On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor

First – Revelation-Cardinal Lorenzo Giudice – ?????????

As the cameras were switched off, Revelation-Cardinal Lorenzo Giudice let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of his words settle on him. With his white and gold ceremonial vestments covering his still-powerful frame, and his piercing, raptor-like hazel eyes and hair speckled with grey, he appeared every inch a fiery priest, convinced of the righteousness of the cause, and of God. And indeed I am. Deus vult, God wills this. Nearly eight billion souls, they cannot be spent in vain. The Ninth Heaven will welcome them all.

“Quite the performance.” The rasping, dry voice that sounded like a snake skittering across sand rang out. His fellow Cardinal, the ancient, century old woman, her hair white and threadbare, her skin dusky and filled with innumerable deep wrinkles, smiled then. Beside her, the huge horn, the Spiritus Exitii, the Breath of Destruction, said to be one of the trumpets that were blown at Jericho, to bring down the walls, lay menacing and radiating power.

“Yes, you have a way with words, Lorenzo.” she continued, her breathing hoarse. “What will the Pontiff think? Even now, I expect he will be scrambling to… calm the situation.”

“I would expect no less from him. He is caloroso, warm-hearted and forgiving. Indeed, it is simply that he is too soft for these times, for the True Revelation.” Lorenzo shook his head sadly. “Of course, should we succeed in our goals, defeating the unclean, the empio, ungodly… he would be perfect to lead the remaining saved souls into the warmth of the Ninth Heaven. Though… such a road looms long ahead of him. He may not see the end. None of us might, Konstantina.”

“Me more than most, yes?” She laughed, a funereal sound. “These old bones are not suitable for fighting, but if the Breath must blow, then blow I shall. Speaking of… is this a prudent course? I know that granddaughter of Magdalena has perished, and the Anulus Fortunae is stolen…” A dark expression crossed her face, her eyes fierce. “…we must surely slay that inhuman bitch and reclaim the sacred treasure. But… the Hallowed Grounds are still spreading. Deploying so many of our forces… it seems… hasty.”

At the look in Lorenzo’s eyes, Konstantina cackled, patting the bronze mouthpiece of her great, curled horn. “Peace, Lorenzo, peace. I am as eager as any. Why, I wish I was alongside my successor, leading the Choirs to victory. You know…” Another dry, hacking cough. Even the great power she had been bestowed, the winnowing of her spiritual form strengthening her, had limits, her advanced age still too much for her.

Although, in time, the strength drawn from her Hallowed Ground and the worthless spirits of the creatures that dwell in the false Boundary that separates us from the blessed Ninth Heaven above may be able to restore her vitality, enable her to see the end of this journey.

“…I am never one to shirk the work. I just worry. Our Hallowed Grounds are far from their peak. And our believers are limited.”

“La serenità. Peace, Konstantina. I understand your fears, but we must have faith. After all, while all is in the mani di Dio, the hands of God, we must also act. The parable of the drowning man, while it is a modern one, it has great truth, no?”

“Yes. Fortunately…” her tone was sharp. “…we are capable. My successor, she is not weak, and while the Seminary is gone, we still have many forces. But…” She frowned, narrowing her eyes, and a great spiritual power radiated from her, her dry, withered skin cracking, bright red blood trickling. “Ah, the Watcher that spoke to me, the noble Grigori, it sees so many threats. We will take great losses, the work will be delayed.”

“Better we suffer now and remove the thorns that pierce our brows, before they become infected.” he replied piously. “There are those that have powers we must secure for our own, and if that proves impossible, then they must deperire, perish!” The book chained to his side, the precious relic, the Verum Lore, the Truth of Knowledge, was warm under his touch. “Matters are… irregular. The pristine clockwork of the Throne’s great, noble plans has jammed, a few gears sticking or slipping. So… we must advance our actions.”

“Yes, the missing Cardinals, the death of Mary Stuart…” Konstantina agreed softly, though her expression was still a little vacant and rapturous, despite being smeared with bloody drips. “There are those who do not belong here. Like the squatting abomination that has taken root in the Far East.”

“Yes. China is too dangerous for us to cleanse now. All efforts have failed.” He nodded, internally lamenting the loss of brave men and women who attempted to scout that Godforsaken land. “A different approach is needed there. But our true army comes from the West, the brulicante, teeming masses who worship the Throne. We will lose Judges and squires, as well as many faithful who have pledged their lives to these endeavours. And the Martyred Dead, many will see their final, true rest.”

“For every one that falls, five will heed our call.” Konstantina agreed. “As for the Dead, over fifteen hundred years many have been interred in the crypts and mausoleums, awaiting the call to arms. The strongest cannot be awoken, the spirito within them too starved of strength. But in time…”

“Exactly.” Lorenzo agreed. “Yes, we are bereft of our strongest forces, but… we ourselves, the Cardinals of True Revelation, have taken the field. And nothing shall arrestare our advance. We shall remove the crown of thorns from our brow, even if our hands bleed, are pierced for it. Then, that fiend that has made China its lair, and the clearly hidden powers that have interfered with the perfect clockwork orrery of Gods’ design, shall all be dragged into la luce, and the light will blind and consume them.”

