ARMAGEDDON'S GENESIS - MATT LUCAS
The Victim
The cries of Cassia’s pangs reverberated through the torchlit chamber. Her teeth clenched as tortuous pressure emanated from her loins. Every muscle trembled, responding to her immense agony.
Skeletal remains adorned the vast mausoleum’s walls. The spirit of death’s noxious aura infected the atmosphere. This forsaken place was a shrine to evil’s king, who Cassia knew all too well.
Six hooded figures hovered over Cassia’s cold, stone bed. Solemnly her captors bowed in reverence, murmuring ominous prayers in an ancient tongue. Anxiously they prepared to receive the malevolent spawn they’d planted in her nine months earlier.
Throwing her head back, Cassia bellowed as a contraction tore through her abdomen. She gripped the table, her fingernails scraping against the stone. Realizing the moment was at hand, the cult’s leader approached. With a final heave, Cassia strained with all her might.
The newborn’s fierce bawling replaced Cassia’s groans. An aura of chaotic power emanated from the child. Exhausted, the mother reclined, savoring her momentary reprieve.
The leader handed the child to one of his cohorts. “Take him to the minister at once.”
Taking the squalling babe in his arms the servant left through an adjacent door. Cassia’s heart sunk when her son’s cries traversed out of earshot. Regardless of the circumstances of his conception, the boy remained half hers.
Sensing her dismay, the leader’s fingers brushed her brow as he leaned in close. “Do not fret. You are the mother of a king.”
Suddenly, Cassia lurched forward, jolted by the resurgence of a familiar pain. She groaned, straining against the latest rush of anguish. Instinctively, she employed a rhythmic breathing pattern, readying for the second birth.
A sinister smile slithered across the man’s exposed mouth. “And now for the conduit.”
The second child’s passage wasn’t as painful. His arrival was peaceful, unlike his brother’s. The boy momentarily bawled, but soon quieted down.
Her captors repeated the process. Their leader handed Cassia’s youngest to another companion. “Take this one to The Order. Only with them will he learn to channel his power.”
Cassia longingly reached for her son. “I want to see him,” she pled, “please don’t take him . . . not yet.”
The underling stopped, looking to his leader for direction. A tense moment of contemplation passed before the leader reluctantly nodded. “She’s earned that much,” he justified.
The servant presented the child to Cassia. She lovingly stroked his face. Then his eyes opened. They were chestnut eyes, like her own. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Despite her grief, she couldn’t help but smile when his fingers wrapped around her thumb.
Cassia never believed in a higher power. She’d been bought and sold like cattle her entire life. Living on street corners, face-to-face with society’s dregs, didn’t lend itself to belief in a benevolent God. Though, after everything Cassia witnessed since her kidnapping, the idea didn’t seem so farfetched.
Her mind drifted to nine months earlier. She found herself in a similar place, surrounded by cloaked wraiths. They were chanting in ominous unison, just like tonight. Last time, however, their ritualistic prayers served a different purpose. They were summoning something.
Deep down Cassia knew who they’d called from the depths of hell. The devil had overtaken one of the wraith’s bodies. The possessed man then had morphed into a roaring, prowling beast poised to indulge in all manners of perversion. She’d never forget the feeling of helplessness when he had climbed atop her bound body.
Cassia laid her hand gently on her son’s head and prayed to the God she rejected until now. Protect him. Send him a helper so he might resist his father.
“That’s enough,” the leader cut the tender moment short, “take him.”
Cassia held on as long as she could, savoring each precious second. She reached out sobbing but to no avail. Tears clouded her vision as she watched the cloaked figure disappear through the doorway.
The leader caressed her forehead. “You’ve done well. The women before you failed to withstand the raw power of the children growing within them. You’ve earned your rest.”
Reaching into his cloak, the leader revealed a dagger forged from bone. He snatched her by the hair and pressed the serrated blade to her throat.
Cassia’s hands instinctively flew to the leader’s wrist. She pushed, forcing the dagger away. The jagged blade quaked as the adversaries battled.
