CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE CULT OF BOREAS

Lines of humans stand as intertwined serpents heading toward a prey; gathering. Black-robed men and women lie in the front of the snakehead; welcoming. Upon their black robes, they wear a transparent white skull amulet, on their faces a never-wavering smile and in their eyes unquestionable faith. Hidden in the snake’s belly amongst the horde are Ulric and Melione. The human-shaped animal creeps ever so carefully as they with it.

“Remember what I’ve said, lady Melione? We must infiltrate their ranks and take the leader’s head,” Ulric whispers to Melione. Careful others do not hear.

Melione stares at the gathered masses, ignoring the words of caution.

“The Moon has given this task to us. This is the step we must take. This is the way we must walk,” Ulric adds.

The way? Is this where I must go? Will I find what I'm looking for?

She closes her eyes for a moment. Crystals. She can see them all around her; a defenseless young girl with tears in her eyes as she stares at two figures with expressions of dread trapped in eternity.

“Melione!” a voice calls out to her as she snaps out of her dazed state; panting while covered in sweat.

Ulric looks at her with worry, looking around hoping they do not draw too much attention; they don’t. A sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” Ulric asks Melione as he places his hand on her shoulder.

“Okay?” Melione asks, staring at him with her head tilted. Reverting to her original state as if nothing happened.

“I will get us inside. Leave the talking to me,” Ulric says.

The voices whisper.

“We must get in! If this is the way, then we must get in,” Two says.

“If this is the way we will get in. Why wouldn’t we get in?” One asks.

“We could not get in if they think we are... strange?” Two states.

“Are we strange?” One asks, wondering about the answer.

“Maybe? Are we strange?” Two asks as it thinks about it.

“Are we strange?” Melione asks Ulric as she turns to him.

“What?” Ulric blurts out.

“Are we strange?” Melione repeats as Ulric thinks about how to answer this question; unsure.

“You are true. You are as you need to be. The others, they are strange. You must fool them into believing you are like them even if you are not,” Ulric says as he nods to himself, satisfied with his explanation.

“How do we fool them?” Melione asks as she tilts her head, waiting for an answer.

Ulric thinks for a moment.

“Act,” Ulric states.

“Act?” Melione asks, thinking what this act is. What is act?

“Yes. This is the way but say as little as possible. People like talking, but not listening. I will fool them into thinking we are normal. I have received lessons from the Moon,” Ulric says with great confidence.

The voices in Melione’s head whisper.

“Act? How do you act?” Two asks.

“I know, I know,” One says with confidence.

“You know how to act?” Two asks with skepticism.

“Of course,” One responds with confidence.

“When did you learn to act?” Two asks, doubting the other voice.

“When I was a human child,” One explains.

“I see... wait! You were never a human child!” Two responds.

“I wasn’t? You are right!” One says as it laughs.

“You weren’t?” Two adds as it laughs.

The voices laugh as One stops for a moment.

“How do I know how to act?” One asks, wondering about the answer.

“Good question!” Two states.

“Yes. I will act us through this. It is only logical,” One adds with confidence.

“Yes. It is only logical,” Two adds.

The voices stop as thinking about something.

“What is logical?” Two asks, wondering about the answer.

“I don’t know,” One adds as it laughs; Two joins in the laughter.

Melione nods to herself. I will act, she concludes. This could be her way?

The belly soon becomes the head as Ulric and Melione stand in front of a cultist. A tall man with one eye missing; the black empty socket draws attention. The missing eye does not seem to foil his good mood and jolly smile; his dangerous appearance and cheerful demeanor don’t fit well together.

“Welcome newcomers. Praise be to Boreas! Praise be to the change,” the one-eyed cultist says as widely opening his arms in a warm welcome.

“Praise be to... Boreas,” Ulric responds with hesitation.

“Praise be to Boreas,” the one-eyed cultist repeats as he looks at Melione, who blankly stares at the empty eye socket.

Ulric inconspicuously taps her with his elbow.

“Act!” Two whispers in her head.

“Right. Say praise be to Boreas, fellow human,” One adds with confidence.

Melione smiles.

“Praise be to Boreas, fellow human,” Melione responds overly dramatically.

Ulric uncomfortably smiles at the cultist, who eyes, singular, them with suspicion.

“We acted!” One whispers in Melione’s mind with joy.

“We acted!” Two adds joyfully as both laugh.

“You must be new. Have you come to join in the gathering? Have you come to celebrate the change?” the one-eyed cultist asks.

“Yes,” Ulric responds as he turns his look to Melione who stands in silence looking around with curiosity.

“What about you? Why did you come here?” the cultist asks as he faces Melione.

