Tales to Stoke A Great Smoke

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window."

Spoken gravely from an old man they just met but 13 minutes past. It was eerily said and meant as a warning to his newly met travelers.

“I have seen many things and heard just as many…but none match this tale”, the grey figure slithered through a closed smile.

“Why do you seek to visit these parts?”

The old man spoke again.

“We are merely travelers looking for more than ghost stories”, said Lilith.

She meant it.

She was traveling with a horde of paid hands, Mercs – gun slingers – all ill-tempered with vengeance stained.

“…we just want to know what happened here…as we closed upon this barn we saw a blood-red sunset. Seemed to be divined for miles, and more than just time.

…we didn’t think there would be any brave enough to bring it back…” she stopped.

“…Can you tell us what you saw…what made the candle burn?” She smiled.

They began a large fire. Just large enough for her horde to encircle the warmth. The tale slipped into ritual.

“Ah…you mean what man would rekindle a flame?”

“You a mind reader old man?” She scoffed.

The grey figure stoked the flames. It was his fire pit after all.

“The Snake flew. No, he cruised his way past any ancient casts or ethereal barriers just beyond the forest rim. It wasn’t quite the first time. The first time was much easier I imagine. It rushed to him before he could change course, then…

…His nerves were shot, from what it seemed. What was nervousness anymore? He reminded himself it must be done, like the last before. Anger and desire became a memory – a long calm river heading towards a chaotic gathered energy.

Not for the loud rumble of what looked like a 69’ Dodge Charger would there be any to notice the black blur on the winding black roads that led to the rundown, oddly-shaped, perfectly normal and suspicious abandoned old barn”.

The listening horde perked the heads proud. A jealous pride.

“It was more than an abandoned old barn. It was a front for a spiritual king, and a descendant of a long line of hidden things. A Demon King awaited. It knew the price of being a controller of the Air. Some would eventually come to steal it, fair…"

The old man began again.

"…There would be no spectators this time, The Snake brewed. Only a question or two.

He was a ghost these days. The old barn was too.

The Snake, stopped abruptly. An Owl appeared through the tops of the trees. Almost drawn in he thought.

“Ye friend or foe?”

Snake said with laughter.

The illustrious otherworldly sigils stolen, and hundreds of principalities conjured forth and properly battled, prepared him. The power of saving oneself through thought was just the beginning. It was more than manifestation of power. Fruits of the divine with added ledger, constantly bled darker. It had to be more. A darkness kept seeping in beneath the good intentioned ore. “It’s always Them”. He said to himself, gripping the wheel before stepping out of the car to stare at the blanket of white luminaries through the thick fog and blackness surrounding the barn. He needed one more sigil to the collection. One more to raise attention. All is the same path ahead.

There wasn’t much to offer the price for initiation into an ancient brotherhood, but the mad-horse dragging him along. Nor was his anger good enough, forged deep in the past. The only scrape was his longing for an audience. An audience with an old kind - Another proud Demon King with knowledge of Them. A principality with only wisdom to hem.

Outside of the running car, Snake slowly walked to the front of the barn. He knew he was being watched. You could taste the deafening quiet. A thick atmosphere came upon. An all knowing spirit emerged from an opening in the top of the main barn door.

“I just need information!” Snake yelled.

The dense air returned, “We…are…all just In Formation”.

“True”, Snake replied. “Where does the head and the tail converge?” He added. “Where are the ones who hide their hands?”

“Cut, the blood flows. Stand still on the circled stones the bones know. Make it run. Make it pour. Only through death will Them abhor”, the old demon uttered.

“Glad you said that”, Snake smiled.

Snake was beholden to something, hidden behind his back. An ancient device. A sound gun. It found Snake, before the journey took mind. He never knew the full extent what it could do until that moment.

The Demon King was impressed. And, spoke again:

“I am Creator-Destroyer. Builder-Berserker. The knowledge is mine. The mantle steadfast. The secret fire forever remains. The…”

And, before the Demon King could finish, Snake pointed the sound gun directly at the old barn's center door. The force of the sound gun swept the old barn away like a vicious storm. The Demon King was no more.

A mantle fell low. Snake knew what it meant. He devoured another principality. He accepted the cloth, but not as to take the form, but to start a war. The War of the Veil.

“The secret fire runs wild to the sky”, Snake spoke through clinched teeth. “Master-Usurper, is I”

“What ever can you find her dear friend?” Said the old grey man.

“we come to steal from The Snake…the secret flame he stole from us” Lilith said pithily.

The Horde arose from the flamed circle.

They journeyed forth. Into the once blood-red horizon.

Written by: Sam Vela