Tie Dye Tuxedo
05-11-2006, 01:56 AM
<i>just a hint... the infant described in the first paragraph is Bryan Gray, the two men don't age, which is why they are just as young and healthy seventeen years later, its explained eventually. Even if i'm not sure how yet :p </i>
Part One: The Roses
Sedgwick Faust walked with Oleg D’Armor down the busy street. They were searching for something, but no one paid them any heed, and they were concealed in the crowd itself.
“Wait, Oleg,” said Faust, “I just felt it.”
“What?” asked Oleg.
“That feeling that Ulrich said I’d have,” said Faust. Suddenly Faust heard a baby crying, at the bus stop just at the corner. He hurried towards the noise, and Oleg followed. There was a baby in a carriage, crying louder and louder as Faust approached. The mother was trying to console him, but nothing worked.
“Sweet baby,” said Faust, smiling.
“Sometimes,” smirked the woman, not looking up.
“This is it,” Faust whispered to Oleg, and he produced from his pocket a small silver triangle. While the mother wasn’t looking Faust slipped the triangle into the baby’s cradle. Faust gave a sigh of amazement.
“Such a vivid inner world for such a small child,” he said, “come Oleg, our work is done.” And they both departed, just as quietly as they came.
Seventeen years later
Conrad found himself on the subway, or on a bus, something moving, he couldn’t tell. The world outside the windows was bright and all the colors blurred together, his eyes felt as if they were out of focus.
“Conrad, hey!” said a voice. It sounded familiar, despite the fact he had never seen the girl before in his life.
“Hey!” Conrad smiled back, “how’ve you been?” It didn’t seem odd to him that this was a complete stranger he was speaking too, but their small talk continued as if they were old friends reunited. Perhaps they were, he simply didn’t remember, but it wasn’t something that bothered him. Suddenly everything stirred, and Conrad got the sensation of falling, or floating. Everything changed, he was in a hospital room, sitting on a chair in the corner of a room. The room and little detail to it, a bed, walls, no doors or windows. She was fast asleep, but for some reason sorrow flooded into him. The lights shut off suddenly, and there was a scream, suddenly there were tick marks everywhere, and when the scream died down, another one etched itself into the oblivion. Now he was standing over a gravestone, surrounded by trees, tears streaming down his face. Despite the sudden transition in setting he somehow knew what was going on. The gravestone read: “Celia Anna Harkonenn, 1985-2008, Broken Promises, Bad Memories, and a Cruel World, may she find peace in death.” Conrad recoiled in horror at the sight of this, and found himself in bed, covered in cold sweat, adrenaline flowing, screaming at the top of his lungs something he did not understand. He was sitting straight up, his eyes closed, hands pressed against his forehead. Suddenly consciousness and sanity flowed back into him, the doorbell rang three or four times. He got up and put on a pair of flannel pants, and went to the door. An elderly, yet intense looking woman answered it, cat in hand.
“Would you stop your screaming? Its great if your going to save someone or whatever in the hell you were saying, but the rest of us who live here don’t want to know.” Conrad looked at her blankly for a moment, not fully comprehending.
“Sorry, Miss Emmit,” he said finally, “but if you would be so kind, can you tell me what I was saying… I just had a horrible nightmare.”
“You were screaming something like, ‘I promise I’ll save you, I’ll come back for you, something senseless and ridiculous like that, I think you should go see someone about those nightmares of yours, for all of our sakes.”
“I’ll try to control myself Miss Emmit,” he apologized, “maybe I should talk to someone… you see, in my dreams.”
“I’m afraid I’m not that someone Mr. Killian,” Miss Emmit interrupted, and she stomped down the hallway towards her apartment. A loud noise startled Conrad from behind, his alarm was flashing 6:00, ringing loudly. Conrad pulled his door closed at shut off the alarm, and hopped in the shower, smoothing his glossy brown hair. He followed through his usual routine, picked up a bagel, and headed outside. There was a welcome rush of sea air as he opened his door into the dawn. Unlike many, Conrad loved this part of the day. The ocean was beautiful in the morning, every morning, it never failed to capture Conrad’s breath and make him feel slightly more poetic. The only daunting aspect was the dream. He had been having that dream almost every night now, about Celia Anna Harkonnen, a character he had never met, and was just a figment of his imagination, but she always died, and he always felt as if he could have saved her somehow.
It wasn’t a long walk to the docks, where he would get on his small boat and catch fish in the bay for an upscale restaurant that specialized in local food. They paid him well, and Conrad was always happy to be out on the sea. Conrad was seldom in a bad mood, but when he was, the sea always calmed him, especially at night when he could gaze up at the stars, the stars which guided him. He threw out a net and started his work day. After several hours of hauling fish into port and catching more, he would be finished, but until then, he was a man content.
Early afternoon, his catch was finished, and he was free to go to lunch, but he didn’t feel like returning home, instead, he walked from the restaurant, craving something like a sandwich or a muffin, he didn’t know, but he decided to just walk, and think.
Conrad easily stuck out in the crowd of tourists and business-like people, in his blue, sea-soaked sleeveless shirt and light brown hair, ice blue eyes and a string of shark teeth around his neck. He was in sharp contrast with everyone else. Through the crowd, a blonde haired girl caught his eye. He barely knew what words he was speaking as a whisper crept across his lips, “Celia…” She stopped for a moment, as if startled, looking in his direction.
“Do I know you?” she asked, coming closer. As she approached, she gave him a stranger look, “you do look familiar…”
“Perhaps we’ve met before,” said Conrad coolly, disguising his nervousness flawlessly, “I’m Conrad Killian.”
“Celia Harkonnen,” she said, “Seal for short.” Conrad’s heart took a leap.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing his distress. He guised it again, and smiled.
“Oh nothing, long day, you know… and if its not too much trouble, how would you like to get lunch sometime?”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” she smiled, “a quarter of twelve, tomorrow, Susie’s Diner?”
“I’ll be there,” said Conrad, a smile on his face. She smiled, and walked away. As she turned, Conrad inhaled deeply and rubbed his sweaty palms together. He kept walking, and down the steps into a subway station. He got a token, and got on, and sat down without as much as a word. There was a young man sitting next to him, holding several books, a prestigious smirk on his face. He had long red hair, and his eyes were a bright shade of olive.
“Where are you headed?” he asked Conrad, without even looking at him.
“Just grabbing some lunch,” said Conrad, “felt like going downtown, where are you headed?”
“Hotel Valhalla,” he said, “got some business stuff, you know.”
“So you a CEO or a politician or what?” asked Conrad. The red haired man finally turned to Conrad, laughing as if it was the most amusing thing he’d ever heard.
“No, not in the least, I am in a, decidedly more righteous profession,” he said.
“Which would be?” asked Conrad.
“Theoretical Theology,” he said.
“Interesting,” said Conrad, “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Presumably,” he said, “as I am the only one.”
“Oh…” said Conrad, not sure what to think. The man produced a violet rose from his hand, and extended it to Conrad.
“Tell me, what’s your name?” he asked.
“Conrad…but.”
“Remember always, there will be one, and only one chance, obstacles await humankind that have never been seen before. When we come out on the other end, will you be amongst the ones asking for forgiveness…” he paused, looking Conrad in the eye, “or will you be amongst those begging for mercy? A revolution is on its way, my friend.” With that, he offered the rose. Conrad was now thoroughly convinced the man was crazy, and he declined the rose, and got off the subway, hoping to never see him again. He almost instantly lost sight of him in the crowd, and made his way up the stairs into the daylight. He had sensed something profoundly negative about the man, and he had learned to trust his instincts. Perhaps there was something deeply sinister beneath those emerald eyes.
There was graffiti on the stairwell wall, simply stating “The Revolution Starts Here,” Conrad caught a glimpse of the man one last time, and then he was gone. As Conrad was thinking about the day during lunch, he made up his mind to see a friend about his dreams.
In contrast to the fair weather of that day, the night was much colder thronged with fog and raindrops and other sorts of gloom. Conrad stood on the sixtieth, and top floor, of the apartment complex, standing on the balcony during a drizzle, watching the fog roll past the skyscrapers that surrounded him.
“Beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?” asked Eli, gesturing up at the gray sky that danced with the lights of the city.
“Confining, stark,” Conrad began to list, “nothing compares to the sea.”
“Well obviously we have our differences,” said Eli, “you are a seafaring man, but tell me, why this night visit?”
“Look, Eli, I know you’re no shrink, but I’ve been having, troubling dreams.”
“Usually that isn’t a big deal,” said Eli, “reoccurring dreams? Death, falling, a woman?”
“A woman,” said Conrad.
“Ah, but it’s only natural,” said Eli, his hazel eyes gleaming in the unnatural city light. Eli was considerably older than Conrad, but he had been a friend of the family’s and Conrad had maintained their friendship when his parents passed away. He had short brown hair, and a face that only comfortably displayed cunning smirks, but it guised his true nature, which was full of energy and mirth. His eyes were a deep brown, surrounded by a pool of green with flecks of red and yellow, like a grove of trees during autumn.
“This isn’t natural, Eli,” said Conrad, “I dream about the same girl almost every night, I’ve never met her before, that is…until earlier this day.”
“Fascinating, same name and everything?” asked Eli.
“Yes,” said Conrad, “same name and everything.”
“Dreams always show you one of two things, or some combination of the two, usually they involve your greatest desires, or your worst fears.”
“That’s the other part of it,” said Conrad, “in the dream she dies, its not totally clear how, but I think its suicide, and I always wake up screaming something incomprehensible, but my neighbor this morning thought it was, ‘I’ll save you.’”
“Hmm,” said Conrad, his deep eyes becoming thoughtful, “that’s quite a dream… I must admit I’m baffled by it, my best advice is that, if it’s a dream that shows you things that you couldn’t have possibly known before, and its right on one occasion, then you can be damn sure that its right on the other occasion, I just hope that you’ll be able to find the way to save her.”
“Thanks, Eli,” said Conrad, staring of the balcony into the lights, “me too.”
Seal sifted through the paperwork on her new patient. He was 17, a high school drop out, and already had quite a criminal record. He had mellowed out after school was out of the picture, and now just stayed home and painted, talking less and less, eating less and less, sleeping less and less. Seal felt already that it would be an unsuccessful sessions, but she tried to keep positive, sipping her coffee.
“Miss Harkonenn?” the door creaked open a ways. To say the least, Bryan Gray was not what she was expecting. He was well built, had dark brown eyes, unkempt facial hair, but well groomed brown hair that fell to his collar. Seal got up and pulled out a chair for him, and sat across from him.
“Bryan! Its nice to finally meet you, I hope Amy saw you in here in one piece.”
“She has very sad eyes,” said Bryan.
“That’s observant of you, but what makes you say that?” asked Seal.
“The way she holds herself, and the way her smile isn’t complete, but you can’t blame her, it seems like she has a lot of negativity in her life.”
“Do you make judgments like that about everyone you see?” asked Seal.
“I do it unintentionally,” said Bryan, “I guess that’s part of the reason I’m here, I don’t think like other people.”
“How about me Bryan, what judgments can you make about me right of the bat?” she asked.
“You seem very pleasant, you’re office is well organized so I’d guess you were a diligent student in high school and college, you like caffeine a lot, I smelled coffee the moment I walked in, and that’s all, from right now.”
“You are perceptive,” said Seal, “I’m impressed.” Something in Bryan’s hand caught Seal’s attention.
“What have you brought with you?” asked Seal.
“These are my paintings,” Bryan said, “my mother said I should show you.”
“Well you don’t have to if you don’t want too,” said Seal, “but if you’d like to share feel free.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he said, pulling out a stack and showing her. The first picture was of a wave breaking onto the sand, the paint was on the canvas in such a way that it gave the illusion of motion, even though there was none. The second was much more detailed, and much darker. It was four or five wrecked cars, wreathed in flames, surrounded by fire fighters. The fire fighters were pulling one man’s brutally wounded body out of the car, a look of despair on his face. It all looked vaguely familiar, however dark. Without looking, Seal slowly dragged the newspaper from its resting place on the table, the headline was “Tragic accident; 7 dead police say.” The photo was precisely the same as the painting, down to the expression on the man’s face.
“This is a strikingly accurate painting, Bryan, but why did you choose to paint the front page this morning?” Bryan cocked his head to look at his painting.
“I painted that almost a month ago,” he said, forming his words carefully as his eyes also fell on the newspaper picture, “I dreamed it…” Seal flipped to the next picture quickly, eyes wide. The next one was a beautiful landscape, a valley between to huge mountain peaks, light snow falling, with a huge black line down the center.