She thinks for a moment.

“I followed my nose,” Melione says as she smiles; the cultist looks at her as he bursts into laughter.

“I see, I see,” the cultist repeats as he checks her over; she is strange, but she does not look bad. Not bad at all.

“How would you like to see the Master? You are exactly... what he is looking for,” the cultist asks as he leans too close to Melione.

“Is it going to be fun?” Melione asks innocently.

“So much fun,” the one-eyed cultist responds sinisterly, staring at her with his one eye and an empty black socket. Melione, out of curiosity, tries to poke the eyeless hole with her finger but Ulric reacts quickly and stops her midway; smiling uncomfortably, pretending as if nothing happened.

“We would love to meet the Master,” Ulric says, approaching the cultist.

“I am sorry, but only she can go. You seem strange. You can take part in the gathering when the night falls,” the cultists adds.

Ulric grunts but controls his dissatisfaction; he approaches Melione as he whispers.

“Go. I shall find a way there. Remember what we talked about,” Ulric says as he moves away.

The cultist signals two other members of his cult as they quickly arrive.

“Follow them and you shall find the way,” the one-eyed cultist says.

The way? Melione follows for she is searching; she is searching for revenge.

The encampment stands encircled by a largely improvised fence made of discarded planks and irons bars; many tents lie inside as the people gathered to create their make-shift village around an ancient, previously abandoned temple in the distance. They allow Ulric access to the outside while Melione is given access to the residence of the cult masters. She arrives at the structure; the pyramid-shaped temple stands three stories tall. Guided by the two cultists, she easily gets past the guards as they snicker at her as if they know something she does not.

Decaying walls with worn-out old paintings. She cannot see the images, only small fragments. They adorn the entire temple. This looks like it was a place of great importance in the days of the old. Spread across the first floor and lying all around on large pillows are young men and women. Good-looking young men and women. They idle around in dazed-like states as they engage in bodily pleasures of drinks, food, smoking dried-up plants from glass apparatuses- and pleasures of flesh. There is no shame only pleasure.

Melione breaks away from the accompanying cultist as the activities of the young men and women attract her attention. A youth stares at her as he puffs smoke circles in the air with rapid succession; the sound of moaning follows as she turns to see a naked woman sitting upon a man; a smell draws her attention as she notices four youths eating food from motionless humans acting as if they are tables. Another moan, in the corner, men and women kiss and caress each other; men and women, women and women and men and men. Earthly delights are no strangers here.

“Have you come to celebrate the change?” the naked, young, good-looking man asks.

“The change?” Melione asks.

“The change. The great calamity will fall those unworthy,” the man says as he smiles.

The cultist comes to her as he signals they must continue their way. She follows.

In the middle of the building, a stairway. Stairway to heaven or hell? Who can tell? They ascend. Darkness covers the second floor as only the red light of burning candles illuminates its visage. Cultists kneel as they bow and pray in front of an altar; the altar of Boreas. The icon of a transparent white skull; the same icon they wear on their necks. They chant in harmony, creating a creepy spectacle of grandeur.

“Praise to Boreas. The rightful one, the one who shall bring change upon the world. The immortal who shall bring calamity upon the unbelievers,” the kneeling cultists chant as one approaches her and points toward the stairway above.

She continues her way as the cultist brings her to the third and top floor. He dares not enter as he only shows the way; leaving soon after.

The first lies in light, the second shrouded in darkness, but the third is different; on the third, an unnatural mist covers it as a chilling aura sweeps. It is cold. Melione breathes as her breath freezes from the cold.

“What do we have here?” a masculine voice in the mist calls as the door closes behind her.

“Another one for us,” a feminine voice in the mist calls.

“The little ones did well to bring her,” a masculine voice in the mist says.

“Pure white as the snow,” the feminine voice in the mist adds.

“As ice,” the masculine voice in the mist proclaims.

Two figures appear out of the mist like ghosts. A tall, lean man with long white hair and a tall, lean woman with even longer white hair; almost identical in height and looks. Upon their bodies, they wear barely any cloth. Scarcely dressed in the cold, they look... comfortable.

Small portions of the mist subside as they reveal crystals in the background. Crystals! Melione puts her hands around her body as she shakes.

“Is the little one scared?” the male asks.

“I believe she is, brother,” the woman confirms as she comes close to Melione. Inspecting her with detail.

“Is she... clean?” the brother asks as the sister takes a whiff.

“She is clean,” the sister confirms as the two hover over her. Embracing and consuming. Encompassed by their presence Melione stands hapless but not because of them or fear. It is her own memories that hold her. A child walks through the crystalized city. Fear, her only companion in the place covered with unbreakable crystals. They died in dread, and in the same dread, they remain forevermore.

