Interlude 3

Day 266:

The Valley of Hidden Matters was inaccessible on three sides, surrounded by the most rugged mountains in the world. The only entry was a tiny sliver of beach at one end, where massive wind-tossed waves crashed into the stepping stones which led inward. Two streams flowed down the Valley, one hidden, of course. They brought ice melt to the grass and shrubs dotting the green valley floor.

Only a single tree towered over the lesser flora carpeting the Valley. Had anyone from Earth seen it, they would’ve instantly called the plant an ‘oak’; conveniently ignoring the maple-like silver leaves which adorned its branches. The knots and protrusions along its trunk seemed arranged to resemble someone’s face. A face which bore greater resemblance to something reptilian than humanoid.

That face looked out onto the sea, from a spot near the opposite end of the Valley. The branches above stretched in that direction also, providing a canopy over the rectangular stone edifice between the face and where the non-hidden stream cut through the Valley floor.

Animals dotted the lush landscape. Small scavengers and large herbivores were the most numerous, although there were others. A few predators, and winged lizards made the Valley their home too, but those were hidden. No sentient being had set foot in this Valley for millennia. The boats which had once floated on the treacherous waters of the great Unending Seas were all sunk, or wrecked onto the rocky shores of the mountain range which surrounded the Valley, and the Challenge World’s only continent.

Two pits that might be eyes glowed suddenly with golden light. They illuminated the smooth surface of the stone ‘altar’ for a few moments before the branches above began swaying. No wind moved them, and the aerial creatures who made that place their home took flight in alarm. But the tree paid them no attention, shaking more and more vigorously in the still, early-morning air. Silver-veined leaves, now fringed with gold rained down upon the grass and rock below.

There was a sudden ‘crack’ and the largest branch, the one directly above the leaf-coated altar split in two down its length. As the wood separated, so did the air between. A rent in that world’s fabric of reality appeared, and the space beyond would have driven anyone seeing it mad instantly, had they been there.

Instead, a body fell out. It crashed heavily into the stone surface below. One thin layer of leaves was not enough to soften a landing that hard. A groan escaped the body’s lips, and the tree’s face might have smiled. The branch began knitting itself back together, along with the boundary between realities that it had torn asunder.

As the last inches of the tear closed, the body rolled off of its side onto its back. Several more groans issued from its lips before the person opened their eyes. Dark, calculating orbs cast all around, evaluating the environment. It brushed long hair out of a red-skinned face. As the hand did so, fingers slid across protrusions sticking up from its forehead. Horns, unmistakably, decent-sized horns.

The tail that slithered out from under long, slender legs to lash the air impatiently confirmed that this was an Infernal. A full-blooded Demon, with the bat-like wings, ruthless disposition and attractive appearance common to the highest strata of Infernal society.

The Infernal rolled back to one side, throwing dainty feet onto the ground beside the altar. An unconscious shuffle of the Infernal’s thighs turned into direct groping of an unclothed groin. Said groping expanded to the other hand, this one also bearing sharp talons in place of lesser nails, which cupped the two full breasts resting perkily atop her naked chest. A low, angry growl built in her throat.

Female Infernals of the ruling caste were called Belaphim. Though she knew the term Belaphim, she was absolutely certain that wasn’t supposed to be her Race. In fact, memories swirled, mostly unclear but carrying enough information to be certain she was supposed to be male! She couldn’t remember her name, but as she stood up, her body’s dimensions and carriage felt all wrong.

“Ugh, what happened to me?” She muttered, rubbing and blinking her eyes.

“You have been reborn.” A voice boomed from the nearby tree.

“Reborn?” She shook her head in confusion. “As a Demon? What have I done to deserve such a fate?”

There was a lot she couldn’t remember. Specifics about her—no, himself and his past life were at the top of that list. But s/he was pretty sure s/he hadn’t been a full-on Demon before!

