Blandine and Beleth were not the only great lovers in Heaven, though they
were the first, and as Cherubim, the obvious. But tales can be told of
the cool, intellectual love of Jean and Raphael, the first Elohim, or
Janus and Oannes, with the everpresent joining of wind and waves...
And of course Andrealphus, Angel and Archangel of Love, felt them all.
One of the most delightful Tethers in Heaven was thrice-forked -- a
beach on a small peninsula, where wind and waves came together joyously,
and led to the domains of all three.
In the days before the Fall, after Lucifer had begun to make Andrealphus
doubt the Word of Love, that Mercurian went to the thrice-forked Tether,
and sought to reassure him/herself that the Word was yet true and pure.
And the wild whistling wind and roaring waves there did hold a certain
peace, a certain reassurance.
So he/she did create... something. Something that was bound into the
Tether, a promise and a pledge. Something that even Love's own Fall could
not undo. Something not even Oannes's death could undo.
Something, perhaps, that could outlast even the Wind.
By this time, it's claimed that if you can invoke them, if you can
perform the rituals to unseal the Something, that the Armies of Love
will come to aid you, save you from whatever threatens you. Some
Novalines wonder if it might even invoke Andrealphus himself, and
restore his faith in his old Word.
There's a building there, now. A huge mansion, of stone and windows, with
candelabras. Some very old Servitors wonder if pieces of that house don't
remind them a bit of pieces of Love's old Cathedral, with ballrooms for
dancing and bedrooms for cuddling. Some Lust-Servitors have found other
mirrors that are a little too familiar for comfort -- but not enough to
prove anything.
The house is huge. It occupies a large chunk of what was once the
thrice-forked Tether.
You start at night. You go out the front of the house, by the land, and
begin to circle it, widdershins. (Counter-clockwise, that is.) At the
house's first corner -- it's huge, but square, at least on this side --
is the first test.
At night, stand there, where waves and wind roar and howl -- but gently,
in this place -- and light a candle. You have to be thinking of someone
you care about. Really care about. Sincerity. If the Game knew about
this, a demon successfully passing the first test would be named Renegade
at once.
The candle will cast the shadow of a candelabra upon the waves. No one
knows why, anymore. (Do you want to go ask Andrealphus, Demon Prince of
Lust? I thought not.)
Once the candle is lit, the way is opened. You could turn the corner and
walk that stretch of beach without the candle, without the ritual caring
in your heart, but the beach would end shortly, halfway along the small,
rocky cliff that the house now perches atop from this angle. With the
candle and the caring, the beach continues to the house's next corner.
Anyone may go with the one who opened the way -- provided they at least
care for that person as a friend. Anyone may open the way, too: human,
ethereal, celestial... Even undead.
At the second corner, the second trial. There's no further beach here, just
rocks jutting from the water. Now, you must turn your back, gaze at the
waves (wind-spurred, even higher now, crashing upon the rocks beyond but
somehow never actually roaring up to soak those who stand at the second
trial; from the house, these waves seem to crash against the cliff, and
there is no beach to stand on here)... and love someone, without doubt,
without holding back. Then turn around. And one more thing: to pass this
trial, one must be human.
It would be an easy thing for a Cherub. It would be an easy thing for a
Seraph who knew the right truths about another, without doubt (and
Seraphim who love, rarely hold back; they are pure and feel emotions
purely). Even an Elohite might manage the task (objectively, if one has
need of the treasure hidden within the once thrice-forked Tether, one
should not hold back!).
But the only creatures which can open the way are humans, with all their
doubts and worries and lack of resonance to tell them that no, they need
not doubt.
It is, perhaps, an impossible task. No one has ever achieved it.
It is said that the closest that was ever come was a young woman and
the massively Discordant Djinn of Lust (quite thoroughly Renegade) who
was attuned to her. That at the second trial, when she would have
returned his love... something happened, that clouded her eyes, and instead
of him she turned to kiss and lay with upon the sands, it was another --
a Soldier of Hell who had just enough humanity left to be able to care, and
thus follow them. And so was love betrayed, as the Djinn stood by, unaware
that his beloved's mind had been clouded with illusion.
The story doesn't say what became of them, or if this illusion was in fact
a final trial.
But the sea and waves remain, and the beach remains, and the house sits
above and broods, held uniformly by people of power and pride.
And the trials... remain.
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