Faust Issue Six: The Last Chapter

“We have to hurry!” Jason Blood yelled. His voice sounded desperate. Selma ran and dived, sliding and rolling into the Eternity Book, and scooping it up. Blood made his way over, yelling and half grunting with an edge of something in his voice “We have to use the Book! It’s the only way to stop him!” Sweat began to bead on his forehead and his breathing became shallow and quick. “Now!”

Selma snatched the book closer to her. “Stay away, Demon!”

“Please,” Blood said. “I feel Etrigan inside me…The Book has too many ties to him…He knows what to do with it…” He began to clutch at his chest feverishly. Steam was rising from his clothes. “I feel the need to—say the words—“

“No!” Selma yelled.

“Gone…gone…”

Selma ran with the Book in one hand, the scimitar in the other. It was terribly ironic that just a few hours ago she was helping to free Jason so he could call on his demonic alter ego. Now she was trying to prevent that same situation.

“F-free the prince…forever damned—“

“Damn you Blood, get yourself together, fight it!” Selma screamed.

“F-free the m-might from fleshy mire—“

“Blood! I will kill you if I have to!”

“B-boil the b-blood in heart of f-fire—“

“Blood!”

“G-gone, g-gone the f-f-form of…man—“

Selma braced herself and held her scimitar before her. She broke into a dash, arcing her scimitar back. Soon she was upon Blood and ready to strike.

“Arise O demon—“

At full speed, the scimitar was coming down towards Jason’s neck.

“Etri—gah!”

A blast of red mana exploded into Jason’s body, thrusting him back in a hail of smoke and fire. Faust walked hastily to their position, leaving a trail of red mists behind him. “Whatever you’re going to do Selma, do it now.”

Selma looked at the book in her hand. Hundreds of thoughts raced through her mind at once: she had to think about the teachings of the Order, the current danger, and the future of the world. All of that responsibility was in her hands. If she failed to keep the book safe in their hands, it could be used for selfish goals and millions could die because she was too stubborn to do what’s right. “This book represents a lot of power, but also a lot of greed. It pains me to do this… but I can’t let myself be swayed by what it can do. I have to try to destroy it for the sake of mankind.”

Faust’s brows arched from surprise. “Destroy?”

Without another word, she threw the book into the air. Time seemed to slow down, the seconds feeling like minutes. With all of the grace and agility of an acrobat, she leaped into the air. With one swift move she arched her scimitar far behind her, molding her body like the letter C. And finally, with one long swipe, with all of the pain she endured over the years; all the grief she felt losing her sisters in the order; and all of the hope she held for mankind; she brought the powerful scimitar of Suleiman down across the Book.

A large flash erupted from the Book and lashed out in all directions. Movements slowed: first to a snail’s pace, and then to nothing at all. Time stood still. No one seemed to move but Faust and Selma, who was slowly floating down. It was as if they were inside a painting or a photograph.

“What’s going on?” Faust asked.

“I can answer that.”

Faust and Selma turned to find a tall, cloaked figure standing directly behind them. Startled, they jumped back and into a fighting stance. “I didn’t even hear him approach!” Selma said.

“Please,” the man said. His voice was distinct and clear, and although not loud, was well heard. “Please reserve your battles for the others you will fight in the future. Which you will have plenty of in your futures. I am here not as an enemy, but an answer to many questions.”

The two took a moment, then eased themselves into a relaxed stance. The man was an imposing figure, it was hard not to be cautious. Besides his height, he had on a large brown cloak which covered him almost from head to toe. His head was shrouded in a hood, revealing only his mouth. His skin was very pale, with just a hint of color there. His feet seemed to touch the ground, and yet no footprints were left in his wake. Also, his feet were spotless. Most distinctive was one of his pale arms that came from his wide-sleeved cloak: a shackle on his wrist was chained to a large, stone-covered brown book, which seemed to be the larger, more powerful edition of the Eternity Book that fell into Selma’s hands. He moved quickly and silently, floating from space to space, and casting no shadow.

“Who are you?” Selma asked.

“I am the eldest of the Endless, my kin. You may know me as Destiny.”

“Destiny…” Selma said awestruck. She fell to her knees before him. “I am sorry, oh great one, for trying to destroy your book. But I had to, to prevent disaster.”