“Nothing.” The tree voice answered. “This is what you would have been, had your father sired you by another Demon, instead of by one of his slaves. As terrible as your upbringing was, had you carried this form, the perversions visited upon you by your father would have twisted your soul into one just as sadistic as his own.”

“I don’t care!” S/he snarled. “I hate it! Demons are evil, and should be destroyed!”

A scan around the still-shaded Valley showed several places where s/he could fall to her death. Any of them would do. S/he had no intention of living as a Demon!

“Before you take hasty action,” the tree voice cautioned, “you may wish to know that this form is only a useful beginning. A waystation on your Path. A short one, to be precise.”

The voice grated on her nerves. Maybe s/he could destroy it before killing herself.

“The emotions roiling within you are a product of your new body’s chemistry and nature.” The tree voice explained, soothingly. “Please calm your mind, and hear what lies in store for you.”

The tree was entirely correct, yet doing so was the hardest thing s/he’d ever done. S/he wanted to be angry. Wanted to hate, to destroy, to ruin. Those things felt good! Her blood pounded in her temples, pushing a sense of power from her malice. Releasing that took every ounce of her willpower.

S/he focused on her breathing first. In and out. In and out. Repeat, for several long minutes. Her body fought against it, desire pushing to leap up and score her claws across that hated tree’s trunk. So, she closed her eyes and pulled her attention inward. S/he’d learned how to find the parts of her where power lies. Power? Oh, there it is! But when she reached for it, nothing happened. There was no heady flow as it responded to her mental commands.

That was making her angry all over again. With effort, she wrenched her mind back on track. Breathe. Calm, even breaths. S/he was the master of herself, not her body. S/he was ... a Mage! Four of the Nine Challenges had fallen to her effort. If s/he could do those, s/he could very well get her hormonally unbalanced body under control.

The white-coated mountain peaks high above were glowing orange in the dawning sunlight before s/he was calm enough to address the tree without animosity.

“What was it you were saying before?” S/he asked.

“This form you bear is a full-blooded Infernal Belaphim.” The tree said, bark-mouth moving in sync with the sound. “You were only half-Infernal before, but this will make your coming transformation easier.”

“Why ... did you change me?” S/he wondered.

Not angrily. Not. Angrily! S/he told herself.

“Your old body died.” The tree said, not unkindly. “But a Paladin, who seeks Redemption offered to exchange his own progress for you to live on.”

“Ariel.” S/he remembered.

The tree branches bent downward in what s/he took to be a small bow. “His sacrifice was acceptable to me, but you must agree to heed Redemption’s Call for us to proceed.”

“What does that mean?” S/he wanted to know. “What are you asking me to do?”

“Long ago, there was a Race called the Hosts of Glory on High, who experienced a schism.” The tree began. “One so great that the civil war which resulted, lasted for a thousand years before a side prevailed. The losing side made a critical error in their use of an ancient and immense power during the conflict. For that, they paid with a devastating Fall from Grace. But in the moments before the last remaining unFallen died, I offered a Bargain to their commander. If one of those Fallen ever met certain requirements I placed, I would permit them to forge a Path of Redemption. A Path which they could eventually share with other Fallen.

“It is a hard Path.” The tree warned. “But does lead to a higher order of being, if tread to a proper conclusion. The Infernal Race is a Fallen one also. Their Fall is the result of a great trick; one engineered by a single member of that civil war’s victorious faction. The Elohim made a false Bargain, and stole power from those who became the Infernal Race. This theft has twisted and mutated the Infernal nature into one of dark desires.

“But all Bargains must contain an exchange,” the tree lectured, “no matter how one-sided they appear to be. Each Infernal contains a kernel of the original high-born Race. It is this piece which the Elohim uses to steal each new Infernal generation’s power as well. Even the half-breed Cambion you once were carried this seed. Because of that connection, you are also eligible for the Path my Paladin treads. By accepting responsibility for your state, you too may walk that Path. To set your feet onto it, I require a confession and a vow. This is something you must agree to, without knowing more. The Path’s requirements and goals are hidden from those traversing it. And are only revealed when the appropriate circumstances arise. Will you accept Redemption’s Call, Child of Suffering?”