Placing down the Verum Lore upon a nearby podium, the pages opened. Dense, archaic text, which was somehow still readable, filled many pages, but as he flipped to pages yet unfilled, the number seemingly greater than the book itself held, Divine energy surged around him, and upon the pages, text began to appear, gleaming a brilliant rainbow, before fading to a deep violet hue. “I see.” he muttered, the words spelling out several secrets. “Konstantina, I hesitate to put il onere, this burden, upon your old bones, but…”

“It is my duty, and my pleasure, to serve even to the last breath, the final drop of blood. For flesh, blood and bone are naught compared to spirito incorrutibile. That which is immortal within us and belongs to the Throne.” Her smile was that of one enlightened, and with one sharp nail, she drew a line across her withered wrist, and blood began to flow, dripping to the pages. “Now, Grigori, share what you have seen with us, let it be written in Verum Lore, the Truth. Let naught stand in the way of God!”

The words that were written in purple light dimmed, the letters turning vermillion, seeming to be bloody ink scribed on the pages. Pictures were forming too, and at the image, a strange gate made from two pillars strewn with thick twisted ropes that resembled snakes, and a tree rising in the background, he smiled, though it was not a pleasant one. Yes, the greatest threat lies there. But… it shall not stand, nothing can, against the might of the Throne!

***

Second – Uchida Ren – Kyoto, Japan

“…is consorting with the Chinese criminals who caused so many deaths in the very Kyoto I am standing in now!” Uchida Ren roared at the camera. The staff from the local Kyoto broadcaster had been joined by a team from FujiTV, and they were only too happy to help dish the dirt on that cursed bastard Oshiro Akio, apparently. He betrayed my son, my Yamato! He was supposed to be the one who brought peace to the land, instead… he wasted away, every day inching closer to death, never waking, his power stolen, his reputation tarnished.

Footage was displayed of the Chinese woman, Nie Ling. It was impossible for those involved with the inner workings of Oshiro Akio’s Faction… he doesn’t deserve any respect. He has killed my son. Yes, he still breathes, but his spirit is gone …not to be aware of her, since she was using her accursed power to ferry people back and forth from the spiritual realm. Ren still had people that showed loyalty to him, even if most of Susanoo deserted like rats off a sinking ship. Yes, even those who did not lose precious family during the mess that left my poor son comatose had ties to those who did, and they still speak to us…

“Worse, he is responsible for the deaths of many, children included!” Footage, harrowing and cruel, was played of the dead being carried out, many of them in high school or even younger, Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Ren stepped back to let someone else speak, the head priest of Aoikaeru shrine, a small yet still true shrine that worshipped a minor Kami. He was old, the priest, and his hair was white, thin as gossamer, and he moved with a ponderous and trembling gait, his health having worsened significantly since his granddaughters perished. As tears rolled down his wrinkled, sallow cheeks, Ren managed to mask his smirk of satisfaction, as the lead producer sent by FujiTV watched with bright eyes.

“This is perfect, perfect.” The producer was ecstatic. “Nobody else can break a story like this. FujiTV will go down in history, this program might even get more traction than the charity concert! Yes, some of the higher-ups were against this, but… I have Miyauchi Masaki-san in my corner. He’s already under pressure, after provoking Arisugawa-san, so he’s desperate. But for me, it’s a win-win! I can take the lion’s share of the credit for a success, and if it all blows up, well, I can push the blame on him!”

What a shallow cretin. Greedy and small-minded. This is about more than fame, it is about judgement. Akio will suffer for what he did. I swear it on the grace of Kannon… no, never again. His thoughts reflexively turned to the Goddess his family had venerated for countless generations, but he pushed that aside. “Just do your part.” Ren grated. “I have given you so much information, it should be impossible to refute it all.”

“Yes, it’s all great stuff!” the loathsome man agreed, and Ren stepped back, taking a break, before he would finish off Akio’s reputation with some more daggers of knowledge he had unearthed. As he did so, Ren glanced at the man wearing robes of white and gold, who spoke little Japanese. Fortunately, I speak enough English.

“A good work.” The tall, knightly figure smirked. His blonde hair was pulled into a short ponytail, and he was carrying a sword. But not just a sword. An assault rifle was strapped across his back, a great rarity in Japan, and Ren had no idea how he had managed to smuggle that and the dozens of others carried by his forces into Japan. “The Godless, heretic scum who slew the great and pious Mary Stuart, murdering her when she was a prisoner in all defiance of the laws of God and Man, shall face justice!”

Ren nodded, but wondered just how true that was. Not that it matters. They had said that Princess Eleanor of Britain had been complicit in her torture and murder, though considering the British response to the attacks and the state of Prince Henry, the truth was surely far murkier. But it is yet another dagger to pierce him with, bleed him out, destroy his reputation, and then… Cold sweat was beading on Ren’s skin, and he was trembling. He no longer wore priestly robes, as his old faith was dust, and he often felt awkward, uncomfortable.

“Yes, I wish him to pay. And I will pledge to any God that can deliver on my prayers. Kannon did not, and her gift is now in the hands of his sister, mocking me, making light of my Yamato!”

“And you were wise.” The man, supposedly a Judge of Revelation, whatever that meant, smiled warmly, an odd expression on his angular, aggressive face. “Repenting of false worship and turning to the Lord saved you. And Yamato has been baptised, shriven and the last rites read. His soul is now safe, his false faith absolved. Now the storm is coming, and the sinners will wail and gnash their teeth, but they will be scoured.”

I have seen it. Their forces. Dozens of men, well-armed. Yes, you shall get your punishment too, Saionji Gin! You were a thorn in my side, but now, like the dog you are, you rolled over and showed your belly for Akio. Pathetic.

One of his Susanoo faction adherents, who also spoke decent enough English, watched with some discomfort. “You can speak.” Ren told him, and with a nervous glance at the Judge, he started talking in Japanese.

