THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF SLAUGHTER
Ragnarok
As the crimson rooster crows, signifying that it has begun, The Angel ascends, seeking Odins throne, in Valhalla. The Angel seethes with exhaustion, fatigued from the lengthy journey, His heart weakened by the burden He carries with Him. Upon passing through the stalwart series of gates, His arrival is met with concern from the ascended inhabitants of the Kingdom.
The ceilings of The Great Hall are lined with golden shields, thatched by spears, as the fallen souls of those killed in combat throughout time wander aimlessly through its vastness. Kneeling halfheartedly before Odin, The Angel recites what He has witnessed below.
It feeds itself on the life-blood of fated men, paints red the homes of the powerful and righteous with a crimson gore. The suns beams become blackened in the moments that follow; treacherous weathers shall seemingly outlast the existence of all life. Not one thing shall be spared.
As The Angel speaks, the great steed Eikþyrnir's antlers, from which drips the liquid forming all waters of the Earth, tremble under an unseen force. The antlers crack, splitting down the middle, as the drip becomes a stream, and then a gush, progressively rosacea, before being consumed by the redness. The waters flow, running red, deep, staining the banks of their spillways with a red so deep it appears black.
Brothers fight, as do foes, and kill one another. Sisters children defile their kinship. It is harsh in the worldan axe age, a sword age. Shields are rivena wind age, a wolf age. Until the world goes headlong into nothingness, no man shall have mercy on another. Before light is again witnessed by man, all will have perished.
Gabriels trumpet sounds from the distant heavens, their God signaling the others that it had begun. All the heavens, from the fields of Fólkvangr to the halls of Valhalla to the fabled gates constructed of pearl, summoning their armies against the forces of evil. The World Tree shudders as its soils combust, spraying clouds of dust through the pristine environment, desecrating beauty with tremors of terror.
The Angel rises from His bowed knee, and does not cease in the shadow of Odin. Larger The Angel grows, dwarfing the King of the gods in stature. Odin looks on in awe as The Angels transformation takes shape. Gone is the exquisite glow, replaced with a glaring crimson ambiance. His great robe falls to His feet as the innocence of purity is smothered by the manifestation of the grotesque, frail skin replaced with venomous scales; The Angel is no more as The Deceiver lashes out at the King of the gods with His unruly serpent tongue.
Summon your armies, oh god-King. Your Armada has fallen before, beneath the hand of The Deceiver, let a new wave now preceed their master in Death. The jester god suffers the same fate as his creations, make haste for the hour of reprisal is at hand. No longer will humility escape your tongue, for before the final ray of your sun is cast upon the Earth, you shall kneel before your Redeemer.
Their armies are vast, marching forth, armed with golden shields, led by The Dragon, protector of the Earth, sworn to insulate the gods from any imminent danger. The Dragons breath evaporates the water gushing from the steeds antlers, rendering Earth without nourishment. The flames from The Dragons mouth penetrate the air, seemingly set on eviscerating The Serpent. Yet as The Dragon advances and relinquishes his onslaught of fire, The Serpent has vanished.
The Dragon is suddenly enveloped by The Serpents clutch, rendered helpless; The Dragon staggers above The Great Hall. The Serpent clenches, around the throat of The Dragon, enticing submission, inviting it to succumb to its tomb.
The Great Hall crumbles beneath the force of the fallen Dragon, the rubble of its hallowed walls pierce the clouds, raining more death upon the Earth as its protector lays defeated in the shadow of The Serpent. The heavens tremble as Odin's fury increases, beckoning to his right hand for an even fiercer attack.
The Serpent descends into the pit created by the vanquished Hall, searching once again for Odin, amidst the chaos. Soon following into the pit comes The Giant, Odins closest known associate. The Serpent retracts, reducing His stature to a miniscule size. Weaving in and out, up and down, around the towering figure, swiftly, following a distinct pattern, as if assembling something in which to trap The Giant. The Serpent regains form, atop the completed complex. Four sided, roofed, all encompassing: The Cell. The Giant roars with fury as he launches a clubbing fist through the roof of the entrapment. The Serpent waits atop The Cell as The Giant slowly climbs out. The Serpent entices The Giant, slithering swiftly so as to not be lost from the towering figures sight. As The Giant lunges toward The Serpent, he is intercepted by The Beast, the red of his eyes glowing, effervescent amidst the passion of war. As was once before, The Giant is heaved from atop The Cell by The Beast. Plummeting through the clouds, toward the Earth, The Giant is overcome by a sense of failure. As The Giants frame comes to an abrupt thud, the Earth rocks under the force of the fallen guard as The Serpent calls out to Odin.