S/he hated her Infernal nature. A chance to change that? To become something greater? Better? S/he would do nearly anything for the opportunity. Though s/he couldn’t remember Ariel with any specificity, the Paladin must have seen something within her worth sharing his Path for. S/he felt ... grateful for that, and saw no reason to spurn the gift.

“I will.” S/he allowed. “What must I do?”

“Confess,” the tree replied gently, “that your Race is born broken. That your nature is perverted, but you desire to rise above it.”

S/he moved nearer and went to her knees on the leaf-covered ground.

“I feel the truth of what you say.” She acknowledged. “My heart seeks destruction and domination without regard for others. These desires separate me from others; making friendship nearly impossible. I ... partly remember having good friends. People who lifted me up. People who saw my potential to be more. I understand now, why the hated Infernals cannot see the beauty and peace which arises from compassion and empathy. Their minds are turned to evil, selfish pursuits instead. But I—I wish to be better. To give others what my friends gave to me. I will take whatever vow you deem appropriate, so that I can experience Redemption also.”

“I am pleased.” The tree approved. “Vow that you shall seek to lift up others. To place yourself behind their needs. To obey whatever commands I give you; complete any Tasks. To always seek improvement for yourself. To stand between the tyrant and those who cannot resist subjugation. Vow all of this.”

“I vow ... to seek to uplift others.” S/he stammered. “I will place their needs before my own. I will search for ways to become better. Anything you command, any Task you assign I will do. I will protect those who cannot protect themselves, from those who would ... subjugate them. All of this, I vow.”

“I am pleased.” The tree repeated. “Now stand, so that you may hear your first step.”

S/he climbed to her feet. The trunk’s rough exterior seemed to be smiling, so she risked a return smile.

“You have accepted Redemption’s Call.” The tree intoned. “In a moment, when I permit the Call to go out, a remnant of that ancient commander will appear. He will not be pleased to see you. To his eyes, you are a Child of the Elohim, an enemy that he spent his entire life resisting. I think he will speak harshly to and about you. Possibly denigrate you and your entire Race. He will goad you, trying to motivate you to rescind your acceptance. Anything to avoid bestowing his Race’s ancient gifts upon you.”

“You’re warning me not to let him.” S/he understood.

The tree clarified its instruction. “I am warning you to remain silent, unless I say you may answer, or I ask you myself. Can you do this?”

“I swore to obey.” S/he reminded him (and herself). “I will do this, yes.”

“Very well,” a branch dipped to indicate the stone altar, “lie down and remain silent until I direct you.”

S/he did, grateful for the thin layer of cushioning leaves. S/he composed herself, hands folded on her stomach, and focused on regulating her breathing. S/he even closed her eyes to stay centered.

“Redemption’s Call is heard.” The voice boomed across the Valley. “Open the Door to the Place not of this world, and the Time when a Bargain was struck.”

Closed eyes didn’t help though. Blinding light leaked through her lids. Luckily, it quickly faded to a much dimmer reddish glow.

“Zhulang, Light in Darkness, and Master of the Place Between Uncountable Worlds,” a new voice called out, the side opposite the tree, “I, Sammeal, last Commander of the Seraphim Host, offer my own life’s blood along with that of my brothers and sisters, and release what remaining power our entire race retains to seal our Agreement. Its Terms are as I describe. Should one of the Debased do each of the following: three times offer their life in place of another from a different Race, ripen a vessel’s form to its most perfect incarnation, and earn the smallest taste of your power over life and death through mighty deeds, then will our possible Redemption begin. We offer the Debased One who does so to you as a servant, and in return you shall use your power to initiate our rebirth through them. Should you find the servant acceptable, their blood shall serve as the conduit by which others of the Debased might redeem themselves also, and tread a new path out of the darkness.”