“What’s that?” she asked him, indicating the black line.
“Pandemonium,” said Bryan.
“Why Pandemonium?” she asked.
“I dreamed it once,” he said, “not long ago, I can’t remember the dream, but all I remember is that scene, and that it’s a dwelling of some sort.”
“Well obviously you’ve had some kind of premonition before…if what you’re saying is true,” said Seal, “is it possible these places you are drawing are real?”
“I don’t care if things are real or if they aren’t,” said Bryan, “dreams aren’t real, perhaps this world isn’t real, but real or not, does it really make a difference?”
“That’s for you to decide,” she smiled. After the session was over, she left the building. Being outside was refreshing, a crisp wind was blowing, but it was surprisingly cold for a summer day. The sky was overcast and threatened to rain at any moment. She hurried to her car, turned on the heat, and started to the diner where she would meet Conrad. To her surprise, she was nervous, she kept finding herself looking in the visor mirror, checking her hair, her face, but everything was fine. Even though she had only spoken to him for less than a minute, she felt that she knew him longer. Maybe such feelings were dangerous, maybe he wasn’t as sane as he appeared. Usually that would have been a major concern, but this time, the nervousness didn’t stem out of being afraid of who he was, she was afraid that he wouldn’t like who she was. She pushed the thought out of her mind. Don’t worry, she thought, just act natural. She parked on the crowded side street, and walked a block to where the diner was. Her heels made a clicking noise on the ground, which she was immediately self conscious of. She shifted her weight uncomfortably as she walked, hoping she didn’t look too outrageous. Conrad had already arrived, and was leaning against a wall in front of the entrance.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. Conrad smiled in return, and opened the door for her inside. She rubbed her hands together once she was indoors, “can you believe the weather today? Its like winter!”
“I know, the waves were high today, I think a storm is coming…or already here,” he said. The hostess sat them at the far end of the diner next to a massive bay window that looked onto the street perpendicular.
“So tell me about yourself,” she said. She never intended to be so energetic…she just thought she’d go, it might be a little awkward, and then she’d be done with it, but there was something about him.
“Well there’s not much to tell,” he smiled, “I love the ocean, I spend every day on it, catching fish, it pays well if your good at it, and I’ve learned a few tricks.”
“So if I ordered seafood today I’d probably be eating something you caught?” she asked, smiling.
“No,” he squinted, contorting his face into a half smile, “but if you ordered the seafood medley at Gulliani’s, then you might.” Seal recognized the name, and laughed. Gulliani’s was the most expensive restaurant in the city.
“Very nice,” she said.
“What about you?” he asked, “what do you do?”
“I’m a psychiatrist,” she said, “I love my job too, some of the people I get to know are the most interesting people… just today I had a session with a teenager who this dream about a car crash a few months ago, he painted the scene, and that scene was the front page for today.”
“Wow…” said Conrad, “is that encompassed in your field?”
“That isn’t encompassed in any field, unless you like sci-fi,” she said, “but it does happen…every now and then.”
“Is it usually something that only happens to crazy people?” he bit his lip.
“No, it can happen to anyone…why? Have you had a dream like that?” she asked. Conrad hesitated, but decided against it.
“Not…entirely,” he finally said, “but we all have dreams that…you know…déjà vu.”
“Right,” she smiled.
“Have you ever had a dream like that?” he asked.
“Once when I was very little, I had a dream that this man was writing some words on the wall, all the words were in a different language,” she shrugged, “I remembered it vividly enough to write down the words, and they were real words, all written in a dead language called Sumner.”
“That’s pretty strange,” said Conrad, “what did it say?”
“Broken promises, bad memories, and a cruel world,” she said, her eyes glazing over at the memory. Conrad felt his whole body suddenly start sweating…those had been the words on the tombstone in his dream. He took a drink of water, and tried to look cheerful.
“Well that’s pretty dismal, but its interesting to have dreams like that,” he smiled. She agreed and said something else, but Conrad’s attention was suddenly drawn away, onto the mass of tables to their left. There were pool tables at the other end of the restaurant next to the bar, and three men were playing pool at one. Conrad instantly recognized one as the man he’d seen on the subway, the one who’d tried to give him a rose, and warned him of revolution.
Click! Click! Click! Oleg hit the cue ball as hard as he could, knocking three balls into three different holes. Faust hated this game, always had, but Oleg seemed to be good at it. Juno sighed, seeing his defeat, he set the cue down and sat at their table next to the bar. He was soon joined by Faust and Oleg.
“Its getting cold,” said Juno, “Peregrine is becoming reckless.”
“You have to admit, Juno,” said Faust, the man with the long red hair, “his power is magnificent.” Juno said nothing, but his expression was doubtful. He was smaller than Oleg, but had a lithe shape and a healthy complexion. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a brown hat that rested uncomfortably on a nest of messy black hair. He was wearing a long sleeve green shirt and a pair of jeans. Oleg was a built man, he had broad shoulders and bulging muscles, visible from his sleeveless white shirt. He had dirty blonde hair that hung strait down to his shoulders, and a face that seemed to be made for grimaces and expressions of anger. Faust on the other hand, seemed far more sophisticated. He was wearing a casual black suit, with his long, flowing red hair. His face was so perfect it almost seemed inhuman, or at the very least un-masculine. He had a gold earring in each ear, and had a tattoo of a star on each hand. His occupation was theoretical theologian, and he always made it perfectly clear that he was the only one.
“Reckless or not,” continued Oleg, “Shannon trusts him, and she wouldn’t trust a fool.”
“She doesn’t trust you, does she,” both Faust and Juno were eyeing him suspiciously. Oleg felt his temper rising, but he kept it at bay, he knew Faust had it in for him. The woman in question, Shannon Svaline was an object of absolute infatuation, especially for Oleg. They were together most of the time, though she treated him like a mangy animal, she had him under her thumb. Faust also seemed to be slightly under her spell, but he could control himself, he couldn’t be with the woman Oleg considered his until he was far away.
“She trusts me,” replied Oleg calmly, “I’ve known her for many, many years, and she’s always trusted me.” Faust’s eyes were wandering around the room, genuinely uninterested, when suddenly Conrad caught his eye.
“That’s the man who denied the last rose,” Faust said, his emerald eyes widening.
“Coincidence?” asked Juno, looking at Faust sideways.
“Providence,” said Faust, “his lady will be receiving the rose.”
“No, Faust, not now, the man clearly dislikes what he’s seen of you, and will become very defensive, we can’t make a scene, for our sakes.”
“It has to happen Juno, things like this are just difficult for you to comprehend.” Juno was silenced. He felt his hand reaching for his pocket, where his knife was kept. He should just kill him now, he thought, put and end to his own misery, but he put his hand back on the table, it wasn’t right. Faust motioned to a waiter, handed him the rose, and whispered his instructions. The waiter nodded, and promptly took the rose over to her.
“Excuse me,” he said, addressing her, “the gentlemen next to the bar sends this.” He extended the rose, but she looked at Conrad with nervous eyes. Conrad shook his head firmly.
“Tell him thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t accept,” the waiter nodded, rolled his eyes, and returned the rose. Faust’s eyes were in a rage when it came back.
“Providence… Faust?” asked Juno.
“She is receiving a rose, even if I have to deliver it in some drastic manner.” He noticed Conrad and Seal were leaving, so he quickly got up, intending to speak to them.
“Who is he?” Seal asked.
“I don’t know…but….” Conrad began, but he was cut short. Suddenly he was standing before him, wearing a long leather jacket, hands it pockets, his sinister eyes scanning both of them.
“You know,” he said, looking at the wall, running his hand down it passively, “it isn’t polite to decline gifts.” His words carried such animosity that Conrad felt a spark of anger in his chest.
“Lets just go,” said Conrad, trying to lead Seal to his car.
“I’m talking to you,” Faust said firmly. There was such a note of rancor in his voice, that it had a paralyzing effect, Conrad felt something invisible immediately restrict him, rendering him immobile.
“What do you want,” Conrad breathed, anger replaced with fear. Faust stared deep in his eyes, his expression blank, his pupils two inky pools, both of which seemed to burn into Conrad’s consciousness. He faintly heard Seal yelling, but she sounded distant, like she was underwater. Conrad felt a curious sensation in his mind, as if something was pulling on it, opening it. Conrad’s eyes suddenly dilated, and suddenly his dream whizzed by his face in a series of flashes. Suddenly Faust’s eyes twitched, his face contorted into an expression of pure terror. He let out a grotesque moan of agony, fell to his knees, and embraced the wall, screaming in pain.
“That vision,” he said, shaking his head as if to cast it out of his eyes, “you dream of such tragedy,” he was trembling head to foot. Conrad felt Faust’s mental grip slacken, and then release. He let out a deep breath, and led Seal away quickly.
“What happened…who is that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Conrad, squinting, his eyes still dilated, “but that was seriously crazy.”
“Is he dangerous?” asked Seal, “what did he do to you?”
“I think… now, I’m not crazy…but I felt the strangest thing… like he was reading my mind.” Back on the sidewalk, Faust was still leaning over, but now Juno and Oleg had caught up to him.
“This isn’t a game, Faust,” said Juno, extending his hand. Faust took it, and rose to his feet.
“Let’s go back, I need to write something down.”
“What did you see, Sedgwick?” asked Oleg indifferently.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but that girl must receive a rose.”
“No,” said Juno, “those are good people, but they don’t fit into your design.”
“The Fiori wouldn’t be right without her there,” he said, staring off in the direction they had departed. Juno felt his hatred bubble up, and again considered taking his life. He’d have to answer to Mephistopholes, and Faust’s design was still vital to the project.
“What a creep,” Seal was saying as they stood next to her car, later that night, waiting to depart from each other’s company.
“I hope he didn’t ruin the night,” said Conrad.
“Why did he freak out like that?” she asked, his grotesque scream still imprinted on her memory.
“The answer is yes, then,” he said.
“No, I had a great time,” she smiled, “I just hope we don’t see that maniac again.” Conrad laughed.
“Well if all you remember about tonight is that ridiculous man, then I guess you’ll have to let me take you out again.” She bit her lip, and nodded.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Are you free for Saturday? All day?” he asked, “I’d take you fishing with me, now I know it sounds boring, but once you get on the waves, its so beautiful, you don’t even care that you’re doing something boring.”
“Yeah I’m free Saturday, but if you’re going to have me on the ocean all day, I get to decide what we do that night.”
“Deal,” said Conrad, smiling. There was a strange moment of silence when neither of them said anything, but then he embraced her tightly, his dream coming to mind. She said bye, and he turned and walked away. He could feel her linger for a second, but then she got into her car. She didn’t see the tear streaming down his cheek. The first good thing I find he thought, and I’m already afraid she’s going to be gone.
That night, sleep came slowly to Seal. She had a wonderful time that day, but she was unsure about the man. Maybe she’d made a new friend, she thought, but that’s all. There was something in the way her looked at her, it wasn’t as if he was after her body, or her love, but there was something else, like he was afraid that if he looked away she’d be gone in the next moment. She shivered, a strange breeze was flowing through her apartment, she felt as if a set of eyes were watching her, thinking she was asleep. It didn’t frighten her, she often got that feeling, but she got up to see if a window was open somewhere. She walked into the next room, and found the living room window wide open. She shut it firmly, but as soon as she did, the TV switched on, without any outside command. She looked at it drowsily for a moment, watching the static for a second, almost thinking she saw a twisted face in the images, but it turned off as abruptly and independently as it had turned on. She returned to her room, feeling sleepier by the second, but she stopped dead in the doorway. Fear consumed her, and suddenly she was wide awake, her eyes wild. There was a small, violet, rose sitting on the foot of her bed, the object that Faust had tried in vain to have her take. She looked around the room frantically, it was empty.
“Is there anyone there?” she called, receiving no response. She looked up to the corner of the room, where some kind of insidious shadow was creeping. She let out a muffled scream, but then looked again. Whatever it was, her eyes couldn’t focus on it, so she couldn’t be sure if it was something, or just a trick of the light. Suddenly the thing was gone, but a horrible fatigue wrapped itself around her head. She stumbled to the bed and fell into a horrible nightmare. Suddenly she was a moth trapped in a lampshade, amongst thousands of other moths. They flew around and around, and every time one brushed the surface, it would burst into flame and dust, catching dozens of others as well. She kept getting closer and closer to the now spinning inferno, when it all vanished, and she fell into a deeper sleep.
“I understand your angst, Mrs. Simmons.” Eli said, holding a clipboard, and making his usual hand gestures, “but that just doesn’t seem likely, was your husband on any medications, sleep aids, anything?”