“Uchida-sama, you… you truly abandoned the Kiyomizu-Dera and Kannon? How can that be possible? Kannon, in her infinite mercy…”

“Where was her mercy for my son?” Ren hissed, furious, his anger so palpable the man stepped back, nearly fainting. “Fifteen hundred years we kept her faith alive, and like a whore, her Favour goes to his wretched sister. He will not wake, and still Kannon does nothing. Not even bring me the solace of vengeance. Instead, the wretched bastard Akio is lauded as a hero, while Yamato is derided as a fool who caused so many deaths. But… that is not true!”

The man was sweating, but he managed an objection. “But… we know that Oshiro-san was at the concert when the first deaths occurred. The Hikawa boy, he…” His words stopped as Ren struck him. Fortunately, it was off camera, but the crew waved at him frantically, warning him off, so Ren dragged the priest away, before throwing him to the ground and kicking him, the savagery making Ren feel much better.

“If you feel so strongly about it, you should have joined him.” Ren spat when he was exhausted, his feet hurting. The fallen priest raised his bruised arms, having shielded his head, and managed a few weak words.

“But… the Lady Diviner, she vouched for him…”

“The Diviner is dead.” Ren shook his head. “I know, I attended the funeral, I am not a fool. And no matter what Akio claims… it is not the Diviner that stands with him now, it is simply a devil masquerading as her, a cruel ruse. Those fools Gin and Yasuhide, they think themselves so clever, so righteous, but they follow a monster who will doom them all. The gifts of the Divine, the sanctity of life and death… nothing is sacred to him. If you mention the blessed, noble Lady Diviner again, I will be most angry!”

At his baleful stare, the injured priest swallowed his words and scuttled away, limping and uncomfortable after the beating Ren had delivered to him. The Judge laughed, before nodding appreciatively.

“It seems he offended you. Those with treacherous tongues should take care. Words are wind, but when the wind blows ill, it invites in evil.”

As the priest of Aoikaeru shrine finished up his impassioned, hateful speech to the media, which would not only be broadcast over most of Japan but was being picked up by sympathetic news outlets around the world, as well as being streamed online, Ren nodded. “Yes, he should be mindful of how he speaks. I am still the head of Susanoo faction… no, saying that name now…” Ren finally severed his lingering attachments to the faith he had so fervently followed, as did his father, his grandfather and many generations before him. “…it is the past. The future is all I care about. A future where those who stole from me will face judgement!”

“Judgement is what I specialise in.” the white-clad Western man smirked. “Have no fear, all these sinners have evaded the judgement of the Lord for far too long, but… God is always watching.”

“You need to be careful.” Ren breathed, the feeling at the pit of his stomach hot and sickly, a mixture of hatred, trepidation and regret boiling away, eating at him. But it is too late to turn back now. I have offered everything for revenge… “Attacking the Territory here will not prove easy. His cursed subordinate, another abomination, devil pretending to be human, holds the strongest position in Kyoto. She has even stolen ownership of Kiyomizu-dera… yes, Kannon’s light has surely been extinguished form the world… if it ever existed at all.”

“It did not. The only light is the light of the Lord. Behold the Throne and know true glory. And you will.” The Judge patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Because you made the hard choice. All past sins can be forgiven, if only you embrace the truth. And your son is saved as well. When our work leads to the descent of the Ninth Heaven, you and your son will be Saints, just as we will be.” He paused, grinning, tapping his assault rifle. “Don’t worry, we are quite aware of the dangers in attacking her filthy realm in Kyoto, that Desecrated Ground. But I think she will have more to worry about than our actions, besides…” His eyes narrowed, a cold expression on his handsome features. “…that is not my target, no. I have… other… matters to attend do.”

With a shudder, Ren felt the heat in his belly spread, warming him. They say vengeance is cold, but no… to me it is as the sun itself. Those of you who listened to his lies, cast me aside… I shall not weep at your funeral. No, I have no tears left to shed, unless they are tears of rage and hatred…

***

Third – Fujiwara Honoka – Hanafubuki Private Academy, Tokyo

“Are you well, Honoka-sama, you have seemed distracted? I noticed you did not answer all your questions as speedily as usual.” Kozue, her bodyguard asked with some worry. The small girl was wearing her usual scarf alongside the elegant and soothing Hanafubuki school uniform, though it was far less flamboyant and noticeable than her older sister Michiru, who served Miyu-san as her guard.

I know under the long, flowing skirt, Kozue has hidden weapons, but they are not like the ones Michiru uses, no, these are proper tools. They are not very much alike, despite being sisters. Perhaps… perhaps it is the same with me and Miyu-san, even though we are cousins…

It was strange. Despite being cousins, and attending the same school, as well as both being tutored by the most prestigious teacher of traditional Imperial Kyoto-style dance, they had barely interacted, being distant and aloof. Of course, such is the way of things. Or it was. Hanafubuki had changed, perhaps due to the influence of the new attendees, who were not nobility, but faith-based students.

Her glaze flickered over to where Takakura Mizuki-san sat, talking cheerfully with some of the daughters of the Three-Hundred, now that the class was over. She was a pretty girl, Honoka had to admit, short but with an adult frame. Her manners lacked refinement of course, and she spoke her mind far too often, but that was to be expected of a commoner. It is not just that though. Her relationship with Miyu-san had reached a healthier level of almost friendship, since Miyu-san had moved into grandfather’s mansion, and they had taken lessons together in these mysterious new abilities. Now we have stopped using distant honorifics like -sama, I definitely feel closer to her. It is not unpleasant, to have someone older to rely on.

