+ War : The Revelation +

By: Apathy

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 13th Oct 2021

I don’t know what you had in mind

But here we stand on opposing sides…

Let’s go to war.


++The aching in my bones had gotten stronger over the past few weeks. Not so much a physical pain, but a pain in my soul. Internally I was struggling. The echos of medical professionals, friends and colleagues repeated in my head like an air raid siren++


“Take more medication! You will be fine. Maybe you need a new therapist? Are you REALLY trying in therapy? It’s all about your perspective! Be more positive. Get over it. Some people have it worse!”


++It was more than that though. I WAS taking the medication. I never missed an appointment. Every year another CT, MRI or PET scan on my brain. I WAS doing what I was supposed to do. This feeling wasn’t a mental health crisis. It was a war of self. Something inside me cracked when I got the confirmation about Annika and what HE had done to her. I couldn’t reconcile. It ate away at me, and as such everything else began unraveling along with it. Then there was the unresolved situation with Eoin. I had no proof he had been turned but if my Father taught me anything it was always to suspect the worst. Even Sun Tzu who wrote the Art Of War regaled his stance on how to approach and trick your adversaries. One of my favorite books. Eoin’s hands were dirty with the filth of government and collusion. Would he turn on me? Had he? Was Eric in on it? Ancesnion was closely nipping at my heels and I was going into a battle, with doubts, suspicions and paranoia. I no longer trusted the people closest to me. I was suspect of everyone around me. My hyper-awareness was almost constant because my position in The Cure, also meant I was a prime target. Warstien figured that out, downing me in the ring like a dog ready to be shot back behind the barn. He just underestimated my people. Anyone else would have lost morale and confidence in the task and purpose, not my warriors. Survival is equal parts adapting, overcoming, and manipulating. Yet, despite maintaining a brave facade that was in control and stable, we’re going into Ascension fractured, not whole. It wasn’t the others who weakened our defenses, not Warstien or The so called Dynasty. Efforts were made but they never quite achieved the effect they were hoping for. No. Over the past few months the goals were changing. I grew to despise the name “The Cure”. The whole idea of the outfit wasn’t even mine. It still reeked with the tainted ideology from Scotty. It was his hair brained idea. I only inherited it and it was cursed from the get go. I needed to find clarity. She had been calling me for a while now. In my dreams I could feel her pulling me towards her siren song. Elysia++

Ritual Room – Undisclosed – Full Moon

War..Never Changes. 


++The rest of the world did not exist in this place. This was a sacred spot. The room where I connected with my ancestors, my deities and where I did my shadow work. It was where I communed with the women who came before me in my lineage. I would read their journals, meditate on their words, envision their experiences. As a woman, I drew my strength from them. As a leader, I looked to them and their experiences, for wisdom and advice. Upon the altar sat totems of The Morrigan and Peitho. The walls were painted black. Floor cushions and pillows were sitting neatly in the corner. Hookahs and paraphernalia shared the same space as herbs, a small cauldron and bags of stones and runes. I was kneeling on the floor in front of the altar, skyclad, deeply meditating. The candle flames flickered and danced. I knelt with my hands turned upward, palms flat facing up. Receiving their wisdom and guidance. Karolina was nearby, also skyclad, kneeling to the side with a small pot on one side and a barber’s brush on the other. Her head was bowed and she was quietly communing with her goddess. This was a holy place. This was my workroom, my office of sorts. Some of my best ideas and revelations came from this sacred space. I had already drank the green fairy, hoping it would open my mind and help me better focus on her. I was swaying back and forth slightly on my knees, deep into a trance. War was coming and I needed to speak to her before it came++


“Goddess, I kneel before you asking for your wisdom in the coming days. I have felt you drawing me, calling me to hear you. It had been so long since I felt you with me. Elysia is trying to speak to me and for so long I was unwilling to listen. I kneel here before you, ready to receive your wisdom. Speak to me.”


