The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (11 page)

She began to slowly rock back and forth on the bunk.
“My oldest child, Chrusion, made a half-hearted attempt to journey
into those other worlds, but in the end refused to go, eventually
even questioning the legitimacy of those who placed their feet upon
that path.”

“Imperceptible at first, at least to my blinded
heart, a rift began to grow between my favorite son and daughter.
In time, the festivals became little more than a practiced ritual
for Chrusion, he playing the part of the prince because his
brothers and sisters demanded it. I guess Tolohe’s heart broke way
back then, but I was unwilling to accept it, I wishing to keep the
wonderful world of my invention just the way it was supposed to be…
just perfect. There was no place for unhappiness. I refused to
allow its existence! I would not accept that my daughter could be
anything less than happy. I did not give an audience for her
heart’s anguished release. I would not contend with her tears,
would not permit them.”

Lowenah stopped, sadly staring down at the floor. “I
made my little child suffer silently in dreadful agony all those
countless ages from that time forward, denying there being anything
at all wrong in my
perfect little universe
. Everything must
remain as I had made it, as I had dreamed it, as I must have it.
Perfect!
It had to be perfect! Everything must remain
dreamily perfect
. After all, that had been my design from
the very beginning. It was my world, my dream, my vision. No one
had a right to spoil it, even my cherished little child.”

In silence the two sat there, Lowenah gently
stroking Darla’s upper leg while looking down at her other hand
that was wrapped around her knee, pulling it close to her breast.
Darla stared deeply into Lowenah’s face, pondering, wondering. Who
was this person sitting next to her, the one giving her birth? Was
she really her mother? Had Darla truly been born?

Darla was the youngest of all of Mother’s daughters,
having only been told stories about her birth. For her, those
stories were all based on faith. She did not remember her birthing,
or the day of rage and rebellion, nor did she remember Chrusion,
the kind and gentle lover, the festivals, Tolohe’s anguish, or even
Mihai’s attempted murder. All these were little more than tales
spoken softly in her ears at times in her life when she was
expected to make important decisions. For all the years of this
wicked age, Darla had accepted, through faith, all these tales as
though they were truth. She had accepted them all, unquestioned, as
though they were fact, and she lived her life according to those
facts.

Now, at this turbulent moment, new disturbing
revelations were being poured out upon her in a flood, too many
revelations at once, and for what purpose? Was it true that she
accepted them all with mere faith, and was it with possible
credulity she was expected to accept these new revealed
truths,
too? A shadowy foreboding crept out from behind
long-secreted doors of doubt, making her troubled heart jump in a
confused beat.

It was at that instant that Lowenah glanced over
into Darla’s face, the girl’s disquiet and uncertainty growing in
it. ‘So it is. So it shall be. Yes, so it must be.’ Lowenah sadly
mused in silence. The hour was soon coming where faith could not
win the day. The child must choose to battle using forces other
than faith. A silent war waged between mind and heart would decide
the fate of all mortal things in that hour. Another eagle flew in
the skies of hope, must fly, for the bird of faith would fail the
day. ‘Yes.’ Lowenah thought, ‘Another bird must win it.’

Lowenah was playing it close to the edge. The fate
of the universe rested on the decisions of one person, and that was
cloaked behind the facade of a Prisoner Exchange. All life hung in
the balance of that decision made, as it had so many times before,
yet her children did not know, had not known, and would not know of
even this coming day’s uncertainties, would not know until… until
all the links in a very uncertain, fated chain were forged into one
unbreakable mass, the last of those links welded in when Michael
would finally unleash her demons to the eternal abyss.

Lowenah allowed her foot to drop to the floor as she
leaned close to Darla and began playing with the girl’s fingers.
Looking down at Darla’s hands, Lowenah quietly continued. “Then,
one day, a woman, my daughter Anna – She was called ‘Krystolenia’
by her lovers in those days, meaning ‘Solar Spirit
’
– my
beautiful daughter Anna came forth to dance before the crowds at
the Great Juncture Festival of Lauaninue. Yes, back in those early
times we gifted names upon all our important festivals. My
daughter’s dancing was so alluring and sensual that, from that day
forward, all of those great events were called the ‘Festival of
Krystolenia’.”