Destiny seemed just as motionless as those around them. If his mouth didn’t move, Faust would have thought he was a statue. “Do not refer to me, or treat me, as any god to worship or show reverence. The human race has its own fair share of idols and deities, and just as many to come. But what you did proved something to me, something I will now explain.”

Selma looked up, confused. She stood, leaning on her scimitar. Faust watched and remained silent.

“The history of mankind is a story that has many paths. These paths diverge, merge, cross and sometimes avoid each other completely. To note the importance and irrelevance of history would be a matter of opinion, because I’ve seen minute occurrences that have eventually given way to the largest of events. It may take seconds or centuries, but the occurrences of the universe are such a grand mystery that it takes many of your kind many lifetimes to discover one simple truth. Such was not the case of Myrddin, or Merlin, the Great.

“Though countless many think him a mere character in the tale of King Arthur’s fame, you have witnessed for yourself how real his legacy is. Merlin went through one of the most unique lives in history, and I believe I have the utmost authority to state that.

“Born of a strong demon bloodline and a strong connection to magic, he was revealed to be the most powerful wizard of many eras by the time he was three. His aptitude for magic was as natural as breathing; by the age of six, his spells were more complex than the magic of elder mages. By the age of eight, he had revolutionized magical thinking, and his example led to the formations of various ‘schools’ of magic. At the age of ten he had fully discovered his potential. By the age of twelve, he knew how to manipulate almost every form of magic present at his era. So complex was this boy that his mind began to unconsciously unravel the secrets of the universe and its many realms, even while he slept. He dreamt of other dimensions and felt the presence of spirits. And so overwhelmed was he that he had to find an outlet.

“For two years he constructed a book and wrote down everything that came from his mind. In those two years he ate once a day, maybe twice on holy days, and made his home in a mountain cave, much to his mother’s dismay. For two years he wrote of languages, spells and concepts in his book, until he created something three times as large as your phonebooks and seven times as wide as the Bible. And though he finally completed his enormous project, he still felt he hadn’t done anything at all.

“Here was a boy who spent 730 days and nights in a self-imposed trance and had written the largest book ever hand-written into one volume. And yet, when he read the pages, all he saw was a confusing mixture of glyphs, passages and nearly every topic supernatural, magical or cosmic.

“For seven days and nights he carried his book up Scafell Pike, the tallest mountain in England, and on the last night he reached the top. Calling on two hundred and eighty-nine secret, true names that he had learned of deities, aspects and concepts, mountains and mountain crones, lions and wolves and the sea and the sky, he made a direct, conscious connection to the Ether, and with his book, he performed the most intelligent and complex spell of his life to find one thing: the divine truth.”

Destiny paused. “What he learned, I can not reveal. But it goes without saying that things changed for him that night. At the age of 14 he had learned of so much, the most important his own future. His life is what leads to where we are all at now.

“He knew that his father was not the merchant who raised him, but the demon lord Belial. He knew that in a year he would meet his bond-brother, Iason, or Jason, as you know him now.”

“Jason Blood?” Faust whispered.

“He knew that later in his life he would discover the true king of England, King Arthur, and that even later he would fail to prevent the disaster that was the fall of Camelot. He knew Morgan le Fay would help start the havoc, not only turning Jason away from aiding Camelot, but summoning his demon half-brothers Scapegoat and Etrigan. He knew he’d have to bond Jason to Etrigan to not only save their lives through a blood ritual, but to punish them. He knew he would finally find love in the arms of his sorceress apprentice Nimue; and that ultimately it would be she who would trap him with his own magic. He knew that there he would be trapped for centuries.

“All this he knew, but decided not to change a thing. He decided to live his life the way it was. But his Book, on the other hand, had chosen its own path as well: it had been transformed into something new metaphysically and spiritually. That book,” Destiny said, pointing to the book in Selma’s hand, “was transfigured that night by Merlin to become the earthly representation of the book you see chained to my arm.”

Everyone remained quiet for minutes. What could anyone say to all of this information? But Selma was the first to break the silence. “What does this mean now? Why are you here? To reclaim the book?”

