? Just like the old religion that has been warped beyond recognition, the Roman gods our replacement. It is as if we are no longer wanted.”
“The world has grown much bigger than us,” David agreed. “Look how many gods now exist, we are but two.”
“I know,” she sighed. “As I know the earth follows its own rules, like the mothers who created her.”
David rose to his feet, pulling her hips against him so she was close enough to be kissed. “Humans do not have to remember who we are, but it is still our duty to protect them. That is why we must make this decision. We cannot let him destroy everything they have built.”
Her stony exterior collapsed once more, overwhelmed by grief. “You cannot ask this of me. I cannot live here without you!” Her words pulled rain down from the sky.
David pulled her back to him, holding her tight as he buried his face in her hair. “Do I have to tell you the story of Daghda and Morrigan, of Osiris and Nephthys, the most ancient of gods who find each other, always?” he murmured into her ear.
She closed her eyes, nuzzling into his neck. “Please tell me,” she whispered.
David, a voice called from outside their realm. David, it is time to wake up.
He shut his eyes, memorizing her body against his, her skin, and the scent of her hair. “There are two souls who will continue to find each other until the end of time, the first lovers, whose love for one another transcends all bounds,” he began as he folded her hand around the handle of his knife. She let out a sob as she realized what he was doing. They were now drenched in frigid rain that had created a river where they stood. He gripped her tighter. “They circle the realms, restless and incomplete until they find each other...but find each other, they always will.”
“Remember me.”
“Remember me.”
And with a battle cry laced with despair, she sunk the knife into his chest, the realm screeching her pain as he dropped to the ground, picturing her face over and over in his mind, determined never to forget her eyes.
Quickly, I am losing him, the strange voice interrupted. The earth shook as wind roared around him, the Otherrealms furious with his departure. And then, he died, all the worlds around him fading to black, the sound of crows echoing in his mind.
London, 1857
The rain had resumed its onslaught upon the earth, a crack of distant thunder awakening David from his dreams.
The window was open, the frigid breeze agitating the curtains into a frenzy. He lifted himself from the chair to close it, catching a glimpse of his disheveled reflection in the glass. He ran his fingers through his tangled copper curls, straightening a wrinkled dress shirt that had lost both its neck tie and waistcoat. How long had he slumbered? He wondered absently as he fished around the darkened parlor for a smoke. He retrieved one, lighting it quickly before turning the match onto a nearby candle as the tiny flame threatened his fingertips. The newly illuminated room was empty, a pile of unsettled blankets left in a heap on his sofa.
Suddenly, he remembered his companion.
He grabbed the candle, rushing into the hallway. “Jacob?” he called.
“In here, sir.”
David followed the voice upstairs to the guest bedroom where he found Jacob bent over his companion, who lay motionless beneath the stiff blankets of the formerly neglected bed. Several crumpled and bloodied napkins scattered the floor near her bedside.
“What happened to her? Was it…” David trailed off before giving himself away, almost revealing his true nature to his manservant. David often suspected Jacob had already figured it out, skeptical that he never saw the bottles of blood kept in the secret cellar in the kitchen nor questioned the perpetually foodless pantry. Tonight, however, was not the time for unnecessary divulgements.
If Jacob noticed the err, he didn’t show it, his weathered face appearing grim in the dim light. “She took a turn for the worse last night, sir. I found you both sound asleep in the parlor, yet when I went to retrieve her dishes, I noticed her skin had taken on a shade of blue. I was able to revive her and relocate her to the bed, but I’m afraid her moments on this earth are fleeting. I’m sorry to give you such horrid news, sir.”
David sighed, glad to learn her state was not a result of his own doing, but saddened to learn her time was near. “Thank you, Jacob. You have exceeded yourself in altruism. I thank you deeply.”
Jacob brushed off the compliment, rising to his feet. “You should sit with her now, sir. I would suggest calling for the doctor, but there is no point in it. The girl needs companionship now, or a priest.”
At the suggestion, she began to cough, releasing a spray of blood from her mouth as she fought for air. Jacob hurried to catch the expulsion with a fresh handkerchief, dabbing her chin as she quieted. “No priest,” she whispered through cracked lips.
