Her blood mixes with the dirt, the sacred and life giving essence of this sacred space. the power within her strong and her determination and will absolute. As her blood and tears fall freely she feels parts of herself falling away, though she still hears every sound clear and sharp, it seems to come from the other end of a long tunnel. She crawls into the cocoon of darkness dreaming of emerging a stunning creature of myth and legend.
The peace is ripped from her mind in a blinding moment of absolute agony. Her heart feels as if it will explode within her. Screaming, Dawn is convinced her entire body is on fire, her blood boiling within her. Writhing in agony, her flesh tears and bones shatter. The change does not come easily, the human body is not designed for such trauma, Again she cries out, this time an unrecognizable meshing of scream and growl as the change takes hold. When the pain finally subsides she is no longer recognizable, Lobo Guara, the red wolf stands in her place. The only sign of her humanity remaining is the glistening of the silver pendant she still wears around her neck.
She is a shifter, the highest order of her inheritance. She has the most desirable gift of her people. Though many of her blood have the potential to unlock their animal nature, most are too afraid, controlled or unable to see past the greed and power humanity offers to embrace the freedom of their instinctual side. To take on the animal form one must freely and completely give themselves over to instinct over intellect, action over contemplation. Everything that is human must die, the form can only shift when the boundaries of the flesh are discarded. Many cultures have long passed down stories of these creatures, some loved and some hunted. Always a mystery. No two shifters choose to take on the change in the same way, as the animal spirit living inside each of us is different.
There is an order to things and even shifters must follow it. They can choose freely between two separate worlds, but only if they are willing to pay the price. She knows there are others like herself out there, but she has been told they are the enemy. They will lead her back to the man who bore her and she will be forced to become one of the breeders. Her life will no longer be hers to command. There are a few like her within the higher circles, Dawn feels an overwhelming need to seek them out, to share with them her glory. She knows from the stories she is special, she has tasted death of her own free will, without the ceremonies and support of her kindred. She is the lone wolf, the rebel child born in freedom to live and love as she pleases, tasting life untethered, unleashed.
Running until her legs give out beneath her and her breath catches sharp within her lungs, she falls exhausted. Curling up on the grass she lets the moonlight bathe her in dreams. She wakes from adventures chasing frogs through the brush and howling in the moonlight to find the sun streaming in through the trees. Dawn doesn't know where she is exactly and realizes that she has left her clothing in the meadow. The sacred place where the blood flows like water from the tortured earth. It is one of his places, she knows, she can smell him there. She knows it is a place of power and now that power belongs to her as well. In this moment she looks like herself again, but it is only an illusion, she will never again be able to fully engage herself in the human world. They will sense she is not one of them. Too much time in their world will make her weak, and vulnerable. She thrives on the energy of the forest, the natural world, to keep her going. She can never go back to her old life. Her boyfriend is probably really pissed, she realizes. She was supposed to meet him, and forgot. He probably stayed up all night waiting for her, and since she never came home he likely assumes she went out with someone else. Not that she is really all that into him anyway. Her life is rich with things far more important than his pesky bitching. He can either take her as she is or hit the road.
Walking for hours, she finally returns to the familiar place she loves so much. Her clothes waiting undisturbed, she dresses despite her dirtiness. Slowly making her way home, she can only think of how desperately she needs to hit the shower. Her sore feet wishing for something other than the sandals she has with her, as she traipses through the weeds, wetness and pathways that were so pleasant yesterday. Dawn feels sore, tired and emotionally overwhelmed. She needs the comfort of home. Dawn will soon find that this body will never be comfortable again, when she chooses to appear human it will be a costly decision and she will ache through every moment. This body no longer belongs fully to her, it is only a borrowed version of what she used to be. She is more comfortable living as the beast she has become. The animal within always struggling to be free, to break through the illusion that is her humanity.
Her misery illustrates the downside of the bargain. Perhaps, she realizes, even freedom and wildness have their limits. She will be more careful next time. She is famished when she gets home and can't wait to feel the warmth of the water running down her back. Looking at herself in the mirror she has a good laugh. She is covered in blood and muddy from head to toe, there are twigs stuck in her hair. Looking like a rag-tag homeless woman who has been lost in the woods for days, only her eyes give away her happiness. Dawn is discovering who she truly is, finally feeling like she understands her social anxieties, why she never seems to fit, why she is uncomfortable in her own skin sometimes. The potential of her new life is so enticing. No one else will ever get close to her, but she never plans on letting anyone in anyway. The vibrant green eyes staring back at her hold secrets even she does not yet fully comprehend.
