Chronicle of the Mirror, part XIV

Showing a beautiful silver blue, soil and shrubs are colored by the moonlight dancing between the foliage of oaks of a hundred years. Some fireflies etiolate their light, drawing curves and figures in the air. Magical silence is hovering in the night, another quiet night and without any turbulence. This is the scenery of the Roche-aux-fées, portal of the fairy land, monumental symbol of the early ages, witness of eternity manifested in the worlds of the multiverse.

On the gravel of the path circling the Roche-aux-fées, some insects-pixies play their bewitching music adding a touch of magic, poetry to the night.

Suddenly the ground give birth to a pair of demonic wings clawed and dark as coal. Then a little head with dark hair and skin emerges. Tiny eyes, vigilant and fairy like scrutinize the surroundings. No more insect or pixie, all overshadowed by the smoke like black apparition, with ebony skin on a topless beauty in contrast to the monstrosity that rises from the depths of Gaïa: An Arachne.

The creature with spread out wings stops her ascent and stops like a stone gargoyle. Is she looking for a victim to vampirize of its soul, or is she rather the prey listening to a predator lurking near by?

The arms rise with the grace and reminiscent beauty of a fairy:

Silent night with the lights of fireflies, be reassured that your two children are back.

And from one thought, she adds:

Dear friend, everything is fine under the silver moon, but be vigilant because I feel her presence.

The extrusion unveils the Arachne perched on a black elven head  rising from the ground, in a watch position. The eye of the dark elf lacks any detail; at the bottom of the Roche-aux-fées, remnants of burned clothing and prints of both feet are facing the magic stones.

So, think Yuna toward Ditratos, the protection spell cast on the Roche-aux-fées (see Chronicle of the Mirror, part V) was effective. Arachnéida tasted a magical fire.

Well, think Ditratos, meaning she knows nothing of our transfiguration.

Suddenly, the telepathic link is cut in a flash.

The Arachne flies swiftly with a powerful wing-beat. Ditratos jumps aside, powered by a feline grace. A crater of antimatter opens in where he stood. It is a powerful and deadly spell but Yuna does not let a moment like that without reacting. She dives across the stones. A grinding followed by a stifled groan merge into a disturbing silence. Ditratos Jumps directly many cubits that separate the top of the Roche-aux-fées in a single bound, ready to cast a spell on the Black Widow. The latter is lying on the ground, hold by  thousands of vegetal arms nailing her on the carpet of weeds, with half burnt clothes baring her gorgeous black body.

Yuna is standing still. Both front legs hold the throat of a fallen queen. Ditratos recovers and cancels his spell. He is perched on the Roche-aux-fées, profiled in the round and silver moonlight. A thought pops into his head:

You can’t detain the one who doesn’t die!

Mental images are added to this telepathic thought coming from Arachnéida. Memories of those warring High Elves murdered by Arachnéida, eons ago... and a look of determination erases those painful memories.

In one giant leap, the mage dash forward with precision and lands smoothly, framing Arachnéida’s body standing above her, feet on each side of her hips. He bends down and touches with the tip of his index finger the doll face of her beloved which still stands firmly Arachnéida’s throat. Ditratos think so:

Do not lose your self in a useless struggle, Yuna. The lesson is understood. Eternity will do the rest. An injury to her pride is much more efficient.

Yuna complies at once and lets the eternal puppet still riveted to the ground. In few strokes of wings, Yuna sits on the shoulder of the sage ranger, passing her hands through her thick black hair. She looks by turns at Ditratos and Arachnéida and becomes aware of this dynamic, three immortals who have been, are and will always be at the crossroads of destiny they choose according to their own open hearts. Then Ditratos leans over Arachnéida’s immobilized body and looks straight into the darkness of her dark elven eyes:

You've almost stolen the fairy-light from my heart. Do you want at this point all brave souls of the multiverse? Yuna and I will still be here waiting for you. Once again, our paths will cross. Until then, your heart will override your inner demons.

The lunar disk and its silvery halo are partially hidden by a black elf like silhouette sitting up at night. On his shoulder, the Arachne is only physical, but the spirit that inhabits is beautiful and is the essence of  the fairy Yuna. It vibrates again stripped from fibers of the Arachne. The two companions are leaving Arachnéida nailed to Gaïa. Ditratos is walking with determination, without turning, heading toward the Roche-aux-fées. In a last stride, intrusion occurs.

The Roche-aux-fées detains few moments the dark elf and the Arachne. Then on the other side of the magical stone resurface two new reunion: Ditratos the White Mage and Yuna the rebellious fairy, with rain bow wings. Mage's arm rises, the famous mirror appears and the two friends disappear on the other side of the mirror which in turn fades from this world.

