Schiele stood on the edge of his masterpiece and looked deep into spiraling abyss. His once shining green eyes had glazed over grey with abject misery. He addressed the five shining markers arranged in star formation with a courteous nod. Ibris Swain, Ibris Salk, Ibris Susse, Ibris Sove and Ibris Sarg were huge pointed crystals taken from a deep cavern and brought here to the Convergence. This was where the magnetism of the forest land came to a point and where Schiele built the tribute to his god.
Thirty three years of incessant planning, conversing, digging and construction was a cathedral’s height beneath his feet.
The stone masons carved alcoves peppered with crevices, splendid gothic arches, solemn secret rooms and ornate contemplative balconies. All of these were accessible by the most impressive spiral staircase that wound round and down, connecting every room to its serpentine majesty.
He stared into the graduating gloom, toes precariously over the edge of the stone flagged brim and sucked in a mouth full of juddering air and salty tears.
“I see you as the ages have shaped these lands under leaded skies and scarlet revolutions. I must travel your twisting splendor at the speed of the hunting hawk and, in my death throes, be complete in my satisfaction. Lord, I have built this tribute to your trust in our love. But your people have grown content and idle. They look elsewhere for your magic that fills the spirit though joyous praise. They gorge themselves on the excesses of your bounty and have forsaken the purity found in simplicity. Lord, I deliver unto you my tribute and, in your mercy, catch me before I’m smashed apart. I surrender myself to you.”
As he turned his back to the hole, Schiele placed his hand on Ibris Swain and the crystal glowed with a pulsating blue light. One by one, the other crystals lit up in different colors that fired into the blue sky, exploding a dazzling rainbow that spanned the far lands.
Closing his eyes tight, Schiele leaned back, stretched out his huge arms and entered his creation with abandon.
He opened his eyes as the hurling stones flashed the dreams of life between the pitch of oblivion. The sky was still full of colors and, as he descended further, the nightmares engulfed the beautiful dreams with juicy tentacles and ferocious snarling fangs. Into his mind’s eye strode the fiery goat lord, Zamiel.
“I see your sacrifice as imitation and nothing more. You will not catch the eye of the pious god with your stunt. He is too busy smashing worlds apart to notice your paltry tribute to him. You are all abandoned and your act is too little and too late. But I will continue your work into the fires and blackness. Surrender your allegiance to me, Schiele and I will make you magnificent in my legion. You shall be my architect of pain in the keep.”
Schiele smiled at the entity and peered into every secret room with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. Each circular niche contained graven prayers set out in neat rows between ordered scriptures and glowing relics. The tower descended into the heart of darkness but it was a spear tipped with innate goodness. In his hands was the name of The Lord of the light and he was to drive it into the blasphemy and end the war between good and evil.
A myriad of winged beasts flocked around his descending form as he smiled into the pin prick of rainbow light so far above him.
His body slammed into the black rocks between a lava flow and stopped still. A deafening blast of horns rung across the obscenity and into the channels filled with the agonizing cries of pain, drowning them out completely.
Thunder filled the huge tunnel and Schiele’s body began to rise towards a blinding light flooding in to the top of the tower and the stones beneath him followed his smashed body. The tower beneath the earth was rising above and into the sky, as below him, hell was being swamped with beautiful colors. He was conscious but still in a cocoon of light and silence. Schiele rose above the hole in the earth as the great stones piled around his body, rearranged by a supernatural force of tremendous power. He was aware that, at his extremities, the great crystals had gathered and were transporting the star shaped man into the cloud and above the shield around the earth. In his mind’s eye, the tower in all it’s magnificence, had ascended to a great height and stood proud on the garden planet that had extinguished the evil inside the core.
Hell was dead.
Space was vast like the beautiful oceans and the blast of starlight reflected, was the sun dancing on the hypnotic waves.
The crystals and the man slowed to a stillness in front of a pulsating nebula.
“My son, you have shown true belief and sacrifice for love. Only the purest shall rise to be one amongst the throng. There is another garden that needs a protecting eye. You shall be that. You shall be the life giver for the planet.”
Schiele and the five crystals began to move at great speed, spinning until the five and the one became fire and light, settling in an orbit in view of a green and blue ball.
Sometimes a soul ascends to be a star but the truly blessed become the sun.
Includes art via Ann Thraxx
**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided. All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**
**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**