Dawn calls Devon so they can patch things up over a cup of coffee, some donuts, and a couple hours of make-up sex. Dawn is invigorated and aggressive with him and he can't help but give in to her. His blue-grey eyes full of desire and love for this woman that has never truly given herself over to him. Knowing she doesn't really love him, he holds on and hopes that maybe someday she will. Hanging on her every word and watching her move with intensity, he notices something about her has changed. Dawn is even more untouchable, more elusive, if that is even possible. Something has happened, her bruised and battered body tells him that much, but he knows there is no sense trying to get her to talk about it. He can only take what time and information she feels like giving.
Changes
Rissa too has felt a change come over her since the ceremony, she doesn't know what it means, only that she feels stronger and she can see more clearly. The bloodletting with Amber unlocked something deep inside her. She has dreams of the past, of people she does not know or remember. Beautiful galas full of swirling black and crimson gowns, white masks covering the faces of the beautiful people in attendance. Her mind replays the history of her people for her like a Discovery Channel movie, it is sparklingly vivid, and she is drawn into the intensity of it all. She feels the emotions and intentions of everything around her. Standing there observing, watching, and seeing without being seen, Rissa becomes a silent part of something long ago lost. It is as if she too is a god standing outside the realities of human limitations.
Corseted women with feathers in their hair circle the floor. It seems a jovial and decadent celebration until you lay eyes on the sacrificial purpose of it all. The beautiful girls bound hand and foot on the altars. Their bodies perfect in the dim light. The men touching them, teasing them. These poor girls merely playthings for the masses. The women laughing as the captives are tormented. Hours pass and the blood and pain escalates. Tortures of unspeakable cruelty are bestowed on these girls and the crowd celebrates their cries and tears with happiness. They are the sacrificial lambs, this is their preparation for slaughter.
Their bodies are beaten, broken, and ravaged by as many of the men as are capable, and each will conceive. The Son is within them this night and all are doing his will. The orgy of suffering will last for days and there will be horrific consequences for many of those in attendance. Some will be so racked with guilt over it all they will take their own lives, others will place blame and attack. By the end of the celebration there will be seven suicides, seven murders, and seven beautiful young women pregnant with the seed of their God. The One Son plays his dark hand and his f
lair for the dramatic never fails to impress.
This is a ceremony of life, Easter, as it will later be called. The celebration of his rising, his awakening and a time of new life. The sacrifices, his precious followers, the others merely pawns in his continual game of manipulation. No one will ever know he is the cause of their suffering. He will always be the blessed one, the savior. He will remain powerful by their love and admiration as well as by the fear that fills them for the unknown that comes after this world. He fills them with visions of suffering and pain greater than they can possibly imagine and then torments them with a taste of that suffering within their guarded lives. Somehow he manipulates the senses into believing he is the cessation, the freedom from that pain and without him each and every one of them will burn for eternity within the fires of hell.
The women call on him when they are freed, and he comforts them and heals their wounds. He eases their burdens and offers them forgiveness for their base desires. He makes them feel this is all their doing, and he is their only salvation from eternal damnation. They cry at his feet and beg for his love and on the surface he gives it. He is generous and kind after all. Those he chooses as worthy take the sacrament with him. Eating of his body and drinking of his blood they receive eternal life at his side. Wandering the world satiating their bloodlust on the innocent, sending survivors running back to him in fear of the demons he creates....an endless cycle of deception and slavery.
Those he doesn't offer the gift of the bloodline too are simply sent off and told to have faith that all will be well for them in the next world, that this life may be painful and hard, but their eternity will be full of treasures if they only have the strength to believe. Empty promises that bring hope to the hopeless and peace to the dying. That give reason for the evil and the darkness surrounding us, and distract us so we don't clearly see what is going on. To question is to admit you are faithless and therefore unworthy of his love and the rewards it provides, so most of us choose not to question.
Even those not of his blood Are calling upon him, worshiping him as their savior. It is all going perfectly. There are wars fought in his name and on his behalf that prove to be excellent distractions. There are men who take on his teachings and rid the world of many of his father’s children in the process, calling them witches and demons. These are convenient and unforeseen circumstances that he truly enjoys. His father certainly cannot blame him for the misguided actions of religious fanatics he is not influencing personally. Humans are excellent pawns, and they take their job very seriously.
Rissa sees it all clearly, the masquerade, the illusion. She understands the ways of her father, and feels sickened. She had already known some of the story, but had not really understood the kind of cruelty it takes to twist reality so perfectly. To be loved and adored by the very sheep you are leading to slaughter. The women give birth and enjoy the happiness of it all for a time. Those deemed worthy are taken by the father, the boys of his blood are unwanted and die before their time. Never growing to breed. He knows he misses one now and then, but it is no matter since he will never give them eternal life, they will fade away eventually into dust like all the others.
