By the Darkness (A Poem)

In the depths of our darkest hour, stands a peculiar and darkly creature.

It hides where no light will ever cast its radiance.

No matter where you go, you’ll find at every corner there’s a sharpened edge.

At the final stop of your lost humanity, you’ll find something strangely familiar in the shuffle of life’s never-ending movement.

You’ll awaken in a sweat, wondering what happened to that childish promise you made to yourself all those years ago.

And in the end, you’ll realize what mattered the most to you was actually just a sense of belonging.

A sense that you mattered.

A sense that you have a purpose and a reason to be alive.

But truth be told – you still have your wits and your intuition alongside you.

Don’t be blinded by such useless vanities. You’re more important than just a mere feeling.

You’re more than just the label you give yourself.

And it’s by the darkness, you find rawest parts of your life’s truth. You begin to unravel long-neglected secrets. Some of those secrets are best left behind. Yet other secrets are better left close to your heart and mind.

Don’t falter, wayward soul. Find your meaning deep within the confinements of your being. Keep it a secret; but never forget.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

(To view today’s photo, click anywhere on this sentence to go there)!

Distant Intimacy (A Poem)

Our eternal bond crosses over from this reality, into the realm of endless possibilities.

Songs of purity ring out faintly through the dark abyss of forgotten and meaningless time.

In your smile, I see life.

In your eyes, I see change.

In the way life’s colorful winds enraptures us into a whirlwind of hope and intimacy, I begin to understand your soul as you begin to understand mine.

We lock eyes; forever hovering between that moment of contact and that moment of forever longing.

Awoken.

Yet now, in the light of day as I lay here awakened from the dreamy land, I find myself rediscovering what the purpose of life truly is about. Upon a land of tattered dreams and broken truths, I find peace in knowing there will always be love in the world.

In the dark of night; once found, I now find myself venturing through the spiraling corridors of truth. Within a kaleidoscope of endless torture, turmoil, and travesty – I now find comforting solace in my loneliness.

Your words were the only heavenly guide for my wayward heart. But as we’ve grown apart, I know our paths have diverged unto two separate and distant journeys.

I ponder only for a brief moment; ponder on what could have been. But I soon realize that I’ve become my own person as you have as well. You always knew that I’d wake up from my false reality to see the light of humanity’s truth.

We are beings meant to live freely when young. We are meant to explore both the physical world and the world within ourselves. We are meant to hold onto a deep-rooted intimacy with softened grasp; for nothing is ours to claim. We are merely guests to a world gracious enough to house us.

You were my everything, you were the joy to my life and the beating to my heart. But I’ve come to accept that there are so many ways one soul can love another. Even if it means from afar forevermore.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

(Click anywhere on this sentence to view the featured image on today’s post)!

Featured

The Song of an Ancient People (A Poem)

Deep within our heart and soul, lies the song of an ancient people.

As the rivers flow with crystalline-clear water, and natural minerals – they sing in a reassuring calmness.

As the thunder roars in the distance skies and rain trickles down like a saddened God – they sing with a darkened sorrow.

As the winds howl in the wide-open plains of a verdant and plentiful landscape – they sing with a carefree spirit.

And as the raging fires of battle rage-on, they sing with a united strength.

As winter turns to spring, their tune changes from one of solitude to one of new beginnings.

And thus, as the song of the ancients echoes deeply within our hearts, it reminds us of our shared commonalities. Though we may all live different lives, even for a fleeting moment of being together – we all remember why we work, why we gather food, why we celebrate a new life, and why we pay our respects for the passing of old life.

A song of merriment, a song of devastation, a song of trial and error. That is the song of our peoples.

Soothing yet harsh, reassuring and deeply devoting – no sound or impression could ever take away such a beautiful and natural song.

It begins as a hymn and a simple whistle. But as more and more people gather, it builds-up like a mighty crescendo.

For those who have yet to be born, and for those who have already lived a long life – this is the song of undying hope. It is that of a higher-calling. It is that of an unending struggle to make ourselves better with each passing day.