“Anna was dressed much the way you are this day.
Why, even the bells that dance upon your breasts are closely
fashioned after the ones she wore at that time. Well! I must tell
you, for centuries my child had secretly practiced the rhythmic,
erotic moves she flawlessly preformed that day. Men and women alike
swooned and passed out in a faint from the intoxicatingly
mesmerizing dance and crying prose presented by my daughter.
Chrusion was so smitten by her performance that he found his
thoughts taken up by only her enchanting memory, so much so that he
was unable to consummate the final love dance with Tolohe, his
ardor refusing to rise to the woman’s sensuous advances.”

Lowenah frowned. “I thought little of it at the
time, just how devastated my darling Tolohe must have been to be so
publicly humiliated for failing to raise the ardor of her lover for
the consummating dance at the end of the festival. She finally,
most graciously, called out for her younger sister to gather her
charms to the Host of the Festival in order to complete the ritual.
Never again was she invited by Chrusion to conclude the
consummating dance in front of his brothers and sisters. And never
a word in revolt did she utter, but silently she stepped aside,
giving that honor to her younger sister.”

Shaking her head Lowenah lamented, “Not a word did I
speak about this matter either, I not wishing to see the real
trouble brewing between Chrusion and Tolohe. Tolohe was a
woman
in question
in Chrusion’s mind, he not even desiring a
dream-share with her any longer. On the other hand, Anna was new
and fresh, open to his suggestive reasoning, willing to perform
every act of emotional, mental and physical desire that Chrusion’s
heart could imagine.”

“One of the many things I refused to see at that
time was Chrusion’s growing selfishness, although the signs of it
were so evident. One was his refusal to allow Anna to ever publicly
perform that deliciously provocative dance again. Even her
accompanying music and sensual lyrics were forbidden at the
festivals, he saving all of those things for his private viewing.
It finally reached the point where Anna would seek out her
lord’s
approval before she surrendered to the request from
another of her brothers for a dream-share. I said nothing, did
nothing, living in my
looking-glass world of make believe
,
seeing only what I wanted to see.”

She sat back quickly, patting Darla’s leg. “Well, I
may have paid no attention to my little girl’s torments, but
other eyes
were watching. They looked with disapproval upon
my wanton acts of parsimonious desires, but said naught to me at
the time, tired, I suppose, of the unhearing ear that had greeted
their many whispers so often in the past.”

“They are also the Protectors of my heart’s carefree
abandon, always seeking ways to relieve my soul of troubling
thoughts. So, again, those Whispering Voices rose to the occasion
and gave to my heart the very things it wanted, they realizing the
price must one day be paid for such foolishness. But, until that
day came, I would be allowed the happy fool’s dance - the only
thing I wanted at the time.”

“Still, a warning they shouted out to the universe,
to me. A chill swept through my heart the day that Lagandow
exploded in fire and rage. I knew, deep inside, those voices were
angry - angry because they saw the dream I was living might ruin me
and destroy everything I had created, and angry because they knew
my heart must break before I would listen to their pleas concerning
the growing discord in my perfect universe. To regain Heaven, I
must cast all my children into Hell, and then follow them in. All
good things must burn to nothing if we were to see good things
again. This is why they became angry.”

“So the sands of forgetful sleepiness they cast upon
my world, giving to me the blissful, innocent existence I desired.
But, alas, to bring that they placed a shadowy pall over the
watchful eyes of those appointed to protect my world from the
coming storms of dismay. My little child, Tolohe, was swaddled in
the arms of those Whispering Voices, they easing the girl’s
heartbreaking agony so that she could survive the ages until her
hero would arrive to give her a rebirth. They did what I should
have done, but refused to do because it would have forced me to
admit to things too abhorrent for me to see.”