Herbs are rocked by a breeze of change. Roots lose their grip and retract in the soil. A black shaking hand settles on a chest rippling at the rhythm of agitated breathing. The graceful neck regains its dignity. The eyes shine a new light. The soul of a Dark Elf is tinged with a curious thirst for life where flows regeneration again but a space of brightness just moved in the whole being of Arachnéida, bringing new designs ... totally unexpected but very comforting, warm and rejuvenating.

                               

                                                * Epilogue *

The full moon is striped with branches of an oak. Its light floods the horizon of blue light. Contoured in front of the foreign moon, a silhouette stands, shrouded in ragged clothes. A thin silver line shines in the cutting edge of a graceful elf.

Along her back, buttocks and the back of her legs are covered with a shiver gentle and reassuring. Never was such a sensation up to her heart. But from the corner of her eye a ripple is felt and the night breeze caresses a new body appendix: Wings with silver feathers unfurl in the air and form a big heart in the air above her head.

In a burst of pure novelty, silver wings unfold in air, lower with power and naturally raise the creature with ebony skin, this black elf in quest of discovery, in search of a new life, in search of a new identity to explore, who flies above the Roche-aux-fées.

That night, a new being crosses the sky, drawn in moonlight, recalling the passage of an angel.

END

Chronicle of the Mirror, part XIII

"A rebellion has brought us to burrow like vermin Duergar. This rotten Arachne has used prohibited White Magic. But we will reclaim what is due to us. The souls of rebel Arachnes will be offered as agreed to our Lady of the Hell. Whether your beauty devours their souls. "

Since two hours the rebellion rages in the Inner Meanders. Arachnéida, the "Black Widow" Queen of the Dark Elves, withdrew in her Private Sanctuary to collect herself in front of her secret Goddess. Recent violent events are accelerating her plans. Arachnéida now knows she must act quickly and take advantage of the current confusion to honor her new goddess. It is in moments that will play a major coup.

Closing its travel grimoire, she looks piously the cover made of  Arachne’s leather. We see the embossed image of a naked woman with demonic wings. The female figure, with her legs ending in two legs of a griffin, inspires respect. At her feet an inscription in infernal runes translated as DEPRAVITY WOMAN o WOMAN OF THREE WORLDS o THE ONE WHO KNOWS o THE ONE WHO WATCH ON TWILIGHT o LILITH o FIRST DEMON.

Arachnéida closes his eyes. With a sensual kiss, she puts her black lips on  Lilith’s icon and slides the grimoire under her loose queenly clothing. Queen Black Widow’s private sanctuary is a simple little air pocket, a cave lit with green crystals, decorated with skeletal heads of vampirized drow males, carcasses of Arachnes who knew too much about the underground faith of their queen. Arachnéida turns to the crystalline surface of the wall to intruse herself in. Through the telluric mass, she opens a telepathic link with her goddess Lilith. A fervent prayer ignites her senses, advancing toward the link of consecration.

Despite the state of intangible Arachnéida crossing layers of subterranean strata, the incursion of Lilith’s demonic thought is altering her vital forces. The Black Widow must act openly now. Hiding her faith is no longer necessary.

The infernal call is powerful. From the depths of hell, Lilith cast her thoughts toward Arachnéida and her two body-guards: Two Dark Elf warrior chosen for the great ritual of consecration. Browsing the Inner Meanders, demonic magnetism achieved its goal. In her private apartments, Arachnéida is the last to extruse herself. Before her, the two superb elven warriors  responded to the Lilith’s call. In the greenish glow provided by crystals surrounding the private room of the Black Widow, the spirit of Lilith is noticeable.

In a scarlet flash, three women drift into a secret space-time. They become invisible. Disappeared from this world, they lie at their goddess’s mercy. In the clutches of the woman of depravity, the consecration of three souls takes place in the invisible. Several hours later, the veil of reality is woven again before the eyes of the three priestesses consecrated, three entities brought back from a vague realm, three souls touched by the pleasures of hell, three servants of the Lady of the three worlds.

Arachnéida, Lili and Lilia ... all three look at each other with crackling embers of passion  still in their dark eyes. An infernal power live in them, now that the veil of reality fall around them ... Now that life goes on and that Lilith stirs them, reality braid itself before the three chosen by the first demon of the underworld.

Arachnéida extruse herself from the telluric mass with Lili and Lilia at her side. They look intensely at each other. They feel one another as if they were offered to the passion of the other. Curious Lilith’s favour which  manifests herself in the fibers of their desires.

Back to her temporary headquarters, on the edge of the elven borders in Inner Meanders, Arachnéida receives Succubus spy who materializes in front of her, through the veil of the Shores of the Dreams Lands. Black Widow, Lili and Lilia are surrounded by six Arachnes who survived the recent events. From the twelve Arachnes forming the Council of the Dark Elves, they are the last Arachnes still alive.