So remember when you hear the song of the ancients, where you came from and where you’re going.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

Click anywhere on this sentence to see the photo credits of the featured image for today’s post!

Transformation

(Inspiration for this poetic piece, click me to listen to song)

Transformation

I feel myself disconnecting from who I am.

Who I am….

Who I…………..was?

I’m beginning to wonder: what’s wrong with me? 

Why am I losing pieces of myself?

Why are those pieces floating out of my consciousness like a stream of water flowing downstream at an unimaginably blinding speed?

I see you. 

I…..saw you?

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m starting to see you or if I’m beginning to see…….my own reflection?

Like a kaleidoscope of dizzying colors, my once dreary eyes are beginning to see the faint lights of ever-changing fates.

To see the potential of you and I. To feel the winds of unspoken truths caress my face with faulty lies.

I’ve begun to speak in my dreams of feverish nightmares borne of an indifference to what’s going on in our shared world.

I’ve begun to distance myself from who we are meant to be.

I’ve broken our promise.

I’m sorry.

I’m so incredibly sorry.

I feel like I failed who I was meant to be.

And yet…

Yet my future is bright.

What does that even mean?

Why do we cherish those who have “made it”?

One day.

One day, I swear on my very soul.

I will live my truth.

I will change this world, even if for just a flash of a moment.

I will change the collective consciousness of our society for just a second in history.

I will defend the honor of what it means to truly survive and thrive in this world, I will remind myself of why I still breathe.

No doubt the best of humanity dies young; for the old and aging continue to live and support this world full of deception and abuse. I should know, I’m becoming such a thing. Such a creature of the night.

Why haven’t I ended it all for myself?

I don’t feel suicidal. That’s likely the reason why. But still…why am I playing along with this game?

I can’t stop myself either. I’m filled with determination unlike anything of this world. But…why? Why am I so competitive? Why am I so determined? Even though I don’t wish to be, I just am?

Confusing thoughts spiral in my mind as a wave of over-confidence washes over me…or is it doubt?

But I’m not indecisive; though I wish I was at this moment.

I wish I was more confused than I’m playing it out to be.

I wish I could come up with some excuse; some tainted truth.

Thoughts intertwined with hallowed emotions. I don’t actually feel anything at this moment. I’ve become numb. And yet, my heart still beats? It beats with life, with the ever-pulsing rhythm of life.

Why has our world succumb to such devastation and derelict woes?

Why, why, why, why, why, why.

Our voices are drowned out, our opinions are non-existent, and our stories will forever be untold.

The truth will forever glimmer in the moonlit sky like a long-forgotten wish. The truth will flicker as a lone candle does in the dead of night. The truth will be unseen like the silent bird which has no voice to sing. The truth will exist, but only for itself alone. It will never be comforted, never be hugged with delight or cherished for its unique characteristics. It will never be able to shine so brightly that the sun, and the moon, and all the stars are meaningless to the bountiful life on Earth.

The truth will forever remain unclaimed. Forever untouched and despised. For truth brings inconvenience. It fosters a sense of hostility between two souls. It reminds all of us of our inevitable death. It reminds us that life is so precious; yet we are wasting it away day-in-and-day-out by working away at a job which holds no meaning to our true community; our true loved-ones.

The truth is harsh.

It is cruel and cold.

Like the nights of cold-sweat drenching your body; it is unforgiving and relentless. Like the days full of addiction and of growing numbness to life; rejection of truth brings about the calamity of your very existence. Like the darkening sky full of dread, or the mysterious secrets veraciously biting away at your soul as you try and reason and bargain with darker realities. Truth untouched is like a baby without her mother. It is like an unheard cry in the middle of nowhere. It is like the blood-thirsty eyes of a feral creature ready to devour it’s prey.

It is like the breaking of glass, as the world comes shattering down upon the weight of our lies.

But…

Once acknowledge and accepted; truth transforms it’s once ugly disguise into a beautiful soul.