The voices in her head whisper.

“Crystal!” One screams.

“Crystal!” Two screams.

“I remember the crystal,” One adds.

“I remember the crystal,” Two adds.

“It is the same,” One says.

“It is the same,” Two confirms.

“Are they the one? The one I seek?” Melione speaks as the pale siblings look at each other.

“The one you seek?” the brother repeats as he looks at her.

“Tell me little one. Who do you seek?” the sister asks with a malicious smile on her face as she lustfully lays her hands on Melione’s body. Slowly caressing her.

“No!” One says.

“No! They are not the ones we seek, but they... they...” Two says as it gets cut off.

“... they smell like the one we seek,” One adds.

“How can they smell like the one we seek?” Two asks as it wonders.

“A master!” One yells.

“Yes! Yes! Ask them about their master,” Two whispers with excitement.

“The master!” One yells.

Melione turns her gaze towards them as the shakes and shivers stop.

“Who is your master?” Melione asks.

“Our Master?” the brother blurts out with surprise.

“Why do you care about our Master?” the sister asks as she licks Melione’s neck.

“Why do you want our Master?” the brother asks as he stands behind Melione with his hands around her.

They move their hands over her body; caressing it. They kiss while caressing her.

“DEATH!” One screams

“DEATH!” Two screams.

“DEATH!” Melione screams.

The pale siblings back away in a flash as the expressions of lust on their faces turn to those of anger.

“You dare threaten our Master?” the brother yells as the room shakes and the mist swirls around in a vortex.

“Your atonement shall be your life,” the sister yells as she floats in the mist.

“Who is he?” One screams.

“Who is he?” Two screams.

“Who is he?” Melione and her voices scream in unison.

The pale siblings raise their hands towards Melione as her body crystalizes; white crystals pierce out of her flesh covered in her blood. She grabs the crystal as she pulls it out; throwing the bloody spike on the ground. Melione makes a step forward. Surprise arises from the sibling’s faces as they intensify their magic.

More and more crystal spikes erupt from her flesh as she pulls one another two appear piercing her body; she continues pulling them out and making her way towards.

The brother screams with frustration; the sister screams with malice.

Melione stands close to them as she extends her hand to the sister; she falls a hair’s distance away.

Kneeling on the floor, her body adorned with bloodied crystals, she is helpless.

“Kill, kill, kill...” One repeats.

“Kill, kill, kill...” Two repeats.

“Kill, kill, kill...” Melione repeats with One and Two in unison.

Suddenly, the door opens with a kick. Behind it, a man in black robes raises a crossbow, aims, and shoots. The bolt flies as it hits the brother straight in the head; killing him on the spot.

The sister screams in agony as she moves her hands in the man’s direction. Two crystals rupture through his right arm as the crossbow falls to the ground, releasing a scream of pain. The pale sister looms over him.

“You will pay with death and pain. You shall...” the pale sister screams as two hands encompass her; she turns back and sees Melione.

“How?” the pale sister blurts out in confusion.

Melione grips her tighter.

“Dead like bunnies in the fields, dead like bunnies in the fields...” Melione sings as her two voices join in.

“Dead like bunnies, in the fields, dead like bunnies in the fields...” Melione, One and Two sing in unison.

The pale sister goes to grab Melione’s head with her hand as she stops midway; she shakes… cries in agony. Unable to control herself.

Melione tightens her grip.

“You will pay! You will pay! Our Master will have your soul! The great calamity shall be your undoing. Our Master will...” the pale sister yells as blood pours from her eyes and mouth. She grows silent and with one ultimate scream falls dead.

Melione stands looking at the dead bodies of the ice siblings as a tear runs through her eye.

“Who is your Master? Who is he?” Melione repeats as Ulric approaches her.

“Probably the one they call Boreas? Right?” Ulric says, scratching his head.

“Boreas?” Melione repeats as she looks at him.

“This is the cult of Boreas. They also said praise to Boreas. Right?” Ulric says as shrugging.

They look at each other in silence.

“Yes..” Melione says as she bursts out laughing; Ulric joins in on the laughter.

The tower shakes as the crystals on the top floor crack and the frozen air bursts out of them.

“We need to go,” Ulric says as he grabs her hand; they make their way out.

People flee out in confusion as the temple crumbles, and mist envelops all.

In the distance, two figures in cultist robes walk away; looking at the aftermath. Removing the robes, they make their way. Ulric and Melione continue their journey.

One following the Moon, the other her nose. She will never stop. No one will stop her. Not until she does what must be done. This is her way.