ASCALON

“You shall touch it no more,” commanded the High King, his arms outstretched in front of him. A brilliant flash of energy bolted from his fingertips, smashing into the old, gnarled tree that stood majestically in the middle of the meadow. The sound of cracking and splintering echoed as the tree came crashing to the ground. The force of the explosion shattered the place’s serenity as two lone figures plunged into the shadowy woods at the edge of the meadow.

The High King shook with anger as an overwhelming sadness crushed his heart.
The Tree of All Knowledge lay split in two, the timber broken and scattered on the ground. Its bright-red fruit lay smoldering to ash. He knelt beside the splintered remains. “I am sorry, old friend.” A tear slipped down the High King’s cheek as he caressed a piece of its bark. “You were so beautiful, a magnificent thing to behold. I shall miss your laughter.” He uttered a deep sigh as he heard a snigger from the angel standing behind him.

“Oh, come now, you knew this would happen, old man,” sneered Darnathian. “You can’t pretend you didn’t know I would search for the Life Tree.” The angel stood watching the High King. Darnathian twisted his head, cracking his neck, an odd quirk he couldn’t control when he was angry. “Only a few more minutes with those two spineless creatures of yours and I would have found the location of the Life Tree,” he hissed, his hands clenched at his sides. His magnificent white wings quivered behind him.

“You will never eat its fruit, Darnathian.” The High King’s voice resonated with quiet authority. “The Life Tree is no longer here in the meadow. Knowing this day would come, I have made sure of its protection. Fire and sword guard it. Only the Bachar who are true of heart will enter the New Garden and eat the fruit. To those who serve, I will write their names upon a living stone. They will be honored for all eternity in the courts and halls of Ascalon.”

“Blah blah blah, the ‘true of heart.’ What does that mean? They’re your little minions, dutifully doing whatever you tell them to do?” Darnathian folded his large white wings, and they disappeared beneath the folds of his tunic. The sun sparkled like diamond dust on his skin, emphasizing his dark hair and angular features.

“They have free will, just as you do. Yet this is how you choose to use your freedom and knowledge.” The High King drew himself up to full height, tall and elegant, thick white hair and colorful robe glowing with an inner brilliance. “Don’t you remember, Darnathian? You once were true of heart. Everyone throughout the kingdom knew of your wisdom, benevolence, and compassion. Your actions showed your love for your King.”

The King turned from the ruins and surveyed the angel standing before him. Darnathian was assuredly the most handsome and beguiling of all the creatures who served in Ascalon. And one the King loved like a son. Just now, Darnathian’s eyes glowed like liquid amber, his tall, lithe shape wrapped in white linen folds that fell to his knees. His breastplate, adorned with purple jewels signifying his rank, gleamed of polished gold. The leather straps of his sandals crisscrossed their way up to his muscular calves.
“You have always loved your little minions, yet see what they have done, old man? They disobey the first chance they get. And look what you have done,” said Darnathian, gesturing to the shattered remains. “You broke your favorite tree. Now, isn’t that sad?” A smirk dimpled his cheek.

“You have become the chief of liars, Darnathian. Your thirst for power and control has corrupted your very soul. It was your venom that poisoned their hearts against me.” The High King raised his gaze to the sky, drawing deep breaths of crisp air. Raising his arms toward the skies, he said, “Because of the evil you have done here today, Darnathian, you shall no longer be called a son of the High King, prince of Ascalon. You are stripped forever of your rank, your privileges, and your mighty wings. If it is power and a kingdom you want, then you shall have it.”

The air quivered as the High King brought his arms down quickly, pushing a sparkling white-and-gold energy ball at Darnathian. It hit Darnathian’s golden breastplate with such force the breath was knocked from his lungs and sent him stumbling backward. His mighty wings exploded into a full spread, flapping to keep himself from falling.

The white-gold orb circled the angel, slicing his wings from his back. “No!” Darnathian howled as the remaining bony nubs melted like lava into his skin, and his beautiful wings lay lifeless on the ground. The orb blew up in a startling flash, encasing him.

Darnathian thrashed and kicked against the orb without success. His eyes, filled with hatred, burned like fire as he stood glaring at the High King.

“The earth shall be your kingdom,” said the High King, his voice booming like thunder. “For a time, you shall walk upon its ground and gather your followers. The Fallen from Ascalon shall do your bidding. The fallen Daemonimini shall forever be known as the Irredaemon. They held the highest order serving before the Kings in the courts of Ascalon and understood the cost of their wicked, traitorous actions. Ergo, the most wicked shall be known as Daemon.”

“For the remainder of the Fallen,” the High King continued, “those creatures who were deceived with your lies and had their innocence stripped from them, they shall have the opportunity to be redeemed. They will remain in bondage until such a time as they repent from their disrespectful ways.” The High King raised his arms again, the sleeves of his robe billowing in the wind as it increased and swept around him. “The impenitent shall be doomed to Shinar where the spirit lives forever, and their memories shall crawl like worms in their heads.”

Darnathian struggled against the orb holding him. “I will have your throne one day, old man! It won’t be easy to get rid of me. I will find the Life Tree, and once I eat the fruit, I will be your equal,” raged the angel, pounding against the orb. Blue, green, and white lights bounced erratically around inside the orb. “I will take your power and destroy everything you have made! I will be exalted far above you!”

The High King flattened his lips, brought his arms down, and clapped his hands. “Begone!” The orb with the angel imploded and disappeared.
The wind became a gentle breeze, tickling the flowers among the meadow grasses. The sun rode high in the blue sky, its warmth caressing the meadow where the birds chirped and insects buzzed. The day seemed like any other day, except for the remnants of the shattered tree. The High King retrieved a piece of the bark and lovingly caressed it.

“A life given cannot be undone, old friend. I have an important mission for you. Are you willing to take another form?” asked the High King. The bark quivered in his hand. “Good, I thought so too.”

With his white hair and his colorful flowing robe, the High King strode quickly along the path that led from the meadow down into the city of Ascalon, nestled between the Eastern Mountains and the Crystal Lake. As he entered the city gate, the chief blacksmith and the chief carpenter met him near the Amethyst Fountain, its waters bubbling gaily in the sparkling purple-hued basin.

“Gentlemen,” said the High King quietly, as he placed an arm around each of their shoulders. “I require your services. I need special tools and a trunk in which to place them.”