Dancing in the light of day, truth can once again show us the way to salvation and holiness.

It can help us become worthy of being named children of goodness. Children of the righteous path – even if it isn’t always the easiest one.

Truth……

Truth can set us free again.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

 

Source of photo: (click me to view picture credits)

Arkanim: Tales of the Enlightened Ones

Hello everyone! It’s me R.S. Noel coming to you with another post. For today, I’m going to make it short and also provide another excerpt from Arkanim: Tales of the Enlightened Ones. This is another work-in-progress book that I’ve been writing for a while now. To be honest, this is the very first work-in-progress book I had originally started on when I was young. But through the years, growing-up got the better of me, and I had put this story aside.

Now, however, it’s come into my life once again.

 

The following is a work-in-progress by me, R.S. Noel. I hold and maintain all the rights for the work presented below. Thank you for your interest and understanding. Enjoy!:

 

It was growing. All around her, she could hear the sounds of light footsteps, of silent windy whispers gliding through the jungle’s vines, of the many different sounds of nature that were now engulfing the foreigners. Rhea couldn’t distinguish between what noise belonged to a human and what noise belonged to the wild life of these unruly jungles.

There was no doubt in her mind that they were being watched closely, it was only a matter of time before something immensely uncertain happened.

Rhea could hear Merthus beginning to breath slightly faster now as the boy had undoubtedly noticed the subtle changes in the Flurrus Jungle as well. Rhea wished at this very moment that she could just comfort the small child, but she knew that it was hopeless to even pretend that everything was all right. She knew that they just needed to survive through this experience. Their lives had become nothing more than the basic instinct of survival. Nothing else mattered; just their willpower to make it out of this mess alive.

Moving a bit quicker through the narrow path they were walking upon, Rhea could tell that Zante was increasingly growing worried as he appeared to turn his head slightly left and right from time to time. Rhea knew that the man was surely trying to figure out if the hidden Urksinians were going to show themselves right now or not.

She knew now at this very moment that Zante Qitzo truly did care for their wellbeing. If Rhea had any doubts before, they were put to rest as her eyes maintained a steady gaze on the back of Zante’s head. This was the only thing that Rhea could manage to look at, as she feared trying to avert her gaze even slightly away towards the noises that were only continuing to grow around her. It would only serve to bring more trouble to them.

In the distance from this curving road riddled with dark soil, Rhea could see two large arching gates that were closed shut. She could not see beyond that point, as there appeared to be plenty of large vines and roots covering the otherwise visible sight of the village certainly behind the gates.

Some of Rhea’s hair covered her face lightly now, as a tailwind swept to the left side of her. She knew that this was no natural occurrence. Her eyes grew wide with fascination. Someone was running unimaginably fast now behind the veil of the thick jungle life to her left. Rhea did not dare to remove her hair from her face, as she now looked dead straight ahead without even entertaining the thought that she could look elsewhere. Her eyes were wide with paralyzed fear. She knew her inner fear was showing, and she cursed very silently underneath her breath as she wished for nothing else but to hide such vulnerable emotions.

It was without question that Rhea, Merthus, and Dasca were simply not welcomed here. Even before she had seen any of the Urksinians within the village of Kinkuly itself, Rhea was now starting to understand the workings of different people from different parts of the world.

As the group neared closer to the heavily vegetated gates that surely led into the village of Kinkuly, Rhea could see four guardsmen standing ever so silently amongst the vines. Rhea had not seen them before, and likely because they were wearing armor that was the same shade of green as the verdant gates. She was in awe at how unmoving they were, better than statues. Certainly the messenger that Zante had sent ahead of them had let these guardsmen know that they were nearing the village. And by they, Rhea knew she was thinking more along the lines of Dasca, Merthus, and herself.

Gorgirians were not exactly on friendly terms with Urksinians.

Rhea could feel the intensity of those behind her, as she momentarily shut her eyes to allow her fears to subside just a little more.