“No, nothing like that at all,” said Mrs. Simmons, an elderly woman with curly white hair. Eli found elderly people tiring, as he found himself becoming more and more that way himself. Mr. Simmons and slipped into coma, and his wife was quietly, but irritatingly, distraught. Mr. Simmons case was a strange one, he simply did not wake up one morning. His vital signs continued as if he was just asleep. Mrs. Simmons wanted to know why he was in a coma, but she wasn’t giving Eli enough information for him to do her any good. “We’ll have to run some tests, Mrs. Simmons,” said Eli, “that’s all I have.” Mrs. Simmons said nothing, just lowered her head and went back to the waiting room. Eli went back to the room where Mr. Simmons lay sleeping. Eli watched him for second his eyes were twitching every few moments, as if he were seeing something.
“What are you dreaming about in there?” Eli whispered to the sleeping man, looking curiously at his gently convulsing eyes.
Mr. Simmons awoke. He found himself completely naked, laying in the sun. He sat up and shook his head, there was a strange sensation pulsing through his fingers. He looked at his fingers, and to his surprise, all the blotches and imperfections that age had inflicted were gone. He stood up, felt strangely powerful, he looked down to see the way his body had been in its prime. He instantly felt the top of his head, he suddenly had a full head of hair.
“What is this?” he murmured to himself, looking around. The sky was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. There were low lying clouds that looked like huge marshmallows hovering just over the horizon, above him the bright azure turned to a dark blue, revealing stars and huge celestial objects overhead. The sun was shining brightly on the other side of the sky, which seemed strange compared to that of earth; it was as if this world was flat. Looking around, it certainly seemed infinite. All around there was meadows and meadows of multicolored flowers and bright green grasses. The landscape was dotted with trees that dwarfed the tallest redwood, which looked like huge natural citadels and probably provided good shelter. Mr Simmons was standing on a small rise, and behind him the horizon seemed to slope a little, going downwards into a kind of valley right below an impressive mountain range. Mr. Simmons took in this spectacle with his mouth wide open.
“Am I in heaven?” he asked, to no one in particular.
“We don’t know,” said a female voice from behind him. She was clad in nothing but a white shawl, which Mr. Simmon’s eyes penetrated slightly, his new lithe body excited and giddy, “but there’s a grove of smaller trees not far from here where we found a hot springs, you can come stay with us if you want.”
“I’m just dreaming, I’m not staying,” said Mr. Simmons, thinking that was the reality.
“That’s what the rest of us thought,” she said.
Bryan had a strange demeanor this day, his eyes looked tired, red, and baggy, his hair fell in a mess around his face; his face was unshaven for several days. His clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed, a dirty white undershirt and a haggard denim jacket.
“Hey Bryan…” said Seal, “you doing alright today?”
“I’m doing fine,” he said, “I’ve just been having these terrible dreams, that I’m in the desert and I’m walking, and walking, and walking, but everything just looks the same on all sides, but the strange thing is, I feel safer there than I did wherever I came from, but I can never recall where it was I walked from.”
“Maybe that’s how you subconsciously feel about your life, you’re walking and walking, but getting nowhere,” suggested Seal.
“But that’s not how I feel,” he said.
“Well, dreams always tell us the truth about ourselves, maybe it’s a possibility.”
“Maybe,” he said, “I’ve also been catching glimpses of this pool, and this man, hovering over it, he’s disguised himself as a person, but I see him for what he really is, and its grotesque, I can’t tell what he’s doing, but I know its bad, and I’m just afraid that something bad is going to happen.”
“What makes him grotesque?” asked Seal.
“He bears the scars of centuries of sin,” said Bryan, “though his outside appearance is as a perfect human being, on the inside he’s full of mud and darkness, and he has five rings around his head, which change colors sporadically.”
“Do you know his name?” asked Seal
“No,” he said, “but I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” he asked.
“Lately I’ve been feeling all this negativity just building up, not just in my life, but everywhere, in the sky, in the air, in other people.” Seal thought about the night before, she felt the same way. Things seemed to be darkening, but she had her beacons of light, Conrad… she thought of him for a moment, then shook her head.
“Well, you just need to find your beacon of light sometimes,” she said, “maybe your dreams will reveal to you what you need to do.”
Conrad felt exhilarated. The ocean spray went up into his face, the noises and smells and sounds made his senses burn with vitality, and his exuberance was contagious. Seal didn’t know if she’d enjoy being on the boat with him, but once she was there she didn’t know how she could be bored when he was so happy. He was radiating it. She envied him somewhat, she hardly ever was happy these days.
“Its not as boring as you thought is it?” he smiled. She shook her head.
“No, but the rocking of the boat is kind of scary.”
“Would you rather it just stay still?” he asked.
“Kind of,” she admitted, smiling. It was finally a real summer day, the sun was bright, hot, sweat stuck to Conrad’s shirt and face, but the spray was constantly cooling them off, so it was pleasant. As the day went on, clouds began to thicken. When it started drizzling, Conrad agreed to going back to shore. Seal went into the boat’s little cabin, but Conrad hesitated. There was something strange about the rain. He let a few drops hit his hand, then he put his finger in his mouth, without really thinking about it. It was salty to the taste.
“Salt rain…” Conrad whispered to himself.
“Conrad!” Seal yelled. Conrad remembered himself, and went inside the little cabin.
When they got back to shore, Conrad tied the boat up, and they hurried into Conrad’s car.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked.
“You’re choice,” he said.
“Let’s see a movie,” she smiled.
“Alright,” said Conrad, smiling despite the fact he hated going to the movies. He preferred to just watch them on TV, no lines, no people trying to sell you more popcorn then you could possibly eat in a week. As they drove away, neither of them saw the red-haired man with the perfect face sitting on the top of a building, looking down at them. Once they left, he jumped down onto a light pole with unparalleled grace, then down to the ground, dusting his jacket off a bit as he landed. He didn’t follow Seal and Conrad further, he simply began to run. He ran northeast, over the bay, his footsteps making splashes in the water. Once he was almost back to shore, he tucked his knees up to his chest, and vanished into an unseen rift in the waves. In less than a second, he traveled over five hundred miles. He reappeared in a dense pine forest, somewhere in the far north. There were flakes of white falling from the sky, like snow, but all the trees were long dead, and the ground was covered in ash. The air smelled of cinders and fire, and everything was deathly still, except for the constant rain of ash. Faust kept walking forward, over the dead roots of trees and over burnt trees. Suddenly he came to a place where the forest abruptly ended. He stood on the boundary for a moment, looking about. He was on the edge of a massive cliff, that went down so far he couldn’t see the bottom. Left and right the cliff went around, making a huge hole in the middle of the forest. Trees grew right up to the edge of it, as if it had always been there.
“Chiron,” said Faust, into the hole.
“Here, sir,” said a voice. Resting his huge elbows between two branches of a dead pine tree, there was a massive creature, at least eight feet tall, broad shoulders, completely naked, although it was acceptable, as he was half animal. Chiron was a strange creature no matter where you were from, but he was best described as a Centaur. He had completely midnight-black eyes, and long black hair that was braided and hung down past his shoulders. He had two pairs of arms, which bulged with muscles that rippled when he moved. His torso steadily grew more and more fur, until it turned into a coat of gleaming auburn fur.
“Summon Captain Edgar for me.” Chiron nodded, and produced from the top of the tree a strange wooden instrument, long and covered in holes from top to bottom. He put it to his lips, and blew two low notes. The effect was instantaneous. There was a fiery din from the pit, and another huge creature rose from the pit with such great speed that Faust could feel the disgustingly hot wind break on his face. The creature’s flesh was completely black, but he had long wiry white hair. His eyes shone like embers against the blackness, and his body was as fit and as powerful as Chiron’s. He had a long, lizard-esque face which looked eerily human at the same time, coupled with powerful jaws, and a set of snarling fangs. He had a wingspan that was dizzying to Faust, for it must have been at least twenty feet. His wings were leathery and bat like, and the creature had a tail that was at least five feet long.
“Sedgwick Faust,” the creature said, flapping its wings to stay aloft, “long time no see.” His voice was like rusted metal scraping itself against a chalkboard, and it was full of coal and ash.
“Yes, Captain Edgar, it has been awhile,” said Faust, “I suppose your operations, however secretive, are going as planned?”
“Mephistopholes will be very pleased,” said Captain Edgar, “we have penetrated the rock and reached the golem.”
“Mephistopholes would like to know when you will begin to deliver the golem.”
“We will begin to deliver it to Tower Pandemonium tonight,” he said.
“Now,” said Faust, “when Mephistopholes sent me here, he failed to inform me what Golem was… so if you would be so kind…”
“Of course,” said Chiron, “Golem was used by holy warriors long before you were born, it was used to make creatures called Golems, which they would breathe the souls of dead enemies into, giving them life.”
“It was known as Livgergyttja by the ancient people long before the holy warriors, it was a key component of the Charlatan’s Art.” Chiron noticed the perplexed look on Faust’s face
“What Captain Edgar means to say is it was used in Alchemy” said Chiron
“Fascinating,” said Faust, more than satisfied, “I’ve been in Mephistopholes’ library, there are bottles of mercury and vials of sand, blocks of wax and jars of salt, does he use them for alchemy?”
“Quite so,” said Chiron.
“It is an honor to be doing his work,” said Faust, “thank you, gentlemen.”
“Anytime Mr. Faust,” said Chiron. Captain Edgar had already descended back into the pit.
Mephistopholes sat in the Victorian style study, his fingers moving eloquently and quickly over the keys of a piano, his eyes closed in some sort of musical trance, his long wavy hair hanging over his eyes. He had a pleasant face, and was dressed formally, as if he was going to some special event. His study was full of countless odds and ends, strange devices and half-read books.
“The Moonlight Sonata,” said a voice. Mephistopholes stopped playing, raising his eyes to see the speaker.
“Ah, Peregrine, I didn’t see you come in.”
“Right, well, I have discovered something and I need your assistance… come with me.” Mephistopholes nodded, and got up. Peregrine strode out into a huge corridor and down a flight of stairs into an immense library.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
“I have been primarily focusing on other things,” said Peregrine, “but I got the slightest little twinge that we were being spied on.”
“This fortress is impenetrable to any eyes that would desire access,” said Mephistopholes, “the people in Arcadia have no knowledge of any other worlds, and the people who live around this tower fear it deeply.”
“Not by a physical spy,” said Peregrine, “I know that that’s impossible, I meant more of a… unconscious sort of spying.”
“You mean some sort of astral projection?” asked Mephistopholes, “I assure you, this fortress is impenetrable.” Peregrine looked at Mephistopholes, his expression dark and pressing, he was certain of his conjecture.
“What I’m trying to say my dear comrade, is that whoever is seeing into this fortress is not aware of exactly what it is they are seeing, but I have felt eyes many times, and I have began to fear that whoever is gaining these visions might come to realize exactly what’s going on.” Mephistopholes remained unconvinced
“Its very possible that you’re just imagining things, and if you aren’t, its also possible that the person pays no attention,” said Mephistopholes.
“But just in case,” said Peregrine, “I can’t blind this vision by myself, I’d need your knowledge of alchemy to help me.”
“Alright, Peregrine, I’ll rid you of your paranoia,” he said. He grabbed a few vials of the shelves, and poured a thin film of mercury into an aluminum tin. He took out a small silver straw, and put the end of it in the other vial, and inhaled tenderly. He then blew it out over the tin, muttered a few words to himself, snapped his fingers, and suddenly the whole thing was blazing with green and blue flames. He peered into the flames, several images flying past, a car wreck, the fortress they were in, himself.
“Hmm,” he said, reaching for a jar of salt. He dropped in a pinch, and suddenly the mercury seemed to freeze over, the flames ceasing.
“Whoever was watching, the connection is seriously severed now.”
“Thank you,” said Peregrine, and Mephistopholes followed him back up the stair case, up another flight of stairs, and into a vast circular room. The ground was all grass and flowers, and in the center there was a huge pool.
“How have the roses worked?” asked Peregrine, striding with Mephistopholes to the pool.
“Admirably,” he said, “people are already beginning to find their way.”
“Show me,” said Peregrine, grinning ferociously. Mephistopholes nodded, and waved his hand over the pool. Instantly the water parted, revealing a solid mirror beneath it, which seemed to open up into something entirely different. Mephistopholes jumped down, and Peregrine followed. Peregrine felt a disgusting sensation as the air where the mirror was seemed to congeal around his feet and his fingers and eyes, but felt a warm breeze beneath him, as he set foot for the first time in the paradise he had created. There was a group of young people before them in the flowers.