The others have changed too. Motoko-san and Natsumi-san, as well as Hinata-san, had all become more open, kind and talkative, spending time with others in school regardless of status. Though some, like the Shiraishi sisters were only remaining at Hanafubuki due to their grace, since she had heard their family had greatly angered grandfather, Ichijou-sama and Takatsukasa-sama. And that brings me to what is on my mind…

“You can talk to me, Honoka-sama!” Kozue insisted, her face pink with desire to help, and Honoka sighed, nodding slowly.

“I was just thinking… Sakura-sama… what will she do? If she is not the trueborn daughter of Takatsukasa house, will she have to drop out of Hanafubuki? I would not like that. I spent little time with her, but she always seemed kind, and her dancing does stir the heart so. Our honourable teacher praises her often.”

“She cannot match up to you!” Kozue declared, and Honoka nodded gently, smiling with a little pride.

“It is true. Honourable teacher praises me often as well. I was prideful as the best student, though now Miyu-san exceeds me.”

“Yes, but… it is simply because she has cheated!” Kozue tried to console her. “She has gained a gift from the Kami of Dance and the Arts! It is not her own…”

“That is wrong!” Honoka cut off Kozue, raising her voice. Immediately those around her in class glanced over, subtly to be sure, unwilling to gawk at her as she was the heir to Fujiwara house, but it was enough to tinge Honoka’s face pink with embarrassment. Lowering her voice she continued. “Do not be petty, Kozue. Honoured teacher would not be fooled by mere artificial skill. She says it is not her greater grace or elegance that makes her dance better, but… that her heart, her emotions have changed. She holds feelings she has never before, and through dance, they are expressed. I envy her. But I am happy for her. I think I shall talk to Sakura-sama when the day is done.”

“But your reputation…” Kozue warned, wondering how Honoka had gone from talking about Miyu-san to Sakura-sama.

“Things have changed. We are becoming more united, less conscious of the difference in our status. Besides…” Honoka was undeterred. “…grandfather would hate to see this. He must be furious. Though…” Again, thoughts that had bothered her all day were surfacing. “…did you think it strange, Kozue? Father… has been acting oddly.”

“How so?” Kozue asked.

“The event today. Normally, father would be enraged if Miyu-san was placed ahead of me, despite her being the older of us. He would never dare to speak it to grandfather, but the servants would bear his anger. Yet… he accepts this. No, he seems almost elated. I am not the most perceptive of women, I admit, but… it simply makes no sense.”

“Perhaps he has matured?” Kozue replied, uncertain. “I agree, I had also noticed. Hidemasa-sama has been in an unusually boisterous mood, yet he declined your noble grandfather’s invitation to attend the celebration at the Tengokusentou, instead, Miyu-sama goes with him. Not only that, but Takatsukasa-sama and Ichijou-sama will be in attendance, as well as a number of other important nobility. It seems… strange… normally Hidemasa-sama would be flaunting his importance, trying to appeal to them.”

“Are you worried? I feel uneasy…” Honoka whispered, and Kozue shook her head.

“There should be no cause for concern. Much as I despise him, father and his idiotic crew will be there, and they can fight, and have a certain low cunning. My sister is a match for any man as well, even if she disgraces the Koga name by playing pretend ninja like a child.”

For a moment Honoka smiled, finding it amusing. Though Kozue was the younger daughter, she certainly seemed more mature than her sibling. But she definitely had her childish side too, with a bad temper, though Kozue made efforts to keep it leashed around her. “Yes, grandfather has excellent security. And it is reassuring to have your father there, Kozue. Miyu-san is with him, and she is different now.” Why am I so worried? Is it perhaps because father has been acting unusually strange?

“Yes.” Kozue held some rivalry with Miyu-san, certainly, worried she would take what rightfully belonged to Honoka, in her eyes anyway. Honoka herself was far less concerned with such matters, she would do as her grandfather bid, as always, whether that was marrying the man he chose, or taking over Fujiwara house when he finally passed.

“I am sure you are correct as always, Honoka-sama!” Kozue finally answered. “But for now… the next lesson is about to start.” Kozue sat back at her desk next to Honoka’s, and as the teacher returned, her smile warm yet professional, everyone in class, even the boisterous Mizuki-san, focussed all their attention on the lesson…

***

Fourth – Joseph Young – Far Haven, Utah

“How did you get in here?” Joseph Young, once a Reverend, now the self-styled Last Prophet, and the true voice of God on Earth, grimaced. His light brown hair was short, immaculately trimmed, and though nobody could call him handsome, when he found a situation troubling or enlightening, his face took on a warm, benevolent appearance. Now was one of those times, as within the chapel his followers had built him here in Far Haven, six men and women clad in white robes with gold adornments had appeared, the great oak double doors slamming shut behind them. “And I am holding Mass. Enter quietly and with dignity, this is a House of God. The only House of God.”

Joseph was pleased to see his congregation directing their wariness and hostility towards the newcomers. He had drilled into them he was being hunted by heretics and faithless men, and that outsiders were dangerous, and he had armed them, sending out followers to gradually amass weapons from the distant towns and cities of Utah. Even little Lacey, a mere child, was glowering at the newcomers with her wide, innocent eyes, hands on a small pistol that she had been trained to fire.

“You call this Mass? How… curious.” The lead figure, a tall, slender woman in her early twenties spoke brightly. Her blonde hair was fanning around her oval, pale face, and her blue eyes were full of confidence, even as she took in the dozens of guns pointed at her by the congregation. “But…” Her expression was more approving as she took in the chapel and its stained glass windows and statuary, which were obviously new, and depicted Angels and Saints. “I like the décor. I had thought you Protestants weren’t fond of statues and artwork, calling them idolatry?”

