Chapter 34: The Future Past
The whole plane was alive.
Valdemar had never seen a jungle, though he had read of them in the ancient texts detailing the world before the Whitemoons arrival. He had imagined them as lush and verdant forests of mushrooms and moss like those found in Underland; but the one he was seeing right now couldnt be more different.
Alien, multicolored flowers with teeth and eyes grew on every inch of the ground. This world had grass and vines for the ground, flies for air, and mucus for streams. Protoplasmic oozes slithered alongside twisted snake men and murderous alien spiders, roaming innards-like tunnels in search of prey.
The seers who had observed this plane called it the Green Hell and believed that it was the origin of all life in the universe. A chaotic, primal realm of creation of pure organic matter, a gigantic superorganism whose innards were inhabited by countless monsters. One of them sensed Valdemars gaze observing the dimension and rose from a mucus lake in response. An enormous green mass of slime as large as a house slithered on the ground, its acidic surface melting the foliage. Hundreds of red eyes opened all over its surface, glancing at Valdemar through the veil between dimensions.
Shoggolu! Ktulu squealed as the vision ended and Valdemar returned to the summoning room. Jigulhu!
Ill keep it in mind, Valdemar replied as he returned to his book. All around them, a menagerie of summoned creatures waited trapped inside complex summoning circles meant to keep them imprisoned. A four-armed, furred humanoid with a mouth splitting vertically to reveal rows of sharp teeth surrounded by cunning eyes, that warlocks called a Gug; a Weaver, a nightmarish white spider larger than a giant beetle with a baleful human visage in the middle of its eight red eyes, capable of spinning nightmares as well as webs; and a Croaker, an enormous toad with mouths and eyes all over its body, its dozen tongues testing the invisible barrier keeping it imprisoned. This creatures maddening song was more dangerous than its hunger, but the spell blocked sound as well as flesh.
So far, these entities were the only ones Valdemar had been capable of somewhat keeping docileor what could pass for docile for an otherworldly monsteralongside water elementals, oozes, and chronovores. The rest were simply too dangerous to be summoned except in the direst situation.
Lord Ochs Book of the Strangers had proven to be a wealth of information not only on the eponymous creatures, but also countless planes and their denizens. Valdemar hadnt heard of any of them even in forbidden texts banned by the Church of the Light; of the mysterious Plateau of Nightmares and its slavering inhabitants, of the Green Hell and the fear-fueled realm of the Mistwoods.
Of course, there was a reason for this censorship. All of these planes inhabitants were exceedingly dangerous, and many of them served Strangers. Worryingly, Ktulu was capable of summoning a great many of them if he wished.
After much experimentation, Valdemar had narrowed down his familiars summoning focus: namely destructive natural forces, monstrous animals, water, and darkness. All of the creatures that Ktulu could summon were associated with Strangers and if not mindless, then uninterested in conversation.
Unlike the Qlippoths, who could understand mortals emotions and speak their language, there was nothing human about Ktulus otherworldly friends.
He could probably cause an extraplanar disaster and not even notice, Valdemar thought as his familiar suddenly started humming a strange tune to himself, tilting his head one side to the other as per the rhythm. The trapped Croaker imitated the childs movement, as if they were singing in tune. The Gug mindlessly barrelled its fists against the barrier in a vain attempt to escape, while the Weaver observed with unnatural patience. I still wonder why he refuses to call any Qlippoths though. Is Ktulu part of this other side that the Nightwalker hinted at?
Speaking of the Nightwalker, the Book of the Strangers had a full chapter dedicated to it, including texts gathered from cultists. Though Valdemar wasnt sure what was true or not, the information in the book fascinated him.
According to the Nightwalkers worshipers, Underland wasnt the first world that the Whitemoon had visited. The rogue moon traveled across the cosmos to annihilate the warmth of life that it despised, leaving only cold and empty space behind it. The Nightwalker served as a herald to the Whitemoon, guiding its otherworldly master from one civilization to the next. This destructive process might take thousands of years but couldnt be averted. Even destroying the Nightwalker was only a temporary measure, for its masters power would bring it back from the darkness. The only way to survive, according to the cultists, was to transform into a cold form of existence pleasing to the Whitemoon.