Then, that’s when it happened.

Jumping from the many trees that were grouped tightly together on both sides of the narrow path – came down about nine native Urksinians. They all appeared intimidating and full of untapped energy. Most of them were men, broad shouldered and towering in size. About two of them were Urksinian women, still equally intimidating with their bulging muscles and unfamiliar physiques.

Yet it was one of the Urksinian men that started to walk straight up to Zante that really caught Rhea’s fearful attention. This man had the broadest of shoulders amongst the newfound Urksinians, thick arms the size of tree trunks, and powerful legs that could likely crush even a newborn gorgus.

He landed squarely in front of Zante as he stared at the man with an unflinching gaze that appeared to bulge out with deep hatred. “Zante Qitzovena’lu hega nemno qora-dod belsion!” [Zante Qitzo…you’ve come back home with slaves in tow!].

Though Rhea had no idea what this unknown new man had just said, she could tell Zante was guarding any sign of emotions as he responded back clearly and with a deepened voice. “Jersde leme’neleno, cirlee; nem belsion.” [They are foreigners, guests; not slaves].

 

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

 

Source of Photo: (Click Me to View Photo Credits)

A New Writer

To be a new writer is to be born into this world for the first time ever.

It is to experience the wonders of such light and dark places. It is a thrill, a wave of feelings and emotions which drown you until you are reborn again, over and over. The process never changes, and the feelings never fade away. Yet new emotions will always take over old ones; making your heart beat wildly with silent joy, with unheard excitement, with untold fears. It all builds up in momentum and tempo, as you begin your journey with gusto and zeal.

To be a new writer means to stumble and make mistakes. Mistakes, however, that need to be made. Because without mistakes, there is no progress. Without imperfections, you will never attain the true potential housed deep within your heart, soul, and mind. To stumble recklessly and with feverish devout, is to be a new writer.

To find your voice, and your path, is what makes us new writers.

To see other people for the first time; to really see them, is what makes us new writers. 

We may never meet, yet I feel as though I’ve known you my whole life. We share an interest, a singular experience known to us as writing. What makes us so unique is this experience alone. We are the scholars of the world, the educators of generations yet to come into existence, and the dreamers for those who are not fortunate enough.

We teach others what life is truly all about. To remind people that if we were to lose everything; society, materialism, structure – all that is left is us.

Us; who have felt naked and lost for centuries upon centuries.

Us; who have been misunderstood by those who are not in-touch with their human emotions and thoughts.

Us; the truth seekers of the very fabrications that make up our collective existence.

This is what it means to be a new writer.

It is, to be human.

This picture you see in the header, is the very same one I took one year ago when I embarked on my final journey to become a writer for life. I’ve never looked back since that day I made this singular promise with myself. Life has never been the same since then.

I can feel the sun’s rays falling on my shoulders as I make my way down this familiar path.

This place, which I will not name, is the single place I come to whenever I have the free time to do so. To be able to wonder and imagine all the different worlds and lives I can experience life through. To be lucky enough to see different people for who they truly are at the core of their beings. To find strange and quizzical creatures who have a mind of their own. The gardens I get to walk through are timeless, the forests I can explore with my imagination take me to places I never knew existed; and most importantly, the lakeside that resides in this mysterious place holds a special place in my soul.

I can only imagine what life would be like if I never began writing.

I would probably never know the true meaning of friendship, or the real depths of hard-earned love. I would have never sought out to make a difference in this sometimes very estranged world. I would have never felt the need to stop time in my life and truly work on the only thing that has ever held any relevance in the world of reality.

Because in the end, all that really matters is you and I.

Don’t you ever forget yourself, or the power you hold inside. Because at the end of the day, only our memories and emotions for those who have passed, and for those who have yet to come, are the only things in life worth fighting for.

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

Photo credit: (picture taken by me)

An Ode to Her Soul

The soul of her existence inspired life in me.

The energy of her presence reminded me of the true meaning of life’s quarrels.