“Are you an angel?” asked one of them, addressing Mephistopholes.
“I am something far more powerful than an angel, child,” he said, a note of animosity in his voice, but the young group was awed with respect for him.
“Spread the word amongst all the inhabitants that are here and have not yet come,” said Peregrine, stepping forward, “this place is the Fiori, set aside for you and you alone, and you will remain young and healthy forever, lest you are woken by the hands of the devil.” And with that, the two men left the Fiori, and back into the vast room where the entrance to the other world lay.
Miles away, in his home, Bryan Gray let out a little sob of pain as everything in his head went suddenly black…
Conrad too, slept uneasily. He dreamed that he was in heaven, or he thought he was, but flowers began to wither and the sky began to darken, and suddenly he was all alone in a horrible wasteland.
Eli rushed down the hall from the makeshift coma ward. Seventeen patients and counting, it seemed there was a new case of this sleeping sickness every day. Eli was completely baffled by it, so were neuropathologists and neurosurgeons and every personnel who had looked at a patient. He went into the crowded waiting room, where anxious family members gathered. Immediately he was bombarded with questions that he didn’t know the answer too. He shouted for everyone to listen, and addressed them:
“Look, we’re doing everything we can, while the condition is strange, there is no reason to believe that any of them will or have come under any harm whatsoever, vital signs are just as strong as they were before, and if we handle this calmly, there’s no reason for any episodes.” With that, he walked outside, and sat on a bench in despair. He didn’t know what to do anymore, he had tried everything.
“Are you Dr. Nelson?” asked a man, approaching him.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Eli Nelson, but I’m very busy…can you please…”
“Can we please talk in private? This is of utmost importance.” Sighing, Eli got up, and walked with the stranger across the hospital grounds.
“My name is Nils Undquist,” he said, “this matter of comas was of no importance to me until a friend of mine fell into one.”
“Is he here?” asked Eli.
“No, he’s at St. Thomas’,” said Nils.
“Why are you here, Mr. Undquist?” asked Nils forcefully.
“Because I’ve heard good things about you, Dr, and I thought that this information would be most valuable in your hands.”
“Tell me what you think you know,” said Eli.
“Well, I’ll start with the strange circumstances prior to my friend’s… mishap,” started Nils.
“Go on,” said Eli.
“Well, he was given a rose by a stranger who went on and on about revolution, and as soon as the rose was in his possession, it vanished into thin air as if it hadn’t even existed.”
“Right,” said Eli. Nils’ voice was old, and tired. It seemed that Eli could trust him, but he wasn’t sure how much more outrageous this was going to get.
“Last night I fell asleep, and I dreamt I was with my friend, in this place he called the Fiori, he said there were angels here, and creatures far more powerful than angels, and that when he wakes up, he will only desire to go back.”
“What are you saying?” asked Eli.
“If my dream was telling me the truth,” said Nils, “then it means that someone is doing this to these people, and in order to stop it, we have to find that person.”
“That hardly seems likely, Mr. Undquist,” said Eli, trying to be polite.
“This morning, Dr. Nelson, I was meditating, and I went back to that place. I tried to force my friend out of his sleep, and we wrestled in the vision. He hit me across the jaw with a rock, and when I awoke in my room, the wound was real. Something strange is going on here, Dr. Nelson, you can’t deny that.” Eli had indeed noticed the fresh wound on Nils’ face, but up until now did he judge it. It hadn’t been a very violent blow, but it was enough to leave a few cuts and scrapes on his face. Most of the wound was covered up by Nils’ gray beard, so he couldn’t get a good look.
“I’ll be around, Doctor, when I’ve found out more,” with that, Nils turned, and left. Eli felt a mixture of feelings, part relief, part bewilderment, part skepticism, and part fear. Eli felt a chill go up his spine, and he walked silently back to the coma ward to check on his patients.
Conrad stood at the bus stop, looking around the busy downtown district, holding his coffee close to his face as to keep the fumes of traffic from making themselves vividly known. As he looked across the street, he realized that the building before him he had never seen before. It was tall and old looking, and had a large neon sign that read “Hotel Valhalla.” Before Conrad could form another fault, he saw something disturbing. An angry looking man was wresting a young girl, holding her by the hair, dragging her in the building. Conrad shouted, but the man didn’t turn or acknowledge the shout. Conrad shouted again, frustrated that no one across the street took no action or notice. Conrad dashed across the street, dumping his coffee on the cold pavement, and running in after the man. As soon as he stepped into the building, they were gone. It was impossible, he had just seen them enter, and he was steps behind them.
“Welcome,” Conrad did not need to turn to see who it was, “I have a few things to ask you, if you could follow me.”
“I don’t want to talk with you,” said Conrad, “you’re crazy.”
“I was perfectly sane until I met you, Conrad,” he snarled, “allow me to introduce myself, my name is Sedgwick Samuel Faust, experimental theologian and architect of the great revolution.”
“I’m not coming with you,” Conrad insisted again.
“There’s someone,” said Faust, approaching Conrad, “someone you want to keep safe, someone you want to save. If you don’t come with me, I’ll find her, and I’ll hurt her in the worst way, you can’t even imagine the things I’m capable of, would you like that to be your fault, Conrad?” Conrad felt his rage building.
“What do you want?” he asked through clenched teeth and fists.
“I want to know,” said Faust, “just what it is you see when you dream.”
“I see her die, and see everyone die, I see a paradise that turns into a wasteland, I see a deluge, I don’t know why you’re so interested.”
“Because your dreams show my design failing,” yelled Faust, so that his voice echoed amongst the vestibule of the tower.
“What is your design?” asked Conrad, through his anger.
“To show the revolutionaries a taste of heaven, so they can bring it to earth, that is their responsibility, and when they wake up, a new age will dawn, but you dream of tragedy, why?”
“I don’t control my dreams,” said Conrad, “perhaps I’m wrong.”
“All my life I’ve been working on this, I have to be sure, do you understand me?” Faust’s perfect face was torn apart by anger, his green eyes glittering dangerously.
When Bryan came in that day, the world seemed to get so much colder. Seal thought she had never seen anyone that sad. She got up from her seat immediately and went to him.
“Oh, Bryan what’s wrong?” she asked, sitting him down. He let out a little sob, a tear streaming down his face.
“They blinded me,” he said, “I saw him do it.”
“They blinded you from what?” asked Seal.
“All my sight,” he said suddenly filled with fury, letting out a angry sob, calling out for something that wasn’t there.
“Relax, Bryan,” she said, trying to console him, “who blinded you?”
“When he touched me, he left a part of him with me,” said Bryan, “his name is Mephistopholes, I don’t know what he is, but he isn’t human, he’s trying to…” suddenly his voice became urgent, but he paused as he looked up into Seal’s eyes, “the Fiori,” he whispered.
“What?” asked Seal.
“Seal,” he said, “when you wake up, you won’t know where you are, but don’t worry, I’ll come and help you, I promise.”
“Bryan, stop,” she said. Suddenly she felt very tired, the room spinning quickly, colors and objects spinning faster, until suddenly everything faded into blackness. Bryan caught her as she collapsed, and quickly called an ambulance, yelling into the receiver to hurry. He carried her downstairs, supporting her until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics came, and took her. Bryan stood outside in the wind, and focused on her mind. He had to go where she went. Bryan closed his eyes, and felt an unpleasant sensation in his head as he wedged himself through the gap with her. Suddenly he felt his face hit the concrete, and everything went black.
Faust was stepping closer to Conrad, Conrad backed away slowly, deeper into the vestibule.
“Would you like to see where your beloved Seal is now?” he asked, threateningly, “I sent her into sleep, just like the others, it is my doing Conrad, mine, so if you don’t tell me what your planning, then she will die too.”
“What do you mean…” Conrad began, clenching his hands.
“Don’t play dumb Conrad,” he yelled, “surely you’ve talked to your friend the doctor about the comas.” Conrad looked at the ground, his anger purer than ever.
“That was you?” he asked in a calm voice.
“Yes Conrad, that was me,” he spat.
“What seems to be the problem, Sedgwick?” asked a voice. Conrad turned, and saw a pleasant looking man leaning on a pillar. He hadn’t seen the man come in, nor noticed him before.
“Stay out of this,” said Faust, “this is my fight.”
“Faust, you’ve become dangerous to this project,” said the pleasant looking man.
“I designed it!” yelled Faust, “I designed it! You need me!”
“I need you no more than a pacifist needs a weapon,” said the new man. Conrad didn’t stick around to see what would happen, he simply ran, he had to get the hospital, if she was really in coma, then he had failed her. He heard the sounds of combat behind him, Faust had attacked the other man. Before Conrad could see the conclusion of the fight, he was out the door.
“Your design is flawed,” said Mephistopholes, parrying Faust’s furious attacks, “we had to amend it, and now you aren’t needed.”
“I’ll kill you,” said Faust.
“Oh, I don’t see that happening,” Mephistopholes drew a thin rapier from his cloak, and before Faust could react, slashed one, two, three times. Faust’s eyes closed, his head, torso, and arm all falling into a grotesque pile on the floor. Mephistopholes’ face suddenly turn dark, as he opened his arms, releasing what looked like countless shadows into the room, all of which immediately leapt onto Faust’s body, devouring it bones and all.
Conrad was terrified. He was running as fast as he could, towards the hospital. He knew where it was, he’d been there several times, he didn’t think it was far, but it seemed to take an eternity to get there. He had several near misses with cars, several instances of bumping into people, but finally he arrived. When he did he burst into the lobby, just in time to see them rushing Seal to the coma ward, along with another individual.
“No!” Conrad yelled, running for her. Eli grabbed him, and held him back. There were several moments in confusion in which Conrad fought him to get to her, all the time weeping, he fell to his knees, an expression of sincere despair across his face. Eli was trying to console him, but Conrad didn’t hear him, he just let Eli take him over to the waiting room, and sat him down. Conrad just let out a sob of despair, which prompted Eli to smack him as hard as he could over the face.
“Snap out of it Killian!” he yelled, “I’m going to do everything I can, just relax!” With that, Eli rushed after the medics to see what they could do.
“You really care for that girl,” said a man next to him. He had a long beard, and a horrible wound across his face.
“I never got to tell her, oh God…” he said, “I may never get the chance.”
“Tell me,” said the man, “I’m Nils, you can trust me.”
“I just wanted to tell her…that I’d felt like I’d known her all my life, and that…I love her.”
“I promise you,” said the man, “I’ll pass her your message, and I’ll see to it she gets out of there safely.” Conrad cocked his head a bit, but the man was gone.
Nils stood on the open plain, surveying it. He went to one of the huge trees, and tore of a piece of its bark, which the others were using for clothing, and walked over to where the young woman was laying. He laid the thin piece of cloth over her, and then felt someone kick him in the shin. He went down hard, a stony looking young boy was standing over him, threatening to attack again.
“Its alright!” he yelled, recognizing him as the boy who had come in after Seal, “I’m just trying to help!”
“Then I’m sorry,” said the boy helping him up, “I thought you were going to… hurt her.”
“Never,” said Nils, “we have to get off of this plain.”
“People seem to think this is paradise,” said Bryan, “no one is helping.”
“One man’s heaven is another man’s hell,” said Nils, “do you know where we are?”
“The Fiori,” said Bryan, “by the way, my name is Bryan, a lot of people think I’m crazy, but I’m strong, and I can fight, if we need it.”
“My name is Nils,” said the old man, “how do you know all this?”
“I’ve been here before,” said Bryan, “all my life they’ve been violating my mind, using it to cultivate this place…just now it became...clearer.”
“How did you get here?” asked Nils.
“Once I looked into her eyes and saw the Fiori, I knew it was mine, and suddenly I remembered everything, the thing called Mephistopholes just suppressed it, I got here by simply following her through.”
“Do you know where to go?” asked Nils.
“Away from the mountains,” said Bryan, “the men created this world in a cradle between five other worlds, if we travel to far in that direction we’ll wind up in a place called Pandemonium, a place of darkness and fear, if we travel along the mountains going right, we’ll reach a place called Sol, a place of steel and fire, of anger and bloodshed, across from that is our world, Arcadia, a world of mediums, vampires, and immortals.
“And if we travel away from the mountains, as you suggested?”
“We’ll get closer to the heart of the Fiori, and we’ll eventually reach a place where all five worlds connect with this one, a place called Mexico in our world, but as far as we’re concerned, that’s where we’ll find Mephistopholes and end this curse.”