Most fascinating, it appeared that high priests of the Nightwalker often wore masks representing their deity in an attempt to channel its persona and power becoming avatars of a sort. Eventually, they hoped to ascend into becoming Nightwalkers themselves.
So thats how it is, Valdemar said as he removed his mask and examined it. The longer I wear this artifact, the more I will become like the creatures on the surface.
Could he even transform though? The Nightwalkers priests believed that they could ascend to become like their patron, but Valdemar was only half a man. The other didnt interact well with the Whitemoons power.
Youre the me from the other side.
Valdemar hadnt found anything related to Ialdabaoth in the book, which implied that someoneeither the Dark Lords or Ialdabaoths own cultshad done their best to destroy any evidence of its existence to an even greater degree than the other Strangers.
He did find references to the Stranger worshiped by the Dokkars, this so-called Mother of All. Valdemar had immediately noticed the similarity with one of Ialdabaoths titles, the Father of All, and investigated a possible connection. According to text, the Mother of All was a life elemental that birthed the first animals of Underland. She was occasionally described as a tentacled horror, a beautiful woman, or a Dokkar, but in all cases a female form was a common trend among her avatars. Celebrations in her names involved orgies and animal sacrifices, so fresh blood could fertilize the earth.
There were many similarities with Ialdabaoth, especially if it truly was the origin of life in Underland. Was this Mother of All a hybrid similar to Valdemar? Or simply another name for Ialdabaoth? Though he would rather ignore her, Valdemar would have to ask Frigga for clarification.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience
He could also infer much from the Nightwalkers words. If this entitys purpose was to act as an herald of the Whitemoon and lead it to new worlds to destroy, and if Valdemar shared a similar purpose then it suddenly became clear why the Verney Cult had sponsored his grandfather in his attempt to open a path to Earth.
After offering this world to their god, they would serve him another.
Was that why my grandfather sold out the cult? Valdemar wondered. Because he learned that they would destroy his homeworld?
Valdemar would have to consult the portrait for answers eventually, even if he detested the thought of it. No matter how much Marianne had asked him to reevaluate his grandsires intentions, the sorcerer couldnt find it in him to forgive him.
As for the Nightwalker, Valdemars experience in the towers heart had shown him that connections were two-way streets and could be subverted. The sorcerer wasnt certain if the cultists ravings about their masters immortality were correct, but it wouldnt hurt to put that theory to the test.
It would have to wait until tomorrow, Valdemar thought as he closed the book and groaned. Sleeplessness was taking its hold on his mind. With a word, he returned his summoned thralls to their homes. Ktulu let out a dejected squeal. Ill bring new friends tomorrow, Valdemar promised his familiar. Humans have to sleep, you know?
He doubted his dreams would be peaceful though.
His Painted Field had transformed since this morning.
The everpresent moth motif had grown more and more grotesque with time. The insects were black and crimson, the motifs on their wings showing skulls, tears of blood, and inhuman visages. Alien landscapes that Valdemar had seen through visions completed the tapestry, all of them inhabited by ancient and terrible beings.
But the part that bothered him the most was the gray spot.
It was no larger than a fist, but Valdemar couldnt help but feel unsettled whenever he looked at it. A splash of metallized paint had appeared out of nowhere in a corner of the room, covered in shining veins coursing with electric pigments. This spot contrasted greatly with the rest of the dream tapestry, and Valdemar couldnt help but think that it shouldnt be here. Whenever he tried to wash it away, it reformed somewhere else like a cancer.
It is time, Lord Bethor declared as Valdemar laid on his bed. Though Ktulu didnt cower in fear like he did in Lord Ochs presence, the familiar had quickly joined his partner beneath the bedsheet and cuddled against him like a cat looking for warmth. We shall delve into Ialdabaoths dreams.