The leader snarled, fed up with Cassia’s resistance. He released his grip on her scalp and hit her across her face hard. A potent sting reverberated through her face and a high-pitched ringing resounded through her ears. Groggily, she fell back against the table.
In a flash the leader leapt atop her. He forced her arms down with his controlling knees. Triumphantly, he raised the dagger. Cassia closed her eyes tight, anticipating the blade’s deadly bite.
Suddenly a gunshot rang out. Cassia felt the leader’s weight lift off her chest. He screeched in a bizarre, animalistic tone. It was as if multiple voices merged into one as he bellowed in pain.
Cassia’s eyes jerked open with renewed hope. Her assailant fell backwards off the table as three bullets pulverized his chest. The other cultists scrambled, bewildered by the ambush. Peering into the abyss, Cassia saw smoke rising from a gun barrel.
The interloper stepped forward. Candlelight danced across his face, illuminating his graying beard and rugged skin. An imposing man, he wore a long, gray trench coat.
“Enough!” The interloper snarled in a gruff voice with rage blazing in his eyes. “This ends tonight!”
The leader rose, despite absorbing three gunshots to the chest. His skin sizzled and smoke billowed from each wound. He chuckled at the minor hindrance the gunshots wrought. “And who might you be?” He sneered.
“I’m your reckoning,” the interloper growled, “the one who’s going to wipe your cult from the face of the earth.”
The leader scoffed. “I’m afraid we’re only the tip of the iceberg. But you already knew that, didn’t you? I only know one priesthood that uses blessed iron bullets tempered in holy water . . . you’re a sentinel.”
“And you’re no average demon,” the sentinel speculated. “Those bullets usually cripple foot soldiers.”
“I am a prince,” the leader taunted. “My authority comes from my father, himself!”
The sentinel chortled, unimpressed with the prince’s bravado. “You’re the first one we’ve seen in centuries. Princes have been rumored to even give archangels fits. I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
“And yet, you don’t tremble.” The prince observed.
The sentinel shrugged. “I probably can’t defeat you, but I can hurt you. Now, enough talk, send your little minions my way. I could use the warm up.”
The prince smirked. “As you wish.”
The prince’s three remaining followers unsheathed daggers from their robes. Hesitantly they crept towards the sentinel, wary to wield knives in a gunfight. Their tentativeness bored their adversary.
Scoffing, the sentinel holstered his dual pistols. “Fine, we’ll have a fair scrap. You aren’t worth the bullets anyway.”
With renewed confidence the cultists rushed at their adversary. Wildly they thrashed about. Deftly the interloper dodged each strike with ease. Cassia noticed his amused grin.
He’s toying with them, she realized.
Suddenly the violence escalated. The assailant on the sentinel’s right thrust his blade forward. In a flash the interloper seized his adversary’s wrist with his right hand. Simultaneously, a foe from the left slashed downward. However, the sentinel also caught his wrist.
In a swift, powerful movement the sentinel jerked the right adversary’s arm, forcing his blade beneath his cohort’s armpit. The left foe bellowed in anguish, releasing his dagger.
Time slowed as the dagger hung in the air. Releasing his grip on the leftmost enemy, the sentinel snatched the suspended weapon. As soon as his fingers grasped the hilt, he thrust the knife upwards, burying it the right foe’s neck.
In unison both assailants crumpled to the floor. The third cultist warily backpedaled as fear overtook him. Turning on his heel the final adversary retreated towards the door.
“Coward!” The prince roared, enraged.
Unwilling to accept the retreat, the sentinel launched his knife at the fleeing enemy. The dagger found its target, plunging deep at the base of the cultist’s skull. He, too, collapsed with blood pooling from his corpse.
“Humans working with demon-kind,” the interloper pondered, “quite the operation you have here.”
“My father’s influence knows no bounds,” the prince boasted. “We’ve infiltrated every one of your feeble, human constructs, amassing followers to usher in my father’s kingdom.”
“Didn’t end so well for them.” The sentinel nodded towards the dead followers scattered across the mausoleum.