The charming Succubus then sings with her undulating voice : The news are very dramatic. Fomores from all the prohibited cellars were revived. Also, the spectra of High Elves warriors are released ... We should soon be invaded by this cloud of Banshees.

So goes the official report presented to the Council of Arachnes. At the same time, her body language and interpretation of dream symbols known only by Arachnéida, paints a very different picture of the situation: The civilization of the Dark Elves and Arachnes are decimated. It is finished! Incubus demons are at their post on the shores of the Dreams Lands and will be in stand by for the devouring of Arachnes at the end of the session. Be ready, my sisters. Your consecrations to Lilith give you a new legion of 69 demons. Indeed, the servants of Her Beauty have already devoured the Black Guard and every elf male servant, but one were offered at the hotel of Her Beauty Lilith. Sacrifice opened the gate and the legion of 69 demons will surge from hell under the silver moon at the next twilight as planned.

Once the session is over, the protocol of silence mandatory is respected ... to let the group of six Arachnes consult each other telepathically. It is at this precise moment that the coup d’état arise. From the Shores of the Dreams Lands, incubus, twelve in number, descend like lightning on Arachnes and devour them with great fangs and claws. Blood and dismembered body Arachnes are projected everywhere. Such is the violence of the impact. Then, by dreamlike flight, succubi and incubus disappear leaving their carnage behind. "I'll meet you all before dusk, for the great devouring of the full moon. " This is the voice that echoes in Arachnéida’s headquarters covered with hungry tarantulas. The new Lilith’s priestess must make a detour to the Roche-aux-fées. Up there, singing stones will give her the true identity of the instigators of the rebellion.

The former Queen of the Dark Elves intruder is probably the last time because now reigns at the head of a legion of demons incubus / succubus that live on the shores of dreams of males or women who become perfect food for she and her new army. I approach you, tasteless watchers of the multiverse, I climb to the moon and enchanted nights. I'll be the Shadow of your Light and you will be my epiphanies. We will be dancers of a choreographed chaos. We will be players of destiny. We will be the pawns of divine dreams. And you, sterile stalker of parallel worlds, I promise challenges to the height of your illusions. I already enjoy seeing you, you and Yuna, marauders of the multiverse, chained in your outdated interventions. You're just puppets in the hands of false gods having fun with your immortality. Glory to the woman of the three worlds, Lilith ... sensual Goddess.

EPILOGUE

Darkness, darkness, darkness ...

Three synonyms of intense fear when the soul has no value until it survives from the vampiric clutches of the Dark Elves’s Arachnes. But here, these three words disappear with the fall of an empire in cadaveric odors of Arachnes’s carcasses laying on their back, offering their entrails to the darkness, devourer of defeat and disappointment. Here lies the remains of dismembered six powerful Arachnes, once glorious under the protection of the Goddess of the Darkness, the most feared in the Inner Meanders. This Goddess is fallen, without faithful believer to feed her desire for power, without blood ritual to appease her thirst for eternity. The fallen goddess appears in the room as a small greenish flame as shining as a candle... barely materialized, the mass is informed and transparent since there is no mental image projected by its believers, now dead.

WITHOUT FORCE ...

WITHOUT LEGION ...

WITHOUT ARMY...

The fallen Goddess, translucent and without aura of domination, is emptied of her once mighty egregores. Amputated from her last Arachnes who are no more demonic essence, soulless, serving as food to Tarantulas. These are the only survivors of this empire traumatizing all races carrying souls through the Inner Meanders.

The Fallen Goddess should be limited to incarnate in creeping and carnivorous species, without culture or wealth. Tarantulas survive over these season like civilizations. This race will last eons of time as the future domination of a fallen Goddess. Flames floating in the putrid air descend one by one on the hairy Tarantulas, all frantic to snatch the last shreds of Arachnes’s bowel. In a collective quiver deified creatures become bearers of the fallen goddess’s legacy. She will sleep a few decades, carried by these Tarantulas and will be the future horror in Inner Meanders.

Future nemesis crawling yet but soon will vampirize other victims, their souls will feed the eternal Goddess of depths.

A goddess who will remember, and take revenge imprisoning Arachnéida for eternity in the darkness, the gloom and the obscurity.

End of Chronicle of the Mirror, part XIII

Chronicle of the Mirror, part XII

Two immortal souls travel by intrusion into the Inner Meanders. Two fellow adventurers are a cubit away from the Vault of Lamentations. Yuna, with a telepathic thought to her friend,  breaks the mental silence: Dear friend, we will appear before this egregore thousands of years old. Before their shriek tearing the soul has finished with both of us, I propose an idea ...

A Fomore! Do they think simultaneously.

Once again, right here, intangible and invisible in stone, telepathy alone demonstrates the dynamic linking Ditratos and the fairy Yuna.

