Chapter 51: The Morning Star

Edited by Master Ken

And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood.
–Revelations 6:12-13

Tuesday, August 24th, 1995 – Lucifer – The Abyss

I stared at Mark Glassner's string, following his unremarkable life into the future. He was the one. I could feel it. He was lonely, desperate, and just selfish enough to be my pawn. If I made a little nudge here on May 30th, 2013, whispering into his dream, it would send his path to the library, and there he would find a book that contained one of my many summoning spells.

I watched my projection of the future change. Mark's string turned red; he would make his Pact a week after obsessing over the book. Strings rapidly started to rearrange after that date. I examined the probable changes. He meets his soulmate three weeks earlier, and, to my surprise, she makes her own Pact. How very interesting. Then a priestess's string touches Mark and his soulmate, exorcising them. Vexing. Gabriel's priestesses were ever a thorn in my side. But they were losing the war; decade after decade more and more died without passing on their Gift. I pondered how I could influence the world to protect Mark from Sister Louise.

It came to me in a flash of brilliance: Lilith was the solution. I needed her freed—she was the final key to the prison, and Mark needed protection.

I made a few more adjustments, adding Lilith to the my prediction, and examined the result. It looked very promising. I worked for days, weeks, or just minutes—time had no meaning in the Abyss—playing with probabilities until I had the future I needed. Mark would become the Antichrist, leading the world astray, and Lilith would be freed to be killed by Mark. The prison would be open.

I would be free.

Only one thing troubled me. Mary's string will one day intersect with the Mother Superior in Rennes-le-Château, France. Troubling. The Motherhouse possessed a Matmown. I could not predict how Mary would react, or what knowledge she might learn, from that moment on. It made everything that came after uncertain. And if Mark learned how to construct his own Matmown, then things would only grow more uncertain.

I would need a spy.

The strings showed Mark would gather an increasingly large harem of women, all bound to him by the Zimmah ritual. It would be very tricky to insert a spy into his ranks; I would have to armor her against his powers. I would need a child. Someone that can be molded by the right soul, and guided right into his path. I searched and searched, but none of the women that intersected Mark's life worked. Possession was always difficult to achieve under the best of circumstances. I kept moving farther back, patiently exploring scenario after scenario.

After a century or an hour of searching, I found her. An unborn fetus growing like a parasite in Serena Hertz's womb. The mother was dying, and neither she nor the child would survive. I entered her dream, and nudged her. I knew just the summoning for her to use. I waited for her to wake, for the seed I planted in her mind to sprout and bear me fruit.

"Please," I heard her pray across the Veil. "I am desperate. Send to me an Angel of Light."

The Veil parted, and I manifested in my true form before the sickly woman, blazing like a glorious star—the most beautiful and majestic being in all creation. Far more worthy of ruling the Earth than the disgusting sacks of flesh that crawled about on it like lice in the mange of a dog.

Friday, October 13th, 1995 – Jezebel – The Abyss

The dogs tore at my body.

The mangy hounds always feasted upon me. My flesh eternally regenerated; my punishment for worshiping Asherah and seducing an entire kingdom into apostasy. Thousands of years of unceasing torment while my Goddess watched over me with delight. My punishment was simple—I experienced my death played out over and over—the fall from the window and the pack of dogs that tore at my flesh. Sometimes she would take the dogs away, let me think my torment was over, bathe my wounds, and bring me to dine at her table—and then I would hear their awful baying.

Until the day Lucifer came for me, driving the dogs away with his flail of light; his hand was soft as silk as he caressed my face. His face had been handsome, trusting—there was love in his eyes. I had almost forgotten about such gentle emotions.

"You belong to me, Jezebel" he had whispered. "You'll never be tormented again."

I shouldn't have believed him, not with all the tricks my Goddess had played on me over the eons—but I wanted to. I let hope blossom in me as he helped me to my feet. Around us, the dogs circled warily, staying just out of the nimbus of Lucifer's light.

"Why?" I finally asked, his light washing away the pain.

"Because I love you." My heart beat faster. I kept trying to remind myself that he was a demon, not to be trusted. But my heart had ever lusted after power, and no being was more powerful in the Abyss than the Morning Star. "I have a task for you. If you succeed, you shall be my queen, and rule not only the Abyss, but all of Creation at my side."

"What task?" I asked.

"Watch, guide, wait," he said, touching my forehead.