“Necessary sacrifices,” the prince growled, “just like her!” Without warning the prince raised his knife over Cassia once more.
The dagger sped towards the captive. Squealing, Cassia recoiled into a ball. She shut her eyes tight, anticipating the blade’s sting.
Another gunshot rang out. The bullet struck the prince’s hand, knocking the weapon from his grasp. Enraged, Cassia’s captor released a shrill, multi-toned shriek and charged the sentinel with reckless abandon.
The sentinel unleashed an onslaught of gunfire. Each bullet struck true, temporarily slowing the prince’s assault. Despite the barrage, the prince endured, relentlessly straining forward.
Rapidly reloading, the sentinel sent more bullets through the air. They buried themselves deep in the prince’s flesh. Six more shots overwhelmed the demon. Exhausted, he dropped to a knee, panting as smoke seeped from his wounds.
“Look at you,” the sentinel mocked, “the great and powerful prince! I’ve seen how your power manifests against a real warrior! I’ve seen how your kind fights! You lurk in the shadows and prey on unsuspecting women! You’re nothing more than a parasite, feasting off the weak!”
A deep, maniacal chuckle reverberated off the tomb’s walls. “You can’t comprehend what I am!”
The prince thrust his hand towards the sentinel. Cassia’s savior’s feet levitated off the ground. Bewildered, his eyes widened in shock.
Suddenly the prince’s fist clenched. The sentinel’s neck veins bulged, pulsating rapidly. His body violently quaked and his face reddened as he gasped for air. It was as if the prince had telepathically seized the breath from his lungs.
Cassia looked on in desperation as her last hope for survival, for her children’s survival, dwindled away. Her eyes darted about, seeking refuge from this pit of despair.
Just then a glimmer of light illuminated Cassia’s instrument of salvation. The blade forged from bone, the one meant to murder her, lay discarded on the ground. With sudden guile, she slid off her stone bed. A dull soreness still hobbled her movement, but Cassia courageously persevered.
Clutching the knife with determination, Cassia crept towards the prince. He was cackling maniacally, relishing in the sentinel’s agony as he drowned on land. Seizing the opportunity, Cassia struck.
She plunged the dagger into the prince’s back. He roared with the fury of many mythical beasts. Whirling around to face Cassia, the prince’s attention fixated on her.
Snatching Cassia by the throat, the prince raised her off the ground. His strong grip clenched down on her windpipe. Hoarsely she gasped for air. Soon, her vision blurred as oxygen siphoned off from her brain.
Cassia feebly stabbed at the prince’s wrist, but the demon remained unphased. She looked down to see a maniacal bloodlust in his eyes as he squeezed her life force from her body. In her heart, Cassia confronted the harsh truth.
This is the end. She shut her eyes, reluctantly embracing death.
Abruptly the prince jerked. He stumbled as something powerful collided with him. Cassia’s breath surged back, and she became weightless. She descended groggily until a hard impact with the ground jolted her back to lucidity.
When she sat up, Cassia witnessed a brutal display of hand-to-hand combat between the prince and sentinel. Thanks to Cassia’s distraction, the prince had inadvertently released his supernatural grip on her rescuer. Now they were entrenched in battle.
The prince towered over his foe, but the sentinel made up his disadvantage with unparalleled agility. The demon unfurled barrage of powerful punches. However, the sentinel danced around each blow, biding his time to strike.
Soon the opportunity revealed itself. The prince unleashed a swift right hook. However, in his rage, the demon had overextended himself. The sentinel dodged low and strafed left, simultaneously drawing is pistols.
Two shots pulverized the demon’s ribs. The prince lurched forward. When he did, the sentinel buried another bullet in his jaw. Staggering away, the demon stumbled onto all fours.
Reaching into his trench coat, the sentinel pulled out a small, oblong sphere. Cassia couldn’t immediately discern the object. However, when her rescuer pulled a pin from its top and rolled it towards the prince, epiphany struck.