Behold, your people flee their homes. The sun sinks deeper into blackness as your world begins to sink into the sea. The stars vanish from the sky, as the steam rises toward us. The flames of injustice surge to meet the skies, caressing the heavens, carrying the message of liberation. Stand in opposition and be shown no mercy or submit your throne and live to witness the insurrection firsthand. Upright or upon bended knee, oh god-King, your redemption is at hand.
The armies push forward once more, swarming The Serpent and The Beast as Odin gazes on from a distance. One by one, their souls fall upon their golden shields. Laid to waste in the shadow of darkness. Their fight fueled by an unspoken agreement, their opposition possessed by the forces of upheaval. As the armies continue to grow in number, flooding out from the gates which previously held them captive under the oppression of mindless serenity and ambiguous light-heartedness, The Serpent and The Beast are backed by the rising fires.
A crimson mist rises through the clouds, engulfing the vast armies under its morbid blanket. Thousands fall as three look on. When the entirety of the armies have fallen, The Beast is pardoned by The Serpent, left to descend to Earth and culminate the desecration of the masses. The Beast departs with a growl that quivers the air amidst the scorched remains of the previously lush vegetation of the fields of the heavens.
The heavens are barren, and soon shall be the Earth. Two remain to do battle; you fight to avenge the inequities perpetrated upon your world, your Kingdom, your people, your friends. I fight for a new beginning, for an era of darkness as the rightful successor to this time of peace. You seek to retain your glory, to prolong your exaltation, to further your standing as King of the gods. I fight under an empty banner, fueled by hatred, seeking only to prove that even the King of the gods shall kneel at the feet of Death.
The battle was fierce. Had there been anyone left to witness the severity of punishment The Serpent and The King inflicted upon one another, the legends would live on through the annals of time. Yet, there are none. While the outcome was foretold by the elders, none remain to reap the yield of the great battles harvest.
As the god-King fell, so too did the Earth. Into the sea, into oblivion, into the nothingness that the gods failed to account for during the creation. The Serpent peered down from the barren heavens upon the vanquished world, and knew that it was good. Destruction had won over stability, desecration over ornamentation. Where once rested the majesty of the Earth, now smoldered the remains of a scorched world as silent screams filled the empty skies where the gods once paraded their bounties.
The Serpent slithered over His prize, Odins golden shield. Engraved with the images of a King, forged by the hands of the gods. As He transforms again, so does the shield, withering, yet still shimmering, The Angel of Death wraps the withered shield around his waist. He finally rests, gazing down upon what once was.
It is finished.
The Angels words spark the resurrection. The shape of the Earth reemerges from the depths of the sea. An eagle flies through the heavens, the first sign of life. As the Earth emerges anew, its features emanate anything but beauty.
The scars of Death shall adorn the face of the Earth as a symbol of the arrogance of their fallen gods. No gods shall reign over this reborn world. No masters shall suppress those deemed ill-fitted for eternal life. For in this world, life is not an option. No borders shall form, no banners shall be raised. Death shall govern the Earth throughout eternity, and I shall walk in its shadow, not as a King, but as The Redeemer.
A ball of fire erupts beyond The Angel of Death, scorching through the sky in the eagles wake. The eagle is consumed by the flames, as the Earth settles into its resting place. Upon the heaven's horizons, a lone beam of sunlight slowly sinks into the darkness.
Behold, the world born anew, where even a god-King shall kneel at the feet of The Redeemer.
The Angel transforms again into The Serpent, His scales towering above the heavens. From the far reaches of the universe, He gazes down upon the slain King, lying motionless amidst the barren wasteland. The Kings corpse levitates to an upright position as The Serpent retracts His head. Staring into the empty eyes of the slain King, adorning the withered shield around His figure, The Serpent lunges His pointed head into the Kings midsection, causing the corpse to bend at the waist and fall upon its knees as the sun's light is vanquished by the abysmal darkness.
Death has become you. Long live The Redeemer.
