Chapter 1: Arboreal Serenade
An alpine harvest exhalation awakens the trees,
prompting fallen leaves to dance in the air—
whilst I track well-acquainted bearings
within these somnolent woodlands
during this tranquil October twilight.
The sun is near to depart,
and the moon soon to arrive.
My steps cease as I take a brief rest.
Closing my eyes,
I hearken to the forest choir.
Branches and twigs creak and fracture—
a soft percussion—
small arboreal inhabitants scurry
atop blankets of scarlet and amber leaves—
a melodic susurrus—
as the lingering breeze stirs the foliage.
Insects chirp and buzz,
enriching the arrangement with a sirenic undertone
reminiscent of violins
subtly singing alongside the orchestra.
Harmonic unity of the wilderness.
Unsealing my eyes,
I then gaze toward the heavens.
A majestic panorama unfolds
that steals away my breath.
Dark silhouettes of giants dwarfing me,
juxtaposed against the deep purple and fiery amber sky
that’s not quite night, yet no longer day.
Akin to masterful brushwork
eliciting muted awe.
Chapter 2: Cellar Door
A purling brook courses placidly before me.
Granting me dry passage beyond
is a rustic timber footbridge.
I deliberately sidestep perished slats
until reaching the far bank.
Scarcely had I set foot upon the far side
when promptly the vista
commenced a phantasmal shimmering,
as if I had wandered into a chimerical plane,
finding myself confounded by this façade.
Intrigued at this peculiarity,
I presumed to breach the enclave of the trail.
Forthwith I am buffeted with a visceral vertigo—
as if I were embarked upon a dory
tossing about atop tempestuous depths—
assailed by unsteadiness,
overwrought with an onset of nausea.
I can but gawk
as light bleeds and distorts,
trees metamorphose into…
weeping corporeal gum—
aberrational echoes resembling melting wax—
an unyielding clock inhibits my reverie
of this fathomless continuum.
However, I shan’t falter
on this calling to which I am bound.
I totter back to the path,
forsaking this liminal anomaly.
My infirmities assuage at once.
Steadying my breath,
whilst stealing a trice
to recompose my equilibrium,
ere I venture forth.
Striding deeper into this arboreal delirium,
I surmise this static membrane—
sheathing me before external madness—
cleaves in tandem with every footfall.
Inwardly, a tempest awakens,
not with aversion nor disquiet—
nay—
with a storm of expectation.
Mercifully, in the wake of muddled decades
devoted to quartering this wild
for what I’ve long sought,
the threshold is nigh.
The luminous beacon now watches—
with its unblinking eye unburdened—
casting shadows aside,
setting my heading aglow.
A few hundred paces furthermore and…
The preternatural sanctum
manifests from nothingness.
Embedded within a loamed rise
lies the ever-eluding threshold,
born of sodden, rotted lumber
with a rusted metal latch.
Yonder, my sights are tethered
unto the ingress—
I’ve long pursued—
affording me a conduit
to the sylvan floor thereunder.
Chapter 3: Beyond the Forest Floor
Lingering before the gateway,
I contemplate its nature,
feeling as though it was…
anticipating my arrival.
The manner in which it presents itself—
bearing eroded anchors
and a putrefied frame—
is reminiscent of a derelict vault.
I expectantly brace myself
to resort to brute force
in order to unloose it.
Presupposing the corroded sinews
and cumbersome, waterlogged grain
will bellow and moan.
Curiously enough,
it surrenders with seamless grace.
An inky, constricted throat
inauspiciously unfurls before me—
a vertiginous stairway plunging
into a void eternal—
amidst suffocating barriers
all made of condensed earth.
A bleak, sepulchral artifice
architected to dishearten
those it deems—feeble-minded.
With instinctive certainty
I edge forth, transcending the divide,
the maw dissipating thereupon.
A disembodied, subdued luminosity
casts a tapered window,
shepherding my pilgrimage downward.
Wending away from the boughed labyrinth
for the turn of an hourglass,
my pillars give rise to lassitude.
Casting a glance rearward—
voided space—
a Cimmerian nihility eats this reality
in my wake.
The same vacancy before me.
I divine this a subsequent stratagem
to beguile sojourners with the notion of
this endeavor being Sisyphean.
Howbeit, I command quite the proficiency
with regard to this ground’s mockery.
I care not,
if my pillars grow heavy and languish—
I’ll drag my frame
till my framework is dust—
I care not,
if you want to break my will—
I’ll ensure my tempered resolve
shan’t crumble with rust—
I care not,
if you persist with your patent charades—
I’ll humor your game,
my mettle is as unyielding as a diamond—
it will ne’er fragment.
