Black Willow Sanctuary
By Terry Sindar [Author Info]
There is a splendid world known as Shaharasai, a place composed of the dark dreams and imagination of many beings. These majikal creatures are drawn together by their similar desires. These passions create divine patterns within their soulfires, that majikal blaze of divinity which burns eternally within all fae, making them what they are. Far below this dream-realm exists a very ancient race of dark elves known as the Demoni.
These somewhat mysterious and complex fae, are part Sri'quale (wyldefae) and part nocturnal feline (femar’qel), able to shift at will into either form. Mostly, however they choose to remain the shadowy, albino darkfae feared by so many.
The Demoni of Shaharasai dwell within a subterranean metropolis named Skyalai, below the darkfire rays of a black sun. It is they who weave the decadent, night songs which are carried upon the blustering winds through unseen gates to certain other worlds. These haunted dreams inspire many slumbering artists of all kinds to create wondrous works of dark beauty. The elder Demoni compose and perform more complex music which channel more omnipotent majik, dealings with creativity on a deeper level.
There was and still is an elder Demoni named Var’qel who at times chose to shift into the form of a black-winged cheetah. Though he was ancient, his appearance was as beautiful as an enchanted forest moments before dawn. Demoni, through age and experience become more exquisite, and wise until the day when they are devoured by their mother Goddess. Varq’el was a child of the Dark Goddess Elspethara, and a virtuoso on the majikal violaratta, a double necked string instrument like a cross between a fiddle, flute and tamboura. Being an elder, his music had the ability to create wondrous works of natural beauty. With other elder fae, Varq’el at times was summoned to help create the divine symphony which accompanies the Great wyverns in world creation.
Var'qel's studies during the past centuries have concerned the mysteries and majik of the black sun. To comprehend these elusive secrets, at sunset each day for thirteen years he walked betwixt tourmaline pillars, supporting an ornate archway which led into one of the many onyx pyramids. He whispered prayers to his patron Goddess while walking the winding stairway, which led into the chamber at the temple’s pinnacle. Thoroughly intoxicated he became by the fragrance of hemba and thujoni incense. The thunderous drumming mingled with the droning sounds of calliopes and hornpipes increased his euphoria, as he joined the sacred circle. Hand in hand they danced ecstatically with other Demoni, whispering chants to a beat which increasing in tempo building to an explosive climax. These evenings ended in orgiastic bliss, as bodies pressed against each other, sharing, passion and erotic juices, writhing in the darkness of the pyramid like promiscuous serpents.
Var’qel, in his deeper meditations, was contacted by a most beguiling sorceress, who whispered hot secrets into his soulfire, causing their flames to become more colorful.. Upon waking from these meditations, only fragments of these visions remained as conscious memories. He believed that it was his Goddess Elspethara that spoke to him. He remembered little else besides the passion within her eyes which shifted from sorrowful to erotically mischievous, as she peeked at him through the thorny branches of a honeylocust tree . After thirteen years of these chaotic and glorious rituals within the pyramid, with the divine aid of the lovely, dark Goddess, he came to understand a few of the greater secrets of the ebony sun.
Varq’el then from knowledge gained within the sacred pyramids, understood that the presence of the black Sun existed in many places besides the nether regions of Shaharasai, in the sky above the haunted city of Skyalai. Within realms adjacent to Shaharasai it may not manifest as a physical luminary, but instead a powerful symbol recognized by those who truly believe in dark, holy majik. These endarkened beings who revere the symbol know it to represent the most arcane passions within the abysmal corridors of reality.
By the whisperings of Elspethara, Varq’el saw that the shadowy rays of the ebony star may spill into the shadows of even the most horrible worlds; known as niaspua, places cloaked in a shroud of misery. These realms are quite wretched due to the majority of the inhabitants and their fear of majik, lack of creativity, and lust for false power. Var’qel wished to fathom the deeper holiness of the darkfire luminary. Only then could, merge soulfires and become one with his beloved Goddess of darkness.
A decision was made by Var'qel. Since misery and despair were not present within Shaharasai, he would need to plunge down into one of the Niaspua worlds. This would be a most horrifying journey for one who knows not of misery in it’s many forms. Yet, it is the way and reason why Demoni, as well as other darkfae, incarnate into more rigid bodies in niaspua worlds. Var’qel did very much wish to discover the essence of despair, so that he may truly know the black sun. It was his hope to evolve from this experience so that at the journeys end, he would enter into and become one with the soulfire of his beloved dark Goddess Elspethara.
To accomplish this he would travel down one of the sacred wellsprings to a dense and somewhat disturbing blue planet called Terha, third in proximity from a golden sun. There are an infinite number of such worlds, all aspects of each other. Varq’el chose one after scattering several rune-sticks, an ancient Demoni method of divination.
His identity and most of his memories within Shaharasai would be lost until he returned,
through one of the dreamgates which could appear in many forms. It was possible also that Var’qel would return to Shaharasai through one of the deathgates which were guarded vigilantly by necromantic sentinels.
This then is the tale of how Var'qel the Demoni came to the world of Terha, where in the city of Selenor he searched for the essence of despair
There was once a small town named Selenor that existed very far away from anywhere else on the continent of Folkontar. A towering black and gray stone wall protected the simple-minded town folk from the dangers of the outer world surrounding the town.