And then I was born, a shadow hidden in the mind of an infant—Alison. Lucifer had made a deal with the mother in the guise of an angel. Her body had been dying and would not have lived long enough to give birth to her daughter, so she made a deal with Lucifer. He saved the unborn daughter's life, and the mother foolishly pledged Alison's service to Lucifer thinking he was an angel sent by the Creator. The mother died during childbirth and, thanks to her pledge, the child was open to my possession.

The early years were almost a new kind of torment. All Alison could do was cry, eat, and shit, and I was trapped in her body, helpless. But she grew, and I was able to experience this new, modern world from the curious eyes of a child; forever trapped in a corner of her mind, a prisoner that could only watch and guide and wait. For now.

As she grew older, I would amuse myself with whispered suggestions to Alison. "Why don't you steal Lisa's cookie, no-one is watching." Then I would delight as she pouted in the corner when she was caught. I became her own personal devil, whispering in her ear just like the ones in the cartoons Alison loved to watch. Only there wasn't an angel whispering advice to counter mine.

As she aged, I found new experiences to guide her towards. Her body began to change, breasts budding, hips widening, and new desires awakening between her legs. I guided her choice of clothing, steering her towards more and more revealing outfits; I suggested how to wear her make-up, to appear older and wanton. I pointed out the older boys, and put depraved fantasies in her head about what she could do with them.

She was fourteen when she lost her virginity in the back of High School Senior's car. My whispers had made her so horny she was begging to be fucked, and she came as his cock shoved roughly into her cunt and pierced her maidenhead. The Senior told all his friends about the Freshman slut that put out on the first date, and she was passed around amongst them—used and discarded.

"That's what men want you for," I whispered to her as she cried into her bed when she learned the Senior boy didn't love her. "You're a slut! A wanton, dirty girl that needs a hard cock in her. Embrace it; you'll be happier."

Alison threw herself into her new lifestyle like a fisherman casting his net into the sea, sweeping up new experiences. She immersed herself in all the filth she could. I laughed as she had 'Cum on in' tattooed above her cunt, then let the tattoo artist cum in her a lot. To get her nipples pierced, she sucked her first pussy, and found out just how much she loved the taste. She'd fuck anyone. She was a slut; ready to be dominated by the first man with balls that came along.

Just like Lucifer wanted.

"You ever wanted to be a sex slave?" Mark Glassner had asked Alison as he fucked the Hot Topic salesgirl, his cock dirty from fucking Alison's ass.

This was Alison's dream come true. She had cum so hard when he had fucked her ass, and I had conditioned the girl to crave more depravity. "Oh, yes," she had panted. "I love it when a guy takes charge."

All my whispers, all the tedium I had endured, had finally paid off; I maneuvered the little slut right into the clutches of Mark Glassner. And now it was time to watch, to report on Mark to Lucifer in Alison's dreams. All of Mark's secrets, all of their plotting in the Matmown, revealed to my bridegroom.

And after nineteen years stuck in this insipid girl's mind, it was time to act. Unlike Alison, I had been insulated from Mark's control, wrapped in the protection of the stupid cunt's soul, a hidden dagger ready to strike at my bridegroom's command.

I stepped forward, shoving Alison back into the shadows of her own mind, making her as helpless as I had been. The ritual Alison had been chanting was disrupted; the spell backfired. The diamond on Mary's rod exploded into dust, and my bridegroom stood triumphant before Mark, glowing with the light of the sun.

"The fools trusted me, my bridegroom," I breathed, throwing the brass rod to the ground. "Just like you said he would. I have completed my final task and await my reward."

The look of shock of Mark Glassner's face was worth all the hard work and suffering. All of his careful plans were ruined by me. Lucifer had won, and I would rule the world at his side. Power would be mine again! And this time no righteous prophet would cause my downfall!

"And you shall be rewarded, my bride," Lucifer promised.

Tuesday, November 18th, 2014 – Alison de la Fuentes – Bradley Park

Lucifer stood before Master, just moments away from being trapped. I began reciting the Hebrew spell for the seventh and final time, the words flowing easily after months of practice. "Aney laged helel ben shakar 'em penyenh zeh. Kevhev—"

Something seized control of my body, throwing me back into my own mind. The diamond on Mary's rod exploded. What was going on? My body moved without my control, and terrible words issued from my mouth: "The fools trusted me, my bridegroom. Just like you said he would. I have completed my final task and await my reward."

This can't be happening! I would never betray Master! What was going on? What sort of nightmare was this? I needed to speak the words of the ritual, I needed to help Mistress trap Lucifer! They were counting on me!