Cassia covered her ears, bracing for the explosion. A loud bang erupted through the mausoleum. A bright light cut through the darkness and a plume of heat encompassed the area.
Cassia’s ears rang and stars clouded her vision. The sentinel rushed to her side, shouting orders. Yet, she could only make out muffled barks.
“We have to go . . . now!” The sentinel’s gruff voice suddenly broke through Cassia’s malaise.
Taking his hand, the sentinel gingerly led Cassia towards the door through which her sons had been taken. As they neared the doorway a strange wheezing emanated from behind them. Turning, both were horrified by the revolting monstrosity before their eyes.
The prince’s body was a contorted, snarling husk supported by disjointed limbs. His arms had rotated inward with forward facing elbows. The demon’s pelvis was fractured, bowing his legs like a spider’s. Jagged ribs punctured his skin and his mandible hung crooked by swaths of sinew.
The demon’s fervent wheezing grew more rapid. Suddenly he burst forward with jarring speed, crawling on all fours. Despite his mutilation, the prince’s unyielding crusade persisted.
Cassia clung to the sentinel as they fled. Despite the infusion of adrenaline, Cassia’s body was wrought with pain. As the prince careened towards them, Cassia knew she was the albatross that would not only inhibit their escape but hinder their chances of finding her children.
I can’t save my children but maybe he can.
Cassia came to an abrupt halt, pulling away from the sentinel’s grasp. Puzzled, the sentinel reached for her.
Cassia stepped back. “Find my children. You’re their only hope now.”
Clutching the bone dagger, Cassia turned to face her tormentor. The hair on her neck stood on edge as a vengeful flame burned through her veins. The prince had kidnapped her, summoned Satan to defile her, and cast a shadow over her life. Yet, it weren’t these injustices that fueled her defiance.
The visage of her son’s brown eyes cast out her fear. The feel of his fingers wrapped around her thumb stymied her pain. Every encumbrance melted away as she trudged resiliently into the shadow. Cassia was ready to die. ***
The Sentinel
Phillip was paralyzed by a bittersweet concoction of fear and admiration. The grotesque creature the prince morphed into struck his heart with terror. Phillip had bombarded the prince with every attack in his repertoire. Still, the seemingly indestructible Prince of Hell merely adapted, becoming more vicious with each barrage.
As a sentinel, Phillip’s life was dedicated to protecting the innocent against supernatural threats. He was trained to remain impervious under the gravest of circumstances. Yet, in the face of the greatest horror he’d ever encountered, it was Cassia who displayed insurmountable courage.
She charged headfirst into the evil’s jaws. Awestruck, Phillip watched as the feeble young woman battled the demonic entity. It wasn’t a fight that she could win, but with each slash, Cassia bought them precious seconds.
You’re their only hope now. Cassia’s words echoed through Phillip’s mind. Don’t let her sacrifice be in vain.
With tremendous reluctance, Phillip grasped the door handle. He turned back one last time and looked at her with a heavy heart. Cassia was overtaken by the prince as he knocked her to the floor. The warped creature ravaged her as she fought on. Phillip refocused and entered the doorway. Closing it behind him, the sentinel took a torch from the corridor walls and slid it through the handle as a makeshift barricade.
Two paths shrouded in darkness lay before him. The faint echoes of newborns sounded off the stone walls. To the left, in the distance, there was a tortured wailing, defined by chaos and anger. Phillip could hear another child’s mild fussing down the right tunnel.
He’s closer, Phillip surmised of the rightmost twin.
Suddenly a loud thud boomed against the door. The perverse demon repeatedly rammed the barricade. Phillip looked on in terror as the iron torch bowed to the prince’s might.
Suddenly a ravaged arm burst through the door, spraying splinters through the air. Beam by beam the prince tore down the barricade, wheezing with a zealous bloodlust. There was no time to waste. Phillip sprinted down the right corridor. While his ears fixated on the infant’s cries, Phillip reflected on what madness had brought him here.
