Rasha

"The gate to true evil is built by good intentions..."

         "Once, some time ago, a man asked a question. "Do the dead dream?" Today I know this to be true. Unfortunately, I learned that in death there is no true rest. I am forever haunted by dreams of my life, but never allowed to awake from them."

"I am Rasha Xyrin, I am forever!"

         Searing hellfire sealed the wound as the whip lifted from his body. It fell back down on a poor scrawny man to create another burning scar. The crowd looked on in horror, not daring to say a word, should one of them take his place.
         Death by lashing was far different in Zarta than in any other kingdom. The whip would catch each wound on fire, and then seal it so that the flame would burn eternally under the punished man's scars.
         The combined pain from his fiery scars and the continued lashing began to tear his mind to shreds. His pain intensified to the point that it felt as if demons were crawling out his back with each lash.
         For one second the lashing stopped, and he heard the executioner say in a deep demonic voice. "Never speak a word against Zarta again!"  The whip landed on his body, and tore into his flesh revealing a portion of his spine. "Never think a traitorous thought again!" The lash cut into his back like a burning blade blade, revealing his clean white spinal structure. "Never breathe again..." The tormentor said as he landed the fiery whip onto his bare spine. 
         
         "Nineteen years of mortality... Seventeen years of purgatory. Six years of heeding to demons in Hell. Those 42 years are burned into my mind, even though I've lived 100 years of my life silently conquering the kingdoms of man and hell...
         
         The man's eyes opened in a timeless white void, below him he could see burning fires shrouded by the screams of tortured spirits. Above him he saw a light surrounded by Angels. The light above beckoned him, he walked towards it, towards the angels and his salvation, when he reached the golden gates he was stopped by one of its guardians.
         "You wish to enter heaven?" Its deep blue eyes pierced into the man's heart. His Angelic beauty towered over him and seemed to clutch his throat so that he could not talk.
         "Yes, I long for your salvation..." He fell to the ground.
         The angel lifted him up from his sorrows, and touched his head to the man's. He sealed the blue ocean of his eyes and read the man's life as if it were a book. He saw the day that he died and the 19 years before hand. "You're intentions have always been good mortal, but you're pride and aggression hides those purities... I sentence you to seventeen years of meditation before you may enter heaven..."
         His heart shattered, he had died all over again.

         "I was not good enough for heaven, and I never would be. I would not sit by and watch the kingdoms of earth destroy themselves. I would not meditate on my faults, I would meditate on earth, I would return. In my seventeen years of purgatory, I learned how to travel to earth. I chose to be a ghost rather than an angel... A choice far more common than one would think. The only rule of returning to the mortal realm was that I must be intact with a piece of my body."
"I am Rasha, I needn't heaven to find my peace!"
         