Besides, some of his sons serve him quite well, becoming some of the most infamous men in history. Despite not having their savior beside them, within them, the blood lust of their genetics is insatiable. They become warlords, mercenaries, and murderers. Ghengis Khan, Hitler, Manson, take your pick. They help to keep the his flock living in fear turning to their God for protection from the demons he so carefully chooses. Their deeds covering the damage his children inflict, ensuring their survival. As long as there is war and conflict within the human race, his children can hide easily within the chaos. His beautiful women. Some nations call them Vampire, others Succubus, while still others call them Banshee, Mermaid or Siren, there are many names given to them, but all are feared. This is the true army of the Son of God. Churches and congregations merely diversionary tactics, distractions for weak human minds. It amuses him to hear man speak of all that he knows with such a sense of surety when so much he refuses to see and recognize lies just below the surface of his perception. What fun it could be if mankind were forced to wake from their dreams of denial, and see the world around them for what it truly holds. If the prophecies hold true he will not have to wait much longer, the war over humanity and possession of the dying world is in it's beginning stages, the board is prepared and the queen has been placed.
Rissa is meant to become one of these dark creatures, she has the blood within her. She is powerful and gifted already, all she has to do is ask and he will give it to her. The thought comes on like heavy rain and she feels his awareness of her, she quickly chants her protection and hides within the darkness again, not wanting him to find her. She is not interested in the life he wants to give her, the Circle has opened her eyes to the truth. She will not become another pawn in his game.
Rissa considers the scope of what she has seen, or more aptly, what she has been shown. Who is giving her the information? the visions look as though they are being seen by the eyes of someone actually present and the rest of her experience is spoken in her mind in a voice she does not recognize. She is taken there, seemingly invisible, and given glimpses into the past. Someone waits inside her mind, and she has no control over the access they have. She is nervous and angry at the entire world. Rissa knows she hides far better from herself than she hides from him, her father, her enemy.
And the Son of God calls on her to open her eyes and she cannot refuse, his will is inside her, the hell that surrounds her stops her heart from beating, she cannot breathe the sulphur burning her eyes and lungs is too strong. This cannot be!... She cries out with her last breathe, shutting her eyes hard against the onslaught. And then quiet... only a vision, her own death....Things are changing and now she knows true fear.
The gravity of the problem is overwhelming to Rissa and her heart aches as she rationalizes and processes with the burden of truth resting heavily on her shoulders.
How stupid can we be? Blind and so desperate for freedom from responsibility for our actions that we follow despite the warnings our hearts give. The protesting rants of our logical minds and the undeniable evidences of the twisted and violent world we live in. We follow on a word that has no meaning other than utter stupidity. A word created out of religious politics to instill guilt within us for daring to doubt, for questioning that which is unquestionable, a word created to control the free will of Man. Faith.... This one word the foundation for the undoing of millions of people murdering and being murdered for their beliefs, or lack thereof. Those slaughtering and slaughtered in crusades, inquisitions, and racial purifications. The one word responsible for more death and suffering than any other on earth. Faith. The word that instructs us to close our eyes and open our hearts to a God we truly know nothing about. We do not let people into our homes that we are not fully aware of their background, intentions and purpose and yet we allow a powerful being to bind our souls for eternity without a single doubt that he might not have our best interests in mind.
How can we be so blinded, so lost to our own purposes. Though she senses therein may be the problem altogether. We have no purpose, there is no evidence of higher reasons for our existing other than existence itself. There is nothing before or after to reach for. We are simply human, simply the cattle of higher beings bent on manipulating our existence merely to see what might happen. How sad that we hold ourselves so high above other creatures when ultimately we are all a part of the same universal balance; ultimately the only thing that actually matters in the big picture. Her mind swirls with doubts, emotions and frustration as she reaches for something that makes sense. Each realization opening doors to new possibilities and philosophical questions no one would dare talk about in public.
Rissa has to wonder, if there is no purpose, what is it within some of us causing us to question and to rebel. What causes the children of the Gods to form organizations like the Circle
, seeking out the truth no matter what the cost. What causes some to seek out others to save from the tragic fate they would otherwise suffer. What is it driving some to hunt the monsters in the darkness and to stand up and face the very Gods themselves in order to obtain... what? What is it they are hoping to obtain. Freedom....The word echoes to her from somewhere distant, isn't it is always about freedom?... The only thing worth living for and the only thing worth dying for. She has been called into this circle to fight for the same thing every other war is fought over. The simple right to choose, to live, and to become what she chooses to become. She will choose Free Will. One cannot be a slave and be free at the same time, there is only one or the other. There is no grey area.
She will never bow before her father, asking for forgiveness or for eternal life, she is not interested in these things. Without freedom, eternal life will be nothing more than slavery, a prolonged nightmare. Rissa has chosen her side of the battle and has drawn her line in the sand. She feels power within her and though she knows where it has come from, she claims it as her own. She will nurture it and strengthen it to full potential without him. Someone powerful out there is helping her and that helps to make her feel ready. Someone is on her side, out there waiting to help her find the answers.
Awakening - Book of Fire (Blood Heritage) Page 17