Of course anyone with any sense in the town knew the outer world was a place of terrifying evil and corruption. Only a fool would dare to venture into these untamed and chaotic lands of mystery. The city wall guarded both the security and sanity of the people of Selenor.
To the east of the city there existed a lush, green forest reputed to be haunted by cruel and malicious entities. The inhabitants of Selenor called it "The Spirit Woods". >From the towers and rooftops of the town's highest buildings, the frightened yet curious town folk could see spectral entities hovering above the dark woodlands at night.
These ghastly spirits swirled over the magical forest, appearing like shimmering fireflies and dancing rainbows against the ebon-black sky. Their severe beauty inflicted complete and absolute terror upon the hearts of the Selenorians. The folks of Selenor believing themselves to be quite sagacious knew that anything unexplainable or different was always evil.
The Demoni soulfire of Var’qel traveled down the spiraling astral whirlpool which connected worlds. His spirit was called to flesh, summoned by the longings of a tempestuous woman who dabbled in the arts of majik which she understood not. On one stormy evening she opened her legs to a succubi's seduction and became impregnated.
The dark elven lad was then abandoned as a babe. The frightened woman not at all wishing to raise the demon child, left him in a stinking pile of refuse. His destiny would thus be decided by the guardians of fate, and she could go on with her life having a clear conscience.
Fate did show the babe some mercy, for he was found by a group of ragged beggars who lifted the screaming infant from his crib of trash. Being opportunists, the guttersnipes took care of the child with the hope that they could raise him as a scavenger and thief -- or failing that sell him on the black market as a slave.
The dark elven child was often raped beaten by the lascivious bums, who loved to satiate their sadistic and carnal appetites . At the age of three, the darkfae toddler instinctively began to cast the fae's glamour, at times cloaking himself in invisibility. At first the tiny lad found this ability to be a splendid game. There were times when he would tease the slovenly adults by seeming to appear out of nowhere, while they sat dumbfounded in their drunken stupor. Before long he found this ability to have some other advantages. One stormy evening after a severe beating he managed to escape from his captors by utilizing his glamour, and crawling through a small crack in the city walls. The darkfae child then wandered into the welcoming arms of the Forest.
It was there that he found his true family in the night owls, wolves, and other nocturnal creatures. Var'qel was told his true name by the prevailing spirit of the forest, who seemed to be the female personification of the night woods. She became his mother and fed the child the black milk of enchantment that spurted from her fair bosom.
Var'qel became a sullen and brooding youth with a moody personality and a somewhat disturbed soul. Although born of a human woman, the dark spirit which fertilized her with it’s seed became more apparent in his physical appearance. He grew to be a beautiful, yet ghostly looking child. The darkfae lad was lithe with skin as white as porcelain, and delicate frame. Quite different than the deep set, beady eyes of the Selenorians, Var’qel’s haunted eyes were quite large, with azure, star shaped irises. These shifted at times into a purple blaze when his emotions became more intense than usual. His dove-white tresses flowed down past his waist in thick braids. Though he was shown love by Mother darkness and acceptance from the forest creatures, he remained scarred emotionally by the abuse from his childhood.
The woodland creatures wove him splendid garments out of spider silk, hemp, and mullein leaves.
On his seventh birthday, he was directed by Mother Darkness to a small cavern beneath a waterfall. Betwixt two glowing stalactite he discovered a tarnished chest of some unknown metal. In the shimmering light emanating the agate rock formations he opened the lid, thereupon finding a strange and oddly familiar instrument, as well as a pouch of luminous opals. In this way again, yet for the first time within this incarnation Var’qel acquired a violaratta; and from his ghostly mother he learned the lovely yet ominous darkwood melodies of the forests of Terha.
For several years he played his violaratta fiddle, weaving the dark enchantments taught to him by the nocturnal creatures and Mother Darkness, who became somewhat more elusive as he reached his early teens. By the age of seventeen he had gained much knowledge of the natural majik permeating the wild woods.
One day at the hour of sunset, Var'qel looked around at the lovely, emerald-green woodlands that had become his home. His feral eyes beheld the wildflowers that were illuminated by the fiery orange-red glow of the sun as it sank down over the side of the planet. He looked up and watched with amusement as the black squirrels chased one another in the treetops above. The wind rustling through the spring foliage blew in harmony with songbirds that sang their evening rhapsodies.
"Although I am at peace," spoke Var'qel to himself, "I am lonely rather bored. There is little excitement, and am wishing for companionship. Perhaps I should take a bit of a risk and enter into the city. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet others of my kind behind those stone walls."
His memories of the town of Selenor were very dim and shadowy. He remembered the tall structures, and crowds of people, yet could not capture the image in his mind of what they looked like. It seemed so long ago. Most of what he knew about the walled city was from what was whispered into his ear by Mother Darkness. She disliked Selenor greatly and warned her beloved son of the dangers lurking within it’s stone walls.
"You must have patience, my dear one, for within these majikal woods there is still so very much for you to explore, and there are others for you to meet in time within the shadows of the heartwoods," Darkness whispered to the restless darkfae. " Within the deeper part of these woods there exists gateways to many places, but before you can visit them you must learn more of the majikal ways of the darkwoods." What you seek, may be found on the other side of these gates."