For months, the sentinel sought out Cassia. What began with a missing person’s report had evolved into an intricate web of deceit, leading him to Paris. Her kidnapping had rapidly escalated into a vast conspiracy, enveloping wealthy socialites and common criminals alike.
Cassia wasn’t the first victim. Phillip pursued the secretive syndicate for years but to no avail. Every mad scramble led the sentinel to the same conclusion: a carelessly disposed body and more questions. With the revelation of a Prince of Hell’s involvement the web had become more tangled.
Brutal interrogations and obsessive investigations unveiled a mysterious cult operating within Paris’ underbelly. Phillip’s diligence unearthed a disturbing pattern where young women, typically prostitutes, were captured off the streets. Their bodies would subsequently resurface three months later, discarded like rubbish. Cassia had survived nine.
After infiltrating the Paris police under the guise of a coroner, Phillip unearthed a gruesome truth, doubling the loss of life. Each woman’s womb possessed an underdeveloped child that had died with her. Furthermore, their cause of death was equally disturbing.
Another anomaly only added to the mystery. The children seemed to rob their mothers’ life force like parasites within the womb. The energy transfer was so severe that, when Phillip autopsied the women, they resembled decayed husks rather than youthful mothers.
Somehow Cassia had survived long enough to bring twins to term without succumbing to the bizarre phenomenon. The logic as to how defied Phillip’s knowledge. Regardless, the sentinel’s mission remained unchanged. He had to find her children before they vanished into an unholy abyss.
The echoing footsteps and cooing grew louder with every stride. Phillip’s heart fluttered when the flicker of a humanoid shadow danced across the torchlit walls. Motivated by his promise to Cassia, Phillip pushed his weary body past its limitations. Barreling around a corner, his target came into view.
Phillip’s pistol flew from its holster. He leered down the barrel with his finger pressed against the trigger. Every fiber of his being yearned to wipe the cultist from the earth. Yet, in this penultimate moment, he hesitated.
I can’t see the boy, Phillip cautioned himself. Even if I shoot the cultist’s legs, his fall could kill the child.
Grimacing in frustration, Phillip stayed his hand. His mind raced, contemplating the delicate situation. The sentinel had always preferred brute force to tact. Now he faced a conundrum of safely extracting the child while simultaneously incapacitating his captor.
Phillip wracked his brain. Then epiphany struck. That just might work.
With a burst of energy Phillip gave chase. The cultist’s frantic panting grew louder as the sentinel closed in. Everything came down to this. Countless hours of maddening investigation, relentless searching, and heartbreak culminated in this furious dash. Failure would nullify Cassia’s sacrifice, sentencing her sons to a fate worse than death.
Phillip bore down on his adversary. The sentinel was soon close enough to hear the cultist’s hood flapping as he fled. After two more strides, Phillip unleashed his assault.
Phillip drew his pistol in a flash. A shot rang out followed by a shrill shriek. The bullet pierced behind the cultist’s knee, exploding out the front.
The hooded man fell forward. If he were allowed to reach the ground, he could crush Cassia’s son. But Phillip was prepared. With his free hand, Phillip snatched the cultist’s hood. Yanking him upwards, Phillip halted his foe’s stumble.
After wresting the child from his captor, Phillip flung the cultist against a wall. With Cassia’s son in one hand and a pistol in the other, the interrogation commenced. “Where’s the other boy?”
“Gone,” the cultist chortled in spite of his wound, “hidden until his appointed time.”
“Where?” Phillip bellowed, striking his captive’s skull with the hilt of his pistol.
A sinister smirk slithered across the cultist’s lips. “You’ll never find him. They were born to usher in their father’s kingdom. You know whose blood runs through their veins. Fear it, embrace it, resist it . . . whatever you choose, hell is coming.”
Animalistic roars echoed through the labyrinth. Phillip knew time was running out. Reluctantly, the sentinel embraced the inevitability that in order to save the child in his arms, he would have to abandon the other.
Enraged by the choice presented before him, Phillip raised his pistol towards the cultist. “Looks like you’re going to see it earlier than expected.” Phillip buried a bullet into the hood. The cultist’s body went limp, but his sinister smirk remained.
