Chaos Mortalitus (27 page)

"No one knows him anymore."

"What is this Kalden? What does it mean?" Angela asks taken back as she stares at the unveiled painting.

"I'm not sure. Can't imagine how this happened, just came together that way. Like I wasn't even the artist this time, as if something else was painting through me. I don't know what all this means Angela. I haven't shown this to anyone else, I just don't know what to think yet." Kalden explains as the two examine his paintings.

Angela Mortal burns a stare into the centerpiece of the set, at this iconic portrayal and the hidden meaning it might possess. Stepping away from the set now completed, the canvas reveals a certain truth, beyond the viewer's comprehension at this point. "I just don't understand Kalden. Why are we haunted with these memories! Why can't we let him go! For God's sake, it's been ten years! I can't keep doing this, I can't!" Angela says as tears stream her cheeks like so many times before.

"I'm sorry Angela. I didn't ask you over to upset you; I just wanted your opinion. Spiritually I take situations like this as a sign, but their purpose alludes me still."

"There are no answers Kalden. All I find are constant reminders and hope in the most meaningless things, an idea I still cling to desperately. No matter how much I try, I just can't let go. Damn it! I just can't let go!" Tears are constant as these newly opened wounds bleed bright in Angela's heart.

"What if it means something Angela?"

"Then we need to find the truth, exactly what this means. I won't keep doing this to myself; I just want my husband back. We've suffered enough!" Angela's pain is obvious, and its moments like these that remind her of the love she still holds in her heart.

The two are captivated by the image, a large display of the cloaked figure that floats freely among the stars and the chaotic elements that surround this figure. Each panel of canvas revealing a more detailed description of the war ahead. The battles that rage eternally surround the figure as the purpose of this remains a mystery revealing nothing of what fate has decided. The creature in the centerpiece wears a familiar black cloak covering very alien armor, jagged, organic, a warrior's look, and within its reflection eyes peer back, this reflection of a man, a friend and a husband that they both lost so long ago, or so they presume.

Random thoughts fill their heads as the painting reveals Ashton Mortal in this creature's reflection, a man that will change the course of history but the unknown question is,
will it be for the better
?

Greg Knight walks up the South hallway toward the Oval Office in the West Wing of the White House with news for President Jonathan Reynolds, who is now finishing out his second term. The world's problems seemingly continue and with every dissipated storm, another follows its carved path and then another and another as the trail is blazed once more. Life on planet Earth has not yet escaped the routine the universe exists by, for it is this routine that allows the humans of Earth to drift by unnoticed,
or are they
?

Rounding the corner, Greg enters the Oval Office to his left, with pressing matters to discuss with the President. Over the years Greg has been promoted along with Jason Scott to the rank of General. The two men are closest to the President of the United States of America, these new movers and shakers of the modern age, still haunted by the unsolved mysteries of yesterday. Greg enters the Oval Office to inform President Reynolds of new developments, however minor they may seem. President Jonathan Reynolds sits in his executive chair staring out the three windows located just behind the historic Resolute desk, as a beautiful evening approaches.

With each passing year Jonathan finds ways to enjoy the slower moments in life, especially now. As the effects of old age begin to take hold of the man who controls the free world, a humble approach is embraced for his closet holds many skeletons at this point. General Jason Scott leans against the burning fireplace as he acknowledges his friend and colleague, for he has become the President's most trusted advisor. Running the President's security operations and now taking Jonathan's place running the secret divisions of the government, Jason Scott is a man who has come a long way from boot camp. "What is it Greg?" Jason asks.

"We've received word from the tech department on the Mortal case." Greg explains.

"What! What do you know General Knight?" Jonathan asks suddenly breaking from his calm daze.

"It's not much Sir. Apparently his old partner has just finished a new collection of artwork and it appears that he has subconsciously painted Ashton Mortal into the surrounding environment. We've been monitoring the audio and video transmitters installed in the studio. He recently met with Angela Mortal to explain this new series of events."

"That's it?" President Reynolds asks bewildered. "That's our break in the Mortal case?"

"With all due respect Mr. President, you requested to be notified immediately of any new developments in the Mortal case, no matter how minor or insignificant."

"Yes General that's true, but that was also ten years ago and I guess I just assumed at this point we'd have turned up something on the whereabouts of Mr. Mortal. Hell, I thought we might even find the Payload one day." The President replies sarcastically.

"What if this does mean something Mr. President? I mean, has anything surrounding this case been by the book?" General Jason Scott adds in defense of his friend. "I believe that in dealing with the disappearance of Ash Mortal, all avenues must be considered."

"Forgive my forwardness Mr. President." Greg says. "I just wanted to make sure you personally got the information as soon as possible."

"Its no problem General, we've been chasing the ghost of Ashton Mortal for so long now, far too long. Quite frankly I'm too old to keep living in the past, just too damn old." President Jonathan Reynolds says embracing the fatigue of this unsolved mystery.

CHAPTER: 22

LOST WITHIN THE TIDES OF DESTINY

Lately my mind has been playing tricks on me as I see them in every moment, within every point of light, the faces of those I love so dearly more today than ever before as this torture stretches far. Years tick by and still we push onward toward this final goal, toward an end to this fight. I find myself drifting from reality to dream with ease and reminiscing about my one purpose, the only link to the human life I cherished so much. My love for Angela grows with each passing second and for my son as I carry this pain like a sole companion. I've never held my child, never known his love, the love only a son can give his father.