"I believe you, yet I still wish to visit the town and perhaps stay a while. I feel there is something there for me." What Var’qel meant was someone rather than something, yet he did not speak this aloud. For reasons he was uncertain of, he unable to get close to his secretive mother. He felt the need for more intimate contact with somebody like himself, someone who shared his passions, and needs.
As she spoke, her multicolored eyes were seen glowing from behind the Sycamore branches. Var’qel never saw more than her eyes, when she appeared to him in the evening hours. Even when she held him in her amiably, cold embrace he beheld only shadows. Though he felt her dark, loving presence, Var’qel deemed that much about his maternal sentinel was kept concealed. There was sadness in her musical voice as she spoke again. "There is so very much that you have forgotten my dear one, things which you should learn again before venturing out into the pernicious world of Terha." Her eyes shifted into a kaleidoscope of colors as she continued. "There are trials which await you, though I ask you not to visit the town, for the lessons taught there are more difficult than is necessary.
"The town of Selenor in particular is a place of perversity, ignorance, and intolerance. Do not visit there, for
you will only find rejection, prejudice and grief. Besides, there are no others like you to be found there. This I know."
But reacting like most youths, but did not truly open his mind to her words. He remained stubborn and even somewhat rebellious in his intent to visit the town despite her warnings. It is like this quite often in many so many worlds. A parent may warn their children about the dangers of the world, yet these admonishings often become instead a lure to the wild, curious ones; who see precarious situations not as a threat, but rather a challenge. Hearing about the perils of Selenor made its allure stronger than ever. In Var’qel’s eager, mind, the word danger translated to excitement.
Var’qel continued to nod as Mother Darkness whispered her thoughts of Selenor into his heart. The conversation, however remained one-sided, for Var’qel had already made up his mind. I respect your wisdom Mother Darkness, yet I still choose to leave the wondrous forest so that I may visit the city. Perhaps if it is so foul, I may bring some cheer to the place with my fiddling." He felt quite guilty leaving the forest, after all she and the other woodland creatures had done for him. But he was impatient and his heart was set on adventure and discovery. The beguiling and yet shadowy female form slowly faded as their conversation came to a close.
He left the Spirit Woods at dawn's first light, his heart drumming with enthusiasm, dreams of adventure permeating his imagination. After rambling down a winding path leading to the northern edge of the woods, he gazed back only once as he left behind the verdant wilderness which had become his home within the world of Terha.
Though she wept at his departure, his faery Godmother Darkness knew that he had a destiny, and was choosing to go about it the hard way. The mysterious and powerful woman knew much, yet could tell him little. Varq’el had ventured a long way from Shaharasai, and was here to learn of something. Yet, by the very act of incarnating here, he had forgotten what it was or where he came from. Once in the midst of a musical meditation a few pieces of memories concerning Shaharasai glided into his mind. He tried very hard to cling to these shards of memory, yet they were quite slippery and before long he forgot. Then after a while he forgot that he had forgotten. Indeed, sometimes the winding road of fate brings us to stoney paths leading to painful but priceless experience.
Var'qel could not enter into the city through the heavily guarded main entrance. He knew just a little about Selenor from the gossip of some of his swallow, and sparrows. They told him that people were not allowed through. Not without a thorough interrogation that is. Somehow this seemed like a situation that var’qel wished to avoid. After a while of pacing under a cloak of glamour along the wall, he discovered a gap in the northwest corner of the stone wall large enough from him to squirm through. He did not remember that this was the same gap he had escape through so many years ago, when he was trying to get out of the city. He was nervous and did not want to reveal himself too quickly. Mother Darkness had told him that the Selenorians knew not of majik, and feared all that those that were different.
It was early morning. The town was silent with nobody about. He took this time to wander along the winding roads observing the sights and scents of Selenor. Var'qel observed the scenery in awe and wonder. The sight of human-made structures both intrigued and repelled him. Though he has seen them before as a young child, their memories had been locked away in the dusty attic of his mind.
Var’qel spoke to himself while roaming around. "The bizarre habitations and constructions here are kind of weird. They seem unnaturally close together with very little ornamentation. Not at all like the archways created by bowed tree, climbing ivy, and iridescent caverns within the forest."
He made face displaying disgust as he walked pass a rectangular concrete building. "Yuck!" he remarked. The scent here is most definitely gross!. " he said out loud to himself, "There seems to be something most repugnant hovering in this stagnant air."
Var'qel still was able to speak a broken version of the Selenorian language. Though it was so long ago that he babbled it as a small child, a bit of it was still was stored in the bookshelves of his memories. Within the forest he used he used his voice only to sing. He like the other woodland denizens used dreamspeech, a telepathic form of communication. This had been taught to him by Mother Darkness, and told it was a more pure and honest form of communication.
As the morning became early afternoon, many residents of Selenor, left their habitations
Many of the people of Selenor likewise looked upon Var'qel with suspicion, for he appeared odd and misplaced within their quiet town. It was his eyes that disturbed them the most, like saucers of starlight charged with some unspeakable evil. He was garbed in ebony and purple striped leggings, with a sash of gold silk coiled around his scarlet tunic. Braided into his shaggy hair were amethyst beads and green feathers. This was quite outlandish in comparison to the plain conservative attire of the Selenorians. He carried with him only a crimson-dyed, leather case that held his Violaratta fiddle, and a dream pouch for his sacred opals.
