Descent of The Watchers
Page 1
of The Watchers
D S S Atkinson
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As The Garden lies dying
I have watched over the Garden to the east of Hermon for as long as I can, but it is no longer safe to stay here. The nephilim encroach ever closer upon the boundaries raised to enclose the humanoid subjects. I know not how they found this paradise, lost in a tranquil environment free from the polluted minds of the other humanoids. This bastion was once so safe from these dreadful abominations my own hand has brought forth.
The last of the watchers stationed here are all long dead, the ghastly giants rage unchecked across Eden’s eastern landmass in an unending lust to destroy the humanoids who long ago subjected them to a slavery and cruelty I did not know animals were capable of.
These monsters, at a time so alike to the first humanoids our experiments brought life to, have regressed beyond any sense of conscience - The seraphim breathed heavily, his pale skin perspiring within a pod laying beneath Eden’s sea. He shook his head, holding his flat facial features in webbed hands. Azazel looked out through the translucent interior of his craft, through glowing silver eyes, beyond the clear waters up at the endless sky of Eden, and wept.
Heaven, it is clear to me now you might never return to Eden. Such thoughts have troubled me for many hundreds of this world’s years. Under these most recent circumstances I have resolved to lead the Children of Eve, the humanoids I still harbour in the Garden, to Mount Hermon, to hide, and wait there for as long as they can for your return. If we survive the journey I hope they might make an attempt at life upon this world we have ravaged, if not, I will make effort to warn you.
Flashes of shimmering light glanced from the soft ocean gulf’s surface. The earliest protrusion of sunlight sundered the horizon separating the water’s endless expanse and the black night sky. Meters off shore a dim bronze dome broke the sea’s calm, causing the faintest circle of ripples to expand away from the source.
Slowly a figure rose up from the deep, silently wading its way in the darkness towards land. The ocean did little to deter the being’s speed as it strode rapidly into the shallows, growing with each step.
Its slender figure stood over nine feet, moving with haste towards shore. Highlighted only by a silhouette of light, the bronze covered bipedal began its ascent towards the tree line beyond an empty golden beach.
An eerie paranoia gripped the towering entity as he stepped through the forest’s undergrowth, though his stern facial features remained hidden beneath the reflective visor of a suit that granted life support in an atmosphere alien to his own. There were things in this land now, gruesome beasts his actions alone were responsible for, causing an ever deepening regret to sink his brilliant mind into doubts and fears that he knew not until walking upon these lands.
From the spine of his suit a mass of delicate looking tentacles sprawled out about him, spreading like the winged species’ bones of this world did in flight. From a number of stillot tips faint lights exposed the forest floor enabling Azazel vision in the darkness, yet he did not wish to highlight himself also to anything that might be watching.
He trod lightly across the foliage and dirt tracks, unconsciously tracing a route he had taken for hundreds of years. The thriving trees and undergrowth had once flourished with an abundance of wildlife, but all that changed when the humanoids began to spread across Eden’s untouched habitats, harvesting all that was living in a selfish frenzy of greed and dominance.
Through an endless maze of ever thickening flora and inclining pathways the seraphim stealthily meandered. In these most recent times it had become not so much an urge to study the bipedal species his kind had produced, as much to know they were still safe.
Gracefully bounding up a final verge an explosion of crackling flora forced the seraphim upon his knees, erratically glancing in random directions he fell silent attempting to gauge from which direction the disturbance travelled. All about him thickets began to crunch and rustle, heavy grunts and horrific moans filled the air. He felt his heart rate begin to escalate and a feeling of uncontrollable shaking consume his body. Unaccustomed to the overwhelming grip of panic nor adrenaline pulsating through his system, the slender being shuddered hysterically. He cowered in silence beneath his reflective visor.
Slowly, as quietly as he could, he slid back down the verge reaching behind his back, and with a quivering hand plucked a stillot from his right shoulder blade. The rod, forged from a metal foreign to Eden, immediately stiffened becoming straight, its tip shifting to form a deadly point. The shaft of the device began to sear a deepening red appearing ready to burst to flames at any moment.
Azazel crouched, listening to the stampede as it crashed through the woodlands. It quickly became obvious there was no aim to their pursuit yet still his heart thundered. He remained hunched upon his knees until he could hear the troop moving off into the still dark morning. Their presence reignited his concerns of what may already be lurking in the garden. You must hurry, Azazel.
His thoughts raced between the fear of coming face to face with one of those foul monsters and the stranded humanoids, what if they are already there? The dreadful idea pushed him onwards, lifting himself up he continued his trek towards the haven, still clutching his stillot tightly. Over hundreds more meters of forest ground he gaited, forcing his way through dense thickets and crawling under sprawling brambles which created an almost impenetrable wall. The watcher made barrier was all that separated Azazel’s subjects and the outside world. Lines upon lines of plant life which had grown into a near impervious fortress, accessible, yet not without knowledge, or unimaginable brute force. The idea continued to trouble him as Azazel skilfully weaved through the maze until the trees cleared and a steep decline in terrain spread out before him.
Laying on his front, the bronze entity crawled silently to look down at the last hope for his kind. He made no sound, gazing across a fertile oasis, The Garden, where the first experiments were spawned, the first bipedal beasts of this world mixed with the DNA of Azazel’s species and so a new cycle of life had begun, a breed that could carry the knowledge of the seraphim and preserve and progress all that his race had come to know.
As incredible as it was to watch these beings flourish in the garden, the seraphim knew deep down what they were, and what they were capable of. For the same reasons the rest of the humanoids had been wiped from the face of Eden, forced to flee into underground dwellings and cower for their lives from the nephilim, so too he believed that if this community was released they would make the same mistakes as those who came before them. It was in their nature, yet now here he rest, about to do just that. There is no other choice, Azazel.
He replaced the stillot tip upon his back, standing up. Slowly he began a descent down to the garden where the humanoids interacted innocently, completely oblivious to the world around them, flourishing in a secret community, unaware of what they were, nor their own history. The seraphim sought to explain some things to the humanoids before they began their trek across Eden.
It had been so long since he last interacted with the subjects, he wondered if they would recognise the bronze suits of his people at all. When the first beings were produced here he walked with them, as did the watchers, though upon realising the nature of the humanoids Azazel’s kind stepped back, documentin
g their progress from afar.
The subjects of the garden remained protected, only the most promising genetics from each batch were kept in its safe confides, all others were released, forced out to fend for themselves, some, Azazel shuddered, escaped.
The slender being shook his head at the thought of all the terrible things he had seen upon this world, making his way through the beautiful garden to find the humanoids. The secluded environment was a haven, abundant in wildlife, rich with colours spanning from the array of trees and flowers. Serene green fields merged seamlessly into outcrops of crimson vegetation and pluming plant life generating a striking image beneath the expanses of bright clear sky above, all brought to life by a river which flowed through the western stretch of the paradise, pulsating the constant sound of running water through the quiet air. How the rest of Eden now paled to this perfect sanctuary.
There were no constructions here, the humanoids knew no danger, they did not understand the natural order of nature, why should they? Azazel thought, they are not natural themselves. His destination, a pod disguised as a tree, placed at the heart of the garden when the watchers first set up the experiments upon Eden. Its artificial flora appeared to