Jacob nodded.
“Thank you, Jacob,” David dismissed him kindly. “I will stay with her now. I just needed a bit of rest.”
“Yes, sir.” Jacob bowed his head, slipping out of the room with the soiled handkerchiefs in his arms. “I’ll be up with provisions in an hour, if she is able to eat.”
His companion offered David a weak smile. “Good morning,” she croaked. “I think it’s safe to assume you didn’t anticipate bringing a whore into your home to die.”
David grabbed a half-empty glass of water from the bedside table. “I have long learned not to question the events that unfold in my life.” He tipped the glass towards her parched lips as she swallowed carefully.
She leaned back with a sigh, running a moistened tongue over her dry lips. “I suppose that means you’ve cut me off of the stronger stuff.”
“Anything you want is yours,” he responded earnestly, setting the glass back on the table.
“Good, then I want you to sit with me,” she said, patting the open space next to her on the bed.
David slipped out of his house shoes and crawled into the place she directed him, propping himself up against the collection of pillows, which released a thin cloud of dust into the air. The scent of death was stronger on her now, hanging like a drowning captain to his floundering ship.
“I was once told there is an art to dying, but I’m afraid I’ve missed the instruction,” she continued to lightly jest. She rolled herself onto her side so she could look at him, shadows hollowing her face beyond recognition, remnants of dried crimson lingering at the cracks of her mouth. Her dark hair was matted in the back where she had been resting.
David smoothed it back before resting his hand on hers. “Well, lucky for you, not only have I died myself several times, but I have had two women pass in my arms. You could say I’m a professional at this sort of thing.”
She smiled. “Then the heavens must have known what they were doing when they threw us together. You had best hurry along with your story. I refuse to go until the end.”
David frowned. “You couldn’t possibly want to listen to me drone on about myself during your final hours.”
“Quite the contrary,” she said sleepily. “Your voice is soothing. Besides, how could I ever cross over without knowing how it ends? You’ll doom me to haunt this house forever.”
David couldn’t help but smile. “Alright then.”
“Would you mind holding a third dying woman in your arms?” she asked.
David scooped her up without a word, so that her head rested against his chest and both his arms were draped around her.
“Now, where was I?”
“The part where you finally remembered her,” she murmured. “The memory of when she killed you.”
“Ah, yes,” he said softly, resting his cheek on her hair.
Romania, 1462
“You’re awake.”
David’s freshly opened eyes caught the silhouette of Hekate folded at her desk. She looked tired, even in the dim, forgiving candlelight, dark circles gathered around her eyes. “Glad to see it. You took a turn for the worse in the early hours of night, but fortunately, Dragos and I were able to keep you alive. You’ve been healing quite well since.”
David sat up, pleased to learn that his body could now move without excruciating pain. He looked down at his arms and hands, wrapped in bandages similar to the mummy in his vision. “I remember,” he said after he looked back up. “I remember my life with Morrigan. I don’t recall our lives before that, however, no matter how I try.”
“I know,” Hekate sighed wistfully as she rose to her feet, her rotund girth swelling out her skirt.
A pang of guilt struck him, replaying their story in his mind. “Please forgive me for any pain I caused you in our former lives.”
She reached his bedside, sitting down at the edge and patting an unbandaged part of his arm. “The memories from that life come from magical means, and I cannot sufficiently recall the feelings that go along with them. I can only watch it unfold like you can, through Hekate’s eyes.”
“That does not absolve me of the guilt I feel,” David sighed.
“Do not lament over that which you could not control,” Hekate corrected him. “This existence that we are trapped in has its own set of rules. I know that I loved you like a brother and understand that you loved me like a sister. I have long accepted that your passion belongs to her.”
“Our love is what led to Set manipulating and using you,” David insisted.
“Set is responsible for his own actions,” she argued. “He let jealousy embitter him and fuel his decisions. As for me, I was curious to feel the touch of a man, not once, but twice. A part of me knew that mortal was Set in disguise, and I could have spurned his advances, but I was lonely. I chose my path, just as Set chose his. I take full responsibility for my own mistakes and you should let me have it.”