Forgive me, my lord, but is that wise? Marianne asked as the Dark Lord sat on the ground next to the bed in a lotus pose, stripping himself of his armor to reveal the boiling blood and darkness underneath. They could affect him through the bond somehow.
If they try, I will destroy them, Lord Bethor replied as he closed his eyes. His sheer arrogance matched Lord Ochs own, and Valdemar couldnt help but find it somewhat invigorating. Nothing short of a Nahemoth may match my might on the astral plane.
Its alright, Marianne, Valdemar replied with a smile. Im ready.
His partner looked more concerned than reassured. Is there no way I can follow? Marianne asked. I am not an oneiromancer, but I am well-versed in dream defense.
This is not a dream, Lord Bethor replied, the surface of his body twisting like raging waters. By closing himself to the Primordial Dream, his mind will anchor itself into the waking world where you cannot follow. You would need to learn astral projection to assist, and you are very far away from it.
Marianne clenched her jaw, crossed her arms, and remained silent. Of course she disliked the situation. She was a bodyguard unable to protect her charge, and Valdemar knew she worried that he might end up like Bertrand.
The summoner closed his eyes. He needed to focus on the task ahead, to clear his thoughts and let sleep take him. Ktulu started to utter a strange, yet soothing noise as he started falling asleep too. A lullaby, Valdemar realized. It reminded him of his mothers music box.
The sorcerers world went dark, but the song was drowned out by the silence. His sense of self diluted into something greater than his human flesh, his errant thoughts expanded into a great singularity whose power no man could understand. The abyss swallowed him and he became one with it.
He was no longer a man, but the mask of a god.
He tried to look for his handmaiden, his slave, but she was so small and he was so big. She was but one of the germs inhabiting his belly. He had a hard time finding her among the colonies of errant cells who dared to think themselves separated from his glory. They were sick, every last one of them. They suffered from an illness called individuality, and in their madness refused the cure that he offered.
But we did, the Lilith whispered through his mothers lips. Her eyes were red as blood, her skin a deathly pallor.
Valdemar let out a roar of rage echoed by the dream, his fingers turning into claws. He hit her face, and a second later it turned back into his mothers teary face. The image shook Valdemar to the core, his fury instantly replaced with guilt.
Mother, Valdemar whispered. Mother, Im sorry!
Dont approach me! she screeched while crawling away. Dont touch me, you monster!
Mother, I I swear I didnt Valdemars voice broke in his throat, the dream turning into a blur. I didnt want any of this!
The cavern collapsed around him, as did the illusions of his regretful grandfather and the Verney cult. The sad song of a music box echoed as the world transformed into a shadowy village near the Lightless Ocean.
Valdemar was himself again, a ghost from another era standing next to an old well. A familiar well.
His mother was here too. Gone was the innocent maiden she had once been. She dressed all in black, her cheeks creased by age and torment. Her eyes were red-rimmed from too many tears as she looked into the darkness of the well. A small form was wrapped in cloth in her arms, lulled to sleep by a music box.
No Valdemar whispered, his heart turning cold in his chest. No, please, dont
She hated and feared you.
His mother threw the child into the well, down into the darkness.
Valdemar could only stand and watch as he heard a thump sound at the wells bottom. The ghost of his mother looked into the well without a word, and after a few seconds of silence turned away.
Valdemar approached the wells edge and looked into the abyss inside. He couldnt see the bottom. Only darkness.
You are lying, Valdemar whispered through his teeth. My mother She was always so kind to me. She would never
She did, his mothers specter said before turning to face him, her irises as red as blood. But you cannot die.
You lie! Valdemar snarled angrily, his fists hitting the ground. This is just an illusion!
No, my prince. This is the truth. But it doesnt matter. She kissed him on the cheek, her lips both warm and cold all at once. We love you. We wouldnt exist without you. We are your dreams.