Many of the youth looked at him with wonder and curiosity, their minds more open to dreams, not yet made rigid by the rules that governed Selenorian reality. Var'qel gazed upwards and beheld a marvelous cathedral with stone towers and radiant stained glass windows that sparkled in the sunlight. This he beheld with much appreciation. The beauteous architecture inspired the darkfae, causing him to become more confident and bold. He decided that the best way to communicate with his surroundings would be to play the violaratta. Surely music is universal," he thought, something to be understood by all creatures of the world.
He stood upon a white marble monument in the town square and as the curious and somewhat apprehensive Selenorian folk gathered about, he brought forth the violaratta from it’s case. The people gasped in awe at the sight of it, for it was unlike anything they had ever beheld before. The Selenorian people saw a large, double-necked violin with twelve strings pulled tightly across twin fretboards. Varq’el began to warm up a bit, tuning the violaratta. The strings were played with a bow, while his dream majik summoned the wind to whistle through a crystalline flute-like projection. The instrument created sounds reminding one of waterfalls over mountain caverns, and raindrops on a stormy night.
Var'qel then threw back his snow-white locks and began upon play the mystical violaratta. A reel
of decadence sprung from his instrument as his melodies channeled the mysterious essence of
wild and enchanted darkness.
Woodland flowers, songbirds and late evening thunderstorms soared through his rhapsodies as he moved the bow violently against the strings of the violaratta. The melodies were haunted and melancholy like the memories of dark and lovely dreams of forbidden paradise.
As he played, several young maidens fell into a swoon, their faces streaked with tears as they threw themselves down near the monument on which he stood. The children began to dance as his fiddling grew faster. When at last his song was finished, he looked up. The young ones looked as if they had awakened from a sweet dream. The looks upon the faces of the Selenorian adults was much different. In the crowd he beheld faces of the crowd he saw looks of perplexity, confusion, and mostly fear and horror. A stern-faced man adorned in silk and velvet shouted a severe sounding command in their guttural language. Several soldiers armed with spears and maces rushed forward and attacked Var'qel before he had even a chance to set down his instrument.
Varq’el was to stunned to move, not at all prepared for this type of reaction. As they dragged his body over to the whipping post in the town square, he wondered what mistake he had made. Var'qel had thought he was giving to the people of Selenor a gift of magic and love, a reflection of the worlds inner darkness which he thought of as quite beautiful. They, or at least the adults it seemed, felt differently.
"We don't take kindly to sorcery in this town!" exclaimed the stern-faced theocrat who was the obvious leader of the mob. "You have some nerve casting spells on our children and innocent maidens with that instrument of sin. Why you're lucky we don't hang you from the church steeple - that’s what you truly deserve!" Though Var'qel did not understand all of the language that was being spoken, he felt the energy of hatred and violence that the words carried.
"Whip the necromancer, make him bleed!" shouted the many within the mob that had gathered. A large, stone-faced soldier began to whip Var’qel, who was ensnared within a wooden stockade. A sadistic smile of spread across his face as the scarlet blood poured from the wicked gashes and welts on the lad's back. Though his face became more pale than usual, he cried out not even once. Many of the youth and children cried as the beating took place. Several of the young maidens tried to rush forward, yet were held back by the stout soldiers.
When at last it was over, the crowd dragged Var'qel to the southeast corner of the town, where a very ancient and forlorn cemetery existed. Two stout soldiers dragged lifted the lithe body of Var’qel and tossed him over the iron fence. They stern adults laughed, and the young folk cried as he dropped to the ground, rolling over several times before smashing into the side of a stone gravestone, cracking one of his ribs. The burial ground had obviously been neglected for many years. The grave markers were overrun by weeds, and vines had woven over and throughout the stone mausoleums. The necropolis was star shaped and completely surrounded by a dilapidated, iron fence. Many wished to tear down the cemetery and build over it, yet they were too frightened to act upon this, so it was left in it’s decay.
"There you are," shouted the theocrat from the cemetery's gate. "Here you can play your instrument of evil for no living soul ever comes to this desolate location. The ghosts of the damned and the spirits of the malevolent haunt this place.. You should be at home here."
He this time alone subsisting on mushrooms and weeds scavenged within the prison he chose for himself. His pride however remained, for the completely depressed, lonely darkfae would not return to his woodland home a failure.
Though he knew it not, many of the Selenorian youth attempted to visit, yet were caught by their elders and severely punished. Like is often the case with those who are depressed, he remembered not those youthful ones who were enchanted by his music, but only the hatred of the fearful adults. His heart but more importantly, his spirit, was broken. Instead, he found a home within an ancient mausoleum made of agate and marble. Soon Var'qel began to take on the appearance of a walking corpse. His emaciated figure became even more pallid than before, and his purple eyes lost their youthful spark of hope and enthusiasm. Var'qel was devastated by the experience and was unable to, sleep or even play the violaratta for some time.
One evening, during the waning moon, he became inspired by the night calling of a whip-poor-will heard in the distance. Var'qel was reminded of his early years in the Spirit Woods, and took out his violaratta to play a song in reverence to the spirits of the night. He sat beneath an exquisite black willow tree which seemed to radiate tremendous majik. Varq’el then began to play for the first time since his wretched experience in town.