“What’s this place called?” asked Nils.
“Tower Pandemonium,” he said.
End Part One
Part One: The Roses
Sedgwick Faust walked with Oleg D’Armor down the busy street. They were searching for something, but no one paid them any heed, and they were concealed in the crowd itself.
“Wait, Oleg,” said Faust, “I just felt it.”
“What?” asked Oleg.
“That feeling that Ulrich said I’d have,” said Faust. Suddenly Faust heard a baby crying, at the bus stop just at the corner. He hurried towards the noise, and Oleg followed. There was a baby in a carriage, crying louder and louder as Faust approached. The mother was trying to console him, but nothing worked.
“Sweet baby,” said Faust, smiling.
“Sometimes,” smirked the woman, not looking up.
“This is it,” Faust whispered to Oleg, and he produced from his pocket a small silver triangle. While the mother wasn’t looking Faust slipped the triangle into the baby’s cradle. Faust gave a sigh of amazement.
“Such a vivid inner world for such a small child,” he said, “come Oleg, our work is done.” And they both departed, just as quietly as they came.
Seventeen years later
Conrad found himself on the subway, or on a bus, something moving, he couldn’t tell. The world outside the windows was bright and all the colors blurred together, his eyes felt as if they were out of focus.
“Conrad, hey!” said a voice. It sounded familiar, despite the fact he had never seen the girl before in his life.
“Hey!” Conrad smiled back, “how’ve you been?” It didn’t seem odd to him that this was a complete stranger he was speaking too, but their small talk continued as if they were old friends reunited. Perhaps they were, he simply didn’t remember, but it wasn’t something that bothered him. Suddenly everything stirred, and Conrad got the sensation of falling, or floating. Everything changed, he was in a hospital room, sitting on a chair in the corner of a room. The room and little detail to it, a bed, walls, no doors or windows. She was fast asleep, but for some reason sorrow flooded into him. The lights shut off suddenly, and there was a scream, suddenly there were tick marks everywhere, and when the scream died down, another one etched itself into the oblivion. Now he was standing over a gravestone, surrounded by trees, tears streaming down his face. Despite the sudden transition in setting he somehow knew what was going on. The gravestone read: “Celia Anna Harkonenn, 1985-2008, Broken Promises, Bad Memories, and a Cruel World, may she find peace in death.” Conrad recoiled in horror at the sight of this, and found himself in bed, covered in cold sweat, adrenaline flowing, screaming at the top of his lungs something he did not understand. He was sitting straight up, his eyes closed, hands pressed against his forehead. Suddenly consciousness and sanity flowed back into him, the doorbell rang three or four times. He got up and put on a pair of flannel pants, and went to the door. An elderly, yet intense looking woman answered it, cat in hand.
“Would you stop your screaming? Its great if your going to save someone or whatever in the hell you were saying, but the rest of us who live here don’t want to know.” Conrad looked at her blankly for a moment, not fully comprehending.
“Sorry, Miss Emmit,” he said finally, “but if you would be so kind, can you tell me what I was saying… I just had a horrible nightmare.”
“You were screaming something like, ‘I promise I’ll save you, I’ll come back for you, something senseless and ridiculous like that, I think you should go see someone about those nightmares of yours, for all of our sakes.”
“I’ll try to control myself Miss Emmit,” he apologized, “maybe I should talk to someone… you see, in my dreams.”
“I’m afraid I’m not that someone Mr. Killian,” Miss Emmit interrupted, and she stomped down the hallway towards her apartment. A loud noise startled Conrad from behind, his alarm was flashing 6:00, ringing loudly. Conrad pulled his door closed at shut off the alarm, and hopped in the shower, smoothing his glossy brown hair. He followed through his usual routine, picked up a bagel, and headed outside. There was a welcome rush of sea air as he opened his door into the dawn. Unlike many, Conrad loved this part of the day. The ocean was beautiful in the morning, every morning, it never failed to capture Conrad’s breath and make him feel slightly more poetic. The only daunting aspect was the dream. He had been having that dream almost every night now, about Celia Anna Harkonnen, a character he had never met, and was just a figment of his imagination, but she always died, and he always felt as if he could have saved her somehow.
It wasn’t a long walk to the docks, where he would get on his small boat and catch fish in the bay for an upscale restaurant that specialized in local food. They paid him well, and Conrad was always happy to be out on the sea. Conrad was seldom in a bad mood, but when he was, the sea always calmed him, especially at night when he could gaze up at the stars, the stars which guided him. He threw out a net and started his work day. After several hours of hauling fish into port and catching more, he would be finished, but until then, he was a man content.
Early afternoon, his catch was finished, and he was free to go to lunch, but he didn’t feel like returning home, instead, he walked from the restaurant, craving something like a sandwich or a muffin, he didn’t know, but he decided to just walk, and think.
Conrad easily stuck out in the crowd of tourists and business-like people, in his blue, sea-soaked sleeveless shirt and light brown hair, ice blue eyes and a string of shark teeth around his neck. He was in sharp contrast with everyone else. Through the crowd, a blonde haired girl caught his eye. He barely knew what words he was speaking as a whisper crept across his lips, “Celia…” She stopped for a moment, as if startled, looking in his direction.
“Do I know you?” she asked, coming closer. As she approached, she gave him a stranger look, “you do look familiar…”
“Perhaps we’ve met before,” said Conrad coolly, disguising his nervousness flawlessly, “I’m Conrad Killian.”
“Celia Harkonnen,” she said, “Seal for short.” Conrad’s heart took a leap.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing his distress. He guised it again, and smiled.
“Oh nothing, long day, you know… and if its not too much trouble, how would you like to get lunch sometime?”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” she smiled, “a quarter of twelve, tomorrow, Susie’s Diner?”
“I’ll be there,” said Conrad, a smile on his face. She smiled, and walked away. As she turned, Conrad inhaled deeply and rubbed his sweaty palms together. He kept walking, and down the steps into a subway station. He got a token, and got on, and sat down without as much as a word. There was a young man sitting next to him, holding several books, a prestigious smirk on his face. He had long red hair, and his eyes were a bright shade of olive.
“Where are you headed?” he asked Conrad, without even looking at him.
“Just grabbing some lunch,” said Conrad, “felt like going downtown, where are you headed?”
“Hotel Valhalla,” he said, “got some business stuff, you know.”
“So you a CEO or a politician or what?” asked Conrad. The red haired man finally turned to Conrad, laughing as if it was the most amusing thing he’d ever heard.
“No, not in the least, I am in a, decidedly more righteous profession,” he said.
“Which would be?” asked Conrad.
“Theoretical Theology,” he said.
“Interesting,” said Conrad, “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Presumably,” he said, “as I am the only one.”
“Oh…” said Conrad, not sure what to think. The man produced a violet rose from his hand, and extended it to Conrad.
“Tell me, what’s your name?” he asked.
“Conrad…but.”
“Remember always, there will be one, and only one chance, obstacles await humankind that have never been seen before. When we come out on the other end, will you be amongst the ones asking for forgiveness…” he paused, looking Conrad in the eye, “or will you be amongst those begging for mercy? A revolution is on its way, my friend.” With that, he offered the rose. Conrad was now thoroughly convinced the man was crazy, and he declined the rose, and got off the subway, hoping to never see him again. He almost instantly lost sight of him in the crowd, and made his way up the stairs into the daylight. He had sensed something profoundly negative about the man, and he had learned to trust his instincts. Perhaps there was something deeply sinister beneath those emerald eyes.
There was graffiti on the stairwell wall, simply stating “The Revolution Starts Here,” Conrad caught a glimpse of the man one last time, and then he was gone. As Conrad was thinking about the day during lunch, he made up his mind to see a friend about his dreams.
In contrast to the fair weather of that day, the night was much colder thronged with fog and raindrops and other sorts of gloom. Conrad stood on the sixtieth, and top floor, of the apartment complex, standing on the balcony during a drizzle, watching the fog roll past the skyscrapers that surrounded him.
“Beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?” asked Eli, gesturing up at the gray sky that danced with the lights of the city.
“Confining, stark,” Conrad began to list, “nothing compares to the sea.”
“Well obviously we have our differences,” said Eli, “you are a seafaring man, but tell me, why this night visit?”
“Look, Eli, I know you’re no shrink, but I’ve been having, troubling dreams.”
“Usually that isn’t a big deal,” said Eli, “reoccurring dreams? Death, falling, a woman?”
“A woman,” said Conrad.
“Ah, but it’s only natural,” said Eli, his hazel eyes gleaming in the unnatural city light. Eli was considerably older than Conrad, but he had been a friend of the family’s and Conrad had maintained their friendship when his parents passed away. He had short brown hair, and a face that only comfortably displayed cunning smirks, but it guised his true nature, which was full of energy and mirth. His eyes were a deep brown, surrounded by a pool of green with flecks of red and yellow, like a grove of trees during autumn.
“This isn’t natural, Eli,” said Conrad, “I dream about the same girl almost every night, I’ve never met her before, that is…until earlier this day.”
“Fascinating, same name and everything?” asked Eli.
“Yes,” said Conrad, “same name and everything.”
“Dreams always show you one of two things, or some combination of the two, usually they involve your greatest desires, or your worst fears.”
“That’s the other part of it,” said Conrad, “in the dream she dies, its not totally clear how, but I think its suicide, and I always wake up screaming something incomprehensible, but my neighbor this morning thought it was, ‘I’ll save you.’”
“Hmm,” said Conrad, his deep eyes becoming thoughtful, “that’s quite a dream… I must admit I’m baffled by it, my best advice is that, if it’s a dream that shows you things that you couldn’t have possibly known before, and its right on one occasion, then you can be damn sure that its right on the other occasion, I just hope that you’ll be able to find the way to save her.”
“Thanks, Eli,” said Conrad, staring of the balcony into the lights, “me too.”
Seal sifted through the paperwork on her new patient. He was 17, a high school drop out, and already had quite a criminal record. He had mellowed out after school was out of the picture, and now just stayed home and painted, talking less and less, eating less and less, sleeping less and less. Seal felt already that it would be an unsuccessful sessions, but she tried to keep positive, sipping her coffee.
“Miss Harkonenn?” the door creaked open a ways. To say the least, Bryan Gray was not what she was expecting. He was well built, had dark brown eyes, unkempt facial hair, but well groomed brown hair that fell to his collar. Seal got up and pulled out a chair for him, and sat across from him.
“Bryan! Its nice to finally meet you, I hope Amy saw you in here in one piece.”
“She has very sad eyes,” said Bryan.
“That’s observant of you, but what makes you say that?” asked Seal.
“The way she holds herself, and the way her smile isn’t complete, but you can’t blame her, it seems like she has a lot of negativity in her life.”
“Do you make judgments like that about everyone you see?” asked Seal.
“I do it unintentionally,” said Bryan, “I guess that’s part of the reason I’m here, I don’t think like other people.”
“How about me Bryan, what judgments can you make about me right of the bat?” she asked.
“You seem very pleasant, you’re office is well organized so I’d guess you were a diligent student in high school and college, you like caffeine a lot, I smelled coffee the moment I walked in, and that’s all, from right now.”
“You are perceptive,” said Seal, “I’m impressed.” Something in Bryan’s hand caught Seal’s attention.
“What have you brought with you?” asked Seal.
“These are my paintings,” Bryan said, “my mother said I should show you.”
“Well you don’t have to if you don’t want too,” said Seal, “but if you’d like to share feel free.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he said, pulling out a stack and showing her. The first picture was of a wave breaking onto the sand, the paint was on the canvas in such a way that it gave the illusion of motion, even though there was none. The second was much more detailed, and much darker. It was four or five wrecked cars, wreathed in flames, surrounded by fire fighters. The fire fighters were pulling one man’s brutally wounded body out of the car, a look of despair on his face. It all looked vaguely familiar, however dark. Without looking, Seal slowly dragged the newspaper from its resting place on the table, the headline was “Tragic accident; 7 dead police say.” The photo was precisely the same as the painting, down to the expression on the man’s face.
“This is a strikingly accurate painting, Bryan, but why did you choose to paint the front page this morning?” Bryan cocked his head to look at his painting.
“I painted that almost a month ago,” he said, forming his words carefully as his eyes also fell on the newspaper picture, “I dreamed it…” Seal flipped to the next picture quickly, eyes wide. The next one was a beautiful landscape, a valley between to huge mountain peaks, light snow falling, with a huge black line down the center.
“What’s that?” she asked him, indicating the black line.
“Pandemonium,” said Bryan.
