The Rise

by Nathan Parks

  Tanisha looked at her husband with confusion and a tint of anger.

  “This was your evil, demon lord? You got up in my face over this little boy?”

  “To be fair, you were the one who got in my face; and I’m sorry. I guess Lada must have more of an imagination than I thought.”

  “Big Guy, all little girls have big imaginations . . . little boys, also.”

  He wrapped her in a hug, “I’m sorry, Dear. I was wrong.”

  * * * * *

  Megan jumped up as Leah walked in with Lano in her arms. She rushed over, and the little boy quickly transferred himself from the Vapor to his mom. As she took him, she looked at each of the team members for some form of answer; but all that looked back at her were confused and blank faces.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Nothing. He has the same injuries as his sister. We didn’t see anything or anyone else, and he says they were playing,” Leah responded.

  As she spoke, she quietly slipped off the piece of jewelry that she had promised Lano he could hold.

  “You promised to be gentle with it.”

  He nodded and carefully held it in his hands.

  “Playing?” she looked at her son’s arm. “With what? A mountain lion?”

  “They are both safe at this moment,” Gene spoke up. “Ann, if you want to attend to the twins, please do; but I just ask that you do it here. There is a first aid kit in my study, but right now I want all of us together.”

  Isaiah left and returned quickly with the med kit. He handed it to Gabriel as she helped Megan with the kids.

  The Nephelium couldn’t help but notice that Lada refused to get near her brother but held herself in a guarded position. The rest of the team took places around the table, and Gene motioned for Serenity and Chad to share what they had.

  “We did two different charts of sorts,” Chad stated as Serenity passed out copies of paperwork. “You will see one chart shows things we know, which we are not going to spend hardly any time on unless we are able to tie it into the other list. That second chart is made up of all the things we have questions about. We asked each of you to bring to the table things you have been working on . . . things with answers and things that still seem out of place.”

  “Before we get started,” Zarius interrupted, “should we have the crew from the Sanctum in on this, and where do we stand with Mantus?”

  “We are still waiting to hear back from him. We sent a message letting him know that we are willing to work with him, but haven’t heard back yet,” Nemamiah answered.

  “I have to ask: does that seem normal? For someone who is holding one of our own and wanting so badly to help us, don’t you think he would already have gotten back with us?” Zarius questioned.

  Nemamiah looked over at Gabriel as she worked on putting some wound cleaner and bandages on the twins’ arms.

  “Well, it does have us questioning; but we don’t know all that is going on. There could be a variety of reasons, but I would say we move forward with whom and with what we have . . . see where it leads. Then, if he does help, we know.”

  “If he doesn’t?” Eve questioned.

  “We then have a rescue mission to set up to get Metatron back,” was the Council member’s answer.

  “As for the Sanctum, we are going to keep them as the main fighting arm, if needed. So, at this point we need to figure out what it is we are about to be fighting.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Mantus stood in front of the shell of his son. Neither Dumah or Mantus spoke. Dumah could feel seething anger emanating off his brother as they both stood looking at the skeletal, demonic shell of Legion. Mantus held Hecate’s jawbone in his hand. He looked down at it and then cast it to the feet of the bound creature.

  “Son, your mother wanted to be near you; but this was all I felt inclined to bring to you.”

  The Malebranche quickly crawled down from the walls to which they were clinging and began to fight over the small morsel that had been offered up by the general. There was no response from the barely animated carcass of Legion.

  “Brother,” Mantus addressed Dumah, “gather up a collection of your fiercest warriors. It is time we bring terror to the world that has for too long shunned us.”

  Dumah turned toward his brother, “Mantus, I have followed you through the ages. You are more than my brother and my general; you are the one whom I consider my best friend. I will do whatever it is that you need of me.”

  A dark smile broke across the general’s face as he listened to his brother. They had been through so much, and Dumah had always followed without hesitation. The duo had been feared by many and yet forgotten by others; but they had never been separated. They had covered each other’s backs in so many battles. So, the words that Dumah spoke did not surprise Mantus.

  “You willingly follow me? Brother, you give everything you are over to my leadership?”

  This question puzzled Dumah as to how his brother worded the question.

  “You know that I do. I always have.”

  Mantus opened up his arms in a bizarre display of affection—one that his brother was not sure how to accept. In all his years he didn’t believe he had ever witnessed the general ever hug anyone.

  He returned the embrace. As he did, he felt the arms of Mantus tighten around him.

  The voice of his brother whispered quietly and yet deliberately within his ear, “Dumah, you willingly have surrendered yourself to follow me. You have chosen, by your own words, to follow and to help. Your sacrifice will not go unnoticed.”

  Dumah accepted it. There was a look of shock that flashed across his face as he felt the knife pierce his back and slide in between his ribs on his right side. His brother took his face in a firm grasp and would not allow Dumah to look away. Pride would not have allowed him to look away, anyway; he would look his murderer in the eyes as he felt his back become wet and soaked with blood as it poured down his leg and began to pool around his feet.

  “Why?” was the only word that escaped his lips.