++I drew in a deep breath. Elysia was a long story. One that transcended generations. It was my heritage. A secret society of wealth, power and you were a member for life. It was just another high society cult. Not in a traditional sense. There were no Jim Jones in the Order of Elysia, no flavor-aid drinks or Charles Mansons hopped up on hard drugs trying to start a race war. It was about money, prestige and maintaining the lineage of each family. The Order of Elysia is why I even exist. My family were members. Each of my grandmother’s daughters were arranged to marry from within the Order. Each son and daughter of The Order had a partner selected for them, to ensure a healthy and premium bloodline. Partners were paired based on education, money, political affiliation, even so much as a pure blood line for certain families. As archaic as it sounded, it was no different than English monarchs using their heirs as bargaining chips to secure alliances and power. It was an order forged in France and Germany during the time of the Celts occupying the area in France, pre-roman influences. Not a religion, just a collective of individuals who relished in their power and money. No different than any other society in history. The Holy Roman Catholic church for example. They were a collective of men, purportedly ordained by God himself, to bring religion to the people. In truth behind secret doors, they schemed, stole property and wealth that belonged to so-called heathens, they traipsed across Europe on their crusades, burning, pillaging and forcing innocents to come to Christ…through fear. The Order of Elysia believed in no Gods, no Rulers, just men in control of their own destiny.  Women were held in high regard. I had removed myself from the Order, by choice. I chose to forsake it, as I always struggled to accept my lineage or their upper echelon way of thinking, but she was always there. Buried in my subconscious, biding her time until I needed her. As the absinthe and dilaudid ran through my veins, I could feel the warmth of her favor. Boadicea by Enya played quietly for the ambience and as the melodic but haunting humming of the song wrapped itself around me, the intense feelings of clarity began to rise++


“The disease was not mine. I did not create it nor did I culture it. It was never my goal. Everything The Cure is, exists solely based on the poor ideas and goals of a lesser man. A man. The Cure is not mine and I cannot make it mine. I am merely playing pretend. I’m a fraud, holding on to the ideals of a man lesser than I. There is no profit in curing a disease. The profit is in exploiting it.”


“I went about this all so wrong. So very wrong. The mission statement of The Cure were HIS goals, HIS ideals, HIS magnum opus. These are not my thoughts or how I feel. I don’t want to cure them…I want them to fester and rot. I want the disease to infect every orifice and watch gleefully as the putrid infection and pus oozes from their lesions and they writhe in pain. They never needed cured, they needed cultivated. Now look. Look what has been wrought. This whole season ending set up would have been nothing without us, poking and prodding, putting ourselves in others business, harassing others and toying with them as if it were a game. Yet we receive underwhelming attention. No matter what, we would always be seen as rejects. No matter what we did, it would never be satisfactory. Chaos was the only true option that remained.”


“Oh Elysia, hear my concerns and guide me. War is coming hot on my heels and I am not ready. My mind is not focused. I feel lost and without a path. Have I failed? Have I led them all into a fight that we never had a chance of winning? I need clarity. Morrigan I invoke your wisdom of war. Shield me with your omens.”


++Karolina had finished her meditation and moved to where I was kneeling. She began stirring whatever was in the small bowl carefully, almost ritually, as I extended my arms to my sides, palms still facing upwards. I could hear the sounds of men who died by the hands of my ancestors. Those who threatened their way or life, decimated++


“It is who we are. It is who I am. A warrior. A revenant. How could I deny my true self? Why must I now continue to turn my back on my heritage and the sacrifices of those women who came before me? How dare I! I myself am my own heretic. Guilty of abandonment. I receive your boon. Carry me into war.”


++Behind me, Karolina had finished her ritual and had knelt down behind me, pulling my hair back and pinning it up with a metal clasp. I tilted my head forward, bearing my neck and felt as Karolina began painting down my back, brush in hand, applying a long streak of blood down my back. As the brush ended at the tail bone, she set down the pot of blood and brush and picked up a bundle of sage, chanting in German, channeling her energy. She moved around me in a circle, repeating the invocation until she was in front of me. Again she knelt down, and lifted my chin up as she smudged my face with black ash, drawing a line across my face, like war sigils. My hands were already covered in dried blood and markings. She knelt upright, as the barbes brush began to paint down my face, from forehead to chin, streaks of blood covering my face. She continued to chant in German. As she finished the ritual, she stood, pouring some of the blood in a gold bowl on the altar and uttered once again in German. She removed herself from the holy place and left me alone to decipher the messages++


“The Cure is a lie. I will not hold myself to someone else’s standards. To know your enemy is to become them. This I have done. I am them and they are me. Why Cure those who are not worthy? Why Cure those who blissfully exist in their ailment and call everyone else the problem? Their mocking of The Cure was never wrong, it was no lie, but it was my burden and tonight I shed that burden. I rebuke this blemish that I have had to carry and coddle all this time. My destiny lies in your hands, Goddess. I channel the energies of Elysia and I welcome it with an open mind and a willing soul. This war will come and go, and our involvement will be soon forgotten, we are not the favored sons.”


“We never were.”


“We never would have been.”


“Now comes the winter. The realization that this is the end and it would have not worked out any other way.”


“I’m coming home Elysia…Mother is coming home….”