Valdemar took a step back to escape her vile touch, before casting a spell. He attempted to crush her neck with telekinesis, but neither his body nor the Liliths had blood. He tried to contact Ktulu through the summoning link. It was still here, but diffuse, as if the veil separating the planes stood between them.
Shit, he hated dream magic!
It is alright, my prince, the Lilith said before making a noble reverence. I will give you good dreams, if you wish.
Will you die if I dream it? Valdemar replied angrily, refusing to believe what she had shown him even if he felt the seed of doubt growing in the back of his mind.
Was this truly a dream? His Painted Field should have kept him away from the Primordial Dream, so how could the Lilith ensnare him in it? Or we are in reality, Valdemar thought as he looked at the well. My dream manifested itself somewhere in Underland. But why cant I sense my familiar then?
What would it change? the Lilith asked and sounded genuinely puzzled. Great Ialdabaoth would just make another me. Even then, my intervention is not necessary. I only clean the stage before the final performance. The forces at play were set in motion long before your birth, my prince. They cannot be halted. Why try to fight?
Why try to convince me at all then? What was Lord Bethor doing? Had he overestimated his abilities? Or was the Lilith stronger than she looked?
Because you are in pain, she replied with false kindness. Your human life is a nightmare. When you wake up and cast off this false skin to reveal your shining true self, it will be all over. Why fight for lesser creatures? They created you to serve their selfish desires and continue to exploit you. You are better than this.
You try to use me too, Valdemar pointed out. And youre far worse than the Dark Lords will ever be.
Use you? My prince, we exist to serve you. We act on your behalf, even if you cannot see it yet. All we want is for you to be happy.
As far as speeches go, Ive heard better. Though Valdemar had no love lost for inquisitors, he had friends he cared for in Marianne, Liliane, Hermann, Iren he was even starting to get used to Lord Och, of all people! Why even try to wake up Ialdabaoth? If you are his dream, you will cease to exist once he awakens.
The Lilith silently observed him for a few seconds, and as she did Valdemar noticed the left side of her face wriggle for a split second. Something inhuman crept underneath his mothers skin, ready to burst out at a moments warning.
Do you know, she asked, The distance between the sun humans worship and this barren rock we stand on?
Valdemar frowned. No.
Millions of kilometers of nothingness, she replied. Now, if you were to look at the darkness above for another world, millions turn to billions. A vast expanse of darkness filled with a few islands of lights and barren rocks. And among these countless grains of sand, only a handful house the seed of life.
Your point?
The universe is full of death, the Lilith replied coldly. Death is the natural state of the cosmos, and life is the wonderful exception. The life that is Ialdabaoth. Awake or dreaming, we are a part of its divine will. Your will. His awakening is inevitable.
Valdemar didnt buy it. Then why do you try so hard to isolate me from others, and to convince me to go along with you? If Ialdabaoths awakening was inevitable, you could sit back and watch. If it could do everything on its own, I wouldnt even be here.
The Lilith smiled, her teeth pristine as ivory. She looked like his mother, but the way she moved was unlike her. She looked false. Who doesnt love to play with the food?
I dont believe you, Valdemar replied, having pieced it together. There are some limitations that neither you nor Ialdabaoth are capable of overcoming, and you need me to help break them. But what if I choose not to do anything? What if I just say no?
The Lilith kept smiling, but her eyes no longer did. The silence stretched on, as oppressive as a Dark Lords aura, while Valdemar heard movement coming from the well next to him.
Then your stubbornness, she said, her voice twisting into an inhuman echo, Will be met with relentless despair.
Valdemar spat on the ground. Bring it.
The Lilith raised her hand, perhaps to cast a spell or castigate him only to let out a gasp as an invisible force coiled around her neck and lifted her above the ground.
You talk too much, Lord Bethor declared as he manifested out of nowhere in full armor. His hand was raised into the void, his fingers slowly closing as he telekinetically strangled the Qlippoth impostor. Whore of the Outer Darkness.
Lord Ochs words came to mind.
The gods do not deserve our worship, let alone our suffering.