Behind her the other five were standing, impassive, their presence a clear threat, so Joseph had little choice but to answer. “I chart a new, stronger faith. For I was called, I heard the voice of God clearly! And I was gifted with an incorruptible nature, and Healing Hands, to match His Son. It is only natural to disregard the old, flawed ways of thinking.” He couldn’t help but boast.

“The voice of God, you say? That is indeed a great honour. I was myself not blessed by the words of the Metatron, unlike many of the Cardinals above. Yet I saw the Virtue, flames and lightning the province of the Divine, and I too was granted power.” She smiled brilliantly, though there was nothing alluring about it, it was serene, holy, and a brilliant halo of lightning formed around her.

Seeing that Joseph cursed inwardly. I have not the power to fight, though, God’s miracles have two sides. Just as God makes incorruptible, the immortal soul within us, God also makes fallible, flawed mortal bodies. What can heal can harm. Heal thyself, physician indeed. Still… Not liking his chances in a fight, Joseph let the pure power flow through him, and it was as if he was glowing, though the light was not truly present, more a feeling, a perception.

“In that case, please do not disrupt the service any further. Show respect to God and his voice and pray!” Joseph ordered, and with a continued smile, the woman nodded. Taking an open seat, next to the small yet aggressive Lacy, she reached down, patting the surprised girl’s head.

“Why, aren’t you a wonderful little thing? So pious, so brave. There is naught to fear. See?” She waved one hand, and lightning bloomed like a small firework, sparkles in red, green and gold falling, which made Lacey’s eyes widen, she reached for them, only for the woman to shake her head, even as her other five companions also took seats. “That’s not wise. What is pretty often burns to the touch.”

“…now.” Joseph cleared his throat. “…let us continue. So, the Lord spoke to me, Joseph Young, his newest and final Prophet. For the End of Days is here, and only those who believe will be saved. The Rapture comes, and evil is unveiled. And it lurks everywhere! Just as Jesus was denied three times before the cock crowed, so too were my words, God’s words, and the faithful were called upon to give their lives to ensure I could escape the wicked! Trust not the men who would be above you, call themselves leaders, politicians, nor trust the women who would seduce you from your path, no… trust only in God and his guidance, which I shall deliver…”

As he spoke, his passion shining through, Joseph set aside his visitors, letting his faith speak for him. After his sermon was delivered, he went through the usual prayers, before leading everyone in a rousing hymn. Once the singing died down, he bade everyone have a good night, sleeping well. It was then the woman applauded.

“Most moving. Seeing everyone, the old and the young, all together with such gusto, singing the praises of the Throne… why, it definitely stirs me! You were very cute, little girl.” She praised the shy Lacey warmly. “And I must confess… Come Thou Font Of Every Blessing is a favourite hymn of mine, and so very poignant. After all… every blessing does come from the Throne, else it is no blessing, but a curse.”

Hearing the subtext, Joseph nodded. Smiling warmly at his congregation he bade them retire. They hesitated, their fanatical loyalty to him intense, but he soothed them. “It is late, and the young ones should certainly be in bed.” His gaze on Lacey and the other children of the village was kind. “After all, here in Far Haven, we rise with the dawn to pray and work.”

There were more protests, but eventually, everyone left, after offering their thanks and good wishes to him. They eyed the newcomers warily, but while the other five were stony-faced and cold, the woman was all happy smiles, waving to them as they departed. As the great doors shut again, she turned back to Joseph. “I admit, I enjoyed your words. Though some would call them a deviation from the truth, there is still truth within them. The End of Days is coming. And God is the only path to salvation, the Ninth Heaven above us. We wish to save as many as we can. Tell me, do you think you can be saved, Joseph Young?”

As she said his name, he frowned momentarily, before reasserting his calm, the Divine power within him soothing. “I am already saved. No, instead, I am to save. Now, who are you, and how did you find me here? This place has no internet, no mobile phones… and I stay undercover, only leaving the church under a shroud, no eyes in the sky can see me.”

“The Lord’s eyes see everything.” The woman disagreed. “And what is written in the Truth is plain for pious eyes to read. How we sought you out is not so important, the why is.”

Glancing at the old-fashioned weapons they carried, swords belted at their waists, and taking in their robes of white and gold, cinched by thick, richly adorned belts, they reminded Joseph a little of tales of the Knights Templar. “Have you come to kill me?” he asked, preparing to act. Though I dismissed everyone, they will not leave me alone here with these suspicious strangers. Even now, some will be watching from above. The Chapel had been designed as a safehouse and a fortress, so there was an external, hidden access, and murder holes in the hollow walls and roof spaces. “If so, you will surely see Hell.”

“That… depends on you.” The woman answered simply, surprising him. “Though your faith deviates from the true path, and your revelations are incomplete, the Truth finds you worthy, if you can be corrected. And…” Her smile was angelic, and the electric halo was making her blonde hair fan out, golden under the light. “…it is hard to fault the piety of your believers. A man such as yourself should hardly be wasted saving a mere handful. Your voice should be heard, no?”

Yes, I know I have to do more than merely hide here, why else would God have chosen me? But… “And if I do not agree with your truths, and I decline… what then?”

“You know, for you are no fool, Joseph Young. You wish to be the right hand of the Lord, which is laudable, but…we are the True Revelation. For longer than this country has existed, we have awaited this day, trained and honed our skills, gathered funds and made inroads. I was but a humble soldier, but now I attracted the gaze of the Throne on high, I am a Judge, and I enact Judgement, smiting the sinful and the false, raising up the worthy! If you wish to rise, then do so, under our auspices, if your faith is true, following the correct path… The Lord shall recognise your efforts, as shall we.”

