Author: M. Soames PM
A story of one who was conquered, and who conquered.Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Adventure - Chapters: 4 - Words: 6,546 - Reviews: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 05-07-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2514603
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A black wrought-iron cage descends the crystal sky above,
Through the white cloud cylindrical it lands light like a dove
On the nexus-hill; and all the women gape, and they stare
At the black-cloaked death within that steps out in pompous flare:
He is the god of all there is, and of unbound mercy,
And he takes a slow look at Kevavi, at which point she
Begins to stroke her blue-shafted spear, looking back at him.
He asks her if she wants to die, or live ever with him
In groundless ethereal eternity above the earth.
Kevavi replies "In my emotions, there is great dearth
Regarding love, and longing, too, for the masculine sex.
Granted, this revelation must your perception vex;
But that, that is my mystery, and I am Kevavi."
At her last, final word, all that defeated death could see
Was Kevavi, but his strange shadow clouded his own eyes:
And his endless wonder and his pursuit were his demise.
Seven fireflies hap'd on the sisters of the hill, and they tuned to the sisters' needs. Kevavi thought their company pleasant, and the fireflies were granted Kevavi's greatest gift, long life. The air around the hill had become intoxicating, and the women were more beautiful than before, but as such, they were more desired by men, and by women also. As the reaches of the nexus expanded, the hill became more secluded, until it was the memory of dead ancestors to the corners of existence, or anti-existence. But still, "heroes" who considered themselves brave disturbed the peace of the hill, and Kevavi killed the fools all, her blue spear smeared with blood. The carcasses were piled and burned and as the human race evolved so did its smell, and the smell of burning flesh became from its once foul odor a pleasing savor.
On the last day, Kevavi told her sisters to follow her into the endless citadel, in the North, and they refused. Kevavi was enraged, and demanded of her sisters the reason for their defiance, and they only cried and shrieked and would not follow. Kevavi left her sisters in mournful agony as she parted, and she walked through the topiary garden, its imaginary animals unfathomably green and colossal, and she found the door to the citadel. No creature had entered or left the citadel since the time of the fiend Philiotyrannus, and Kevavi entered with her spear unafraid. The endless room, which at one time concealed from nature, was almost fully absorbed into the earth, its walls indistinguishable from ivy, its green and red tiles all but completely vanished in a synergy of grass and roots, broken pillars so eroded they appeared as cavernous stalagmites. The ceiling had disappeared, but Kevavi could not determine if it had fallen in or had been blown off or what had happened. Man would be forgotten yet.
As Kevavi explored the endless citadel, she found the remains of kings and of peasants. There were other worlds than that of her nexus, but no more than she could comprehend. In her search for the center of the citadel, for Kevavi was one for centers, she encountered broken saints who sang pictures, and their throats were swollen. Kevavi would either pass, if she enjoyed their laments, or, if her ears bled at the sound of their singing, she would impale them with her spear. This was the way of Kevavi's journey, and it continued for a near-eternity in which the sun did not set.
Kevavi's black hair had grown long, her hair reached her ankles. When obscure men in the citadel would see Kevavi, they would become blind as they beheld her figure and her hair and the ferocious serenity her being emitted. But she came one day upon a man who was sitting down on the floor, and this man wore a grey cloth over his eyes. Kevavi knelt by the man, and she heard his praying for guidance, and Kevavi removed the cloth from over his eyes to see only sockets, and Kevavi willed that the man have new eyes, and at her will the man had eyes of a perfect crimson. The man saw the world again, and he knew Kevavi. For this, Kevavi called the man Obstercion, and Obstercion experienced a series of four hundred and fifty one visions. Kevavi thought of Obstercion's visions, and she thought of the final vision:
THE 451ST VISION OF OBSTERCION
Sharp and jagged white metal rises
Out of a pink marmalade pasture.
The sun is at its daily peak and
Red and silver peacocks scurry in
Search of what they have never lost.
The smell of fresh hay is replaced
By burning leaves as static
Lightning strikes down infrequent elms.
A woman in the center whose hair
Is every color and is very fit
Finds a burning elm and savors the
Scent as a bough crashes down.