Her unique aura reminded me of a time when chaos and harmony clashed together to create beautiful and wicked life as it once was before.

Her doubts and insecurities reminded me that we’re all just humans full of emotions which I may never fully understand and will never completely appreciate.

But my manhood is the compliment of her womanhood. Her soul is the Yin and my mind is the Yang. Her ethereal being is the light to my darker reality which I will never show her. Her blossoming life force is what attracts people to gather together and become happier. My life force reminds people of the necessary harshness of our natural world and order.

My coarse hands interlace with her soft and reassuring palms. Her existence is both significant to me and a nuisance. For she is both as necessary as the air we breathe; and ironically so, she is also the metaphorical pain in my heart reminding me that we must deal with emotions even if we wish emotions could just disappear.

Her emotional intelligence far exceeds my mathematical mindset. Her natural intuition senses things I’ll never see. In contrast, the man’s perception of the physical life we live will never quite phase her own life force. For her heart is beyond the physical manifestations of our being. Woman is not of bleak reality. No, she is of boundless creativity ready to burst open at the seams with unapologetic life.

Yet she also has a strange way of keeping me grounded when I begin to try and live past the physical manifestation of this existence. For I will never know the world a woman lives in; and I’ve accepted that I am okay with such a truth.

I will never know her secrets, her wisdom, her thoughts, or her own personal desires for a truly balanced life.

But in that same regard, she will never know the secrets I know, the adventures I go on, or the memories created. She will never know the many loves of my life. For even though she is a huge part of my life- she isn’t my entire life. I appreciate her existence and presence, but I also must have my own space just as much as she needs hers.

I feel selfish, and I wish I didn’t feel this way.

But life is about the golden memories we create, not the overarching society. It’s about enduring through the pains and heartache and remembering that as a man, I can’t afford to stop and remorse for lost loved ones.

For the same society that hinders her personal freedoms, also forbids my emotions and thoughts. For she may not realize it yet; but her existence far exceeds my own. She is the bearer of all human life, and I am merely a man. A man who can certainly do great things; but does not care for pandering to the society which holds us all back.

For I champion not my own success, but the success of brighter and smarter individuals. We are all faced with adversity, and in this ever-changing world full of automation and machine; I have reverted back to being human. I have been reminded of the true world of possibilities and imagination once again. It rests with humans, not with machines.

Through these last couple of years, I’ve come to realize that a woman’s life is full of so many interesting, sad, funny, horrifying, amazing, unique, and miscellaneous moments. Her existence is one of pure good and evil. She lives knowing the truth of our being, knowing that humans are her children to raise. To know that the world will one day take her children’s innocence away without her consent or forewarning. She knows that all of her loved ones will fade away, and one day, she will find herself alone and reminded of our boring, bleak, and uneventful reality.

But unlike man; she will also have her own secret memories to cherish forevermore through time immemorial.

And moreover, she still has purpose in her life. She will guide the hand of the misguided, the abandoned, and the forgotten. For she will remain steadfast in her judgment of what’s truly right and what is wickedly wrong. For even though my own judgment may be clouded by unchanging circumstances a man must go trough in his life; she will fight with a voice mightier than any lion; louder than any howling wind, and more potent than any poison. For her words sting the hardest, grow the thickest, and blossom the brightest. For she has a way with her presence that sways me to secretly believe her every word. Love has a funny way of blinding a man from otherwise obvious signs of danger or misgivings.

I know she will never truly understand a man’s world – but at the end of the day, as long as we both know that our love burns brightly in this small moment in time; then I can live with the fact that we may never see each other again.

My days are filled with meaning only because of her joy. My sorrows only exist because of her true and feigned emotions. My heart only beats due to the boundless love and bottomless anger she makes me feel at times. It’s passion, and I don’t know what I would do without her love. I would find another, and another, and another. For I could never live without a woman’s love. A woman’s love is the purest form of love there is in the world. She may not realize it right now, but her heart and her thoughts are what makes this world magical again.