“And just what is the correct path?” Joseph asked, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Why, following the Truth of Knowledge, the Verum Lore.” She replied. “You are wasted here. Instead of covering, preach. This great land, this America, it cries out for salvation. Take revenge on those who wronged you and be a beacon that shines for the Lord.”

“It is tempting, but then… was Jesus not tempted over forty days and forty nights by the Devil himself? Fair words often mask foul desires…” At his words, her face paled, and her eyes narrowed, all joviality lost.

“You would call me a minion of the Devil? Though… even the Devil bows to the Throne. I forgive you, for you know not what you speak of. But… let me be blunt. Your Hallowed Ground, you left it far distant when you fled. A mistake. For to spread the light of the Lord is to assume responsibility for that light. And we… well, one move, and my fellow Judges who remain there will sunder it, and you will suffer.” Her voice lowered. “Have you ever seen the spirit of a man shredded by the agony of having the Lord’s grace ripped from them? I have. I have little wish to see it again, but…” Her hand was on the hilt of her sword.  “I’ll see it again. I simply wish… not today.”

Feeling an alarming prickling worry gnawing at him, Joseph nodded slowly. I can feel the Stairway to Heaven far distant, and… yes, it stings… Unsure if what she was saying was truth or a lie, Joseph bowed his head, conceding defeat. For now, I have little choice.

“I would talk more about this.” Joseph asked. “There is no need for haste. Can I invite you to a meal? We can break bread and talk wisely.”

“I would like that.” The woman’s smile was back. “But you are wrong about one thing. There is a great need for haste. But…” He looked into her eyes, which seemed to shimmer with prismatic energies. “…for a man of faith, even if misguided, I can make a little time. It would be such a shame for you to end up on the wrong side of history…”

Joseph nodded slowly, raising one hand to scratch at his cheek, a signal for the watching villagers to retreat. I shall listen and judge their faith. But… Converting America, bringing it all to the true veneration of God, and Joseph, his last Prophet… Yes, it is certainly tempting. No, not just tempting, but… destiny!

***

Fifth – Judgement Cardinal Luca Aloisio – Tokyo, Japan

“And so it begins. At last.” Judgement-Cardinal Luca Aloisio declared with great satisfaction. He was a big man, over six feet tall, and his iron-hard muscles, now enhanced by the great power of the Divine he had gathered, strained under the silver chainmail that he wore under a white cassock. Under his meaty hand was a great wooden wheel, ringed with studded stakes, and the Divine power radiating from it was palpable.

“Yes, the faithful have gathered.” One of his Judges, a man with similar brown hair and eyes to Luca nodded. “Our preparations have not been in vain. Praise the Lord and the Throne!”

“Indeed. Finally, judgement will fall upon that wretched sinner who slew that fool Mary Stuart. I knew she was not her grandmother. Her zeal was admirable though, and even in death, she strikes against our enemies.” His hand was tight on the massive wooden breaking wheel, the precious Rota Iudicii, the Wheel of Judgement. The ancient, dark wood held a rich sheen, and Luca felt he could smell iron, the blood that had soaked into this precious artefact over the years proof no sinner could escape judgement.

“The days of old shall return. The false politicians and worthless forked-tongued speakers that have led the world away from faith, basking in self-interest and vice shall be purged, and we shall usher in the Ninth Heaven, as was always meant to be. But first… root and branch, we must rip away the foundation of that scum. Only then can we defeat him.”

“It will not be easy, Judgement-Cardinal.” The Judge, one of his elite, pointed out. “Even with all our careful preparations. We have the hardest task by far.”

“And I rejoice at it.” Luca sneered. “The Throne sets us our tasks, and the harder the better. After all, even that fool Mary Stuart is a martyr, and shall be seated on the right of the Throne in the Ninth Heaven. Those of who fall will be remembered. New Martyred Dead are always needed. But even though some of us will surely perish, by the Rota Iudicii, I swear we will rip out the roots of this great heresy. And when the so-called Hero of Britain is revealed as unable to protect anything, the world will know only one path to salvation exists.”

“They call it a spider thread, here in these lands.” one Judge, who was short and with a different slant to his features, pointed out. He was Japanese, one of the few adherents to True Revelation that the Far East supplied. “Blasphemous, of course, but sometimes there is truth in metaphor. Hope is a slender thread many are eager to grasp, but when it breaks, only a plunge into despair and damnation awaits.”

“Apt.” Luca agreed. “That aside… everyone is armed?”

“Of course.” the first Judge agreed. “This has been in preparation since the failures in London. Our people have been slipping in through numerous channels. Though not everything went as planned.”

Luca nodded. “Those damned police. Sniffing around our operations. But no matter. They only found the pitiful fates of those that refused our offers. They know nothing of those who accepted.” It was a risk, approaching wealthy businessmen, philanthropists and charitable folk, especially after in Britain, Maxwell Power turned out to be running his own agenda. Yes, he too will be found and sentenced to breaking on the wheel. But first…

“Yes, those who accepted the light of the Nine Heavens shall find salvation. After all, easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man enter the Nine Heavens.” The Japanese Judge agreed piously. “Unless their wealth is dedicated to a cause. Those others… in death they serve as a tool to show our enemies as corrupt. Anyway, with their aid, we have gathered everyone. As for the weapons…”

“The Reliquaries are working perfectly. Though many of the ones we have kept over the long centuries have ceased to function, our artisans have managed to create modern replicas.” The Judge nodded at several suitcases which were being opened by other squires and troops from the Church. To ordinary inspection they appeared normal, but if one could sense the Divine, the energy they radiated was a faint haze of violet drifting off then. “They appear empty, but…” As one squire opened his Judge’s Reliquary and let his limited energy flow into the hidden mechanism, a flash of purple shone, and the empty case was filled with guns, swords and ammunition, as well as grenades and even an old Russian-make rocket launcher. “…simply storing them in the false Boundary is simple enough.”