On the flaming limb she sees a
Dripping hive, bees fleeing for more
Docile lands. She passes through the
Fire and opens the nest, and she eats
The honey combs within. The honey is
Rich and sweet but it also tastes
Like mangos and bananas. When she
Is finished with the honey the
Woman tosses the remains of the hive
To the heavens and she climbs
A white metal protrusion to see
The waking stars. The sun is dying.
From the sky a liquid drops and
Does not reach the pasture but it
Collects just above and it forms a
Man. This man, when completely
Assembled, falls to the earthen land, and
He surveys the countryside, and he sees
The woman on the white metal protrusion,
And he wants to sing to her, but he
Does not know he has a voice.
His hair is dusty white. The
Woman sees the new-formed man and
She believes he is a plague on the
Natural world, sent from god as a
Great pox. As time advanced,
The white-haired man came into contact
With the woman, and as the white metal
Dictated through its inexplicable magnetism,
The man became aggressive, and the virgin land
Was sown, and from the impure
There arose a race of men and
Women who knew avarice, and they
Corrupted the natural world. This
Race wrote histories in which
Many facts were reversed or
Altogether concealed, and their
Women were enslaved to bear
Children, and serve men as though
They were gods. From among them
Came one who was both sexes, and
This was Adda, and Adda was feared.
Adda killed all men and women,
Until the last living member of the
Cursed race was Adda. Adda
Climbed the tallest of the white
Metal protrusions, and saw the
Land was damaged beyond repair,
And Adda shed tears of deepest
Sorrow. These tears washed away the
Sins of avaricious man, and the
Land was holy again. Adda went
Up to the heavens, and there were
No men or women left on the earth
To defile nature's beauty.
The man with crimson eyes begged Kevavi not to leave him, and she saw that the man had a purpose in life, and the man's purpose was to deter Kevavi from her path. Kevavi saw the man and the man told her that her beauty made his gods wont to prayer, and she was his god, and as he told her this she slew him, and she continued her sojourn. Kevavi thought often of the man for eighty years' time, and no more. At that point, Kevavi found on her way an unnatural, minute clump on the ground, and near it the tiniest of bottles, empty. Kevavi was awake, she never slept, but Kevavi dreamed at the moment she saw the objects of the man with the crimson eyes, and then he left her mind. She became fixated of the clump and the empty bottle, until the destroyed them, and set out for the center of the endless citadel again.
Such time passed Kevavi that her sisters died, and their fireflies died as well. Kevavi found the center of the endless citadel before her own birth, and she found at the citadel's center that treasure which Philiotyrannus had described for her in the Forbidden Country, a throne of gold and of ruby. Nature dared not touch the thing, for it was more than mortal and more than Kevavi.
Kevavi ran her hands through her hair, and she touched her spear, and she saw from the throne in the open air a singular meaning in her existence: that she did not exist, and that the world did not exist, and that she had no sisters, and that the throne was existence. She climbed the throne and sat down on its seat, and for the first time Kevavi existed. The day became night forever, and Kevavi's spear became her scepter as she ruled the anti-existences of ages past, present and to come. There was no time. There was the throne, and there was the scepter, and there was Kevavi, judge of one: to govern anti-existence, Kevavi ruled nothing; to govern the throne, Kevavi ruled a desert; to govern the scepter, Kevavi ruled indiscriminate justice; to govern herself, Kevavi ruled all.
And Kevavi did not come down from the throne, as night wore away to naught, and the last walls and tiles and columns of the citadel became forgotten memories, and the nations of Wind and of Speed burned and their people died and their buildings fell and crumbled and returned to the earth, and the Southward Kingdom's ruins also rejoined the earth, and the forest overtook the hill, and the hill, the nexus of the world which Kevavi had known, was overtaken by the forest, and the world was no longer spherical or flat or any determinate shape, but all non-existence centered around Kevavi, for Kevavi existed, and in her existence Kevavi saw herself at last, and she was not content.
Kevavi decided to end, and she did not sleep, she stopped, and in stopping the entirety of what she had not made ceased, and the scepter fell and in its fall justice disappeared, and the throne was vacant, and there were no more songs.