We see eye-to-eye and understand that we will forever be at-odds. She understands we have roles to play; temporary parts to a fading play. She knows that this lifetime is short, so she makes the best of her days. I may have just realized my own mortality; but she knew of death the moment she realized she could create life.

I could go on about my admiration and amazement at woman’s existence; but I won’t. I know she understands our existential manifestation, and our never-ending love for passion. She knows man is nothing with woman, and in that same regard- even if she never voices it; she understands that life would be meaningless without man’s toil and aggression.

But in the end, when the curtains of this fading play finally drape down at the end; I will die knowing that I’ll never find another one of her. She was my first love, and she’ll forever be my last.

 

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

 

Source of photo: (click me to view photo credits!)

Mythos of Azernos (Poetics 1)

Accompanying music to listen to while reading the excerpt: (click me once you’ve put on your headphones and are ready to read some more of this epic known as the Mythos of Azernos)

Warning: Content may be graphic for younger readers, discretion is strongly advised

Inspiration: The sometimes absurd, outlandish, crazy; yet vastly entertaining Greek/Roman Mythologies of the ancient world.

 

Poetics 1 (Excerpt from Mythos of Azernos)

“Captain, we’ve lost the citadel!”

“We must pull back, we’ve soon to lose the entire city!”

As the crisscrossing Athenian soldiers spun around to face the new threat from behind them, they soon thereafter faced their death as a huge eruption exploded right in front of them.

An unseen bomb had fallen through the night sky from a gliding airship above. It had landed with a devastating blow to all the soldiers and innocent bystanders still amidst the City of Athens.

This sprawling ancient city was slowly beginning to become overrun by technological weapons and the humans from high-above; the Heaven-bound humans, as they had been labeled so long ago. As such, the Earth-bound humans were no match for their opposition.

Yet unbeknownst to either side of this deathly war; the gods and goddesses were also fighting throughout the battlefield amongst their mortal counterparts.

A few thousand yards behind the now two deceased Athenian soldiers; was Goddess of Opportunity and Prosperity – otherwise known as Change.

She had transformed herself into a mortal man. As strange as this transformation had been, Change had disguised herself well enough – for no mortal eyes could ever see her true form.

She had moved upon the battlefield in this disguise for quite some time, as she made her rounds in protecting any such soldier who was unfairly outnumbered; comforting any such souls who were to pass onto their eternal slumber; and guiding those who yet still had a fighting chance to survive in this lifetime. Unfortunately for her though, her ruse wouldn’t last for much longer.

For truth be told, she was not the only immortal upon this field of drylands and dead bodies.

For opposing her at this very moment, was both War and Death. War was God of Discarded Life. He was a god worth a million tales and feared by many mortals and immortals alike. Having seen every battle conceivable to man and woman; he had plagued the lives of so many innocent souls throughout the eons. But perhaps the most disheartening actor to come onto the scene of this newfound and unfolding situation, was that of Death. Death was the Goddess of Tainted Souls; for she was precise in her extraction of any mortal life. Though she feigned a false sense of sorrow, once she had her prey within her grasp, Death was as wicked and mischievous as any god or goddess. She never left any opportunity open for Change to intercept her actions; for Change and Death were sworn enemies.

“Well, well, well – it appears the lonely Goddess has come out to play now?” Death stared curiously at Change as she spoke these haunting words with relative ease and comfort.

Change, not one to buckle down from mere emotions, slowly begun to revert back into her true form. All the while, Change had grasped her Spartan’s sword tightly in her right hand and tightened the hold on her Aspis shield in her left hand. “You think your words have any meaning to me? You’re a fallen Goddess; Death. You live amongst the darker side of Utopira now. Nothing you say or do will ever matter to me anymore!”

Change was getting heated up, as she felt her immortal blood boil for just a mere second.

War remained silent as he readied his large battle ax. Yet he did begin to walk towards Change as he grunted shortly with unknown displeasure.