“Why Pandemonium?” she asked.
“I dreamed it once,” he said, “not long ago, I can’t remember the dream, but all I remember is that scene, and that it’s a dwelling of some sort.”
“Well obviously you’ve had some kind of premonition before…if what you’re saying is true,” said Seal, “is it possible these places you are drawing are real?”
“I don’t care if things are real or if they aren’t,” said Bryan, “dreams aren’t real, perhaps this world isn’t real, but real or not, does it really make a difference?”
“That’s for you to decide,” she smiled. After the session was over, she left the building. Being outside was refreshing, a crisp wind was blowing, but it was surprisingly cold for a summer day. The sky was overcast and threatened to rain at any moment. She hurried to her car, turned on the heat, and started to the diner where she would meet Conrad. To her surprise, she was nervous, she kept finding herself looking in the visor mirror, checking her hair, her face, but everything was fine. Even though she had only spoken to him for less than a minute, she felt that she knew him longer. Maybe such feelings were dangerous, maybe he wasn’t as sane as he appeared. Usually that would have been a major concern, but this time, the nervousness didn’t stem out of being afraid of who he was, she was afraid that he wouldn’t like who she was. She pushed the thought out of her mind. Don’t worry, she thought, just act natural. She parked on the crowded side street, and walked a block to where the diner was. Her heels made a clicking noise on the ground, which she was immediately self conscious of. She shifted her weight uncomfortably as she walked, hoping she didn’t look too outrageous. Conrad had already arrived, and was leaning against a wall in front of the entrance.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. Conrad smiled in return, and opened the door for her inside. She rubbed her hands together once she was indoors, “can you believe the weather today? Its like winter!”
“I know, the waves were high today, I think a storm is coming…or already here,” he said. The hostess sat them at the far end of the diner next to a massive bay window that looked onto the street perpendicular.
“So tell me about yourself,” she said. She never intended to be so energetic…she just thought she’d go, it might be a little awkward, and then she’d be done with it, but there was something about him.
“Well there’s not much to tell,” he smiled, “I love the ocean, I spend every day on it, catching fish, it pays well if your good at it, and I’ve learned a few tricks.”
“So if I ordered seafood today I’d probably be eating something you caught?” she asked, smiling.
“No,” he squinted, contorting his face into a half smile, “but if you ordered the seafood medley at Gulliani’s, then you might.” Seal recognized the name, and laughed. Gulliani’s was the most expensive restaurant in the city.
“Very nice,” she said.
“What about you?” he asked, “what do you do?”
“I’m a psychiatrist,” she said, “I love my job too, some of the people I get to know are the most interesting people… just today I had a session with a teenager who this dream about a car crash a few months ago, he painted the scene, and that scene was the front page for today.”
“Wow…” said Conrad, “is that encompassed in your field?”
“That isn’t encompassed in any field, unless you like sci-fi,” she said, “but it does happen…every now and then.”
“Is it usually something that only happens to crazy people?” he bit his lip.
“No, it can happen to anyone…why? Have you had a dream like that?” she asked. Conrad hesitated, but decided against it.
“Not…entirely,” he finally said, “but we all have dreams that…you know…déjà vu.”
“Right,” she smiled.
“Have you ever had a dream like that?” he asked.
“Once when I was very little, I had a dream that this man was writing some words on the wall, all the words were in a different language,” she shrugged, “I remembered it vividly enough to write down the words, and they were real words, all written in a dead language called Sumner.”
“That’s pretty strange,” said Conrad, “what did it say?”
“Broken promises, bad memories, and a cruel world,” she said, her eyes glazing over at the memory. Conrad felt his whole body suddenly start sweating…those had been the words on the tombstone in his dream. He took a drink of water, and tried to look cheerful.
“Well that’s pretty dismal, but its interesting to have dreams like that,” he smiled. She agreed and said something else, but Conrad’s attention was suddenly drawn away, onto the mass of tables to their left. There were pool tables at the other end of the restaurant next to the bar, and three men were playing pool at one. Conrad instantly recognized one as the man he’d seen on the subway, the one who’d tried to give him a rose, and warned him of revolution.
Click! Click! Click! Oleg hit the cue ball as hard as he could, knocking three balls into three different holes. Faust hated this game, always had, but Oleg seemed to be good at it. Juno sighed, seeing his defeat, he set the cue down and sat at their table next to the bar. He was soon joined by Faust and Oleg.
“Its getting cold,” said Juno, “Peregrine is becoming reckless.”
“You have to admit, Juno,” said Faust, the man with the long red hair, “his power is magnificent.” Juno said nothing, but his expression was doubtful. He was smaller than Oleg, but had a lithe shape and a healthy complexion. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a brown hat that rested uncomfortably on a nest of messy black hair. He was wearing a long sleeve green shirt and a pair of jeans. Oleg was a built man, he had broad shoulders and bulging muscles, visible from his sleeveless white shirt. He had dirty blonde hair that hung strait down to his shoulders, and a face that seemed to be made for grimaces and expressions of anger. Faust on the other hand, seemed far more sophisticated. He was wearing a casual black suit, with his long, flowing red hair. His face was so perfect it almost seemed inhuman, or at the very least un-masculine. He had a gold earring in each ear, and had a tattoo of a star on each hand. His occupation was theoretical theologian, and he always made it perfectly clear that he was the only one.
“Reckless or not,” continued Oleg, “Shannon trusts him, and she wouldn’t trust a fool.”
“She doesn’t trust you, does she,” both Faust and Juno were eyeing him suspiciously. Oleg felt his temper rising, but he kept it at bay, he knew Faust had it in for him. The woman in question, Shannon Svaline was an object of absolute infatuation, especially for Oleg. They were together most of the time, though she treated him like a mangy animal, she had him under her thumb. Faust also seemed to be slightly under her spell, but he could control himself, he couldn’t be with the woman Oleg considered his until he was far away.
“She trusts me,” replied Oleg calmly, “I’ve known her for many, many years, and she’s always trusted me.” Faust’s eyes were wandering around the room, genuinely uninterested, when suddenly Conrad caught his eye.
“That’s the man who denied the last rose,” Faust said, his emerald eyes widening.
“Coincidence?” asked Juno, looking at Faust sideways.
“Providence,” said Faust, “his lady will be receiving the rose.”
“No, Faust, not now, the man clearly dislikes what he’s seen of you, and will become very defensive, we can’t make a scene, for our sakes.”
“It has to happen Juno, things like this are just difficult for you to comprehend.” Juno was silenced. He felt his hand reaching for his pocket, where his knife was kept. He should just kill him now, he thought, put and end to his own misery, but he put his hand back on the table, it wasn’t right. Faust motioned to a waiter, handed him the rose, and whispered his instructions. The waiter nodded, and promptly took the rose over to her.
“Excuse me,” he said, addressing her, “the gentlemen next to the bar sends this.” He extended the rose, but she looked at Conrad with nervous eyes. Conrad shook his head firmly.
“Tell him thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t accept,” the waiter nodded, rolled his eyes, and returned the rose. Faust’s eyes were in a rage when it came back.
“Providence… Faust?” asked Juno.
“She is receiving a rose, even if I have to deliver it in some drastic manner.” He noticed Conrad and Seal were leaving, so he quickly got up, intending to speak to them.
“Who is he?” Seal asked.
“I don’t know…but….” Conrad began, but he was cut short. Suddenly he was standing before him, wearing a long leather jacket, hands it pockets, his sinister eyes scanning both of them.
“You know,” he said, looking at the wall, running his hand down it passively, “it isn’t polite to decline gifts.” His words carried such animosity that Conrad felt a spark of anger in his chest.
“Lets just go,” said Conrad, trying to lead Seal to his car.
“I’m talking to you,” Faust said firmly. There was such a note of rancor in his voice, that it had a paralyzing effect, Conrad felt something invisible immediately restrict him, rendering him immobile.
“What do you want,” Conrad breathed, anger replaced with fear. Faust stared deep in his eyes, his expression blank, his pupils two inky pools, both of which seemed to burn into Conrad’s consciousness. He faintly heard Seal yelling, but she sounded distant, like she was underwater. Conrad felt a curious sensation in his mind, as if something was pulling on it, opening it. Conrad’s eyes suddenly dilated, and suddenly his dream whizzed by his face in a series of flashes. Suddenly Faust’s eyes twitched, his face contorted into an expression of pure terror. He let out a grotesque moan of agony, fell to his knees, and embraced the wall, screaming in pain.
“That vision,” he said, shaking his head as if to cast it out of his eyes, “you dream of such tragedy,” he was trembling head to foot. Conrad felt Faust’s mental grip slacken, and then release. He let out a deep breath, and led Seal away quickly.
“What happened…who is that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Conrad, squinting, his eyes still dilated, “but that was seriously crazy.”
“Is he dangerous?” asked Seal, “what did he do to you?”
“I think… now, I’m not crazy…but I felt the strangest thing… like he was reading my mind.” Back on the sidewalk, Faust was still leaning over, but now Juno and Oleg had caught up to him.
“This isn’t a game, Faust,” said Juno, extending his hand. Faust took it, and rose to his feet.
“Let’s go back, I need to write something down.”
“What did you see, Sedgwick?” asked Oleg indifferently.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but that girl must receive a rose.”
“No,” said Juno, “those are good people, but they don’t fit into your design.”
“The Fiori wouldn’t be right without her there,” he said, staring off in the direction they had departed. Juno felt his hatred bubble up, and again considered taking his life. He’d have to answer to Mephistopholes, and Faust’s design was still vital to the project.
“What a creep,” Seal was saying as they stood next to her car, later that night, waiting to depart from each other’s company.
“I hope he didn’t ruin the night,” said Conrad.
“Why did he freak out like that?” she asked, his grotesque scream still imprinted on her memory.
“The answer is yes, then,” he said.
“No, I had a great time,” she smiled, “I just hope we don’t see that maniac again.” Conrad laughed.
“Well if all you remember about tonight is that ridiculous man, then I guess you’ll have to let me take you out again.” She bit her lip, and nodded.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Are you free for Saturday? All day?” he asked, “I’d take you fishing with me, now I know it sounds boring, but once you get on the waves, its so beautiful, you don’t even care that you’re doing something boring.”
“Yeah I’m free Saturday, but if you’re going to have me on the ocean all day, I get to decide what we do that night.”
“Deal,” said Conrad, smiling. There was a strange moment of silence when neither of them said anything, but then he embraced her tightly, his dream coming to mind. She said bye, and he turned and walked away. He could feel her linger for a second, but then she got into her car. She didn’t see the tear streaming down his cheek. The first good thing I find he thought, and I’m already afraid she’s going to be gone.
That night, sleep came slowly to Seal. She had a wonderful time that day, but she was unsure about the man. Maybe she’d made a new friend, she thought, but that’s all. There was something in the way her looked at her, it wasn’t as if he was after her body, or her love, but there was something else, like he was afraid that if he looked away she’d be gone in the next moment. She shivered, a strange breeze was flowing through her apartment, she felt as if a set of eyes were watching her, thinking she was asleep. It didn’t frighten her, she often got that feeling, but she got up to see if a window was open somewhere. She walked into the next room, and found the living room window wide open. She shut it firmly, but as soon as she did, the TV switched on, without any outside command. She looked at it drowsily for a moment, watching the static for a second, almost thinking she saw a twisted face in the images, but it turned off as abruptly and independently as it had turned on. She returned to her room, feeling sleepier by the second, but she stopped dead in the doorway. Fear consumed her, and suddenly she was wide awake, her eyes wild. There was a small, violet, rose sitting on the foot of her bed, the object that Faust had tried in vain to have her take. She looked around the room frantically, it was empty.
“Is there anyone there?” she called, receiving no response. She looked up to the corner of the room, where some kind of insidious shadow was creeping. She let out a muffled scream, but then looked again. Whatever it was, her eyes couldn’t focus on it, so she couldn’t be sure if it was something, or just a trick of the light. Suddenly the thing was gone, but a horrible fatigue wrapped itself around her head. She stumbled to the bed and fell into a horrible nightmare. Suddenly she was a moth trapped in a lampshade, amongst thousands of other moths. They flew around and around, and every time one brushed the surface, it would burst into flame and dust, catching dozens of others as well. She kept getting closer and closer to the now spinning inferno, when it all vanished, and she fell into a deeper sleep.
“I understand your angst, Mrs. Simmons.” Eli said, holding a clipboard, and making his usual hand gestures, “but that just doesn’t seem likely, was your husband on any medications, sleep aids, anything?”
