You were eager to see the reflection of the Darkness, the evil filling my body on my face. So remember: covenants of mind come true – Scott Renter’s eyes burned trying Aundas – and their reality is horrible. Suddenly as if addressing to himself Scott Renter said the following: – Have you contemplated Lord? Being the fruit of the dullness, clouded eye will represent Him as an anamorphosis. Imagine, all of us, no matter according to our will or not, created by Him, and the disease is inside us. The disease inside me, like a parasite, stuck into the soul, drains, oppresses and deprives of the will, and I can’t resist it. – Tears poured from Wanderer’s eyes. I was born like this, and it is not my will. It’s the fate, you may say, but the fate is in opposition with the existence; aren’t I free and wasn’t it my decision to escape the fate? I’m perishing, I’m dead and lifeless! Lord, where is He? Is he looking at me? No! The essence of me is darkness, and if only this bright look turns on me, I will fade away, unable to endure it, I’ll die, and the Abyss will swallow me. I’m afraid and trembling at this great sight of Him, and I myself don’t raise my eyes. Lord is so great, and I'm so miserable and dark, that I’m constantly in fear, but I don’t want to accept my inner Darkness and I will never do it, the soul is sick of it. I know, my soul has shriveled up, and I’m not sure whether it was in the heart that is not beating and was the repository of stinging

Darkness, – Wanderer looked into the eyes of Aundas, whose heart was squeezed in his hand. – Your heart beating is sweet to hear; I have power to do what I want, for we all are the center of great Darkness.

Terrifying were the laughter and the roar of Scott Renter when rushing in the jump up, he threw the body of Aundas down on the floor – broken glass rained down from the windows of the temple. Aundas was raised, and his body, breaking through the wall, tumbling, brought down slabs and stone crosses in a graveyard. Moving away from the ruins of a fallen temple, Scott Renter was walking to the crypt slowly to finish the execution; and vampires, soaring over his head were afraid to attack and were watching the battle in silence, as the result of the battle is lethal.

Mysterious light of the moon was shining as a halo, pandering to the absolute Darkness; and the Spirit of vengeance descended into Wanderer’s heart, filling his look with unbridled anger and fire. It was fire that shed in the carmine eyes of the legendary Beast, the most powerful in the World but becoming small and feeble in attempt to resist Logo.

Wanderer, taking the primordial nature, turned into a dark winged creature. His brutal body was covered with short fur; blackened skin was bursting with incredible muscles. Clawed paws, long tail and kind of the face, which has lost any resemblance to a human’s one was nasty with pointy huge ears and open wide fanged mouth. Imperious eyes mercilessly gazed down at the worn-out Aundas outstretched at the crypt from the height of four-meter body.

The pain and Darkness devoured the consciousness of Scott Renter into a crushing labyrinth. The Path was Eternal and Beginningless, cruel, senseless and hopeless, Darkness and Pain were the space. They were united with locked and breathless; lonely and helpless, homeless and eternal Wanderer. He cognized Death and Life in death; he was turned from Life into Death; he was damned and insane. And the Darkness, embracing, made him slave and created different creature. And the universe was whispering:

– Your name is Ar-hon! Tireless Slave!

– Begone, Darkness! Behold the collapse of the foundation laid in me. I’ll build something different, and the eye of the depths of my soul will penetrate into your world. I’ll annihilate it and Earth Kingdom will fall! Life

is put in the people by God; you put the distortion, you are reflection of destructive spirit; you're worthless! You're weak! Your essence is Lie, the Power is illusory and the power of yours is deception and shaky. Leave! Leave me alone! You torment me! I’m perishing, and the Life is flowing down as a drop of life-giving water, as hot steel in the soul, in the heart, which you want to subdue like the body! Damn you! And I’m damned! And the Power is flowing away from the wounds of the soul left by the Spirit. It’s not able to accept the Gift of this unseen and taken away from me from the birth, from conception of originally damned soul! I hate you! I’ll destroy you! Begone… Begone! – Wanderer appeared as a child hugged by Darkness, he was twisting, suffering imprisoned in the Void, alone and naked, on bended knees in a vacuum of mob, shedding tears.

