On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor

“So, we have gathered, yet alas, some of our faithful are missing, I see.” As he glanced around the room, Revelation-Cardinal Lorenzo Giudice noticed that of the thirteen souls that should have been occupying the decorated podiums carved out of the stone of the surrounding catacombs, faced in marble and chased with gold, only eight, including himself, was present.

“Non importa. Such is to be expected. For we have waited long for this day.” His piercing hazel eyes surveyed his fellows. “Still, for those of us that have made the journey under the auspices of the one and only God, I offer you benvenuto. welcome.” Despite being Italian, and that being the main language of the Catholic Church, he spoke flawless English, for that was the word of True Revelation.

“It has indeed been too long.” The speaker was old, his hair a snowy white, yet his body was still muscled, lean and tanned. He was wearing vestments as would any other Cardinal, yet they were armoured with plates of a golden metal, and in his sash was belted a sword, old-looking, the hilt a cross, yet the blade was bright and free of rust, shining under the many candelabra that lit the hall. “I knew when I heard the voice of Metatron in my dreams, and Crucis Purgationis started waking from its slumber, that the time long prophesised in the true book of Revelations has come. Praise be to God, amen!”

Lorenzo echoed the amen, as did the others around the room. The wielder of the blade, the Crucis Purgationis, was Inquisitor-Cardinal Maximillian Meyer. I had thought him dead, having not heard of him for so long and his advanced age, but I am happy to be proved mistaken, for he is one of the more staunch of the True Believers.

“I too heard the voice.” A small dark-skinned man said, seemingly overwhelmed by his ceremonial finery. Beside him lay a whip, the material a strange dark fabric, and even here Lorenzo fancied he could smell the blood. Fighting an urge to cross himself, he listened to the words of his long-time colleague. “To think that it would be us, who would be witness to the End Times.” His English was spoken with a Spanish lilt, making it a little hard to understand, but all were brothers and sisters here under God, so even without words… All of us are thinking the same. Commandment-Cardinal Ortiz speaks for all of us.

“I tremble at the thought, yet we must do what needs to be done.” an old rasping voice said, and everyone turned to see a withered old crone, a large musical horn beside her. As she spoke she shook, and she surely was not long left for this world, unless… unless of course her Hallowed Ground can renew her. Verum Lore has much to say on the effects of the Hallowed Ground… why else would God choose now to start the march to Armageddon, with many of us so old?

“Indeed, your words spark both hope and joy in me. Amen.” After a brief round of prayer, Lorenzo asked his colleague, who despite the teachings of the mainstream church was of course female, a question that was on his mind. “So, saggia donna, my old friend. I am sure under the grace of God I need not ask, but the Choirs, they remain prepared?”

“Of course.” She rattled, making the sign of the cross. “I have been training them for nearly eighty years, my bones may be old, but my spirito, it does not falter. My future successor, who I have been pouring my wisdom, she oversees the grand work now. Our numbers are perhaps not what they were, but the quality, the fede in Dio, faith… it remains pure.” She coughed, her lungs hissing. “And as a great blessing, she dreamed of a Seraph, and has found her own blessing from God. Several others in the Choir have seen lesser Angels…”

“I see, that is grand news indeed.” A youthful voice said, and everyone turned to the newcomer. She was comely and fair, young too, probably no more than twenty, with long blonde hair down to her knees and stunningly bright green eyes like emeralds. Her vestments were adorned with rows of small crystal bells, and as she spoke they tinkled calmingly. On one finger was set an ornate golden ring, made up of a series of interlocking knots.

She wears the Anulus Fortunae. And with that colouring… “Would you be the successor to Magdalena Stuart? I had heard she died, so was expecting one of our missing brothers and sisters to be her. If so, this is il volere di Dio, most certainly. God’s will indeed.”

“Yes, my grandmother, God rest her immortal soul, may it return safely to the Ninth and only True Heaven to await our arrival after Armageddon, she was raising me to carry her burden. I admit, when I was young I did not believe, only doing it to please her, but when the voice of Metatron was revealed to me… my path is clear.”

“Bah, to have someone of such weak faith as one of the Cardinals of True-Revelation is upsetting. How low we have fallen. God tasked us to prepare for this for nearly two-thousand years, yet… this… is all we have? We once controlled nearly the entire globe, kings and peasants alike heeded our words, or else they faced ruin and damnation!” the speaker was a big man, with dark brown hair and eyes. His ceremonial cassock was straining under his muscles, and was adorned with silver chainmail, each loop secured by a tiny crucifix. Beside him was a monstrous wooden wheel, ringed with stakes, and he rested his hand on it sourly, glaring at the new successor.

“Enough, cessare, Judgement-Cardinal Luca Aloisio! If our esteemed successor did not have the requisite faith, Metatron would not have graced her with orders. Who are we to gainsay the very voice of our Lord and God? Be thankful we do not have another empty podium, and another of the treasures we have been bequeathed unrecovered.”

