Warnings

Author's Note:

I know it's been a while since I have written anything for the website, but what can I say? Life has a funny way of getting in the way, on top of other issues that prevented me from taking the time to finish the other series. I wanted to have this story out by Halloween, but like I said life has a way of ruining even the best laid plans.

This story has no sex, however it deals with themes of betrayal and infidelity. I decided to write this as a letter from one person to another, and while this letter shows the end of their life story, I plan to use a lot of what was laid out in this chapter as a foundation for a supernatural series. For long time readers, I am still working on the next phase of the Life of D series, but what I had come up with seemed too farfetched so I have started over.

For the time being, I hope you enjoy this little chapter. Like always, favorite this story, comment, and share with your friends.

Much love,

aka_Mike

*****

My dearest friend;

These are the last words that I will ever put to paper, the last words that my mind will craft. I have passed on all my teachings to those few disciples that were brazen enough to ask for my instruction. Each of them, in their own accord, has reached beyond the level of wisdom that I have attained during my days. They already are far more powerful than I could ever hope to have become in my short days on this earth. They each have sworn their oaths in fragrant blood to pass on my teachings to their own disciples, but more importantly to maintain the secrecy of their identities. I am sure that this last statement will surprise you, more because of the significance of it rather than the action itself.

I know it has been many years since that day, but each detail is easy to recapture by merely closing my eyes. Each detail has been carved into my eyes, masterfully placed there by artistic hands into a canvass that cannot be destroyed. I wonder, Baltazar, if you too remember that day as vividly as I do? I can still recite the incantation that opened those awful doors, sometimes I find myself repeating it over, and over again in my sleep.

There are times when even in my waking hours, I can see those doors opening slowly, I can feel the warm and putrid air strike me in the face as it rushed out of that all but forgotten doorway. I sometimes wonder how I managed to ignore the first signs of your cowardice; I wonder if I ignored them on purpose, or if there was some unseen reason that made me not recognize it. But still we walked in together to face the legends and terrors that were written in that dead language by people long forgotten by history.

I can still smell those candles that led into the main room, the ones made from human decay and held together with children's hair. Your scientific mind immediately recognized the oddity of lit candles in what was supposed to be a lifeless, barren chamber. I was mesmerized by the ancient façade within the chamber; the frescos in the walls told the story of the people that had hidden the secrets that our young and eager minds sought to reveal.

My eyes devoured the scenery being displayed throughout the walls, the images spoke to me in some unheard language. In seconds, I learned the last minutes of a civilization that had brought about their own destruction centuries prior. I tried to get you to look at the same pictures so that you too could share in the fascinating story of a people's self-destruction, but once again your scientific mind was focused on other details.

In the center of the large rounded room was an altar, your eyes were immediately drawn to the number of skeletons littered about the room. The pearly color of their bones was a huge contrast to the rotten remains that rested on the ground beneath them. You immediately analyzed the position of their bodies, they were all surrounding the podium at the center of the room.

"They died in this room," you said while taking careful steps around the grotesque scene before us, "one by one, they patiently waited for death to take them." As you finished your inspection, your eyes finally looked at the large book resting on the podium. "How the bodies are positioned, it is almost as if they died on their feet while looking at that," you pointed at the book while trying to hide the shake in your body. But once again, I ignored it.

I waited for what felt like an eternity for you to take the first steps toward that book, however your feet stayed glued to the floor beneath you. You didn't dare to look at me as I gingerly walked around the remains; you looked away as I neared the book. I ignored the signs even then, my own mind was captivated by the history within the place. I wanted to know what was in that book, I needed to know what secrets it held.

"Don't..." the fear was evident as you said that single word as my hands touched the book, the look in your eyes was heartbreaking. That brilliant scientist was no longer there, instead who I saw staring back at me was a frightened little boy who is being put to bed with the lights off for the first time. We had gone so far, Baltazar, it seemed unnatural to stop. Carefully, I lifted the book from the pedestal and your eyes widened with renewed horror. For a second it looked like you would flee, but you remained in place. Was it fear that kept you locked in place? Or was it the morbid curiosity that had initially fed your desire to follow me on that journey?

I am dispirited at knowing that I will never hear your answers, despite all our years working together. Do you regret it, Baltazar? Not just that night, but everything else? Once you got over your fears I could see that scientific mind returning as I devoured page after page within that archaic book. You were a friend then, constantly worrying about the long hours I spent painfully translating the scribbles into a more common tongue. More than once, you forced me to stop so that I may rest for an hour or two or so that I could eat, but sleep seldom found me during those frantic days. Is that when it began, that long ago?

You were there when I first saw her: Esmeralda. She had proven herself a valuable lab assistant for you during your experiments, my constant visits to you brought us closer. As a friend, you welcomed our relationship, we were the two closest people to you in the world, and our union made sense to you. Even during those maddening days where I poured myself into the arduous task of translating such a dead document, she stood by me. I understand that as I was pulled into that task, she would be neglected, but I should have been able to trust you both. You aren't to bear the entire fault in that situation, of course she bears her own share.