         There were no graveyards in Zarta. Only open craters where the bodies of the dead and dieing would be piled on top of each other. At the bottom of the pile, a pair of dead eyes came to life. He had no lungs, and required no air, and no physical mind that sent warnings of pain or weariness to his dead nerves. Rasha began to claw his way to the top of the pile, like a dead fish swimming upstream. He tore his way through the bodies until one could see a horribly scorched and tattered left arm shoot out of the pile of corpses. Using its strength, he pulled his way out of the pile, and a skeletal torso revealed itself.
         His head was fleshless and cracked; his torso was all bone except for his left arm, and a small portion of flesh next to it. He had no legs, and instead used his dead arms to pull himself off the pile of corpses. When he reached the bottom of it, he knew he would not be able to drag himself any farther.
         He thought, he thought about his hate for Zarta. He thought about hate for everything, and anyone who would have anything to do with this destructive kingdom. He filled his skeletal body with that hate, and a blood red smoke began to emit from his very soul. It illuminated his hollow eyes, and brought color his bone. The raw hate lifted him off the ground, and allowed him levitate his torso with its red smoke.
         With no more fear of death, Rasha entered the streets of Zarta, and began to float towards the castle where its ruler stood. The roads were paved trails of ash, above them; black clouds would electrify the skies with crimson lightening that never ceased. The citizens fled into their homes in fear of the floating corpse, they watched, but would not speak with it. Some would follow for a few moments, but would be retrieved from their dream like trances by friends or family
         As he finally reached the black and crimson gates of the Zarta's castle, he was stopped by a guard bold enough to confront him.
         "What business do you have in Zarta spirit!?" The guard screamed into Rasha's chipped face.
         "I have business with your king." Rasha could speak; the words came like a ghost wisping out of his eternally opened and smoke filled mouth. "I wish to kill him..." With his skeletal arm, Rasha dug into the guard's right eye, and gouged it out, still holding onto the eye, Rasha reached for his left eye with his scorched hand, but hesitated. Instead of eternally blinding his foe, he grabbed his sword, and floated above the gate, towards the top of the castle. He let the eye fall from his left hand and onto the ashen streets.
         The guard's screaming faded as Rasha came closer and closer to the palace. An opened window revealed a massive table, where he could see the commanders of Zarta devising plans of attack against their rivaling kingdoms. Sitting at the end of the table, was Zarta's king, Quarias, an old, but fit man with short, jet black hair. Dispatching of him would be no problem, and in the eyes of his commanders, Rasha could see traitorous thoughts had already materialized. The one thing keeping them from taking form was at Quarias's right hand, where a monster of man sat.
He was eight feet tall, and his body was built like a tower. From his back, two demonic wings reached out, creating a shadow over the table. He was exchanging glares with each of the commanders, silently warning them that they would die should they ever attempt to harm Quarias. The beast had fair red skin, and jet black hair with streaks of blue spiked up in a failed attempt to hide two demonic horns that reached out of his skull. "His name was Zartis, son of the Arch Devil Mishala."
         Unlike the commanders though, Rasha had no more fear of death. He floated into the window, and without a seconds thought, drew his stolen sword, and one by one struck at the throats of the commanders, dispatching of 4 before they could act.
         The cowardly commanders fled like rats dispersing into their holes, but Zartis flipped the table in an instant, and stood in front of Quarias like a solid steel wall. In a deep echoing voice he shouted, "Should you dare lay a hand on Quarias, I will crush your skull in my hand!"
         Rasha ignored the threat, and continued towards Quarias as if Zartis wasn't there. He let go of all fear he had of death, and continued to approach, assuming Zartis would flee at his sight. As he drew closer he found himself inches from the demon, he looked up towards the top of his towering body that was his head, and saw no fear in a pair of strangely angelic violet eyes.
         Zartis grabbed Rasha's skull, and lifted him into the air. In his demonic voice he said, "You spirit are not the first to attempt the murder of my father. To whomever's kingdom you hail from, they will suffer the hand of heaven! Now tell me spirit, from where do you hail?"
         Rasha could have answered from Zarta itself, but he had severed all ties to this place, instead, he answered, "I come from no kingdom, but have returned from purgatory to seek my vengeance."
         "Then return again when you have an army to confront us!" Zartis shouted, nearly cracking Rasha's skull with the raw power of his noise. Zartis's hand caught fire with something that consumed Rasha's entire body, in seconds a stream of crimson lightening had purged his soul from his body, and returned him to where he came.