“No, nothing like that at all,” said Mrs. Simmons, an elderly woman with curly white hair. Eli found elderly people tiring, as he found himself becoming more and more that way himself. Mr. Simmons and slipped into coma, and his wife was quietly, but irritatingly, distraught. Mr. Simmons case was a strange one, he simply did not wake up one morning. His vital signs continued as if he was just asleep. Mrs. Simmons wanted to know why he was in a coma, but she wasn’t giving Eli enough information for him to do her any good. “We’ll have to run some tests, Mrs. Simmons,” said Eli, “that’s all I have.” Mrs. Simmons said nothing, just lowered her head and went back to the waiting room. Eli went back to the room where Mr. Simmons lay sleeping. Eli watched him for second his eyes were twitching every few moments, as if he were seeing something.
“What are you dreaming about in there?” Eli whispered to the sleeping man, looking curiously at his gently convulsing eyes.
Mr. Simmons awoke. He found himself completely naked, laying in the sun. He sat up and shook his head, there was a strange sensation pulsing through his fingers. He looked at his fingers, and to his surprise, all the blotches and imperfections that age had inflicted were gone. He stood up, felt strangely powerful, he looked down to see the way his body had been in its prime. He instantly felt the top of his head, he suddenly had a full head of hair.
“What is this?” he murmured to himself, looking around. The sky was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. There were low lying clouds that looked like huge marshmallows hovering just over the horizon, above him the bright azure turned to a dark blue, revealing stars and huge celestial objects overhead. The sun was shining brightly on the other side of the sky, which seemed strange compared to that of earth; it was as if this world was flat. Looking around, it certainly seemed infinite. All around there was meadows and meadows of multicolored flowers and bright green grasses. The landscape was dotted with trees that dwarfed the tallest redwood, which looked like huge natural citadels and probably provided good shelter. Mr Simmons was standing on a small rise, and behind him the horizon seemed to slope a little, going downwards into a kind of valley right below an impressive mountain range. Mr. Simmons took in this spectacle with his mouth wide open.
“Am I in heaven?” he asked, to no one in particular.
“We don’t know,” said a female voice from behind him. She was clad in nothing but a white shawl, which Mr. Simmon’s eyes penetrated slightly, his new lithe body excited and giddy, “but there’s a grove of smaller trees not far from here where we found a hot springs, you can come stay with us if you want.”
“I’m just dreaming, I’m not staying,” said Mr. Simmons, thinking that was the reality.
“That’s what the rest of us thought,” she said.
Bryan had a strange demeanor this day, his eyes looked tired, red, and baggy, his hair fell in a mess around his face; his face was unshaven for several days. His clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed, a dirty white undershirt and a haggard denim jacket.
“Hey Bryan…” said Seal, “you doing alright today?”
“I’m doing fine,” he said, “I’ve just been having these terrible dreams, that I’m in the desert and I’m walking, and walking, and walking, but everything just looks the same on all sides, but the strange thing is, I feel safer there than I did wherever I came from, but I can never recall where it was I walked from.”
“Maybe that’s how you subconsciously feel about your life, you’re walking and walking, but getting nowhere,” suggested Seal.
“But that’s not how I feel,” he said.
“Well, dreams always tell us the truth about ourselves, maybe it’s a possibility.”
“Maybe,” he said, “I’ve also been catching glimpses of this pool, and this man, hovering over it, he’s disguised himself as a person, but I see him for what he really is, and its grotesque, I can’t tell what he’s doing, but I know its bad, and I’m just afraid that something bad is going to happen.”
“What makes him grotesque?” asked Seal.
“He bears the scars of centuries of sin,” said Bryan, “though his outside appearance is as a perfect human being, on the inside he’s full of mud and darkness, and he has five rings around his head, which change colors sporadically.”
“Do you know his name?” asked Seal
“No,” he said, “but I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” he asked.
“Lately I’ve been feeling all this negativity just building up, not just in my life, but everywhere, in the sky, in the air, in other people.” Seal thought about the night before, she felt the same way. Things seemed to be darkening, but she had her beacons of light, Conrad… she thought of him for a moment, then shook her head.
“Well, you just need to find your beacon of light sometimes,” she said, “maybe your dreams will reveal to you what you need to do.”
Conrad felt exhilarated. The ocean spray went up into his face, the noises and smells and sounds made his senses burn with vitality, and his exuberance was contagious. Seal didn’t know if she’d enjoy being on the boat with him, but once she was there she didn’t know how she could be bored when he was so happy. He was radiating it. She envied him somewhat, she hardly ever was happy these days.
“Its not as boring as you thought is it?” he smiled. She shook her head.
“No, but the rocking of the boat is kind of scary.”
“Would you rather it just stay still?” he asked.
“Kind of,” she admitted, smiling. It was finally a real summer day, the sun was bright, hot, sweat stuck to Conrad’s shirt and face, but the spray was constantly cooling them off, so it was pleasant. As the day went on, clouds began to thicken. When it started drizzling, Conrad agreed to going back to shore. Seal went into the boat’s little cabin, but Conrad hesitated. There was something strange about the rain. He let a few drops hit his hand, then he put his finger in his mouth, without really thinking about it. It was salty to the taste.
“Salt rain…” Conrad whispered to himself.
“Conrad!” Seal yelled. Conrad remembered himself, and went inside the little cabin.
When they got back to shore, Conrad tied the boat up, and they hurried into Conrad’s car.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked.
“You’re choice,” he said.
“Let’s see a movie,” she smiled.
“Alright,” said Conrad, smiling despite the fact he hated going to the movies. He preferred to just watch them on TV, no lines, no people trying to sell you more popcorn then you could possibly eat in a week. As they drove away, neither of them saw the red-haired man with the perfect face sitting on the top of a building, looking down at them. Once they left, he jumped down onto a light pole with unparalleled grace, then down to the ground, dusting his jacket off a bit as he landed. He didn’t follow Seal and Conrad further, he simply began to run. He ran northeast, over the bay, his footsteps making splashes in the water. Once he was almost back to shore, he tucked his knees up to his chest, and vanished into an unseen rift in the waves. In less than a second, he traveled over five hundred miles. He reappeared in a dense pine forest, somewhere in the far north. There were flakes of white falling from the sky, like snow, but all the trees were long dead, and the ground was covered in ash. The air smelled of cinders and fire, and everything was deathly still, except for the constant rain of ash. Faust kept walking forward, over the dead roots of trees and over burnt trees. Suddenly he came to a place where the forest abruptly ended. He stood on the boundary for a moment, looking about. He was on the edge of a massive cliff, that went down so far he couldn’t see the bottom. Left and right the cliff went around, making a huge hole in the middle of the forest. Trees grew right up to the edge of it, as if it had always been there.
“Chiron,” said Faust, into the hole.
“Here, sir,” said a voice. Resting his huge elbows between two branches of a dead pine tree, there was a massive creature, at least eight feet tall, broad shoulders, completely naked, although it was acceptable, as he was half animal. Chiron was a strange creature no matter where you were from, but he was best described as a Centaur. He had completely midnight-black eyes, and long black hair that was braided and hung down past his shoulders. He had two pairs of arms, which bulged with muscles that rippled when he moved. His torso steadily grew more and more fur, until it turned into a coat of gleaming auburn fur.
“Summon Captain Edgar for me.” Chiron nodded, and produced from the top of the tree a strange wooden instrument, long and covered in holes from top to bottom. He put it to his lips, and blew two low notes. The effect was instantaneous. There was a fiery din from the pit, and another huge creature rose from the pit with such great speed that Faust could feel the disgustingly hot wind break on his face. The creature’s flesh was completely black, but he had long wiry white hair. His eyes shone like embers against the blackness, and his body was as fit and as powerful as Chiron’s. He had a long, lizard-esque face which looked eerily human at the same time, coupled with powerful jaws, and a set of snarling fangs. He had a wingspan that was dizzying to Faust, for it must have been at least twenty feet. His wings were leathery and bat like, and the creature had a tail that was at least five feet long.
“Sedgwick Faust,” the creature said, flapping its wings to stay aloft, “long time no see.” His voice was like rusted metal scraping itself against a chalkboard, and it was full of coal and ash.
“Yes, Captain Edgar, it has been awhile,” said Faust, “I suppose your operations, however secretive, are going as planned?”
“Mephistopholes will be very pleased,” said Captain Edgar, “we have penetrated the rock and reached the golem.”
“Mephistopholes would like to know when you will begin to deliver the golem.”
“We will begin to deliver it to Tower Pandemonium tonight,” he said.
“Now,” said Faust, “when Mephistopholes sent me here, he failed to inform me what Golem was… so if you would be so kind…”
“Of course,” said Chiron, “Golem was used by holy warriors long before you were born, it was used to make creatures called Golems, which they would breathe the souls of dead enemies into, giving them life.”
“It was known as Livgergyttja by the ancient people long before the holy warriors, it was a key component of the Charlatan’s Art.” Chiron noticed the perplexed look on Faust’s face
“What Captain Edgar means to say is it was used in Alchemy” said Chiron
“Fascinating,” said Faust, more than satisfied, “I’ve been in Mephistopholes’ library, there are bottles of mercury and vials of sand, blocks of wax and jars of salt, does he use them for alchemy?”
“Quite so,” said Chiron.
“It is an honor to be doing his work,” said Faust, “thank you, gentlemen.”
“Anytime Mr. Faust,” said Chiron. Captain Edgar had already descended back into the pit.
Mephistopholes sat in the Victorian style study, his fingers moving eloquently and quickly over the keys of a piano, his eyes closed in some sort of musical trance, his long wavy hair hanging over his eyes. He had a pleasant face, and was dressed formally, as if he was going to some special event. His study was full of countless odds and ends, strange devices and half-read books.
“The Moonlight Sonata,” said a voice. Mephistopholes stopped playing, raising his eyes to see the speaker.
“Ah, Peregrine, I didn’t see you come in.”
“Right, well, I have discovered something and I need your assistance… come with me.” Mephistopholes nodded, and got up. Peregrine strode out into a huge corridor and down a flight of stairs into an immense library.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
“I have been primarily focusing on other things,” said Peregrine, “but I got the slightest little twinge that we were being spied on.”
“This fortress is impenetrable to any eyes that would desire access,” said Mephistopholes, “the people in Arcadia have no knowledge of any other worlds, and the people who live around this tower fear it deeply.”
“Not by a physical spy,” said Peregrine, “I know that that’s impossible, I meant more of a… unconscious sort of spying.”
“You mean some sort of astral projection?” asked Mephistopholes, “I assure you, this fortress is impenetrable.” Peregrine looked at Mephistopholes, his expression dark and pressing, he was certain of his conjecture.
“What I’m trying to say my dear comrade, is that whoever is seeing into this fortress is not aware of exactly what it is they are seeing, but I have felt eyes many times, and I have began to fear that whoever is gaining these visions might come to realize exactly what’s going on.” Mephistopholes remained unconvinced
“Its very possible that you’re just imagining things, and if you aren’t, its also possible that the person pays no attention,” said Mephistopholes.
“But just in case,” said Peregrine, “I can’t blind this vision by myself, I’d need your knowledge of alchemy to help me.”
“Alright, Peregrine, I’ll rid you of your paranoia,” he said. He grabbed a few vials of the shelves, and poured a thin film of mercury into an aluminum tin. He took out a small silver straw, and put the end of it in the other vial, and inhaled tenderly. He then blew it out over the tin, muttered a few words to himself, snapped his fingers, and suddenly the whole thing was blazing with green and blue flames. He peered into the flames, several images flying past, a car wreck, the fortress they were in, himself.
“Hmm,” he said, reaching for a jar of salt. He dropped in a pinch, and suddenly the mercury seemed to freeze over, the flames ceasing.
“Whoever was watching, the connection is seriously severed now.”
“Thank you,” said Peregrine, and Mephistopholes followed him back up the stair case, up another flight of stairs, and into a vast circular room. The ground was all grass and flowers, and in the center there was a huge pool.
“How have the roses worked?” asked Peregrine, striding with Mephistopholes to the pool.
“Admirably,” he said, “people are already beginning to find their way.”
“Show me,” said Peregrine, grinning ferociously. Mephistopholes nodded, and waved his hand over the pool. Instantly the water parted, revealing a solid mirror beneath it, which seemed to open up into something entirely different. Mephistopholes jumped down, and Peregrine followed. Peregrine felt a disgusting sensation as the air where the mirror was seemed to congeal around his feet and his fingers and eyes, but felt a warm breeze beneath him, as he set foot for the first time in the paradise he had created. There was a group of young people before them in the flowers.