She rose and moved towards the wall to lift a low burning torch, using it to set the others ablaze. The light caught on her assortment of apothecary bottles, revealing several unsavory ingredients amongst her herbs and tinctures, including a capsule of disembodied eyes and a bottle of wormy rodent tails. They looked sinister in the flickering shadows.
“We were young, inexperienced gods,” she said as the dank room attempted to grow warm. “We had no book of rules, no parents to explain to us how things should go.”
“And now here we are.”
“Yes, here we are,” she parroted with a sigh. “And still our world is threatened by the decisions we have made.”
“So, you are now pregnant with Lucius’s child? How is it possible? Has he ever come to collect the women in your bloodline?” He paused. “Forgive me for asking so many questions. I suppose I’m just surprised I never heard of you before tonight.”
“It's quite alright,” she assured him. “Isis successfully hid us away for many years—her daughter, her granddaughter, and so on, over the centuries. We do not know the exact magic behind it, but on the night of our eighteenth birthdays, we become with child, always a daughter. The absurdity of our curse is also what makes it so dangerous, for you can imagine what sort of problems arise for pregnant, husbandless women alone in the world. Some of us tried to make children with other men and failed, others were virgins when they gave birth. Eventually, Isis was forced to hide us away from even the most remote mountain tribes, creating a clan of women which she called the Pădurii. She appeared to anyone who ventured near our home as a frightening old hag. After she died, the eldest woman of each generation took on the same guise until it eventually earned us the name Muma Pădurii, a witch who was vilified and feared by men for centuries. Save for Isis, who died in the ancient times, most of us are semimortal, meaning we live longer than humans but not forever. It has ensured a large enough clan to care for each other as the years pass.”
“And Lucius never found you?”
“Isis’s magic has protected us throughout the centuries. Even now, as his last remaining children live in his own village, he cannot detect our presence.”
“Where is your mother?” David wondered. “And the rest of your clan? How did Isis eventually die?”
Hekate paused as her green eyes shifted. “There are some secrets that must be kept,” she said, quietly. “But I can tell you, my mother died while giving birth to me, moments after bringing my brother into the world.”
“Forgive me, I did not mean to pry.”
“I told you, David, it is quite alright. I have taken it upon myself to deliver your history to you and I shall. There are just things too painful to discuss, particularly when it comes to Hekate’s story. Those emotions I do feel.”
“I understand.”
“To answer the question of how Isis died,” she continued, “we honestly don’t know. Our history has been passed down through oral tradition, and somewhere along the way, the exact way she died became unknown even to the oldest among us.”
“And now she is reincarnated in you.”
Hekate smiled as she resumed her seat at her desk. “Yes. But enough talk of my past. There is a bit more I must tell you, and then I will leave you to rest.”
Since they were underground, David could not see the time of day, but assumed by the damp aroma of the dirt surrounding them that it had reached nightfall. “You need your rest as well,” he pointed out, gesturing towards her stomach.
Hekate’s hand found her belly as she shook her head. “I must tell you all of it, so that you understand what is at stake.”
David leaned back in the sick bed, allowing her to resume her tale.
“I told you of the Ancient Ones, but there is another soul whose history must be explained,” she began. She brushed back a stray lock of her burnt chestnut hair, the movement disturbing her long metal earrings and layers of necklaces, who clinked together in dissension. “There was one other god who managed to reincarnate right before Lucius halted the earth’s manifestation of divine souls. This creature was Horus, his memories lost just like each reincarnated god before and after him. His tale is laced with tragedy, for although his eye was returned to him by Isis, its removal served as a curse. It doomed him to roam the astral plane without ascending to the Upperrealms and if he did happen to reincarnate, he would not be anything like the beautiful man he once was, but a beast, plagued by deformities. He did eventually find his way back to earth, but his mortal life was spent roaming the world in confusion and isolation until the day he stumbled upon Set reborn as Lucius.
“It was only moments after Lucius had risen and was promptly abandoned by Isis, consumed by a thirst I’m sure you remember. With no one to guide him, he fell prey to his carnal instincts, tearing through dozens of animals in untamed savagery, including a boar. It transformed before he could strike, revealing he was actually a human being, one with a deeply crooked spine, the hooves of a boar, the wings of a bird, and the horns of a stag.”