“Indeed, I thank you, Revelation-Cardinal.” The beautiful young woman curtsied politely. Turning to Luca she gave him a pretty smile. “My Grandmother told me of you, and to take no notice of your fury. After all, to use the Rota Iudicii, our Wheel of Judgement, you must be resolute, unstoppable. I am her granddaughter, Mary Stuart, and I shall serve the Lord, never doubt it. Besides I see two more who do not match my Grandmother’s descriptions.”

At the remaining two filled podiums, there were an androgynous pair of beautiful young people. They had dark hair, as black as the darkest of nights, and their skin was white and beautiful, without blemish. Their eyes were a unique colour too, a rare red, yet not the pinkish red of albinism, but the rich red of ruby or blood. Under their robes it was hard to see their body-shapes, but one had short hair, the other a long cascade. As they met everyone’s gaze, they both responded, one bowing and one curtsying as Mary Stuart had done.

Such eyes and unearthly looks. Surely in the past they would have been suspected to have Devil blood. Still, to be here, and to be carrying those… The long-haired one was holding a golden goblet, a treasured replica of the long-lost Holy Grail, the Poculum Orationis, while the other… yes, the Falsa Testa, spear home to the last precious shard of the weapon that pierced the very flesh of our Lord, Jesus Christ on the cross. For our sins he had paid the ultimate price willingly, his divinity unquestioned.

Unlike the many false beings we shall have to contend with now. For two thousand years we have driven them back, purging them where we found them, rooting out all who trafficked with unholy powers… and our efforts have born great fruits, yet in our success we too have withered, only a mere portion of our once great power remaining… alas, God’s great mansion contains many rooms still, yet all but the Ninth Heaven are crawling with sin… so we must take up arms…

“You two must be the new Blessing-Cardinal and Cursing-Cardinal. Again, I expected those podiums to be empty. Gloria e lode to your predecessors, they have done well finding you.”

“It is an honour to be here at the End of Days.” The long-haired one spoke, her accent appalling. It was Russian, by the sounds of it, the same as the previous Blessing-Cardinal. “I am Anastasia Solovyova. My brother here is Konstantin Solovyov. Sadly he cannot speak, for he has no tongue. God has called for him to deliver his word by actions, not sounds.”

Konstantin nodded, opening his mouth for all to see the stump of his tongue. Still, his gaze was firm, pleasing to the eye, and full of faith. Hmm, the old Cursing-Cardinal was Arabic. There is a story here. But that is for later.

“So, we have all gathered then, those of us who are able. I believe that the Faith-Cardinal passed several years ago, and the Seminary was destroyed. A vile blow. Those unbelievers will pay a high toll now that the time for true Revelations has come. Amen. Does anyone know of the others? Can we still hold out hope?”

“My grandmother told me that the Charity-Cardinal was waylaid in the Far East. I believe she said it was Cultivators, if you can believe that nonsense.” Mary Stuart made a sign of the cross and spat in disgust.

“Such trash do exist, though like the cowards they were, most fled nigh on fifteen-hundred years ago.” Luca stroked his wheel. “Now all that are left are a few vermin who practice their ungodly arts in secret, hiding from their equally faithless government. If we have to start a purge before Armageddon, I suggest we start there. I know that the Charity-cardinal was old like the rest of us but tale follia, such a disappointment…”

“Do not be so harsh on our fellows.” Maximillian said suddenly. “In my youth I duelled a pair of these Chinese Cultivators when I did missionary work. They were quite annoying. One even got away. The other is currently where he belongs in Hell, though…”

“Enough. Peace.” Lorenzo sighed, unamused at the bickering. “We will make do with what we have. The Choir still stands, even if we have lost the Seminary, and several of the Orders. And with God on our side, what do we have to fear? The Pontiff, God rest his naïve soul, is too wedded to peace and reconciliation to understand the threat. I do not blame him, successive generations have softened their stance, leaving it to us in the shadows to make sure that the sacrifice of our Lord, separating this world from the sinful, protecting this Garden of Eden, is not in vain. As time passes and the chaos begins, more will flock to our banners and faith will be rekindled, as is stated in the True Revelations. But first, we must take stock. As is in the Choir, others will have heard the call of God. We must gather them, before they use their Hallowed Ground. I trust you have all refrained until now?”

As everyone nodded, Lorenzo was pleased. The temptation to deploy Hallowed Ground and reap the benefits was immense, but as men and women of faith, they resisted, as they would the whispers of the Devil himself.

“Excellent. We need to carefully choose where we call upon them. As Armageddon approaches, only under Hallowed Ground shall the faithful be saved. We must protect the worthy and the sacred.”

But to do so, one must dip their hands in the filth of the returning sinful lands. Yes, God’s mansions truly are now filled with abominations…

Clapping his hands together, the sound echoing around the catacombs under the Vatican, Lorenzo smiled. “Go with God, my friends, my brethren. Go with God, and save those of worthy faith. We must also recover the lost treasures our missing brethren were entrusted with, for should they fall into the wrong hands…”

With Armageddon fast approaching, every grace God left us must be used. We cannot, no WILL not fail him.