  “You willingly took on this role. You chose on your own with your own words to do what is needed, and what I need is my son to be released.”

  Understanding spread like a wildfire through his being. Legion must be released with the blood of an Eternal who willingly gave it up. With his proclamation of open servanthood to the needs of his brother, he had bound himself to the release of his nephew.

  Mantus let him go, and Dumah fell backward. He turned and looked up at Legion. There was no fighting it. A warrior knows when it is their time, and to fight the end was a sign of weakness. A warrior embraced the fight in front of him, even if he knew that fight was his last.

  He reached out and grabbed a hold of the chained creature. His blood smearing against the chains and the leathery skin.

  Dumah looked one last time at his brother, “You will go mad. Already I see tributes to Hecate within this action. There is an end to even the Immortals. This,” he choked out as he began to cough up blood, “is the beginning to the end of the world as we know it.”

  Mantus kept an eye on his brother while watching to see what effect the blood sacrifice would have on his imprisoned offspring. He did not have to wait long.

  The creature’s open wounds that had been touched by Dumah as he collapsed showed signs of regeneration. Muscle and tissue began to regain color for the first time in ages, and Legion’s fibers and nerve endings twitched. His head thrashed back and forth, and Mantus watched as life crept back in.

  “Rise, Son. We stand united. Rise and be free.”

  In a matter of minutes, the general saw the version of his son that had been long forgotten. His muscles were ripped; his hair was long and thick; and his facial features returned. Legion looked up at his father, his eyes wild and untamed. As they made eye contact, he sneered; and Mantus smiled as he saw that Legion’s sharp canines grew longer. The time had come for the rise of a new house, a new generation, the horror of past and present focu
sed on devouring the future.

  Mantus stood back and watched his son grow stronger and healthier. Legion’s color was back, and he fought against his restraints. He found his voice that had not played upon his vocal cords for a long time.

  “Father, free me!”

  “I can’t. I have given you the blood that will provide you strength and freedom, but each creature’s bonds are theirs. I can provide you the tools necessary to break free; but you, Son, must break from the bonds yourself.”

  Legion thrashed and pulled at the chains and restraints. His body bent in unnatural positions as he attempted to break free. His voice howled at the pain of his newly healed muscles cramping and tightening. The once-leathery skin, now ripped, cut as the metal dug into it.

  His father could see the restraints heaving as the demonic powerhouse fought against them. Mantus wasn’t sure how this all was supposed to work. He knew the elements, but not how they came together. So, he stood, watching.

  The Malebranche hurled insults and swear words in their own language at their former prey. The first chain snapped with a loud sound that echoed off the stone walls; and Legion reached out, grabbing one of the creatures by its throat. His hand squeezed into the fatty material around its neck. The creature’s already bulging eyes became more defined as it gasped for the ability to breathe. Mantus got satisfaction as he heard the tendons snap and the bones crack.

  With a final burst of supernatural strength, the warrior of the Fallen was free. Legion stood, holding the limp body of his tormentor. In one swift motion, he tore into the creature’s neck and began to slurp and chew as it became fuel for the released champion.

  “We don’t have a lot of time to move forward. So, absorb what you can. Heal however you can, but we must get moving.”

  Legion looked up. He had body fluids pouring down his chin, drenching his bare chest. His arms were covered to his elbows in the remains of the Malebranche.

  “You do not tell me what I need to do or the time in which I need to do it. Mantus, you are not my Overlord or my general. You are nothing to me but a piece of my existence. Do you understand?” he growled.

  Mantus stood stunned. He had nothing to say. There was no gratitude evident within his offspring’s existence. No, instead there was a vile and distinct platform of hostile wrath and anger.

  His head spun. In a short time, he had come to an understanding with the Alliance, backed out of that agreement, killed a member of the Arch Council—even though they were not yet aware—planned an assault on the Alliance and Eden, discovered his ex-wife to be vanquished, murdered his brother, released his son, and now stood dumbfounded as Legion defied any idea of orders being given.

  “You are my son.”

  Legion stretched his neck back and forth. He did not bother to wipe away any of the juices running down his chin. He just smiled, his teeth stained with his meal. The Demon’s eyes burned with darkness as he stood to his full impressive height.

  “You are blind, Mantus. You are as blind as my mother. Those who are blinded by power fail to see their blindness. They are unable to see past the reality they built, even though that reality is a façade. You were strong when you believed that this, the Abyss, was under your control. Your failure to understand that time has marched past you is your undoing. There has been a thread from the beginning that neither you nor my mother had control over; instead, you have been pieces in a game.”

  “Oh, is that the case?” Mantus mocked him. “So, I should just give in to following you? Enlighten me then, Son. What does this game look like that I am playing?”

  Legion sneered, “You are weak. You are nothing. Are you even aware that at the Council of Shammah my mother set into motion my rise to power? Are you aware that there are sleeping agents of my Clan who have sworn allegiance so long ago but have been known by other names and roles, waiting for my rise to power?”