Lowenah’s head sank, her shoulders slumping in
forlorn guilt. “So we slept, I slept, playing in my make-believe
world of dreamy bliss until… until the reality of my favorite son’s
discord forced me to wake. But even then I did little other than to
warn him of the danger through cognitive simile, afraid of hurting
his feelings. Until my daughter’s attempted murder, I didn’t little
more. That day, my lovely little world crashed and burned to ashes
in its Armageddon, I almost destroying you in the process.”

She looked into Darla’s face through tear-filled
eyes. “There is no absolution for me, I too wanton in my evil to
deserve any. But I must go on in order to return to my children the
things they deserve. So I play a dangerous game on the very edge of
extinction, consuming the lives of my children to return to them a
hope for an end to the evil I created. I am Rhiannon, having chosen
that fate to buy time for the ending hour’s arrival. I must destroy
my very children to give them hope. This I have been doing for so
long now, and must continue to do.”

She squeezed Darla’s hand, tears flowing freely.
“So, too, my darling little one, must I do with you. Please forgive
me for this wickedness, but there is nothing else for it. I must
find succor from this internal ache of a foolish heart. You are the
cure, but the price is very high and, in my selfishness, I am
demanding it of you. This coming day you will die or will live but,
for you, will it even matter anymore? I am Rhiannon. I must feed
upon my innocent little child to see this ordeal through.”

Though surprised, Darla said nothing, feeling that
she carried within her soul sufficient strength to best any of
Asotos’ machinations. She also refused to believe what Lowenah was
telling her, thinking it to be one of her mother’s melancholy moods
that occasionally came over her, especially when telling stories
concerning her rebellious son.

At length, as her mother’s tears subsided, Darla
softly replied, “Whatever you wish is my desire. The tales of the
long ago past are most intriguing, but they do not answer my
question regarding the costume you have adorned me with.”

Lowenah slowly stood and turned to face Darla.
Bending forward and placing her hands on the girl’s knees, she
answered, “Allow me, please, to return to my account, for I have
wandered far from the road we were walking.”

“Chrusion’s passions continuously grew for Anna, she
often being the only woman he chose company with. For months at a
time, they would seclude themselves away in hidden places playing
love’s game. I thought nothing of it because many of my other
children would play such games of love. It was not until long after
the Rebellion that I came to fully understand the subtle changes in
my son’s heart. Somehow, in some strange way, Anna managed to
breach that growing chasm, the rift widening between Chrusion and
his sisters.”

“After this world’s last festival, before the
Rebellion, when I witnessed the affection my son showered upon my
daughter, Michael, I began to believe that my son was returning to
his former ways of caring for his sisters. Why, he even willingly
opened his heart to my charms, allowing me to gift him with a
priceless treasure, one he never gained knowledge of. I did not see
the malice and hatred hiding behind those hypnotic eyes as he
whispered such sweet refrains into the ears of his sisters, my
ears. Indeed, it was sometime after my world crashed in ruin before
I understood the true depth of the man’s revolt.”

Lowenah closed her eyes as if in pain. “It was
shortly after the Memphis wars, when Legion captured the temple
city, murdering its defenders. Chrusion requested a moot, seeking
‘a reconciliation’ for this ‘terrible misunderstanding’, or so was
his claim. We gathered at Mt. Point – ‘Mt. Olymphiant’, or
‘Legion’s High Place’, as you know it to be called – in the Middle
Realms.”

“I assembled there with my court, Gabrielle,
PalaHar, Tizrela, and… and so many other great viziers from the
early ages. Chrusion came forward with his many minions –little,
servant girly-men; they dressed up in such seductive, womanly ways.
Shocked I was, my eyes not believing what they were seeing. True,
many a romantic nights I had witnessed my sons’ share with each
other over the ages, but never as a replacement for my daughters.
These men were no longer
men
, but
abominations of the
flesh
, they throwing away their manliness to the point of
covering their breasts with womanly attire, and to even cutting
away their own testicles and suturing their vocal chords closed in
order to speak effeminately.”