Now I am ruler of Avothina, vindicator of the Imperial Nations and king of all creation, as this burden grows harder to carry with final preparations now underway. My name is Ashton and I find the silent hours the best way to remember a life I long for, one I wish I could somehow find my way back to. Dear God, what have I become, how can this be all that's left of a heart that once loved so much? I haven't felt the beat in my chest for so long now that I sometimes wonder if any of it was ever real to begin with. Maybe Angela and my son were just a dream, the kind I just can't seem to let go as the illusion of hope slowly fades.

Once years ago I truly believed this cause was noble, the righteous standing up for the weak, the courageous drawing lines in the path of the enemy, all in an effort against tyranny. More often these days my convictions seem shallow and my morale diminishing, for all this power and with it a constant torment that follows ever so close. Remembering nights with my wife, where she would lie on my chest and slowly drift into dreaming. Sometimes I would sit for hours in the same position as if not to wake her, watching the dim light from the bathroom break across her brow.

It's these memories that remind me of the planet of my birth, Earth and the life I left behind so very long ago. Ten years came and went for my family back home, as battles are waged, new structures created and a hopeful goodness reinvented. Tonight as every night, my dreams are of home, my family and Angela. I stand on the balcony of my tower, the enormous monument where most know not to venture in this massive civilization that has become the Reformed Imperial Nations of Avothina. Most leave their liberator to his chambers, for they know his mission and the urgency of its purpose.

These solitary moments help me to replay the endless scenarios that surround the reunion I long for. To finally lay down the Blade of Edoxus and give Mortalitus his freedom, but most of all, to grow old with my wife and son. I fight hard for those moments and the dreams that surround my life today. We have only so many defining hours within a lifetime, so precious and I want my remaining ones to be with those I love the most. How do you explain ten years to the ones you've left behind, how can you undo the wrongs from moments long since passed?

I sometimes replay that fateful day in my head, the tenth of March, in the year of our Lord, 2025 A.D. Trying to imagine if I had done anything different, maybe had I not gone to the beach in the morning, hell what if we had never left the bedroom? Somehow there had to be away to allow this chalice to pass from my shoulders and yet here I remain, alone and forsaken, lost within the tides of destiny. This is merely the last ditch attempts to ensure these memories are held sacred and dear to me. Standing upon this balcony I stare out onto my creation and the many that flourish within it.

This price paid paves the way for this new system of governing, this new sense of calm for those under my protection, now free from the enslavement of the chaotic reptiles from the deepest reaches of space. My military prepares as all the worlds now under my control have their part to play in this unfolding drama. Stretching far and wide, I reach beyond Avothina as the heart of this revolution prepares to take back Edoxus and the free worlds of Siivech, territories currently occupied by the massive Xxirian forces. As one voice we've joined together, we have spoken these truths and today we draw our lines, as the chaos envisioned billions of years ago begins to finally take shape.

Silok, Rekaot, Brakix and Avothina now make up the Reformed Imperial Nations of Avothina in the Neshuza Galaxy as free worlds. The reformation of the Imperial Nations of Siivech remains just ahead, on the horizon's edge as we set sail toward change. Now we have shifted from a mode of defense into the precision assault force needed for this impending pre-emptive strike. The word of our cause has spread far with haste finding the pure hearts of this universe, those left who will not give into this chaos without a last stand, a final confrontation. Many now venture to the free worlds of the Imperial Nations of Avothina, many come to seek refuge within the Neshuza Galaxy as the pendulum swings.

They've come to meet this new king of Avothina, Lord Mortalitus, the human that became a creator and the hero that dreams of peace in all places. We must be ready as I hear the drumbeat in the far off distances, for our hour to shine approaches and this war can finally be lost to the eternal memory of this ever-expanding universe. I seek the truth with my comrades, peace for all who stand with me and above all, the answers to the prayers of those innocents whose blood has spilt. The hour is late and the beginning of the end can be sensed among the beings of freedom and change to whatever end, this way cometh.

These days seem long as I patiently wait for an end to the suffering of my heart, for this heart of mine clings to the fading memories and ideals of a life I can only vaguely remember. Sometimes when I stare at my human figure I can suddenly remember the feeling of her embrace, the desire in her eyes and then the sting of her absence, the sense of panic that invades my mind when I cannot hold her.
It is these days I live within the grip of regret and with my mortal soul, it is these days I shan't ever forget
. "I feel the alignment of this prophetic future." I say to Mortalitus from the vantage point of my balcony. "This ultimatum of eternity and its onward approach."

"The truth will reveal itself in these next days Ashton. The very foundations of peace and freedom are now yours alone." Mortalitus replies as I stare through his eyes out onto that large technological city that has become Avothina.

"What is so different from today then any other Mortalitus? Like a wave, we wash over all who cater to the wicked, those who've given sanctuary to the deceptive. What is so different about today old friend? The repetitive constant among the universe, and I cannot escape its grasp."

"You can end this once and for all Ash, you're the only one. No one can face this final end but you, the future is designed in your eye my son."

"What future? Is this constant struggle what you speak of? To dethrone Lord Erazux and rule over the universe for what, all time?" I ask as frustration builds in my heart. "When does this end?"

"When peace is chosen for the sake of peace, when the infinite combinations can coexist among the stars." Mortalitus responds. "On that day might we rest Ashton Mortal, on that day."

"You said this is my choice. What if I choose to leave? What if I choose to go home, to Angela, what then?"

"That remains your choice Ashton, but know the tides of destiny are rising and time is of the essence.
This is a battle that will find you my son, regardless of avenue
."

"Destiny…fate, words that strip away my humanity, vanquishing my memories. They slowly chip away the image of the man that left so long ago. How is it that destiny can choose one? Why does Father give this burden to me?"