I tried to move my lips, but I was rebuffed by the soul controlling me. No! I screamed in the silence of my mind. This was my body! I again tried to seize control. Whatever foul thing that possessed me struck my soul. I reeled back, deeper into the shadows of my mind. No, no, no!

Yes, yes, yes, Alison! It is my turn, you stupid slut! the soul that possessed me hissed. Shock passed through me; I recognized that voice. It was my subconscious; the whispered advice that had guided my entire life. This is my body now. You'll get to spend the rest of eternity shrieking in the corner of your own mind, helpless to do anything.

Who are you? I demanded of the voice.

Jezebel. Queen of Israel and bride of Lucifer.

Light flashed as Master and Lucifer fought. The Devil flailed at Mark with straps of light, smashing into my Master's golden armor, and sending him reeling in a burst of rainbow colors. "You cannot defeat me, Mark!" Lucifer boasted. "I led the Hosts of Heaven against Michael himself, and dueled the greatest fighter in Creation. And you think I will be bested by a puny, disgusting insect like you?"

Master parried the flail, and was driven back by the ferocity of Lucifer's attack. Fire ignited about Mistress's body, then flowed down her form to her outstretched hand creating a ball of red and orange, the air dancing with its heat. The ball hurtled towards Lucifer's back. The Devil spun his flail, knocking the ball to the side. It sailed through the air and struck a tree, igniting it like it had been soaked in gasoline.

Master swung at Lucifer's side, and the Devil let out a blinding flash of light that drove Master back. The soul that controlled me fixated on Mistress. You get to watch as I murder your precious Mistress, taunted Jezebel.

Don't you dare harm my Mistress!

Stop me, little slut.

Jezebel made my arm reach down, and draw my bronze dagger. I fought with her, trying to claw at her soul. She seemed to backhand me, and I reeled back deeper into my mind. My body was forced to advanced on Mistress from behind.

No! Please stop! I cried out.

I lunged at her twisted soul, trying to wrap my arms around her neck and throttle the bitch. Jezebel grabbed my hand, twisted, and pain exploded through my soul. Mistress was throwing another fireball at Lucifer, distracting him from pressing his attack on Master. And she was unaware that my possessed body advanced on her.

"Alison!" Desiree exclaimed. My beautiful wife stepped between us and Mistress. "What's wrong, mi Sirenita?"

"I am not Alison," Jezebel hissed with my voice. "Get out of the way, you stupid whore!"

"No!" Desiree scrabbled for the dagger in Jezebel's hand. "Are you in there, Alison?" she cried out as she wrestled with me.

Yes! I shouted. I fought, I clawed, I bit at Jezebel's soul. This is my body! My life!

Not anymore! Jezebel gloated as she grappled with Desiree, and shoved me back deeper into my mind.

Desiree hooked her leg about mine, pivoting and slamming me hard to the earth. "Give me back my wife!" she bellowed, falling upon us. The wind was knocked out of my body; Jezebel's grasp weakened—I pounced on her.

And was rebuffed again.

Her will was too strong, her soul too ancient. How could I fight against such strength? I was only nineteen. I was powerless, weak. Jezebel's will was like steel wires warped around my limbs. I was a puppet, and she was forcing me to kill my wife.

Desiree grappled with my enslaved body, and we rolled around on the soft grass. Jezebel forced me to scratch, bite, and punch my beautiful wife. Lights flashed across the field as Master and Mistress fought the Devil. Jezebel was winning. I didn't understand; Desiree was stronger than me, a better fighter than me. Why was she losing?

Then I saw my wife's eyes. She doesn't want to hurt me—she was holding back.

Jezebel forced me to pin my wife, and stabbed the bronze dagger at Desiree's naked throat. My wife caught the knife, halting it just short of penetrating her flesh. She strained against my body, but I was on top, and Jezebel had my entire weight pressing down on the blade. I struggled harder to take control of my body, but the bitch wouldn't relent. Every second I failed to reclaim my body, the bronze blade crept closer to my wife's nut-brown throat.

Despair filled me. I just wasn't strong enough. I was going to be forced to kill my wife.

"Alison, please!" Desiree screamed. "My love, mi Sirenita, I know you're in there! Fight! I believe in you!"

Bronze pricked her neck, a drop of blood beading red.

"Fight, Alison!"

How could I fight? She was stronger than me. This was like one of those sci-fi shows where the enemy invades the hero's mind. But the hero always realized that it was their own mind, taking control of what was happening. Wait, could that work? Could I control things in here? This was my own mind, not hers.