In a single bound, they jump out by extrusion, in the Vault of Lamentations. Here, spectres of the high elves are held captive by  Arachnéida’s necromancers. Known down here as banshees, high elf warriors are more than lost souls. Long ago, killed by Arachnéida’s soldiers, these noble fighters were the last swansong of a civilization of light.

Here, the egregore of vengeance reign as king and master. The mere sight of a dark elf or Arachne is enough to unleash the collective cry that kills. But Yuna is quick as lightning. Aiming the base of the rock wall, her magical light jets erupt on the surface of the walls. The magical light winds along the interstices between the deformed stones and suddenly the Fairy Magic recognizes itself in a heap of Ancestral Stones. The Fomore is revived, nourished by forgotten memories, infused by the very magic flowing through the Roche-aux-fées, hundreds of  leagues from here and yet sharing the same legends.

The underground sight is amazing. On the one hand a stone giant reborn ... On the other side of the wide arch form itself a diaphanous army of gray and threatening silhouettes. Ghostly for sure, but already these damned souls come together in one cold breath from beyond the grave to emit their plaintive moan. In the center, two small forms of life, a dark elf and a powerful Arachne hovering at his side, are poor look to the amplitude of the meeting. Ditratos faces the spectral mass invading the entire vault. His voice sounds serious:

Great entities of the High Elves and Great Warriors of the golden age who have written the history with your noble blood. Acknowledge today the Fomore witnessing you under the suns and moons of Gaia. Free yourself from Foster-Mother, bearing your illustrious race. Accept your supremacy over the dark elves, simple off springs of your unique nobility. Shout your victory,  now at your hand. Let your brother Fomore guide your migration to the final battle against the Dark Elves and their queen Arachnéida.

The name of the Black Widow echoes in the heavy silence that occurs. Yuna  lands on the shoulder of his friend. In his ear, she whispered: That is my Ditratos loved it! The kiss of the Arachne on the earlobe makes its way to the heart of the Mage. Wait, little favorite fairy, spectres have not yet ...

A strange event cut the word of the magician. A great ghostly wave knocks and enters the giant stone. Thousands of  warrior souls realize a revenge fueled for eons. The Fomore, fused with his old sisters, emerges from its telluric niche, causing a slump stone loosened from the ceiling to create a debris cloud of dust of rock. The sound of the avalanche rumbles along the Inner Meanders. Silence resumed its place around the two silhouettes glued one on the other. Yuna and Ditratos are in a strange comfort based on a rare friendship. Their skin, ashy dust displays a gray texture giving  to both a look of stone statues.

Deaf and distant echoes reflect titanic battles where entire armies of Dark Elves are engulfed by Gaia’s giants: the fomores, ancestors of dark elves and all creatures inhabiting Inner Meanders.

Finally, the Vault of Lamentation reveals its silence to both friends. Yuna, comfortable in her Arachne’s body is lying sideways on Ditratos’s shoulder, resting her naked torso along the neck of her friend. Ditratos walks with light and agile steps. A state of grace and eternal youth pass through all of his elven fibers. Being one in an ageless setting, both immortals replenish themselves against one another for a moment of eternity. Resting a little on a hilltop of amber crystals, the stream-lined black face of the elf Ditratos fits ebony torso of his little companion. She lays her cheek on the pointed ear lobe her old friend. She whispered: This is fantastic! These crystals did formed along the ruins of the cities of the High Elves. These cities were Sacred Magic Places of the First Ages ... When I was so tiny!

In response, Ditratos smiles to her sweet Yuna, hidden in the Arachne demonic body. Only a smile can meet a fairy rebel who comes to overthrow   the most formidable empire of Inner Meanders: Dark Elves.

Distant explosions are echoing the end of a civilization. Tell me, little favorite fairy? All the knowledge inhabiting us now, born of the dawn of the elven races, of the genesis of thy fairy kingdom ...

Oh yeah! Continue! She whispers.

So, Fomores and the Roche-aux-fées… Adds Ditratos musingly.

They recognized each other, says the little voice in his ear ... like you and me! A kiss on the ear and the smile widens on the Dark Elf’s face, in a silence that continues to converse with two immortal hearts. Slowly, the two companions rise from the ground, levitating through the vertiginous space of the Vault of Lamentations which will no longer be haunted by ghosts. The rise of two bodies continue confidently toward the ceiling crystals. The elven intrusion occurs. Bodies merge with Gaia, while the crystals sing the passage of two heroes who write another page in the history of Inner Meanders. Despite the intangible essence that consists of them in the solid strata of Gaia, our friends share their ageless eternity toward the Moon and the Sun waiting far away up there in the sky over a universe saved from a dark invasion.

Renatus, your chronicler of the multiverse ... continued XIII!

Goodbye!