“Are you an angel?” asked one of them, addressing Mephistopholes.
“I am something far more powerful than an angel, child,” he said, a note of animosity in his voice, but the young group was awed with respect for him.
“Spread the word amongst all the inhabitants that are here and have not yet come,” said Peregrine, stepping forward, “this place is the Fiori, set aside for you and you alone, and you will remain young and healthy forever, lest you are woken by the hands of the devil.” And with that, the two men left the Fiori, and back into the vast room where the entrance to the other world lay.
Miles away, in his home, Bryan Gray let out a little sob of pain as everything in his head went suddenly black…
Conrad too, slept uneasily. He dreamed that he was in heaven, or he thought he was, but flowers began to wither and the sky began to darken, and suddenly he was all alone in a horrible wasteland.
Eli rushed down the hall from the makeshift coma ward. Seventeen patients and counting, it seemed there was a new case of this sleeping sickness every day. Eli was completely baffled by it, so were neuropathologists and neurosurgeons and every personnel who had looked at a patient. He went into the crowded waiting room, where anxious family members gathered. Immediately he was bombarded with questions that he didn’t know the answer too. He shouted for everyone to listen, and addressed them:
“Look, we’re doing everything we can, while the condition is strange, there is no reason to believe that any of them will or have come under any harm whatsoever, vital signs are just as strong as they were before, and if we handle this calmly, there’s no reason for any episodes.” With that, he walked outside, and sat on a bench in despair. He didn’t know what to do anymore, he had tried everything.
“Are you Dr. Nelson?” asked a man, approaching him.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Eli Nelson, but I’m very busy…can you please…”
“Can we please talk in private? This is of utmost importance.” Sighing, Eli got up, and walked with the stranger across the hospital grounds.
“My name is Nils Undquist,” he said, “this matter of comas was of no importance to me until a friend of mine fell into one.”
“Is he here?” asked Eli.
“No, he’s at St. Thomas’,” said Nils.
“Why are you here, Mr. Undquist?” asked Nils forcefully.
“Because I’ve heard good things about you, Dr, and I thought that this information would be most valuable in your hands.”
“Tell me what you think you know,” said Eli.
“Well, I’ll start with the strange circumstances prior to my friend’s… mishap,” started Nils.
“Go on,” said Eli.
“Well, he was given a rose by a stranger who went on and on about revolution, and as soon as the rose was in his possession, it vanished into thin air as if it hadn’t even existed.”
“Right,” said Eli. Nils’ voice was old, and tired. It seemed that Eli could trust him, but he wasn’t sure how much more outrageous this was going to get.
“Last night I fell asleep, and I dreamt I was with my friend, in this place he called the Fiori, he said there were angels here, and creatures far more powerful than angels, and that when he wakes up, he will only desire to go back.”
“What are you saying?” asked Eli.
“If my dream was telling me the truth,” said Nils, “then it means that someone is doing this to these people, and in order to stop it, we have to find that person.”
“That hardly seems likely, Mr. Undquist,” said Eli, trying to be polite.
“This morning, Dr. Nelson, I was meditating, and I went back to that place. I tried to force my friend out of his sleep, and we wrestled in the vision. He hit me across the jaw with a rock, and when I awoke in my room, the wound was real. Something strange is going on here, Dr. Nelson, you can’t deny that.” Eli had indeed noticed the fresh wound on Nils’ face, but up until now did he judge it. It hadn’t been a very violent blow, but it was enough to leave a few cuts and scrapes on his face. Most of the wound was covered up by Nils’ gray beard, so he couldn’t get a good look.
“I’ll be around, Doctor, when I’ve found out more,” with that, Nils turned, and left. Eli felt a mixture of feelings, part relief, part bewilderment, part skepticism, and part fear. Eli felt a chill go up his spine, and he walked silently back to the coma ward to check on his patients.
Conrad stood at the bus stop, looking around the busy downtown district, holding his coffee close to his face as to keep the fumes of traffic from making themselves vividly known. As he looked across the street, he realized that the building before him he had never seen before. It was tall and old looking, and had a large neon sign that read “Hotel Valhalla.” Before Conrad could form another fault, he saw something disturbing. An angry looking man was wresting a young girl, holding her by the hair, dragging her in the building. Conrad shouted, but the man didn’t turn or acknowledge the shout. Conrad shouted again, frustrated that no one across the street took no action or notice. Conrad dashed across the street, dumping his coffee on the cold pavement, and running in after the man. As soon as he stepped into the building, they were gone. It was impossible, he had just seen them enter, and he was steps behind them.
“Welcome,” Conrad did not need to turn to see who it was, “I have a few things to ask you, if you could follow me.”
“I don’t want to talk with you,” said Conrad, “you’re crazy.”
“I was perfectly sane until I met you, Conrad,” he snarled, “allow me to introduce myself, my name is Sedgwick Samuel Faust, experimental theologian and architect of the great revolution.”
“I’m not coming with you,” Conrad insisted again.
“There’s someone,” said Faust, approaching Conrad, “someone you want to keep safe, someone you want to save. If you don’t come with me, I’ll find her, and I’ll hurt her in the worst way, you can’t even imagine the things I’m capable of, would you like that to be your fault, Conrad?” Conrad felt his rage building.
“What do you want?” he asked through clenched teeth and fists.
“I want to know,” said Faust, “just what it is you see when you dream.”
“I see her die, and see everyone die, I see a paradise that turns into a wasteland, I see a deluge, I don’t know why you’re so interested.”
“Because your dreams show my design failing,” yelled Faust, so that his voice echoed amongst the vestibule of the tower.
“What is your design?” asked Conrad, through his anger.
“To show the revolutionaries a taste of heaven, so they can bring it to earth, that is their responsibility, and when they wake up, a new age will dawn, but you dream of tragedy, why?”
“I don’t control my dreams,” said Conrad, “perhaps I’m wrong.”
“All my life I’ve been working on this, I have to be sure, do you understand me?” Faust’s perfect face was torn apart by anger, his green eyes glittering dangerously.
When Bryan came in that day, the world seemed to get so much colder. Seal thought she had never seen anyone that sad. She got up from her seat immediately and went to him.
“Oh, Bryan what’s wrong?” she asked, sitting him down. He let out a little sob, a tear streaming down his face.
“They blinded me,” he said, “I saw him do it.”
“They blinded you from what?” asked Seal.
“All my sight,” he said suddenly filled with fury, letting out a angry sob, calling out for something that wasn’t there.
“Relax, Bryan,” she said, trying to console him, “who blinded you?”
“When he touched me, he left a part of him with me,” said Bryan, “his name is Mephistopholes, I don’t know what he is, but he isn’t human, he’s trying to…” suddenly his voice became urgent, but he paused as he looked up into Seal’s eyes, “the Fiori,” he whispered.
“What?” asked Seal.
“Seal,” he said, “when you wake up, you won’t know where you are, but don’t worry, I’ll come and help you, I promise.”
“Bryan, stop,” she said. Suddenly she felt very tired, the room spinning quickly, colors and objects spinning faster, until suddenly everything faded into blackness. Bryan caught her as she collapsed, and quickly called an ambulance, yelling into the receiver to hurry. He carried her downstairs, supporting her until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics came, and took her. Bryan stood outside in the wind, and focused on her mind. He had to go where she went. Bryan closed his eyes, and felt an unpleasant sensation in his head as he wedged himself through the gap with her. Suddenly he felt his face hit the concrete, and everything went black.
Faust was stepping closer to Conrad, Conrad backed away slowly, deeper into the vestibule.
“Would you like to see where your beloved Seal is now?” he asked, threateningly, “I sent her into sleep, just like the others, it is my doing Conrad, mine, so if you don’t tell me what your planning, then she will die too.”
“What do you mean…” Conrad began, clenching his hands.
“Don’t play dumb Conrad,” he yelled, “surely you’ve talked to your friend the doctor about the comas.” Conrad looked at the ground, his anger purer than ever.
“That was you?” he asked in a calm voice.
“Yes Conrad, that was me,” he spat.
“What seems to be the problem, Sedgwick?” asked a voice. Conrad turned, and saw a pleasant looking man leaning on a pillar. He hadn’t seen the man come in, nor noticed him before.
“Stay out of this,” said Faust, “this is my fight.”
“Faust, you’ve become dangerous to this project,” said the pleasant looking man.
“I designed it!” yelled Faust, “I designed it! You need me!”
“I need you no more than a pacifist needs a weapon,” said the new man. Conrad didn’t stick around to see what would happen, he simply ran, he had to get the hospital, if she was really in coma, then he had failed her. He heard the sounds of combat behind him, Faust had attacked the other man. Before Conrad could see the conclusion of the fight, he was out the door.
“Your design is flawed,” said Mephistopholes, parrying Faust’s furious attacks, “we had to amend it, and now you aren’t needed.”
“I’ll kill you,” said Faust.
“Oh, I don’t see that happening,” Mephistopholes drew a thin rapier from his cloak, and before Faust could react, slashed one, two, three times. Faust’s eyes closed, his head, torso, and arm all falling into a grotesque pile on the floor. Mephistopholes’ face suddenly turn dark, as he opened his arms, releasing what looked like countless shadows into the room, all of which immediately leapt onto Faust’s body, devouring it bones and all.
Conrad was terrified. He was running as fast as he could, towards the hospital. He knew where it was, he’d been there several times, he didn’t think it was far, but it seemed to take an eternity to get there. He had several near misses with cars, several instances of bumping into people, but finally he arrived. When he did he burst into the lobby, just in time to see them rushing Seal to the coma ward, along with another individual.
“No!” Conrad yelled, running for her. Eli grabbed him, and held him back. There were several moments in confusion in which Conrad fought him to get to her, all the time weeping, he fell to his knees, an expression of sincere despair across his face. Eli was trying to console him, but Conrad didn’t hear him, he just let Eli take him over to the waiting room, and sat him down. Conrad just let out a sob of despair, which prompted Eli to smack him as hard as he could over the face.
“Snap out of it Killian!” he yelled, “I’m going to do everything I can, just relax!” With that, Eli rushed after the medics to see what they could do.
“You really care for that girl,” said a man next to him. He had a long beard, and a horrible wound across his face.
“I never got to tell her, oh God…” he said, “I may never get the chance.”
“Tell me,” said the man, “I’m Nils, you can trust me.”
“I just wanted to tell her…that I’d felt like I’d known her all my life, and that…I love her.”
“I promise you,” said the man, “I’ll pass her your message, and I’ll see to it she gets out of there safely.” Conrad cocked his head a bit, but the man was gone.
Nils stood on the open plain, surveying it. He went to one of the huge trees, and tore of a piece of its bark, which the others were using for clothing, and walked over to where the young woman was laying. He laid the thin piece of cloth over her, and then felt someone kick him in the shin. He went down hard, a stony looking young boy was standing over him, threatening to attack again.
“Its alright!” he yelled, recognizing him as the boy who had come in after Seal, “I’m just trying to help!”
“Then I’m sorry,” said the boy helping him up, “I thought you were going to… hurt her.”
“Never,” said Nils, “we have to get off of this plain.”
“People seem to think this is paradise,” said Bryan, “no one is helping.”
“One man’s heaven is another man’s hell,” said Nils, “do you know where we are?”
“The Fiori,” said Bryan, “by the way, my name is Bryan, a lot of people think I’m crazy, but I’m strong, and I can fight, if we need it.”
“My name is Nils,” said the old man, “how do you know all this?”
“I’ve been here before,” said Bryan, “all my life they’ve been violating my mind, using it to cultivate this place…just now it became...clearer.”
“How did you get here?” asked Nils.
“Once I looked into her eyes and saw the Fiori, I knew it was mine, and suddenly I remembered everything, the thing called Mephistopholes just suppressed it, I got here by simply following her through.”
“Do you know where to go?” asked Nils.
“Away from the mountains,” said Bryan, “the men created this world in a cradle between five other worlds, if we travel to far in that direction we’ll wind up in a place called Pandemonium, a place of darkness and fear, if we travel along the mountains going right, we’ll reach a place called Sol, a place of steel and fire, of anger and bloodshed, across from that is our world, Arcadia, a world of mediums, vampires, and immortals.
“And if we travel away from the mountains, as you suggested?”
“We’ll get closer to the heart of the Fiori, and we’ll eventually reach a place where all five worlds connect with this one, a place called Mexico in our world, but as far as we’re concerned, that’s where we’ll find Mephistopholes and end this curse.”
“What’s this place called?” asked Nils.
“Tower Pandemonium,” he said.
End Part One