         "I was a fool back then to believe I would ever be able to destroy the king of Zarta with nothing but an old sword and a tattered body. Yet Zartis was a fool as well, he thought he was half angel, and that Quarias was his father. He was caught in a web of lies strung by his supposed dad. A fool, who would never look in a mirror, and see that his wings were that of a Devil, and not of an Angel. Though he remains one of the most powerful men I've ever met on my journeys, he remains the most foolish."
I was returned to the white void I had escaped from, only now the angels banished me to the 9th realm of hell, where they tortured the prideful."
         "Hell was ruled by a class of merciless Devils, whom had the job of ensuring that every spirit was tormented properly.  Below the Devils were the Demons, they carried out the dirty work, they were the ones who tormented us, we spirits would grow to hate them. I however, saw opportunity. There was no peace in hell, not even among the Demons and Devils. The Demons were little more than slaves, and often endured the same torment we spirits did. I would speak with the Demons as they lashed my soul, and they were more than glad to share their thoughts with me. I learned of how they enjoyed terrorizing the spirits, claiming "It's the only entertainment we get around here". Unlike the other damned souls who cursed their punishers, I talked to them, and gained their favor."
         "It wasn't 2 years before I was no longer forced to endure the torment entitled to me. I was among the favored spirits, who were given the privilege of being a foreman of the damned. The demons offered to teach me their magic, but I refused to weave the fires of hell, instead, I learned the secrete weapon of the favored spirits. They taught me how to weave soulfire. A white flame as powerful as ones will. My soulfire was soon more powerful than any hellfire controlled by any demon. For my will to defeat the tyranny of Zarta was stronger than any of the Demons magic."
         "I began to use my position to gain a benevolent reputation among the tortured spirits. I gained their trust, and played on their hate of the demons. In coordination I played on the demons hate of the Devils. I did this until both factions had reached their boiling point. The tortured spirits attempted to rebel, and at that point, I reminded them that the Devils commanded the Demons to torture them. I claimed that they were the true enemy, and aligned the spirits and demons of my section in hell under one army against the Devils. The leader of this realm in hell was Mishala, Zartis's father. My armies destroyed him while he was wounded; a ray of crimson lightening had been shot through his chest. Twas a deed done by Zartis himself, in denial of his heritage."
"There were 9 realms in hell; I had gained control of one. Under my command, the Demons and spirits had defeated the Devils of our realm. From that day on, Hell would only have 8 realms. They named this new world after me, "Xyrin""
         "I had manipulated my way out of hell in only 6 years. My realm was a sanctuary that accepted all tormented spirits and rebelling Demons. I had amassed an army of 7,000 demons, and 28,000 spirits, that I had renamed Specters."
         "I thought about what Zartis said to me; to return when I had an army to confront him and "Heavens Hand". So I commanded that the demons mold me a new body, so that I might enter the mortal realm once again. They retrieved the skull of my form, and reattached it to the skeleton of Mishala. I commanded that they bring me my old arm, which still had my own flesh on it, and attach it to my new skeleton. The flesh burned off when they brought it into my realm..."
         "When I returned to Zarta, Quarias had died, and Zartis was king. I did what I had the first time I confronted Zartis, I simply walked from the graveyard, and into his palace."

         The Kingdom of Zarta had not changed in the slightest since Rasha's second death. The streets were still ash, and the people still starved. Rasha had no sympathy for the people this time. He entered the palace from the front door. The walls were lined with murals of angels slaying demons; it was obvious that Zartis still convinced himself that he was an angel. A black rug led the way down the crimson halls. Rasha's hellish presence caused the guards to flee at the very sight of him.
         He reached the doors that would lead to Zartis's thrown room. They were made of black marble with abstract crimson paintings covering its surface. The paintings must have taken years to complete. Rasha destroyed them in a second as he knocked down with Mishala's strength.
         This time, Rasha looked down on Zartis when they came face to face. The twisted half devil that killed Rasha for the second time had no memory of who he was. Now that Rasha was looking down on Zartis, he could see his weakness, his need for a father that he never truly had. He looked into his violet eyes, and towards his soul, Rasha saw a will similar to his own, a will to carry out Quarias's last wish, his wish to put the whole world under the flag of Zarta.
         Yet, Zartis stood his ground against Rasha, in the past 6 years; he had grown almost as much as Rasha had. He opened his mouth, and boldly demanded, "What do you want Spirit..."
         Rasha looked at the map which symbolized earth, and the pieces that represented Zartis's army, he saw that they were grossly outnumbered on all fronts. Zarta was doomed. It would be a waste of time to dispose of him. Yet, like in hell, Rasha saw opportunity. Why defeat Zarta, when he could defeat every kingdom in the world, and put an end to all tyranny.
         "I wish to make a proposal..." Rasha darkly said to Zartis.

         "Alas, the lie spoken to Zartis was slain, he no longer convinced himself that he was an angel, with Mishala's skeleton, I was able to show Zartis his true heritage. I was now his father, he and his mortal kingdom would now heed to me. He stood strong, like a tower made from bark; but it took only one strong kick to break into the wooden fortress that was his mind"
"I have gained many names throughout the 100 years following that day... The immortals named me one of their own, among God's I was known as Deception Incarnate. I used Zartis's drive to conquer the world. I offered him solders, I offered other kingdoms solders, I see this world as one giant puzzle now. This planet is like a chess board, I work with each of my pawns towards one master plan. On earth, sometimes it's best for the "good guy" to win, sometimes the "bad guy" finds victory."
         "The mortals only see in two dimensions, right in front of them. I see the whole world, like a globe underneath me. The mortals think they are winning, but they do not comprehend the master plans of the immortals manipulating their lives. They are puppets, and I control the strings..."