With eternity to spare, I carry on.
Death, decay, rot—a redolence wafts upwards,
a stink akin to a tomb with a fresh cadaver
that conjures up vestiges of yesteryear.
Whilst most men would feel revulsion
towards the pungent stink,
most men have not endured it for lifetimes.
Undeterred, I persevere—the room…
the cellar…
is within my grasp.
My foot falls upon the next step
at once transforming the infinite stairs
into the room…
into the cellar!
Chapter 4: Colloquy with an Ifrit
Roots from the forest somewhere above,
weave in and out of the cellar’s hard soil shell.
Lanterns with blue flames
hover just below the palate
three abreast,
illuminating the belly of…
I believe it to be tightly packed coffins.
Smooth, sanded birch lids
acting as wooden tiles.
At the heart of the cavity is a table
assembled with sturdy oak underpinning
supporting a membranous, orbicular
tablet of coruscant obsidian.
A pair of monolithic chairs
frame the table,
appearing to be composed of oak
that has blackened with age.
Seats made for the damned.
A vacant seat in rear profile
awaits my presence.
It is facing what I’ve long
been ferreting these woods for.
My quest is finally near its conclusion.
A reflexive amusement
pulls the corners of my mouth
as my gaze meets the specter
who impassively studies my arrival.
Extending a lanky limb—
the forearm exposed from its draping sleeve
showing the apparition’s unnaturally gray flesh—
it unfurls a long bony finger
beckoning me to come and sit.
I go at my own pace,
my actions measured
as I proceed to take a seat.
I am not subject to its urgencies—
no—
it is—
obliviously—
here on my terms.
I position myself and rivet my gaze—
Orbs with white sclerae
lit up by irises of fire
are the only features visible underneath
a tattered and dirty black hood—
I see no face if it has one
for shadows fill the void
amidst the fire,
dark repelling the light.
The lower hem
of the onyx garment marred by muck
massed atop the sea of sepulchers—
the crust of the cellar
a binding earthen graveyard
abounding with souls of all ill-fated wishers—
its vestment strikes me as looking…
…cumbersome?
As if it’s laden with lead.
Even whilst sitting,
the wraithlike manifestation
eclipses my stature.
Judging from my perspective
it commands a clearing
no less than eight feet in height.
I simply look up at its shadowed abyss,
into its ignited motes—
My look will not falter,
the cloaked shade
is cognizant of the truth—
We are not equals.
“What folly has possessed this wayward drifter
to breach the threshold of an ancient gifter?”
Its words arrive,
on a hollow, frigid whisper.
I drink in the musty air,
ere I give voice to my thoughts.
“It would seem that your perception
is fallacious,
as it happens to be—by every metric—
I am infallibly at my intended mark…
Makkār.”
The veiled phantom’s blazing spheres
fleetly flicker,
its shrouded crown shifting
in acknowledgement.
Its title has been unspoken
for millennia.
“’Tis a quaint and novel scenario,
an ephemeral mortal possesses my moniker.
Not a mere stray, but a destined curio.
Do you seek money? Power? To be a conqueror?
Banal scholar, your gnosis is scarcely a marvel.
Let loose your tongue, unburden your wish
You mirror all other men, avaricious and larval.
Tell me your greed and what you seek to embellish.
Let loose your tongue, unburden your wish.”
Its husky cadence resonates
with a curt, dismissive breath.
A hollow blanket covers my mind,
my unvarnished designs
sequestered within my marrow
beyond the perception
of this unholy plague.
It is blind to my undercurrent,
ignorant of its guest’s ambitions—
something I know it hasn’t felt
since the ancient Egyptians
erected the Great Pyramids—
“Layers of dust
from lifetimes elapsed
have smothered my generational pursuit
to unearth your arcane ground—
so much time to a… mortal,
as you called me,
yet, even centuries are a mere blink to you.
Alas, I must admit
to an element of truth
within your words.
Indeed, I do come here
aiming for a long-desired outcome
that is in point of fact—
a wish—
Nonetheless, I am
acutely schooled
regarding your clever tactics.
Notwithstanding, ere I profess…
my yearning—
for greed and power—
I ask of you
to heed a brief narrative.”
My face is as blank as my mind.
The foul skulker is still save for
its elongated, skeletal digits intertwining…
“You have piqued my curiosity, mortal,
or perhaps not as mortal as I originally perceived?
Once-a-man who trespassed my portal,
I will indeed pay mind to your tale. Proceed.”