“Libraean is Horus,” David said in amazement.
Hekate nodded. “The two creatures began to fight, drawing each other’s’ blood until Lucius finally drained Horus of his, leaving him for dead. Yet Horus had accidentally consumed some of Lucius’s blood during their battle, and was reanimated as a blood drinker. I believe Libraean revealed to you what transpired after that.”
“He told me that his humanity gradually returned and a frustrated Lucius abandoned him,” David relayed. “He longed for death, tying himself to a tree to await incineration by sunlight. An angel saved him before he burned.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “He loved Lucius and his abandonment crushed him, pushing him to suicide. The angel who found him fell in love with him, deciding to enlist him into serving their cause. Gabriel told him their version of the beginning: that their “God of Light” cast out a rebellious angel named Lucifer and his traitorous minions from the heavenly realms, who were now Lucius and his daemons. Libraean believed this version of truth for many years, ignorant of his true history. His love for Gabriel kept him loyal to their cause for many years. It was not until the end of the Ancient Era, when Anubis petitioned the Christ to allow us to speak with him, did he learn of his true past. Its revelation shattered the bond between Libraean and Gabriel, and he now works with us, alongside the Council.”
David was quiet for a moment, his heart heavy for the tragic being, who was, incredibly enough, once his son. He struggled to grasp the notion that the two beings he had seen in the astral plane, the jackal headed Anubis and the Sphinx, Libraean, were actually both his children—his and Morrigan’s. The ache to be reunited with her surfaced again, but he swallowed it, intent on hearing the rest of Hekate’s story. “What does Lucius know about our past?” he asked her.
“Since his reincarnation was unnatural, he remembers more than the rest of you, but it is still choppy,” she replied. “He recalls bits of Egypt and Tartarus, but he has no idea who Morrigan or Daghda truly were. He’d forgotten Horus completely, even when they were companions.”
“His love for Morrigan never died,” David murmured in reflection.
For the first time, David saw a flash of emotion cross over Hekate’s eyes. “Interesting,” she commented with an impartial air.
He had little time to explore her eyes further, to try and pull out the thoughts he was blocked from, for they were interrupted by the sound of a man bounding down the stairs.
“Enough, Hekate,” Dragos demanded. “He needs to come with us.”
Hekate rose to her feet, putting her hands on her hips. “Look at him, Dragos, he is still covered in bandages. You want the Insurgence to appear weak?”
Dragos turned towards David and frowned, mirroring his twin sister’s stance. The way his brows furrowed confirmed the source of his paternity, sending a shudder up David’s spine.
“When will he be healed?” he asked her, frustration gnawing at his words.
Hekate softened her voice as she presented her appeal. “You must have patience brother. We almost lost him.”
Dragos approached the bedside, David observing eyes like polished hematite. He peered into them, hoping to catch a flutter of thought, but discovered he was shielded from them, just like his sister and Danulf. He was beginning to wonder if it was intentional amongst creatures to shield their thoughts by magical means.
“I apologize, Great David,” Dragos said half-heartedly.
David rose in alarm, the words pulling a distant memory from his past. He saw the grotesque daemons of Tartarus dancing in the inky pools of his eyes. “What did you say?”
Hekate inserted herself between them. “Your coming has been prophesied for decades, David, passed down from the first oracle who made her home here,” she explained quickly. “The Dacian tribes have referred to you by that name for longer than you know, as the man who would someday deliver them from the Dark Times.”
David heard her words, but could not shake the sensation of foreboding that had settled over him. He continued to keep his gaze locked on the scowling Dragos.
Hekate turned to her brother, her voice matching the tension of her body. “Please, Dragos, leave us. I will send for you when it is time.”
Dragos threw up his hands in exasperation, but retreated from her sick room.
She turned back to David. “My brother is not the most patient of men,” she attempted to explain.
“No matter,” David assured her.
The torches crackled in the silence of the cellar. Hekate offered him a tired smile as she gently squeezed his bandaged hand. “Rest now, David.”
She rose to extinguish the fire around them, submerging the room in delicious darkness. David closed his eyes, realizing how heavy his eyelids had been. Within moments, he fell into a dreamless sleep.