But as the God of Discarded Life came ever the closer to Change; something was different about him now. War now slowly bellowed out in full-rage as he began to rush towards Change ever-the-faster. Change, not one to be clumsy; was quick on her feet as she leaped out of War’s way just in time to counter-strike War’s bulky head-on attack.

Spinning around with ease, Change agilely leaped at War and struck him right in his left shoulder blade. Temporary anger seeped through Change’s face as she glared at War with a knowing stare. Change knew War was the reason Death had left the ranks of the holier gods and goddesses.

Change could hear a deep guttural laughter build up within War’s mighty chest, as he laughed at Change’s seemingly foolish endeavors to ward off their advances on her.

“You’ll never learn Change! You’ll never see the truth of our shared dilemma. We’re living through troubling days full of dangerous possibilities. Yet you have still not realized the truth of Judgment’s call!”

Change stuck her sword even deeper into War’s shoulder blade as War let out a deep roar of pain. Responding to War’s forward comment, Change glared daringly at the hefty man in disgust. “What gives you the right to change such a fate? Whatever Judgment rules as fair and morally right shall eventually come to pass!”

Before War could say anything in response, Death had glided silently behind Change and was about to stick in her a small sword drenched in godly poison.

But just before Death could make another move, an arrow came whirling from behind Death and Change; just as War had turned around to face the two goddesses.

The direct arrow was followed by an unknown voice. “Watch your back, Death was upon you.”

Change leaped airily out of the way as she had quickly caught sight of Death’s poisoned drenched sword. She just barely dodged her foe’s otherwise swift move; thanks to her unknown ally.

Turning her head to where the unknown voice had originated, she could see that it was Risk, God of Fortuity.

Raising his angled bow once more, Risk aimed it right for War’s head now.

Letting his arrow fly valiantly through the winds, Risk closed one eye as he watched his arrow jettison through the air. Nothing in all of godly life made Risk more at peace with himself than his bow and arrows. He was a hunter by nature, ever the willing and hungry to capture his prey; no matter what side they were on.

As this was going on, Death smiled shortly behind her veiled mask. The Goddess of Tainted Souls knew when it was time for her to take her leave from a scene. And as such;  a dark swirling portal appeared beneath her feet at this very moment. 

Falling deep within the confinements of The Unknown, Death had just as readily left the battlefield as she had entered it.

The arrow, which had been let loose from Risk’s bow, had hit War directly between the eyes.

Change thanked Risk sparingly as she spun around to see War bellowing out his infamous cry of battle.

Enraged by the unexpected turn of events; War caused a rippling affect of unyielding aggression and deathly recklessness to befall any mortal who’s ears could hear his calling.

Change, not leaving anything to chance, took Risk’s hand and began to run at inhuman speed as both goddess and god made their way far away from this battlefield.

They were moving at the speed of light almost. Change could easily ride the rippling currents of winds better than any god or goddess in existence. She had found comfort in knowing this truth. For if there was anything Change had learned, it was that she could never trust War to be sympathetic – not even to his fellow gods and goddesses.

****

As this had been going on; on the opposite end of the battlefield – where the City of Athens was now in shambles and torn into millions of pieces, there were two other gods facing off with each other.

They were rivals since the day they had been born. Bad immortal blood had run deeply between their families, and even through the ages; these two gods were a testament of that deadly rivalry that had fostered between their separate families.

“You think Love has any such feelings for you? You think she even cares that you’re still among our ranks? Ha! You’re more of a fool than I had originally thought.”

“Our relationship is of no concern to you Triumph. Though she may very well be your sister, she is the light of my life!”

Opposing one another, Triumph, God of Victory; and Passion, God of Livelihood, were at adds with one another.

“Failure as always; even though you try so valiantly – you’ll never be god-enough to protect her. I won’t allow it my young, foolish lovebird.”

Triumph was instigating Passion, trying to coax some sort of slip-up.

For Triumph, this was merely his way of preparing for his eventual victory. To make his opponent second-guess himself and to make him mentally weaker than humanly imaginable. 