Reality dispelled the Illusion, stopping the vision and Wanderer, recovering, gradually approached Aundas. He looked into the eyes of blood brother and stooping down, dug his clawed hand into Aundas’s head and lifted him up. Turbulent flow of life, as pouncing threatening wave, instantly swept and weeded out the hidden anger and bitterness that plagued the innermost part of the soul – the memories.

– Brother, I'm sorry… – said the wanderer, and his hand crushed Aundas’s skull.

Blood dripped from his claws, soaking into the snow. Scott Renter turned and walked away and, gradually taking human form, approached Iona. The bloodied child was lying in a snow-white tomb; the warmth was leaving cold body; and different life, spreading through her veins, was transforming the dying girl. Gasping, anguished breath was bursting from the lips.

Wanderer snatched the blade glittering in moonlight from the earth; and with a cry of anguish, sobbing pierced the child's heart, and froze bowed, on bended knees near the girl. With hers last ounce Iona glanced at the drooped, smiled shyly, and froze forever. Iona’s face stamped in memory of Scott Renter indelibly, and tears shed at the moment shriveled the soul, and henceforth nothing could cause the tears of Wanderer.

A silky tender voice broke into the silence of speechless suffering. Moonlight lit a virgin in a white cloak; her soft hands pulled back the hood, revealing a high forehead, blue eyes an the face, framed by golden curls. Red lips, half-opened sensually, said mellifluously:

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– You have not changed, Anthony…

– The only person who knows the true name of Wanderer…

– Rise, Anthony; this way is given to the dead. You, who tasted life from

the birth, got the force of the mortals. If you recant the original essence, you will be taken away the life, you will become feeble, you will become just like human beings.

Wanderer gave a sigh, grabbed the sword and approached the virgin. His gaze was stern and voice was cold.

– You rose up from the depths of the past… Annette… Are you foreshadowing the Pain and the battle of the feelings implemented in the ashes? The hammer of Fate has shattered Love and will the immortalized know the terrestrial? Will the world of Love accommodate the one who is neither alive nor dead, – lifeless, breathless… And yet, as the dust of sand hides an undercover life…

The virgin stepped forward, threw off her cloak, revealing naked body. Gold pendant hung down to her chest, rounded belly stuck out clearly,

– The son of yours will be born…

Light hand touched the face of Wanderer hesitantly; fingers caressed his forehead went down to the cheeks. His mighty right hand covered her hand; Scott Renter closed his eyes and in a moment opened them again gazing at dearest features. His hand slid to Annette’s chin, thumb gently outlined sensual lips.

The sword ascended, the edge penetrated to the womb, the blood gushed from the mouth, and Annette fell as a leaf plucked by the blowing of the wind.

– I've changed…

Having returned for the cloak, Scott Renter was going away, and bowed lilac-white snowdrop followed with its eyes the stately figure.

Star placer illuminated a person in a black robe, standing at the edge of the bleak mountains of Tandrod; majestic face with thick beard, balls of beads counted by lowered hand, the black robes – Klim the recluse watched Wanderer and with a sigh said quietly:

– Sui cuique mores fingunt fortunam hominibus…1 1 The fate of each person is built by his character…

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Chapter 2

shone from the darkness

Rus. Year 354 from Great Separation. Second Epoch.

The modern era came in the archaic style of the past; the rudiment of neo-history was based on the collapse of the old world; on the cataclysms of the earth and the contentions of the opposing powers, creating one world, based on nature and socio-political thoughts of people who believed that the basis for the creation of the new world had to be enclosed accumulated experience of the past adapted to absolutely different conditions of modern existence. The history took its rise from the Great Separation of the former foundations into the comprehensive unification of powers, nations, and continents. People had no differences either in the language or in the «roots» of their ancestors. United Nation had appeared, and the new world was called the Birthplace of the Surviving Creatures, receiving the title from the antiquity of the earth, which had centralized continents and powers by the cataclysm in the State of Rus.