Is that the irony of it? I made her mine while she was your assistant, and you took her from me when she was mine? By the time I had finished the translations, you and her had become blatant with your disrespect. The touches, the shared secret laughs, the sudden movements whenever I entered a room, it became too much. You were my oldest friend, and you should have known how I would have reacted to the situation. Did I not follow your script?

It didn't take long for me to pack the few belongings that I wished to keep, I left behind anything that smelled of her. Any gifts that I may have received from either of you was left behind as well, I wanted nothing to remind me of that part of my life. The last thing I needed to discard would be the hardest because of the emotional bond I had developed with that simple object. My wedding ring had made an almost permanent dent in my finger, the tan lines would banish a lot sooner than that dent. Since the day Esmeralda and I had wed, that ring had remained on my finger.

You often commented on that during our excursions, when we first found the documents that led us to the book you told me to remove it. You were afraid that I would damage my ring, looking back on that comment I can't help but laugh bitterly at the situation. I only wish that you could've respected my marriage as much as you respected my wedding ring on that occasion. The ring rested atop the kitchen table as I walked out of that house for the very last time.

I traveled for years as I followed the instructions that I had managed to translate from that book. My work became my only companion, except for the warm bodies that would share their beds with a lonely traveler. I satiated many desires during those times, I was for all intents and purposes a widower. Each journey brought about wisdom and understanding over events that your mind would have found fascinating, indeed there were times that I shouted in joy for you to rush to my side and witness the latest find. Those were the worst times, when the loneliness weight the most, and where I missed your companionship. Thankfully, those were fleeting moments that left little scar tissue on my heart.

Your betrayal cut deep; you took everything that I had held dear in my life. Esmeralda became yours under my nose, while I was consumed with my work. When I left, I abandoned everyone that I had called a friend or acquaintance, I left the best parts of myself in that house. But it wasn't enough for you. You wanted to take more from me, you hoped to take everything that I had built on my own over the long years I spent stumbling in the dark.

I had changed much over the long years, most of my philosophies had been shaped anew through the enlightenment I had received from the Ancient Ones. Little by little I added more of those strange philosophies and beliefs into my own, in hopes that it would be able to fill the emptiness within me. For a time, the knowledge and wisdom did fill in those gaps, and as I traveled throughout the land I encountered many people that sought the learning I had received.

I had started a small gathering of people that listened to my words; through them I found peace that I had not felt in a long time. I shared the more philosophical pages eagerly, but the more sinister lessons I kept to myself. There was a small pang of regret as I read those lessons: the alchemy would have peaked your interests greatly, while the botany would have opened new horizons for your experiments. Cautiously, I began to gather the necessary ingredients for some of the easier concoctions, I recited the invocations in the original tongue and was taken aback with the results.

With each successful invocation, I became emboldened to try more complex ones. My eyes witnessed things that naturally should be impossible to occur. I made fire by mixing certain powders together, I created smoke from nothing, and forced water out of thin air. My followers saw these small miracles, some were amazed while others were frightened to the point of fleeing. Those that stayed behind asked to learn these skills, however I declined to teach them at that time; I heeded the warnings that I had found within the book and took no disciples until I felt ready.

That's when you found me, at the time when I had the most uncertainty. I had continued to master the many invocations within the book itself, and I had been debating whether I was ready for the more sinister incantations that I had not dared to translate. As I had started one of my gatherings, I saw Esmeralda first. She was still the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen, time seemed to agree with me and left her completely untouched. You, I could hardly recognize you, time had been justly cruel to you.

As my followers vacated the building, you tried to approach me with open arms. The shift in the air around me quickly convinced you that it was a bad idea to try to touch me. Esmeralda immediately moved between us, like a good mate she sought to protect you. Both of you plead with me to abandon my path, that there was place in your home for me despite all these years. She spoke to me in gentle tones while slowly moving towards me, she saw threat in me and was trying to defuse the situation the only way she knew.

"Do not touch me," I pleaded with her as she stretched out her arm, she froze mere inches away from touching my chest. "I don't wish to see how your life has shaped over the years."

"What are you talking about?" There was real concern in her voice, tears accumulated in her big brown eyes. She withdrew her hand and placed it by her chin, the perfect picture of confusion.

"If you touch me," I replied, "I will be able to see all your memories, feelings, and thoughts. Everything that you have experienced in your life, these past years, even those things that you hope will stay locked away deep in your mind. All of those things, they would become part of me and it is something that I do not want to have."

"We heard stories about a man that could do unbelievable things, miracles. He talked about a long dead civilization that discovered strange things," you said, "and he carried a strange book with him at all times."

"I knew it was you," Esmeralda said between soft sobs.

"You figured it out," you said, "everything that book said turned out to be real?"

"Why are you here?" I asked both of you, I had thought that the wound had scarred over but your visit that day had torn open the small scabs that had just began to form over it. It was still too fresh a cut to ignore, had you come alone that conversation would have been very different. Perhaps I would have been able to keep the façade that I had built about me, or perhaps I would have been more cordial. But you had chosen to bring Esmeralda with you, and since the first time that I laid eyes on her, her effect on me would always be the same: I became reckless.