“Excellent. I am not so old-fashioned as to decry advances in weaponry.” Luca nodded. “Though the Wheel is all I need. We are no longer in the era of knights, where swords and lances clash, and longbows rule the battlefield. No, this is a modern age, and the Throne uses all tools. Even profane ones.”

“You’re talking about them?” A third Judge, this one a woman with her long black hair tied in a braid grumbled, scowling. “What are the odds they would choose to act when we did?”

“God does not play dice.” Luca intoned. “The Lord offers us a way. It will separate the forces here. And if they kill each other, so much to our advantage. Though it will rob me of the satisfaction of breaking them upon the Wheel with my own hands. But… the task comes first. And we shall not fail. No more than the others will.” Luca’s eyes were cold as he declared this, and his thoughts turned to his fellow Cardinals and their forces. Under the watchful eye of the Grigori, and the Truth of Knowledge, the Verum Lore, our targets have been set, and they shall submit or be destroyed. Our foundation is the strongest, we have been planning for fifteen hundred years!

“In that case… shall I give the signal?” The first Judge asked, pulling out his phone. “We need to coordinate with the forces in Kyoto.”

Luca took a deep breath, stroking the wood of the Wheel, and then nodded, his brown-eyed gaze sharp and predatory. “Yes. Transmit. It is time to strike. I shall lead the team into the Desecrated Grounds here. It is a potent one, but its strength will not resist me and my Judgement! The other Judges are in position with the Dragon’s Teeth that can call upon the Martyred Dead. Judge Solomon, Judge Hiroshi, Judge Susan…” At their names, the three Judges knelt, eager expressions on their faces.

“…Solomon, Hiroshi, you shall lead the forces attacking this pagan shrine, this nest of snakes. Leave none alive, be they men, women or children. Only death can cleanse them. We cannot allow others to strengthen the masses. Only the Ninth Heaven is the path to truth. Keep a watchful eye on our allies…” He sneered, this the one decision of the Revelation-Cardinal’s he took issue with, though for the greater good he accepted it. But when their purpose is served, I would happily send those treacherous and blasphemous Sons and Daughters of Iblis to their graves. “…and set the false idols to the torch and salt the ground so that nothing might grow there again. Let it remain forever as a monument to sacrilege. As for you, Susan…”

Her plain face burned with fervour and her eyes with fanaticism as she knelt, listening to his next words. “…the sins of the father are visited to the third and forth generation. But in this case… the sins of the son shall be visited on all who call him family. Examples must be made.”

“Have no fear. I shall lead our forces and defeat them. I fear no false powers!” Judge Susan declared, tugging on her braid in an expression of rapture.

“Most excellent. As for the third target…” Luca scowled. “The wretched Child of Iblis, as he calls himself, leads that. It is for the best. While sinners are buried deep there, innocents are too. Best the blood and the sin remains on the hands of the unclean. But I understand the necessity. Secular powers are naught before the Divine. They should learn to bow before the Lord and the Throne as they used to. Kings and peasants alike are all equal before the Lord!”

Judge Hiroshi trembled, understanding just what was to come. “There is no going back from this. None at all. Strike at them, and the nobility…”

“The only true nobility is the priesthood. I simply hope one day the Pontiff, soft as he is, realises we are in a war, and there is no time for charity and forgiveness. I suppose he is a product of the times, not forged in the Truth of Knowledge as we are. But Revelation-Cardinal Lorenzo has hopes for him. So I will reserve judgement. After all, I am Judgement-Cardinal, not Charity-Cardinal. How apt that Cardinal supposedly perished here in the East.”

“I understand.” Judge Hiroshi swallowed, steeling himself. “Besides, when their support is shattered, and the false bravado they have cultivated by being respected, feared and obeyed crumbles… they will be impotent.”

“Exactly.” Luca agreed, hefting the Wheel onto his shoulder. “Now, none know we are here, our collaborators have made sure of that. Even so…”

“It is under control. We have local forces in place to prevent any interruptions.” Judge Solomon promised. “The grace of the Lord go with you on your mission, Judgement-Cardinal. I pray you are victorious!”

“Of course.” Luca smiled, though there was little mirth in it. “After all, while the cat is away, the mice can do little but scurry around and wait for destruction!”

***

Sixth – Sixteenth – Tokyo, Japan

“This sits ill with me…” The olive skinned, short woman who was wearing a tight black leather jerkin and trousers, with a black veil woven around her face, only revealing her piercing hazel eyes, muttered, her language foreign to this Eastern land.

“Why?” A man with dusky skin and numerous piercings in his ears, barely visible behind his own veil, asked. “Our knives have reaped the young and the old alike, the deserving and the undeserving. Iblis cares little from where the tribute comes from.” He paused then, and the woman figured he was smiling mockingly behind the faceless veil. “Or are you frightened, Sixteenth? Does your buttocks clench and your bladder burn hot? Perhaps a tumble before battle would restore some fire to your heart and your loins.”

The woman termed Sixteenth gave him a flat look. “Twelfth, you think far too highly of yourself. If I wished to copulate, I would do it with a dog over you.” As he snorted bitterly at her rebuke, the others around him let out their own quiet chuckles. “No, I am simply unconvinced we should work with the hateful Book-watchers.”