Nine people were elected, to lead the Grand Council; and one hundred and eighty-eight years – in the year 257 from Great Separation the Tenth was elected, sublimed by the world, which took him as the ruler of the World. And there was a response in opposition systematization of society, realizing the upcoming step of the totalitarian world. Dissidents were sought and condemned to the death penalty; the world was flourishing in well- being and stability; the illusory nature of universal happiness was denied by widespread failure and unfortunate low level of life, when faced with the locality of justice and order established in the consciousness of humanity.

Darkness had covered the sun and the Realm of Dreams had clouded the minds of the people; in the consciousness of one person a nightmare has been creating.

White endless corridor has appeared. An outline of a female silhouette with a tray held with both hands. The loud echo of the steps, spreading,

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reached hearing of the man held down in a straitjacket. Closer… Closer… a Collision is inevitable. Eyes, overwhelmed by fear, toss about unable to stop; the space is absorbed by a ghostly monotone which oppresses the mind in the vacuum of madness. The footsteps are growing louder and closer. Insanity comprehends the nature, destroying the personality. Shivering look is ransacking confusedly, keeping hope to win out, but the path of apostasy is cut off, only a clash… it is impossible to tolerate… The rumble of the steps sneaked into the brain. The thought is doomed to subjugation. Something else is hidden in what is happening… The Illusion is indistinguishable from Reality, since they terminated the existence of the natural order of things. A man. He is tossing, pulsing blood echoes in his temples, trembling grips the gut; the cry is struggling to get out, but fear destroys human nature, turning it into an ignorant beast. Personality is transforming from «person» to «thing», becoming a substance separate from the unauthorized understanding. It is transforming into a particle, driven by a force emanating from a closed realities of the macrocosm – a composite distinctive function of vital principle of the aggregate merger of material and immaterial in inseparable symbiosis, creating the essence, which is determined primarily as a human being.

And something acting from outside is horrible and disgusting, and the essence of Evil is the ill furious mind in the colossal power of the all- powerful mind.

The noise has stoped.

The man is staring at the void brokenly. Time has completely frozen. It’s quiet… quiet to madness. All attention is focused on the door. Something has to occur outside the internal fears; one cannot exist as an eternal fugitive. Fear is waiting for the final failure of consciousness in order to slay, throwing down on a deathbed. The heart beat, rat-tat, rat-tat, rat-tat, echoes in the brain. The damned heart won’t subside; lungs draw in the air brokenly. Shortness of breath. The door. Rat-tat, rat-tat, rat-tat. It’s emptiness. Breathing is erratic as if he has overcome incredible distance; convulsive fear bound the nature unbearably. Embodied fear is coming. It’s impossible to resist; fear is daring, especially having put on the guise of a Stalker, going against the inner self. The door is opening. His heart will burst before he sees what the torturer is, appropriating his consciousness. The

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door opens and… a girl in a lab coat appears. She has walked in, tapping her black heels, walked to the wall, pulled out some transparent plane and put her tray on it.

…He's in a straitjacket, in the exhaustion leaning his back to the firmament of the wall, slid down on the floor. His feverish gaze fixedly followed the preparation of a metal-glass syringe; they approached him, squatted, took his hand and plunged the needle into the freed from sleeves vein.

«They» seemed to be doing everything with him, meekly obeying, but not this woman outwardly beautiful, but frozen inside so much that this ice of insensibility was getting out.

