Shadow Guardians: The Beast

Alejandro’s knees were in pain as he prayed with furious conviction on the hard marble floors of the Gothic chapel. Faint light came in through the narrow, tall stained glass windows that reached high up to the domed ceiling. The stonework was dark, giving the chapel an overall somber feel inside. The gargoyles added to the ambience as they stared down from their seats at Alejandro with menacing bulging eyes.

He will be heard today. He had seen the true god with his very eyes in his dreams! Today, he will be heard. The fate of the church depended on it. Their numbers had dwindled for too long; the benches were near empty, and there were not nearly enough donations to fund his lifestyle. The people’s belief had grown weak, seeing the soaring crime in New York. He had begged for guidance for weeks until the Lord in his dreams beckoned him to forgo his earthly comforts of bathing and eating. Once plump, he was now a hollow man. Empty, ready to be filled with the power of the true Lord. And now he understood—the end was nigh. Modern life had stolen the loyalty of his followers.

"Oh, greatest Master, hear my pleas and come to me.” His torso rose and fell to the ground as he prayed with a shaky voice and even shakier fingers. “I have suffered in your name! I call thee by the name revealed to me, oh great Xolvaak!”

The candles on the altar flickered as a mysterious wind drifted through the chapel. The chapel bell started ringing by itself in primordial chant. Before him, in the circle he had drawn according to ancient custom, a blinding light exploded. It morphed into a terrifying being of ember and flame.

Alejandro kept his bald head down and bundled together his black church robes. The Lord was fearsome to look upon, even in his near-humanoid form. Scorching eyes stared at him, and he could feel their burn on his flesh. Ancient symbols adorned him from head to toe. The fire cooled, and the warping ashes around the being stilled and settled onto its crackling body in the form of a magenta skin. His body was humanoid, with a trail of horns running down his spine.

“Rise,” it thundered.

Alejandro scrambled up.

“What do you offer?” Xolvaak demanded.

Alejandro gulped and raised his arms, palms facing up. “I offer to thee my entire soul and body. I offer my suffering to you, oh great one! I beg of your help; the church is suffering. Few people will follow you, m’Lord. Help me convince them.”

Xolvaak’s head tilted. He stalked closer, and Alejandro’s skin turned feverish.

“How many souls can you offer me?”

“As many as I can muster, Lord...”

“Which is few,” Xolvaak gave a low, rumbling laugh as he stalked around the priest. Alejandro felt he might expire at any moment.

“But perhaps I have use for you. I have enemies, you see, who would impede the evolution of our minster. They are very powerful, enduring warriors.”

“We will smite them, m’Lord!” Alejandro declared with conviction. “No one will destroy the Order of the Chosen!”

Xolvaak leered, exposing a mouth full of long canines. “I like that... You will call yourself the Chosen; you and the other priests you will…convince…to fight in my name. The more you convert, the better, and the greater the chances that we will kill all those heretics who dare choose another over me.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened. ”Kill? M’Lord?”

“Yes, my power and your continued ability to convince others to join us depend on blood and souls. The more you bring me, the stronger I become, and the stronger you become.”

Suddenly, Xolvaak’s breath was right at his ear; it nearly burned his skin off. “You must rise, my brethren! For no one will dare challenge you. Rise and grow your army! Rise!” The foundations of the chapel shook at the thundering sound of Xolvaak’s voice.

“Yes! Yes m’Lord!”

“Good,” Xolvaak said, punching a smoldering palm into Alejandro’s chest. He shook as his soul left in white light through his eyes and mouth and drifted into Xolvaak’s open maw. Alejandro’s golden-brown eyes darkened.

“I will preach your truth!” he declared, raising his fists to the air. “You are the one and only god! They must convert,” Alejandro said, wanting to pull his hair and forgetting he was bald. “Or they will all go to hell. I will save them!”

Xolvaak snapped his hand away, feeling invigorated with new power. “Now,” he continued, “There are some, changes, that must happen in this chapel. Not many. I merely need you to paint the windows black so that no light may enter or reflect on any surface. I require regular sacrifices. Drain their blood, disperse it amongst your children in my name, let them hear my message, hear my calling, and offer themselves to me.”

Alejandro hypnotically nodded. Xolvaak slowly paced up and down, leaving molten footsteps on the marble.

“Go to your peers in other churches, convert them. Let them preach my word so that your children may come to me, too. We will speak again, for I am now within you.”

A fiery light exploded, Xolvaak turned to ashes as he disappeared, and Alejandro burst through the church doors, hands fisted in the air, shouting loudly, “I am the Father of the Chosen!”

"Oh, shut the hell up, Priest! It’s twelve at night!” yelled Shelby next door.

Alejandro turned and strode over to the plump fifty-year-old woman with her thin red lips and balloon cheeks. She was startled when she saw him. The wide eyes with their black irises, the pale skin, the excavated cheeks. He didn’t look well at all. And he smelled all… smoky.

He grabbed her by the collar of her blouse and sneered in the way of a lunatic. “Shelby,” he drawled, “Come to my sermon tomorrow evening; the Lord calls upon you. Offer your blood and your life to him.”

Shelby shook her head fiercely. “You do strange things in there, Alejandro!”

Alejandro laughed low and dangerously. “My dear, Shelby...” He lifted a hand and waved it here and there, with a magenta magical light following.

Shelby’s eyes bulged.

“I have found the Lord, Shelby. He can make your dreams come true, too.”

As she watched the magical purple light, her mouth drew into a smile without her knowing.