"We've come to bring you home," Esmeralda replied, never had such a small amount of words caused so much pain to another human being. I saw the look in your eyes as she finished speaking, that same look you had when I picked up the book inside that deteriorating building almost a lifetime ago.

"Home?" I could feel the wave of anger rising even today, merely remembering that exchange continues to bring out this emotional response. There were times when I used that memory to fuel myself as I faced future enemies, there is a connection between emotional response and the magnitude of the incantations. How I managed to not strike you both down at that moment will always be a mystery to me.

"I have no home now," my steady breathing helped cool the inner beast that was threatening to escape.

"That was your choice," I remember your scorn, that attitude that leaked out of every syllable you spoke. There was a malice there that I had seen before, many years before. Do you remember Castro? I remember him fondly, he had always been a good friend to us. When we decided to increase our own studies, Castro came along. What did you call him?

"Our ground wire," you said, "he will be the one to keep us centered and balanced in case we ever increase our doctrines to God-like proportions." He surely did keep us grounded, he was a free spirit, careless about the ways of the world. Quite a lot of the responsibilities of the house had fallen on our shoulders; while I found little concern in that arrangement, it eat away at your very soul. Each laughable excuse that Castro provided for his lack of funds brought me an infinite amount of laughter and joy. Yet you grew weary of his tomfoolery, and one day you drew a line.

"It was your choice to spend all of your money on stupid, childish toys," I remember hearing you scream one bright Sunday morning. I imagined that Castro had been late with his portion of the rent, and as always, I had both mine and his share of the costs ready. "But again, Nicholas is probably going to bail you out. I am sick of it," your voice had the roar of demons, or what I thoughts demons sounded like back in those youthful days. "All you do is hold him back, if he devoted half the time that he devotes to keep bailing you out, Nicholas could be a genius in his own field."

I stood frozen outside the door, desperately trying to hear anything other than your damnations for what felt like hours. I heard a pitiful voice answer your charges, but the house itself kept those words a secret from me. "What kind of friend are you?" You continued to berate him before I finally managed to open the door, I had regained my courage a little too late. Castro already had his meager belongings packed in two small bags that looked more like pillow cases than luggage. He was completely broken as he kneeled in front of you, I looked but could not find the puddle of tears that he surely had shed before I arrived. He wouldn't meet my eyes even as I walked directly in front of him.

"Castro?" I tried to help him up but he weakly slapped my hand away. Without a word, he stood, grabbed his bags, and walked out of our lives. I spent years trying to find him, refocused my efforts once I too had left that house, but it was as if the earth had swallowed him whole. I understood your reasoning then, there was flawless logic in your retort. But the cruelty, the venom, the malice, those I couldn't understand. It would be many years before I could.

"My choice?" My hands trembled, both with anger and desperation; I remember thinking to myself that this must be how a man who is dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean feels, just before he takes that initial dooming taste of the promised relief around him. Years had passed, but in that precise moment, I finally understood. "That is a choice you give an animal, a beast," I remember clenching my fists furiously, the beast gnawing at my chest demanding to be let out. Esmeralda's eyes reflected the horror you two must have felt at that instant, where once a man had stood, now there was a demon coated with fire in his place.

"Nicholas..." She tried to speak despite the terror she was feeling. She always had a special way of saying my name, her accent emphasized the wrong syllable. I used to find it endearing, it would melt my heart even in the coldest winter nights, and it was having the same effect even then. When I dared to look at her again, I glanced at the small chain that was hanging from her neck. The beast inside immediately stopped its efforts at escape.

With an unseen hand that I had learned to control in the early days of my studies, I reached out and gently removed the chain from around her neck. Your eyes once again showed that terrible fear I had come to expect from you in such a short amount of time. This time the weight of it was far too much for you; as it neared my terrestrial hands, your legs lost all strength and crumbled onto the floor.

The chain itself was simple, yet elegant. Each link in the chain had carefully been created and linked by expert hands, the craftmanship was superb; but it was the object attached to the chain that drew my attention. I immediately recognized it, one cannot wear a piece of jewelry for many years without intimately knowing each superficial imperfection. "I had hoped that I would never lay eyes on this again, but despite my supplications... it has found a way." As it continued to float before me, I thought about all the memories that small gold circle held; for a fleeting second I thought about reaching out for it and putting it on. Esmeralda could always see into my thoughts, even then.

"You left that behind," Esmeralda softly said, "you left behind everything that was us."

"It isn't mine," I told her, "for some time, even while I still wore it." The ring slowly spun in the air as it continued to hang, I continued to stare at it before her voice shook me from those darkening thoughts.

"Its always been yours," she said, "why would you leave it behind? Why would you leave me behind?" My silence must have emboldened her, "please, put it on and come back to me."

"My friend," I turned to look at you, "the answer to your question should be more than obvious by now. I have learned many of the Ancient Ones' secrets, and yet many more still remain."