As he bowed the strings of the majical instrument, the wind began to blow, carrying with it the haunted fragrance of black woodland spice. Var'qel gazed behind him, feeling a presence of enchantment. Vanished was the black willow tree and in its place stood a fair, sweet maiden, beautiful as a rainbow after a spring thunderstorm. She stood with bare feet, tall and sensual. Her onyx-black hair spilled down to her ankles above her bare feet. She wore a leaf-patterned gown, having ribbons and wildflowers woven into her silky tresses . The maiden gazed at Var’qel with ocean-blue eyes deep into his soulfire. Compassionate tears fell from her eyes like sparkling raindrops.
The maiden spoke to him in dream-speech. "You can call me Willow," whispered the lady. Her words, genuine and loving, penetrated his heart. "Will you dance with me, my love? Dance with me beneath the ebony, starlit sky; to the sweet melody of the wind blustering in the tree branches."
Var'qel and Willow danced for what seemed an eternity around the weathered tombstones. They embraced, gazing deeply into each other's eyes, exchanging with one another their hopes, dreams and aspirations. Their lips met with fierce passion, and Var'qel the lonely child of darkness experienced complete ecstasy for the first time since his incantation into Terha and departure from Shaharasai. He became intoxicated by her flowery breath and orchard perfume as they drank of each other's love and laughter.
"Var'qel," whispered Willow, "Come into me. I want you to be inside me forever. Enter into my house of bliss for it is your true home, my love." Var'qel reflected for a moment, as he beheld in his mind’s eyes an image of a black sun shimmering with darkfire. Quite enchanted he was with the lovely Willow maiden. To say that he was in love would most certainly be an understatement. As a sudden rush of enchantments flowed into him, he became a bit confused and overwhelmed by it all. There was a vague but powerful thought that clung to him. It spoke loudly into his soulfire reminded him of something he needed to understand more, in order to move further towards that ebony star which beckoned him.
"You have tasted a bit of the essence of despair, my dear one. Perhaps now you may enter my dreamgate ."
Var’qel became lost in the hypnotic pools which were her eyes, drowning in a sea of passion.
Though on a conscious level, he did not fully understood her words, a flash of recognition ignited a candle within which gave to him the illumination needed to make a decision. Willow lamented as she gazed at Var’qel, seeing that he still needed a greater immersion into the state known as misery. She nodded, knowing then that the bonnie darkfae needed her assistance in his dark quest. Her slinky body then crouched down upon the burial ground as an ochre mist crept around them.
Willow pulled Var'qel down with her onto the green earth, as she helped him to slip ,out of his tattered garments. Laying in the warmth of her erotic embrace, he beheld her voluptuous curves illuminated by the moonlight. In the dense fog they explored each other’s flesh. Like felines in heat they writhed together their flesh and spirits melting against each other. As Varq’el scooted down near her sex, she spread apart her pale, naked legs. Her moans of bliss and screeches of delight were heard as his his tongue to flicker against her pink, hot button. Purring like a kitten the lady willow licked her full red lips sensually.
Var'qel’s body then snaked upwards, so that his chest was firmly pressed against her bosom. Their eyebeams locked allowing an exchange of the divine essences of love and lust. He threw back his braided hair, and entered her sultry tunnel of ecstasy. Var’qel growled and hissed as he pumped into her with savage lust, for the soulfire of the Demoni still burned within. The starlight wrapped around their entwined bodies as he thrusted between Willow's parted legs which wrapped tightly around his frail body.
The sex they shared was rapturous beyond description. It was as if they melted into each other, like they were and had always been one. After hours of orgasmic bliss, Var'qel again gazed backwards at the moon now cloaked by cottony clouds. As he looked down again, his lovely maiden was gone, and in her place stood the large black willow tree, its leaves swaying in the night breeze. His body lay against her roots which vibrated with majik Her words came back to him, "Come into me. I want you inside of me forever. Enter into my house of bliss for it is your true home, my love."
An opaque oval of shimmering, purple light appeared upon the lower trunk of the Willow, an alluring doorway that beckoned Var'qel to enter. Without bothering to dress, he took hold of his violaratta and cautiously stepped in through the mysterious portal, entering into a personalized realm of Elysium.
The sky above was black, with multicolored stars, and a warm, waxing moon, different than the one of Terha, glowing with the color of blood. The moon and stars cast a darkfire light upon the plumage of nocturnal songbirds, such as moondoves, nightjays, and starswallows. Their mirthful voices chirped the songs of surrealistic dreams as they sat in trees with multicolored foliage. Although it was night, everything in this haunting world was more vivid and colorful than the drab world of Terha was by even full daylight..
Var’qel watched with joy in his eyes at seven dancing nymphs undulating, while tossing about their violet and burgundy tresses to the wild rhythms pulsating out from the heartwoods. They sang to him a song of welcome as did the many winged, elven folk riding naked upon zebrracorns, hopping gazelles, and other majikal beasts. There were various faeries in all shapes and sizes perched upon speckled mushrooms, meditating in faery dollhouses, and playing upon the tree branches. Gazing around, Var’qel discovered that he was in a village woven harmoniously into the darkwoods. They bewitching creatures waved to the mesmerized darkfae, greeting him warmly, like a long lost brother.
"Welcome Var'qel to the sanctuary of the Dark Goddess," they sang. And surely it did seem that the lovely Willow was everywhere; within the surrounding woodlands; the wind was her breath, and the sky her hair, even the fair, sensuous creatures that hailed him were a part of her spirit it seemed. He felt as if he had become one with the soulfire that he had previously perceived as a woman of flesh and blood. Though he felt connected with her while they united in blissful sex, this was an even more intimate connection, for somehow became an actual part of the libidinous Goddess.
