Avarice Secret Unquiet

Light, Dark, and the In-between

After being rebuked by his sire, Xonereth had wished to return at once to Narkeem'ezet and report to his mother that he had failed. The heavens were a place he did not desire to linger, and yet there was a part of him, the fastidious perfectionist, that made him stay.

If he could not convince his father to return, perhaps he could persuade the Gods to expel the besotted demon King. So he walked on further, the pure white vista burning into his gaze so ethereal and bright that he struggled to see.

Then, before him rising from this whiteness, his eyes were drawn to a fantastic figure seated in a chariot pulled by a team of identical white horses, their manes and tails manifest from spectral orange fire.

The young man sat his chariot proudly, the reins of the dancing equines clutched in his beautiful hands. It looked as though at any moment they would break free of his control and gallop away. Yet he held them in place, his finely etched muscles straining.

Xonereth found this handsome god's visage extremely pleasing, and he boldly strode up to him. The King of the demons stood tall and straight, and the god watched him with golden eyes that burned like the sun; his brassy hair flowed freely about his perfectly proportioned face.

"Why do you come here, demon, a dark stain upon the heavens?" The handsome golden god inquired.

"Why, of course, I seek your help and wisdom, great God." Xonereth knew that the Gods loved to feel important, even the redundant ones. If flowery speech would help his cause, then he would use every tool available.

The fiery god appraised his visitor arrogantly. "I care not for your kind, Demon, it is my task as a god to destroy you, and oh, and I have...so many of your kind have ended in my sunny embrace...

Xonereth then realized who he had been speaking with. In hindsight, possibly not the best god to approach. Sol, ruler of the sun, the sunlight being one of the only things that all demons feared. Sol released his hold on his spectral chargers, and the chariot raced away.

Xonereth walked on, powered by curiosity; he was becoming more used to the disembodied sensation of not seeing his lower half and the pale mist roiling around him. As he gazed on the sameness of the heavens, he could see that the gods sat in groups or singularly. They did not speak, and they moved only occasionally. Humans perhaps had been crafted in their image, and yet how different they were.

The next god he approached was a fearsome curiosity. She was mounted on a giant orange and black tiger, and clasped in her eight bejeweled hands were numerous bladed weapons. Her slanted kohl-lined eyes followed his approach disinterestedly, beneath her headdress made of rare gems and gold. The tiger's startling eyes glared at him in challenge, and it roared. The sound shattering the ethereal silence of the heavens, if only for short moments.

Again, he bowed before the raven-haired, many-armed apparition. Politely awaiting the goddess's acknowledgment.

"Creature of darkness, why do you intrude? Is that oversized bug Anub'sereth meddling again..." She said derisively.

Again, the demon bowed before her, hoping for her grace, but he knew already what her response would be. "I would wish for your divine wisdom, oh Goddess?"

She raised her eight swords simultaneously. The look on her face was antagonistic; her dark glare burned him like embers.

"I received no such help, demon, and I shall not grant it to you. I had to fight my own battles; you would do well to fight yours..."

Xonereth had already stopped listening to the goddesses' angry diatribe. He didn't even try to back away respectfully. There had to be a god here that would listen.

Further, he walked on, noticing that after a time, he had attracted the attention of a small antlered figure who appeared to be walking his way. He beheld a tiny, furtive, and rather ageless woman; she stood no more than five feet in height. Pulled about her childlike form were white deer skins, and the antlers he had sighted were a headdress made of a stag that adorned her head. Her light gold hair fell in long plaits over her narrow shoulders. Unlike the other gods, she smiled at him, and her lively blue eyes sparkled.

"Who are you?" Xonereth asked the smiling woman as she strode brusquely by.

"I am Elen, Goddess of the ways, forgotten by most, and only sometimes called in prayer. I see demon that you make travels of your own. I bless you and wish you a safe path." She strode off into the mist.

On he went. Rising from the haze before him was the cat-headed goddess, Bastet. Her human body was perfectly formed, her head that of a striking black feline. She had a golden ring through her nose, and more rings hung from her fine, pointed ears. She twitched them slightly as he approached. Her eyes were a bright gold as well, and they matched her adornments perfectly. She regarded her visitor haughtily, and as he drew closer, he realized the goddess was surrounded by a plethora of spectral cats of every size, shape, and color.

His dark locks raked the ground as he bowed low before her. "Greetings, the most magnificent and omnipotent Bastet." He announced pleasantly.

The only response was the tiniest alteration in the width of her slitted pupils as she regarded him carefully.

He was about to turn from her silence; all the while, wondering if there was a set protocol for approaching the gods. Perhaps he should not turn from their presence, but rather back away as his own supplicants did at court. As he was debating this etiquette, a melodious voice intruded into his mind.

'Why do you seek me, demon, this is not your place...'

Xonereth bowed again. "Forgive me...Perhaps a goddess of your great power and beauty can help me with my problem?"

Again, the goddess's lips did not move as she stared entrancingly into Xonereth's black orbs without fear or blinking even once. 'Ah, the foolish demon who puts too much trust into the scribed word.' Her whiskers twitched, but otherwise she remained unmoving.

Her few words took him aback; this was not the answer he was seeking. He had to acknowledge that he had spent hours, many human years studying the written word and those of prophecy. Why did she say this?

'My people have long since left the in-between before the time of your reign; they have ceased praying to me, building my temples, and raising my statues. I care not for your problems, demon...'

The bevy of spectral felines yowled and hissed at their mistress's displeasure. She turned her head dismissively and looked at him no longer. The dulcet voice left his mind, and only silence remained.

Again, Xonereth was intrigued by her few words. Bastet knew who he was; he knew that her worshipers had fallen just before he had taken the throne. She did not address him as a king, yet he respected the snippets of information she had provided. Was this what the oracle desired him to learn? He was unsure.

He continued to pass by the angels and gods, yet he sought no further audience with them. He had experienced their indifference and sloth for himself. Xonereth realized that most of the gods' responses were the same: ones of disinterest, apathy, and derision. He could not understand why they had abandoned all they had created. He had spent vast hours studying a multitude of texts that referred to their vast powers and great love for their creations. Scribed by the humans throughout the centuries, then those recorded of demon origin, and other beings now lost to time.

The themes that ran through all the ancient writings described the Gods as great, omnipotent beings, ones who cared and were powerful. As he gazed about him, he saw none of those traits. Had the gods in his present timeline become even less interested in their creations? He had never bothered to visit the heavens during his reign, as there was no need to, but he feared that the gods might by now be frozen into attitudes of stone.

What does the oracle wish me to learn from all these experiences?Xonereth wondered deeply, his perfect porcelain brow furrowed. Surely, soon this Anub'sereth, at least he had learned the oracle's true name, would tear him from his past and test him. He must know the answers to the Anub'sereth's questions if the worlds were to survive. The advance of the not-so-secret unquiet must be halted before it was too late.

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This is the end of Avarice Secret Unquiet. I am currently working on book four of the series Avarice Unfortunate Sons, and will begin to release it as I have a suitable amount of the story written. I thank you for reading.