But Passion was not one to be taken down so swiftly. He was a god not taken to provocation so easily. He had learned his lesson long, long ago during the War of the Immortals. The very same catalyst that had caused the wide chasm of hatred between Passion’s family and Triumph’s own to grow wider and wider with every passing century.

As Passion remained silent, he readied his hidden daggers. He glared at Triumph with a cold, and somewhat blank, stare.

All the while, Triumph brought forth his spear. A mighty weapon if any. Even Passion knew that his opponent was well-beyond his level of battle expertise.

But Passion had one thing Triumph would never understand fully. God of Livelihood knew all the secrets of life. He knew every weakness, and every strength, to his opponent. Even if his opponent happened to be his lover’s older brother.

Moving in an almost-hypnotic dance of battle, both Passion and Triumph were now slowly maneuvering around each other with hidden honor.

But just as readily as the two Gods were matched to fight, the sound of rain began to echo throughout the ruined city.

From high-above, came the low, yet booming, voice of Judgment.

“Lay down your weapons. Neither of you belong here amidst the battlefield on this day.”

Triumph looked the most displeased as he maintained his steely gaze at Passion while simultaneously speaking firmly to Judgment. “Judgment – this isn’t your battle to interrupt!”

Without even another moment’s notice, the sound of a loud thudding noise was apparent as a huge boulder had fallen seemingly out of nowhere.

It nearly took out Triumph’s head. Passion had flew out of the way quick-enough to avoid an otherwise catastrophic; yet temporary, godly-end.

“Turn back now, else I won’t miss next time.”

Triumph; grunting with massive disapproval, took his leave as he turned-tail and rushed out of the scene. Passion, looking onward at his escaping opponent, sighed in silent relief as he grunted in small displeasure himself. Passion was not always so foolish as to believe every situation looked promising. He could be just as level-headed as any of the other gods and goddesses if he tried hard enough. And today was one such day in which he knew better.

*****

Change and Risk had made their way far away from the City of Athens. Change had taken them to the east-end of The Alps. Yet she was not out of breathe, for the immortals had more energy than any mere mortal could ever wish to harness in his lifetime.

Glancing over her shoulder, Change sighed with small relief as Risk questioned Change’s actions.

“You were suppose to be at The Banquet tonight? Yet you chose to disobey Judgment’s order. What of his wife, Intuition? Did you not think of helping her likewise? Surely she would have welcomed your presence. You know better than anyone else that she’s temporarily sick; as gods and goddesses are want to do from time to time.”

Change scoffed lightly as she looked out to the distance now. “You can’t assume every time Intuition falls ill, that I’ll be at her beck-and-call. Anyways, Honesty and Hope are by her bedside.”

Risk looked somewhat suspiciously at Change as he questioned her motives. “Surely it was at your behest?”

Change closed her eyes and smiled slightly. “I’m the lone goddess for a reason. Wherever I’m needed here in the mortal world; I’ve no ties to bring me down. We’ve all our own parts to play, and you have yours certainly.”

Now Risk knew Change was speaking in double-meanings. There was something alluring about her, but also, something strange. Either way, Risk knew that Change never wasted her precious energy. She always had a rhyme for her reason.

Shrugging lightly now as he placed his arms over his head, Risk stared at Change as he begun to try and decipher what she was after.

“So, what was it that brought you down here anyways? You’ve yet to answer me directly.”

Change was quiet for a moment before responding in short. “Personal business, that’s as far as you’ll get with questioning me on this day.”

And with that, Change had left Risk’s presence in the blink of an eye. Risk was now alone.

But he knew what to do next. He also had personal business to attend to. A trio of special guests were waiting for him back in a different place; but not too far off from where he was standing at this very moment. He would be off to the City of Rome; and not a moment too soon either. For two other gods and a single goddess were awaiting his most pressing message. He certainly couldn’t waste anymore idle time; least of all on this night of nights…

 

Forever in Your Debt,

R.S. Noel

 

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