Var'qel's head spun, as he began to ride upon sensual waves of pure ecstasy, swimming in an aqua-blue ocean of orgasmic rapture. The darkfae that approached him were majikal; delicate creatures, with gossamer or feathered wings, large iridescent eyes, and long braided hair of many colors. Their features were like artistic patterns of nature -- each original in the same way that all snowflakes differ. Bright colors stained the gossamer wings, while the feathered ones were purple, ebony, or scarlet; each pair with it's own special marking.
The indigo squirrels harmonized with the spotted owls, singing songs of mystery, while the badger, raccoon and deer voices swirled together into a haunted, background harmony. Var'qel knew that he had found his place within the soulfire of Willow, for never before in any incarnation had had known such a sense of tranquillity, festivity, and belonging all at once. Though fragmented images of Shaharasai soared through his mind, even those memories contained no elixir so rapturous.
For an unknown time, he explored this wondrous, nocturnal world. Within this Elysium, Var'qel acquired and reclaimed some of his majikal abilities. He was able to shapeshift into a winged-cheetah's form and weave beauteous enchantments with his violaratta fiddle. Many wyldewood fae joyously held hands, in a circle dance as he played a fast reel. He removed his opals, setting them down as he played, for they amplified and added depth to the sounds of his violaratta. The darkfae spiraled around mushrooms- cottages and wildflower archways to the enchanted music as Var’qel bowed the strings.
He knew not that he had in a very sacrosanct way, returned to his true home of Shaharasai, for before his complete memories came back he made the decision to leave again.
"I must return to that other world -- one last time," exclaimed Var'qel to his soul lovers. "There is something unfinished." This was quite difficult for Var’qel, for to leave would be like severing his own soulfire. Though the temporary departure was sad, the time spent in the soulfire of Willow revived the majik within him that had become not lost but misplaced. He would leave carrying this with him, with a new confidence.
"Do not leave Var'qel, for once you have found Elysium it is best to stay and become one with the spirit of dark paradise," said two beautiful fairies sitting above him, dangling their feet as they say upon the branch of a hickpory tree. "Yes," agreed three mermaids laying upon lillypads within a crescent shaped pond, "We are your family now."
"Please, oh pretty please do not leave," sang the dancing woodnymphs,"for we need you, and there is much danger in the Niaspua worlds of Terha. Please stay here with us. Have you not learned enough about the dismal essence you have quested for?"
"Do not fear, my sweet lovers, for I promise you that I shall soon return to this world, and my stay shall be forever."
Then Var'qel turned and beheld the dreamgate. Quickly he jumped through the shimmering portal leading back to the niaspua world of Terha. He slowly opened his eyes after stepping through the doorway of dreams. The Black Willow tree had vanished and in it’s place was once again the beguiling lady Willow. She lay beneath him with her long, voluptuous thighs wrapped around his torso, as his hands caressed her firm pale breasts. She smiled up at him with blissful tranquility in her violet eyes, which were deeper than the oceans of many worlds. They then slept within each other’s warm embrace, still surrounded by the ochre mist. It was a sweet slumber. Var’qel dreamed of sex, candy, and the black sunrise.
As his eyes flickered open, Willow spoke softly into Var’qel’s ear with a husky voice, "I know that you must leave, and it is my opinion that you do what you must do now. Please my dear one, do not delay any longer. Find what it is that you seek and come back to me soon, my love. I shall be in the cemetery awaiting your return with anticipation."
Var'qel reluctantly left to do something he was still uncertain about. He kissed Willow before leaving, tasting what was surely ambrosia. He marched through Selenor toward the city gates. He was still so exhilarated from his the evenings majikal and holy experiences within the that he paid no mind to the jibes and taunting that he received from the town folk. He walked along his way down the cobblestone road snaked through Selenor not quite sure where he was going.
After much walking, he reached the gray, spike-tipped buttressed by the cold stone walls of Selenor. Var'qel then heard the tolling of iron bells in the distance, their moans low and ominous. A feeling of pure dread crept into Var'qel like some tentacled horror. He felt the sensation of twisted monsters slithering within his stomach, and every time the bell tolled his heart skipped a beat.
Though the majik pulsated within him, he was no longer optimistic about his quest, which was still somewhat foggy to him. With anxiety closing in around him, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him following the sound of the bell tower. Before Var'qel reached the grassy mound named "Execution Hill" at the right side of the tower, he could see an angry, hostile mob had gathered. Var’qel pulled his hood over his head concealing his face. Approaching a group of young folk who stood at the back of the crowd, he asked them what was taking place.
He was answered by a corpulent young lad with chestnut hair. "A witch was discovered laying naked in the old cemetery!" Several youth next to him frowned obviously distressed at what was taking place."
A flax-haired maiden in a gray, ragged dress spoke with tears in her eyes. "I wish they would just leave here alone. She was not doing anything. Perhaps she is a friend of that minstrel that was banished to the old necropolis. Several adults turned and scowled at the young ones. "Shut your mouth!" scolded an old woman with a thin face which appeared to be twisted in madness. "A bald man with a face like an ogre yelled vehemently, "Now the perverted whore is about to be burned at the stake!" As these words were spoken a nasty cheer arose from the crowd. "Burn the witch!"
