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Wes Hรฆl- Angels, Devils and Man's-kin and Others- I'd will that yall me hear
It is as a walker of the Mark that I, by heart's will and against mind's best judgement, come now here to yall story-players. I before last summer's heat was amid many who watched the doings of two heaven's-kin, one long ago fallen, that serpent who in eden then was. Those who watched all seemed well to me to be kind and good-hearted, great of craft on song and spell and dream, of cloths worn and held, of paint and pencil, and what we held was good, and of love.
Two summers afore now, within this tale sorrow was brought by the Metatron- I know him well, the bastard - who just as ten years ere brought his same ill-council to that same angel, Serpent's-Friend, Serpent's-Heart-Holder, he who by Heaven is prized and would Heaven mend, Earth-Walker Beholden to None and Half-Hidden from all, a bright fool by any name. Then from this the Serpent again from his love was parted with strange tricks, and that angel Appolyon again walks earth, and even aside the story, by some strange chance, those same two singers, the Song-Twisters who words of other songs change- that same pair sang in this foul season that, ten years before it, sang in my own dark-eyed time, though too short it was, by that Metatron's hand. Funny how it is... truly all devils such as myself will return in ten years' time- know you that.
And yet near one year from when sorrow broke the spell within, far greater broke it from without. It is many times seen that those of mankind who speak as God are in soul and mind and behind locked doors a most true evil- and this summer past, all us who listened to one such man learned that the evil of such men strays even far from faith or from the churchdoor. In this and after I saw the great-minded and full-hearted people I once watched with turned wretched- wracked in grief, some their souls stained by staying with their now-evil stories, others, fast and first to break full-free, sank soon as low in tearing down those who stayed, hurling death-messages and denying their friends-turned-foes' place among mankind for their ill loyalty. And many more drifted at as many places between, unsure, myself among them. And again at this winters' depth these truths and this evil was made more known, and again to wreck we were. Now there are shreds of this great group I once moved among.
Now- to go back within the story- it is against my mind and a bit of my heart, truly, that I do this. But I remember when we sang of love.
It is us who do not deserve to shatter ourselves against some man's cruelty- know all yall that. That angel Serpent's-Friend- or perhaps the Serpent himself by his own friend's name- ten-and-some years before now gave me a favor that I may never repay in my long life- a life greater to me than my own was returned. As now, the Metatron had with that same ill-council Serpent's-Friend, and Appolyon, and an other angel turned to evil things in guise of Heaven's mending, and as now Heaven was against much grief dashed and wrecked.
Now, as then, I come to you as a Child of Cain, Walker of the Mark, That Demon Who At Water's Edge Would Dwell, Mere-Born, Knife-Ready, Flesh-Tooth-Stained, Earth-Hearted, Keeper of the Hearth in that Under-Earth-Hidden Cave-Hall of Monster-Slayers Past, Fatherless Road-Wanderer, God-Fighter, Theomacha, Elder of Two Together-Told, Mother of Many, Mother of That Most-Famous Cursed Giant Who God's Ire Holds. As payment for Serpent's-Friend's own gift to me I offer to guide yall well through the Mark, from your own evil-written story and to less-stained lands, as I myself fled my own death five winters ere.
I remind you that no part of Eden, nor the Serpent, nor the Fall, nor Revelations nor Metatron, were by that evil man written. These names and story-roads to all are open, and many other names for Heaven-kin and Hell-kin and all those around them as well are given freely to yall for using. And by my own self can you see that well into newer days things have been written that are all-by-chance well close to this Omens'-tale. Especially I would tell you of some stories of the Fair Folk, the Good People, aรณs Sidhe, however yall may call them. Many well-lettered men have written that at least some of these Good Folk come of angels who fell at Earth's earliest, but having not the evil for Hell yet not the good for Heaven, were instead bound to earth in some unhuman yet roughly man-shaped being, to live their hedonistic ever-dances.
If you can, with strength of will and names new and no threads remaining to bind you to that evil man's words, make yourselves free of him- then through the Mark I, gladly and with much hope in heart, invite you to join them or any other in the endless winding-places of story. Please- hear me- we all deserve better than this.