“It’s true.” Another, Twentieth, a woman like her, agreed. She too, like everyone around them, was in form-fitting black leather and veiled. They stood out, certainly, but even so, none of the passers-by paid them much of a glance. After all, the arts of the Assassin, as passed down by the great Hasan al-Sabbah, allowed them to call upon the traces of spiritual energy, that these Easterners so crudely called Qi, to turn aside and fog minds. Though now our strengths have grown, it is trivial to deflect attention, until we act, of course. It would take greater strength than ours to keep minds indolent and confused when blades are flashing and blood splatters.

“Just weeks ago we were fighting the cursed idiots who believe they are the only truth. How many nameless ones fell? And even several Sons and Daughters of Iblis perished. Though we bled them…” she hissed in satisfaction, and Sixteenth agreed with Twentieth’s sentiments.

“The First Son and First Daughter have spoken. Who are we to disobey?” Fourth, a tall, powerful assassin, waved one hand, silencing them. Ordinarily he would have been in command of this operation, but instead they had their trump card, who was looking at the magnificent building that loomed ahead of them with some interest. He was short, but handsome, with mesmerising blue eyes, unusual for one of the Sons.

“After all… loyalty is bred into us. Death before betrayal, no backwards step. They must have their reasons, their Jinni whispering to them. Defeat is simply temporary, our knives may shatter like our bones, but in the end, another blade in the darkness will come, our enemies perishing.” Fourth finished. “Just assume it is a test. Everything is a test.”

“Everything is a test!” The twenty veiled figures echoed piously, only the Son of Iblis remaining silent. As he stepped forwards into the wide, open space around the building, which was elegantly planted with grasses, trees and flowers that were fading in the end of autumn chill, a man barked at him to stop, that this was a private, restricted area, and that no photography was permitted.

Japanese. Of course it would be. We all speak many languages, it is foundational to our skillset. But… Son Husam, he was not one of us, until the Jinn chose him… “Great Son Husam, he is warning you to stop.” Sixteenth told him in Arabic, unseen still despite standing in the open. “Worse…” Her danger sense was prickling. “…they are prepared to act. I had thought this was a peaceful land.”

Twelfth snorted, mocking her. “Truly, you are a fool. Perhaps I should pound some of my wit and intellect into you. No land is unafraid to act when their precious ones are in peril. And the powerful can evade all sanction.”

Son Husam tilted his head, understanding. With a smile he opened his mouth, speaking English. “I am not here to take photographs. This is… a school, yes?”

“A private school!” The suit-clad man, clearly a powerful security guard, and who was armed with both metal batons and guns, Sixteenth noted, switched to English, relieved he could be understood. “You are already in a no access area. Turn back.”

“Turn back? Oh, yes, I apologise…” Son Husam grinned, and as he turned away, the man relaxed, only to suddenly freeze. Literally. Exchanging words with Son Husam, Jinn of Ice, is dangerous…

Sixteenth was as trained as any of the strongest who had not yet earned a true name, even if her powers were nothing compared to the Sons and Daughters. But when it came to killing… The other security guards protecting the school sprang into action, including several up on the walls in hidden observation posts beside the fortified main gates. Sixteenth and Twelfth both acted, and it annoyed Sixteenth that the crude man that always mocked her and made advances on her was more skilled than she.

Son Husam crushed the skull of one man ruthlessly, his blood congealing, and that frozen blood was used as small bullets to take down a man reaching for his phone to signal an alert. The bullets weren’t strong enough to kill him, his armoured cloth suit protecting his vitals, but fingers and phone were both shattered.

Other men rushing in to engage, pulling out guns, were suddenly white as ghosts, their blood leaving their bodies as throats were split by the other advancing Children of Iblis, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, their perception-blocking arts released. Gunfire sparked, as the two lookouts opened fire, but Son Husam hauled up a fallen man, blocking the shots. Then they fired no more, Sixteenth slashing her knife, a jambiya, through his throat. Twelfth had likewise silenced his foe, though suddenly alarms blared, the beautiful building, ringed by cherry trees that stood bare of leaves, suddenly alert.

What happened? All the guards are dead… it was a perfect assassination, as per the scriptures of Iblis.

“Times move on.” Twelfth grimaced, his own blade slashing through a set of wires, sparks flashing. “It seems like some automated equipment. When it detected gunfire it relayed some sort of warning. And… it redoubled when his heart stopped.” He kicked the dead man. “Fine. We move. The task, no matter how distasteful, goes ahead.” He was all business now, and Sixteenth nodded.

“Everything is a test, after all.” she managed, as her fellow Children leapt up the walls. Son Husam merely glanced at the gate, before vaulting up over the wall with ease, his Jinni-given strength great. landing in the smooth, paved courtyard below. Ice formed on the stones, and several nearby trees were rimed with bitter frost. Sixteenth felt a chill, her leather clothes not keeping it at bay, before wiping clean her jambiya.

“Yes, everything is a test. And only by passing every test might we be worthy to earn a name, become a Son or Daughter of great Iblis!” Twelfth agreed. “Now… let all our foes pass into the sweet embrace of death, and if they are worthy, the embrace of God. If unworthy… then only salt and boiling flame await in Jahannam!”

Hell, yes. Sixteenth nodded. It was not for her to question the First Son and Daughter. That way lay anarchy and failure. Racing across the grounds, her comrades like a score of indistinct shadows, Son Husam leisurely strolling across the grounds, his breath streaming to frost in the already chill December air, she clutched the hilt of her knife, ready to reap a toll in blood and honour…