A group of well-dressed merchants and parochial employees stood alongside the theocrat at the front of the crowd. Many looked at him with suspicion, yet his face was still concealed, and anyways they were too caught up in the excitement of the moment to recognize him. Var’qel heard the crackling fire, and smelled smoke as he struggled and pushed his way through the crowd. as they they jeered and shouted insults. The theocrat spoke loudly, with a sick, shrilly voice, "May the hatred of the White god condemn the soul of this wretched harlot to eternal, torturous damnation." The entire crowd began to scream "Praise be to the white god!"
Var'qel finally reached the front of the crowd. Yet, it was too late. The pyre was lit. His sweet lover was nailed to a the roaring flames had already begun to roast and consume the lovely body of his fair lady Willow.
"No!" screamed Var'qel as he leapt forward, throwing the guards out of his way and lunging towards the stake where his dear was chained. A radiant luster encircled him, protecting him from the heat of the blaze. Then his own eyes became violet flames as he beheld the face of Willow as the flames completely engulfed her body. By the time he reached her only a charred and lifeless husk remained, glowing crimson like a bloody sunset.
He looked at the faces of the crowd and saw through them into their hearts. They were mostly ignorant people without love, respect or appreciation for beauty or spirituality. He knew not how they became so wretched. He felt little sympathy for them, only rage. He removed his violaratta from its case, knowing what he must do. >From his pouch he removed the glowing opals which were pulsating with majik, and set them down at his feet. Though at this point they recognized both Var’qel and his instrument, the adults were unable to move, hypnotized by the violet fire within his eyes.
Var’qel moved the bow viciously across the strings, creating the staccato sounds of perfected violence. Then Var'qel moved the crystalline tube towards the south, being the direction of change, so that dark winds guided by Var’qel’s dream majik whipped into it creating an eerie whistling.. Var’qel’s bow first moved across the lower neck, creating a drone, with a low-pitched, vibrato sustain. Then it gracefully The children and youth genuflected, as his fiddling began, they backed away, and walking to a nearby hillside, sitting down peacefully swaying back and forth to the sound of melodious darkness.
Varq’el than became much more than a wandering darkfae soul within a human body. He channeled the essence of reflective majik, a universal concept much bigger than himself or any being with an ego. With his music, he wove a dark spell upon the cruel, ignorant folk of Selenor. The sinister, yet beauteous harmony screamed from his violaratta, soaring through the shimmering opals to create an eerie amplification. As he played, the ground began to shake as the wind howled virulently. The sky above became as black as the abyss and bloody rain began to fall down upon the city of Selenor. Their worst nightmares conjured from within their own fearful hearts began to take shape before them, and every one the townsfolk began to move to the rhythm of the violaratta song, spasmodically. They lost control of their minds and bodies, becoming dominated by the hypnotic, melodious charm created by Var'qel's majikal melody.
The theocrat who had ordered Var'qel's whipping and instigated the burning of Willow fell to his knees, pleading for mercy. Var'qel gazed down at the pathetic creature, as well as all the others with pity. He while fiddling, sang and answer to the theocrat, "Only you are capable of granting yourself mercy, it must come from within" The theocrat was the first to have his twisted life extinguished. In truth, Var'qel did not actually inflict this grief upon the town folk. The dark music he played merely created a mirror of enchantment. It amplified their own hatred and ugliness reflecting it back at them.
It was certainly a disgusting sight to behold. The people began a macabre dance to the sweet yet aggressive music Varq’el played. It was a bloody dance indeed. What started as a waltz became a reel with moderate tempo. After a few moments his bow pressed harder and faster against the strings. It became a lightning fast tarantella. They spun and moved their hands along their bodies, then began to tear and rip at themselves. As they fought the dance the music became thicker, pulsating through them. They were unable to control their own movements, for these were the actions of their own internal disfigurements.
Their fingers sliced through their own skin, reaching hungrily for the tender organs within. The town of Selenor soon became a river of blood, polluted with bits and pieces of flesh. Tears streaked down the darkfae’s face, while the folk began to die one by one, in excruciating agony. As his song slowed, the brick roads and concrete lots surrounding the place of Willow’s fiery execution, became blanketed by quivering masses of unrecognizable flesh which had fallen during his fiddling.
In his present dark trance of madness, Var'qel began to laugh uncontrollably. He watched the carnage, while the frightening sound of his cackling like a wild jackal echoed, even as the tears of sorrow welled in his eyes.
"Life here is such beauteous sickness," he shouted with a wicked yet melancholy smile upon his face. The scenario had imprinted itself upon his soulfire, causing a deep sadness.
As he set down his violaratta, certain memories crept back into his mind, concerning his reason for being in this niapua world called Terha. He found that he cared not for unnecessary violence, nor misery of any kind. It was however his choice to try and understand the concept of despair, and the beauty of melancholy that is birthed from it. Yet, he understood in a surreal way, that for some this misery is a learning experience, something they choose embrace. To such creatures, darkness cloaked the fear, jealousy, and greed they refused to give up. Unlike these humans, Var’qel knew the true meaning of darkness; it represented beauty rather that evil. Darkness is not something to fear unless a person is hiding from self created manifestations of hate under it’s cloak.