  Mantus shook his head. Legion truly was Hecate’s son. He was sounding like the former Overlord with every word that came out of his mouth.

  “I may not be aware of all that has been playing out, but one does not need to know everything . . . only enough to be a stick within the spokes of the wheel that is turning to turn it upside down.”

  Legion stepped closer to his father and leaned in. His long, thick hair hung around his face.

  “Do you know what happens to a weak stick when placed inside the spokes? It breaks.”

  “Threaten me, and you will discover that I may be part of what you label ‘a time that has passed.’ You will also discover what expertise that time builds up within someone.”

  The demonic son sneered, “Father, you cannot stand against the onslaught of what I now bring. You can fight me or stand with me, but what you will not do is control me.”

  “You expect me to follow you? Me? Do you have any idea what I have seen and done throughout my existence, and you expect me to stand with one who was bound for ages because he was unable to win a simple victory over a band of renegades? Tell me, Son, did you even put up a fight, or did you just bow out of fear?”

  Legion’s fist swung hard at the face of his father. Mantus had picked up on the fighting stance his son had taken and saw the swing coming. He dodged it and followed up with a knee to Legion’s mid-section. The Demon bent over; and Mantus grabbed his doubled-over frame, planting another full-force knee to the chest of his son, followed by an elbow that came crashing down onto Legion’s back.

  The Demon let out a groan but was able to maintain his legs under him as he grabbed Mantus by the waist and picked him up, shoving him backward into the rock wall. The general’s head smashed against the black stone. Ages of fighting had taught him to be able to work through pain and confusion to stay in the fight, and stay in the fight was exactly what he did.

  He crossed over with another elbow, smashing it into the left side of Legion’s face. There was a splattering of warm blood that came from the blow, and Legion stumbled backward.

  “Stop!” a voice rang out. “Back off, or you will find captivity for all these years was not worth the death that will overcome you!”

  Legion spun around, attempting to see through his pain. Mantus caught his breath as he stood up and also looked in the direction of the voice.

  Michael stood just feet away, his arms crossed and face set.

  “Why have we failed so far? This is why! We have fought amongst ourselves when we should be fighting those who stand in our way! Both of you stop!”

  “Well, look! It is like a family reunion!” Legion mocked Michael. “So, which do I call Dad?”

  Michael ignored him and turned his attention to Mantus, “We need to talk.”

  The general wiped some blood from his mouth and lifted his hands in a truce to Legion.

  “This is not over, but Azrael has a point. No, I will not follow you; but I think we could find ground on which to stand that will allow us to fight beside each other.”

  Legion stood heaving, trying to catch his breath as he held his rib cage.

  “That’s fair, for now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “What do you want, Azrael?” Mantus addressed the Archangel.

  “We need to talk strategy and get ready to attack Eden.”

  “Eden?”

  “Yes, there are a few things about which you need to be brought up-to-speed; and then together we need to bring some form of structure to what is left of all of us.”

  “Up-to-speed?”

  Legion held his midsection as he laughed.

  “I told you . . . you don’t know everything.”

  Mantus looked back and forth between the both of them.

  “Let’s put out the important stuff right here and now!”

  Michael shrugged, “Ok. Well first, are you aware that Hecate has been taken out?”

  “You know I would know this; and since you are not immediately ’fessing up to it, I take it that it was by the hands of Denora?”

  “Yes, Denora has taken over the House
of Hecate.”

  “What else?”

  “Your ex-wife had plans to release Legion, but what she was not aware of is that there are several of us who have already been working on what would happen after that took place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mantus was puzzled.

  “We have masses of Familiars and even Fallen who have sworn allegiance to Legion already. They have been in a type of hiding . . . a Clan that is sworn to allegiance but no markings to give away that a new house has risen.”

  “How many?”

  “Thousands, including even some within your own realm. We have spent ages working behind the scenes to shore up support that would fall behind Legion.”

  Mantus stood there, not sure how to react or what to say.

  “How?”

  “From the moment that everything fell apart at the Council of Shammah, I began to build a long-term plan. Hecate, of course, chose to go along with it; but I never doubted she had her own endgame in mind. I was right.

  “She saw the power in what I proposed, but she intended to take it over. Her fingers began to weave through the sands of time. I did not stop her or expose her because I knew that her ability to manipulate would come to use for us, and it did.”

  Mantus leaned back and took in what he was being told. How could he not have seen any of this?

  “I discovered that Hecate had managed to restore a delta from the Council meeting. She also inadvertently shared with me once that she had discovered by chance that there was a vial of blood that had been saved from the death of the mortal embodiment of Jah.

  In true Hecate fashion, she diligently and patiently hunted for signs of it. She discovered it was being kept in Constantinople,” Azrael lied as he figured Mantus didn’t need to know the full truth.

  “What? Wait!” Mantus began to fume. “Was she responsible, then, for getting me removed from that territory and placed as the general in charge of the Abyss?”

  Azrael nodded, “She was. If her information was correct, then she could not have you discover that one of the most important artifacts of our time was within your realm.”