Speechless, tired, but still substantial, he noticed, like old friends – the walls surrounded him in complete solitude with hostility again. Void incinerated faith. The time is flickering unceasingly, it’s slipping away without him; it is unbearable to live in the vortex of this current which never leaves. Pain in his hand persists, although he concentrated on keeping it bent at the elbow, avoiding bleeding. Perhaps a sharp pain of the needle removed from the vein, stamped in the memory is tormenting now. The other Consciousness is ruling the lifeless body; the ear begins to detect disturbing movement of the spatial Force. He perked up from an indistinct echo; a drop of fresh blood was glowing next to him. Is it his blood? There was a new sound and the next footprint.

Having stood up awkwardly, he watches emerged muddy monochrome. And he can see the Palace of comprehensive void.

From a small crack invisible in the drab color of the door crimson blood has flowed as a frightening contrast on the white. And the walls were glowing with sprawling bloody stains; the ceiling was bleeding with hot drops.

Madness is overtaking; it’s impossible to resist it.

«I'm a man, yet a man… alive… yet alive» – the thought flashes in the brain. Straitjacket compresses the body, blocking the air; there was falling… The blood pursues the crawling away body. The blood overtakes, comprising into a ring-shaped frame… It’s a dead end. There is not enough air in the chest, breathing is abrupt and hurried, eyes reflect the despair and confusion of spirit. It’s unimaginable, stuffy… There is the door. A look in the madness of fear is staring at the door… Something horrendous will reach him. What is he? Indeed the identity is enslaved by some unknown

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strongest force, distinguishable from him. Who is he? Mind accepts integrity of itself in case of the terror, renouncing the understanding, representing the ratio of the object, inanimation grafted to it from outside.

Viscous slush is dripping from the ceiling to the middle of the room, turning into a silhouette, seen with silent fear; the product of blood is getting out, stepping its bare heels toward the unfortunate man cuddling up to the corner of the wall.

Ghosty creature in blood-stained jeans approaches, stretches thin, bare to the elbow hands, with palms, wet with flowing scarlet liquid. Pink t-shirt is ripped; girlish breasts can be seen through holes. Neck is stained in blood. He saw pretty narrow chin and black threads of pale lips and eyelids. She seeks to inform him about something; but the mouth will never be open.

The body is trembling, blood, wildly pulsing through his veins, is tormenting the flesh, as well as bodily fear, paralysing instincts of common sense. Sanity is fading, thought is put to death, and only the eyes and facial expressions are showing the despair, the horror, together with painful experience, the anguish of despair which is beyond understanding.

Sinister and at the same time innocent silhouette is moving to the man writhing on the floor, trying to escape and be saved from unbearably squeezing damned shirt.

Heels are sticking to the adhesive floor and, coming off it, are pulling clumps of coagulating blood. The lowing can be heard coming from the closed mouth; she is trying to warn, but in vain effort.

Lying on the floor frozen with fear, he starts crying with the rush of feelings and circumstances; and a few tears are sliding his cheeks right into a puddle of blood on the floor.

And with the spirit found a material condition, something similar is happening, but his tears are not clean and clear as crystal. He is suffering and closing, stretching his long fingers to the face of helpless man; the incredible effort of will liberates heart-rending scream.

***

It’s a silent night. Stars are twinkling above the sleepless town. The

darkness is covering a cold room. The reflection of the full moon illuminates 27

a reclining young man, resting his hands on the bed, who is swallowing the air randomly. He, holding the palms of both hands on his sweating face, gradually starts massaging his forehead with the left hand, staring tiredly at the blackness of the bedroom, and, having realized the absolute lack of sleep, gives a long sigh and, lying down again, closes his eyes.

The terrible picture continues existing in his mind, having been inspired by the dream, the fear won’t dissipate.

Spiral tube are twisted along the walls and ceiling; mercury rib plates of the bed base being risen at each other, glimmered brilliantly when rays of light fell on them.

So to say this apartment has given neither warmth of the home nor coziness; both the design and decor were extraordinary, for it has been designed in accordance with the plans and drawings produced in the new branch of figurative and abstract art that is closely related to futuristic outlook at the technological revolution.