The entire adult population of Selenor died that day. Only the youth were spared. They had not the sickness within which would cause them to take part in the dance of self-destruction. They wept, for though their elders were greatly flawed, they saw that it was their own hatred which caused them destroy themselves. No blame was placed on Var’qel for his musical spell for it merely created a majikal mirror bouncing back the people’s own inner madness.
Such is the fate of many within the niapua worlds. Ignorance and paranoia often make imaginary fears a reality. It is many people’s chosen fate to be reborn again again into such places, for only then can they learn further lessons concerning compassion and tolerance.
Var’qel approached the hill where the youth still sat weeping, and talked to them in his broken Selenorian speech. "This is a sad and horrific day for us all. I pray that you have learned from this as I have. Go forth and follow the paths of your destinies, and may you find acceptance in your heart’s rather than intolerance.
Walking through the carnage created by the bloodbath which had ended, Var'qel fell down before the charred remains of his sweet lover. He wept salty tears of lament for the horror inflicted by the sweet and holy maiden, who did nothing to deserve such treatment. Without Willow, He knew not the way back paradise. He reached down into the pile of ashes, removing from it a thick, willow branch which somehow survived the blaze. He burned his hands yet cared not, for something compelled him to take with him this branch as a momentum of his Black Willow sanctuary.
Var'qel that evening left Selenor, traveled back to the place of his childhood, the dark forest which was once his home in Terha. As he walked betwixt two poplar trees walking upon a winding trail , the night songs of enchantment could be heard in the wind, as it whispered through the green, woodland foliage.
After coming to a grove of hawthorn trees, he fell to his knees, bowing his head. "Mother of Darkness, you were right about the people of Selenor," he cried. "I should have listened to your warnings, but now it is too late. My dreams I have allowed to become vanquished by foolish, ignorant people who have not the ability to appreciate the beauty of darkness nor the power of creativity." His lamentations reverberated throughout the magical woodland realm, carrying a melancholy prayer to the Goddess of the night.
"I am here, my dear one, to assist you in returning to your fair Weeping Willow. Will you sacrifice
yourself for the love of Lady Willow, my dear one?"
Var’qel stood with violaratta case in one hand and and replied, "I wish to offer my heart, soulfire and spirit to Black Willow. It is my wish to become the rain that falls from the stormy sky -- the rain that saturates the soil beneath the Willow, feeding it with all that I am."
"Then so be it, my dear one," whispered Mother Darkness.
She assisted Var'qel in the creation of a small yet powerfully, majik drum made from the wood of the willow branch. As he carved, a doe who was about to die, came to him, and lay down, offering it’s skin for the drum, as it feel into death’s embrace. Together, they called upon the essence of the night and all the nocturnal creatures of the forest to aid them in their magical labor. When the percussion instrument was completed, it was much more than just a small drum; it was the embodiment of Var'qel's soul entwined with the sorcery of the black earth. He carried it with him to a place near the west edge of the forest, where nocturnal butterflies danced in the night air.
He then began to beat a steady rhythm channeling the sorrow and pain of his entire life experience in the world of Terha. The chaotic magic of the drumming coiled a round him like a mad serpent. Var'qel rode upon the rhythm as if it were a fiery-bronze wyvern soaring him past the gates of reality on its hot, slippery back. His consciousness traveled at last through the dreamgate; where he landed before a giant, Weeping Willow tree glowing with the light of heaven. The divine tree then began to slowly transfigure before his
eyes so that he simultaneously beheld both the tree and his lovely, raven-haired Willow Goddess.
"Welcome back, my dear one," sang Willow in a haunted melody. "You can now call me by my true name, Elspthara, my little lover. I told you that I would be waiting for you in the cemetery; but I have become your own personal cemetery. Now you belong to me, my love, as you always have. It was I who whispered secrets into your soulfire while you participated in the black sun rituals in the onyx pyramids back in Shaharasai. I was your mother darkness when you dwelled within the forest in Terha. "And of course," sang the dark Goddess, "I was your lover Willow, in the old necropolis, who allowed you entrance into the world within my soulfire".
His complete memory returned as he gazed deep into twin oceans which were the eyes of Mother Darkness... Willow... and Elspethara. The dark Goddess then gathered Var'qel up against her body which was trunk, flesh, and spirit, and after grasping him with her branches which were also arms, she lifted him up, and held his figure before her mouth, licking her emerald-green lips. Var'qel felt both rough bark and smooth skin against him as he whispered, "I have learned much concerning the essence of despair, and now fathom a bit more concerning the profound nature of the Black Sun. The beauty that comes from these is called melancholy." He trembled with as mingling of fear, desire, and bliss surged through him. "My Goddess, I now wish to be a part of you for all of eternity."
"You shall, my dear one, you shall," sang the enchantress lovingly. She devoured Var'qel, body and soulfire; savoring the sweet taste of his melancholy essence as his warm, salty blood trickled down her throat to mingle with her green, liquid sap. Var'qel the Demoni then completed his pursuit by returning through the deathgate to his home world of Shaharasai, and simultaneously merging into the soulfire of Elspethara for eternity.
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Copyright © 1999 by Oscar S. Cisneros. This material may be distributed only subject to the terms and conditions set forth in the Open Publication License, v.04 1998 or later (the latest version is presently available at http://www.opencontent.org/openpub/).
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