Destiny shook his head. “I can not take into my realm what was made on Earth. Neither can I destroy it. When Merlin created and transfigured his book, something happened for the first time ever: the pages in my book were changed. Destinies began, and have continued to this day, to change randomly. This book may not be as powerful as mine, but it has a great amount of influence. And it needs to be protected by someone who has no desire to use it for personal gain.” Destiny’s eyes fell upon Selma. She felt as if there was a weight on her shoulders. “I am the partial founder to your order. I rarely involve myself in human affairs, unlike some of my siblings, but I planted the idea of an order to protect this book centuries ago. You are the sole survivor and inheritor of that role.”

Selma was speechless. “Role…What could I do?”

“I want you to be the Janissary of the Eternity Book. To keep it with you and safeguard it as I do mine. At all times. You will be my elite soldier, host to a myriad of new abilities and a new vision. I can tell you that it will be a difficult journey; I guarantee it, because I have seen the conflicts you will be a part of. But it is a role that is necessary.”

For a moment that seemed to stretch over an eternity, she paused to think over what this decision could mean. Finally, though, with conviction, she nodded firmly. “I will.”

Destiny took a step closer to her, so that he was just a few inches a way. He raised his arms, pushing his hood further back upon his head. “Look into my eyes, Janissary.”

Selma’s eyes stared into his, and immediately she seemed mesmerized. “Your eyes…you’re blind…but it’s like…staring into the heart of the universe…” Her eyes began to change: the whites turned black and briefly filled with stars; the irises then turned pale and the pupils became white. “So…beautiful…”

Destiny stepped back, opening his book. A bright light flashed and in the next moment, Selma was in all-new clothes. She wore a top that had loose-fitting sleeves and a tight torso, with alternating colors of mocha brown and crimson. Her pants were of the same design, with white seams. Her boots and gloves were all as white as snow. Her head was covered in a hood that matched her top, and a mask that covered the lower part of her face: only a little of her hair and her eyes stuck out. Her eyes were now blind. Most distinctive was the Eternity Book, which was now chained to her right arm in the same fashion as Destiny. Overall, she now resembled Destiny so much that she seemed to mimic his stance and mannerisms.

Destiny turned to Faust. “And you.”

“What about me?” Faust asked.

“I can not see into your future too well, and this confuses me. But I can tell you what I do see. First, you will get a call of the utmost importance, a call that will help to set events in motion. You are a complex man, Faust. You will face adversity in both your enemies and your peers. So far things have gone very smooth but events will begin to turn others against you. Worse yet, you will face your toughest challenges in two foes. One made from the sky above and the other from the infinite abyss. But you are unique: in more ways than you know. I must ask you to be a keeper of secrets. And most of all, I must ask you to do whatever it takes to maintain the cosmic balance.”

Destiny turned and began to walk away. Selma, now Janissary, clutched the book closer to her chest. Faust hung his head, his mind racing with too many thoughts.

“Faust?”

Faust lifted his gaze to see Destiny’s eyes staring directly into his. His pale white eyes were deathly serious, and Faust never thought a blind man could see into his “soul” as much as Destiny seemed to. Destiny’s voice came out solemn, graven, and yet somehow indifferent all at once. “Do whatever it takes.”

His phone rang, pulling his attention. When he looked back up, Destiny had vanished without a sound or footprint. Janissary, it seemed, followed; for she was also gone without a trace. From deep inside his cargo pants, the ringing got louder and louder, as if calling out to Faust to pick it up. He had forgotten he had it, and was surprised that it hadn’t been burned or crushed through all the chaos he had endured. The air rippled around them as if the world was becoming something less than what it was. He blinked, and when he reopened his eyes, he and an unconscious Jason Blood were back in his townhouse in New York. Must have been a gift from Destiny, he thought.

“You’ve returned to me!” the Mistress of the Mirror exclaimed from his living room mirror. “You’ve come just in time, I think Jeannie is about to marry Darren!”

Faust sighed. The phone continued to ring, refusing to give up. Perhaps this is the call that will change my life, Faust thought. He picked up.

“Where have you been and why haven’t you called us back?” It was Ms. Dover’s voice. “I’ve been waiting by the phone for the last few days now with all manners of strange things happening around my poor little Stanley, while he swears to me that it is his dog Spot, the imaginary friend I told you about that could be real, and I need to know what is going on because things are disappearing and breaking and bleeding and you can’t break your contract, Mr. Fust, I can sue for that and—“

“Ms. Dover,” Faust said, shaking his head. “I am really not in the mood.”