Distant Cathartic

Distant Cathartic III (Soul 1)

THE pain was beyond words. Athlon floated in agony in a pitch dark pit, no stars above, no ground below. His soul was ablaze, filling his mind with one endless scream, blocking out any thoughts other than the desperate need to end the anguish. Athlon tried to fly, speeding at full power in what he hoped was up.

Chains appeared from nowhere, binding Athlon with a weight that plunged him against his will deeper and deeper into the pit. He called for help, barely conscious, screaming on every frequency, sending his voice out to anyone who might hear him. There was no response.

A feverish heat consumed Athlon's head, making him weak and confused. He continued to fall, miles and miles beneath the ground, the chains impossibly heavy. A glow appeared below him, and he looked down to see flames rising to meet him. As he fell, he felt the hands of the damned reaching out from the walls of the pit, grabbing at him, trying to pull him apart. Athlon's own screaming was overpowered as a million new voices screamed from the flames below, overloading Athlon's receptors and knocking him unconscious.

With a start, Athlon jolted awake. His eyes darted around in panic, hunting for the next torturous attack. Reason held no dominion in the Android's mind, and fear sent him skittering backwards across the floor, his arms propelling him into the nearest corner. There he curled up, rocking back and forth, trembling in terror.

It took several minutes for Athlon to get a grip on his mind. His triple-partitioned brain was desperately calling up emergency protocols, and commands were congesting in his neural pathways. His control was weak; most of his brain refused to listen to him at first, like the synapses in his head themselves were trying to flee the nightmare. Athlon cried quietly to

himself as his thoughts rushed in circles. He was too tired to care that he had lost so much control over himself, or to feel the deep concern that should surround such a revelation.

The frantic chaos in his mind subsided slightly, and Athlon made himself stand up. His hands shook, and he was skittish. His eyes moved constantly as he tried to look in every direction at once. He took a few unsure steps towards a balcony, and peered out over the city. It took several long moments of confusion for Athlon to remember where he was: it was Boris' tower, where he had fallen asleep after their battle. Heaven stretched out before him in the dark. Athlon enhanced his vision to examine the golden streets and buildings that covered the surface of the planet. Something was wrong; everything looked different than it had when Athlon arrived.

Athlon closed his eyes. He felt like he was made of rubber. He couldn't focus. Fear rose again in his mind, consuming his concentration. Terrible images danced in his thoughts. He saw children running from a mad man covered in blood and wielding a wicked looking axe. He saw Osiris laughing on a blackened battlefield strewn with corpses. He saw Poetry being forced beneath a guillotine, it's razor-sharp blade beheading her before he could respond. Athlon opened his eyes again and fell against the balcony's railing. Everything was so horrible. What had happened to him?

The sky was turning blue in the East; sunrise was coming. As the first rays of light peaked over the horizon, Athlon saw what was wrong with Heaven. It was tarnished. The sparkling gold had turned dull, and none of the spires glinted under the fresh light. In fact, some of the spires were crumbling, as if they were victim to centuries of disrepair. To the South, massive churches were chipped and pitted, their edges softened by wind storms. It didn't make sense.

Athlon tried to gather his thoughts. He couldn't remember what he was supposed to do next. There had been the battle with Boris, the souls of Heaven had dissipated, and then....

A bright light appeared directly above Athlon. It pierced the dawn, growing much brighter than the sun, and ripped a long tear across the sky. Athlon stared at it, finding he didn't have the will to run. The tear separated, and through it slipped two streaks of blue light. They moved across the sky, and descended on the tower.

Two figures materialized behind Athlon. He turned, knowing he was in no condition to defend himself, and saw that the beings from the sky were made of pure energy. They were tall, at least seven feet; Athlon couldn't be sure because it was hard to tell where their bodies ended. They appeared humanoid, both female, and their skin and robes shimmered with life. Everything about them had a bluish hue, except their headdresses, which were ablaze with bright red and orange energy, looking like a sea of long hair rising from their heads. They had pleasant faces that smiled at Athlon, and one of them reached for his hand. He let her take it, and a tingle of blue energy ran up his arm. The energy calmed Athlon, quieting his fear and helping him focus.

Athlon felt the same old hope that accompanied his thoughts every time he met new people. His shoulders perked slightly, and he leaned forward, anticipating the sweet sounds of new words. Surely, this would be the time. After so long, this was going to be the person that would address him in that most beautiful language, the highest linguistic achievement ever developed by civilization. Athlon could already hear the nuanced beauty, the perfect accent, and the divine vocabulary that could only exist in the sublime decadency of the French language.

<Hello Athlon.>

Athlon's shoulders fell. No matter. One day, it would happen.

A voice had appeared in Athlon's mind, and the women spoke again.

<We are The Elysians. We have lived here, in the Dopinephrine Galaxy for quite some time now, though we cannot be seen by its people. We have decided to make ourselves known to you, so that we may offer you our help. Tell us, do you understand what has happened to you?>

Athlon blinked.

<You have been here for 4000 years, unconscious, while your soul has been locked in The Realm of Lucifer. You have, for all intents and purposes, been in Hell. We do not have much time, so we are going to show you what has happened to you. Do not be afraid, Champion of Olympus. You will see the events that brought you here, but you will be in no danger.>

The two women put there hands on Athlon's arms, and closed their eyes. Athlon felt himself rise off the balcony, and his vision blurred into long streaks as The Elysians took him back to the day he had arrived on Heaven.

Floating just off the balcony of Boris' tower, Athlon and the two Elysians watched the younger Athlon leap from the amplification station and fight with Boris. They crashed through the stained glass window and fell hundreds of stories before hitting the ground. The souls of Heaven congregated around the battle, and witnessed Boris' death.

The young Athlon returned to the balcony and sat down, falling asleep as the souls rose into the air and began to dissipate. As the souls disappeared, Athlon kept his eye on his younger self, perfectly still against one wall of Boris' tower. There was a long moment of silence, and then, to Athlon's surprise, lightning pierced the sky. A storm rolled with incredible speed across the surface of Heaven, unnoticed by the dormant Android sleeping in the tower.

Blackness blocked out the sun as dark energy from the storm grew together into a huge form. An immense being solidified from the darkness, with a red splash across the face. With the Elysians still holding onto him, Athlon knew it was Lucifer. The voice returned,

<The Dark Lord. He was invented by Boris, written into the holy texts as the embodiment of evil, designed to be the ultimate deterrent. Boris used fear to collect followers who were terrified of an afterlife in Lucifer's dominion. Here in the Dopinephrine Galaxy, ideas gain power when they are believed. Lucifer should not exist, but the fear of Boris' followers, counted by the billion, made Lucifer real. Boris was quite descriptive of the unholy terror of Lucifer and his pit of damnation. Boris' creation of Heaven concentrated the beliefs of his followers, and Hell was born from their faith.>

As Athlon watched, Lucifer flew to the balcony. Lucifer stood still for a moment, examining the sleeping Android before moving to him. Lucifer plunged one arm into the young Athlon's chest. Still observing, Athlon and the Elysians were whisked forward. They were pulled down into the mind of the Athlon being attacked by Lucifer. Pushed along onto another plane, the watchers were given a new vantage point above the reality Lucifer had created. The still-sleeping Athlon woke up to find Lucifer standing over him, the two of them in a sparse, shadowy void.