There was no time to waste. Cassia’s son was paramount to the unfurling demonic plot. The prince’s pursuit would be relentless.
I have to get him far away . . . fast.
Just then, a cold breeze swept through the corridor. The torchlights extinguished, leaving Phillip in complete darkness. With his sight inhibited, his other senses became hyper focused.
The stench of seared flesh permeated the air. A disturbing symphony of guttural breathing and ominous footsteps resonated off the corridor’s walls. The prince approached.
The sentinel blindly navigated by feeling the walls, but his advance was sluggish. With each fumbling step the prince’s sadistic wheezing grew nearer.
Without light, they were doomed. The beast would consume Phillip and take the child. The sentinel’s mind raced, desperate for a beacon of hope.
Show me what I’m supposed to do! The unshakable warrior buried his head in his hand in despairing prayer. You didn’t send me here for nothing!
An answer came, manifesting as a quiet whisper. Today, you will see glory.
Phillip was befuddled. How can there be any glory in this chamber of nightmares?
The whisper responded, quoting a familiar scripture. The light shines in the darkness, the darkness has not overcome it.
Suddenly the hair of Phillip’s neck stood on edge. He sensed a malicious presence draw near. The demon’s pungent stench intensified. Hot breath blew against Phillip’s face and warm liquid dropped from the ceiling onto Phillip’s hand.
Terror gripped Phillip as his eyes slowly shifted upwards. Hanging from the ceiling were yellowed, bloodshot eyes that gleamed against the blackness. Cassia’s son bawled, writhing uncontrollably. It was as if the mere presence of the demon inflicted him with pain.
In a flash the repulsive eyes lurched forward. Phillip felt the sting of jagged teeth clamping down on his shoulder. The prince violently shook, tearing flesh from bone.
Tightly, the sentinel shielded Cassia’s son in his chest. Phillip tried to resist, but just then, the prince violently chomped down on his collar bone. A sickening crack ratcheted through the sentinel’s torso followed by a searing pain that ran from chest to shoulder.
Hope disappeared. Phillip’s arm was rendered useless. He was helpless to keep the grotesque demon from feasting on him alive.
I’m sorry, Cassia, Phillip lamented, I wasn’t strong enough.
Just then a blaze of heat and white light burst through the darkness. An unquenchable flame exploded, sending a shockwave through the cavern. Blinded by the fireball, Phillip’s other senses took over.
The demon’s jaws left Phillip’s shoulders. Its distressed, multi-toned screaming ceased. The malevolent smog that permeated the air before the prince’s attack dissipated.
When Phillip’s eyes recovered, he surveyed the scene in astonishment. The energy wave had blown a hole in the side of the corridor, allowing moonlight to trickle in. The gentle current of Paris’ Seine soothed Phillip. The torches had been relit by the fire and the prince was nowhere to be found.
The grizzled warrior looked down upon the child. He was Satan’s son, born to usher in the Kingdom of Hell. His father’s power teemed so vehemently through his veins that he’d defeated a demonic prince as an infant. He was dangerous.
Conflicted, Phillip wavered on how to proceed. He was a sentinel, part of an ancient, priestly order bent on protecting the world from Hell. If he brought the boy to The Sentinels, they would kill the child, justly citing his tarnished heritage. If the boy were allowed to live, he might carry out the malicious plan his father intended for his life.
Yet, with the proper help, the boy could be a potent weapon against the demonic. To rob the world of such immense power would be immoral. As he grappled with the burden, Phillip pled for a sign.
Tell me what I’m supposed to do, Phillip prayed, show me something . . . anything!
The boy cooed and squirmed in Phillip’s arms. His weary eyes peered open. They were chestnut brown, just like Cassia’s.
He’s her son too, the sentinel realized.
In that moment, Phillip’s prayer was answered. Evil may have brought this boy into the world, but it needn’t rule him.
Matt is an author represented by Labyrinth Literary Agency. He delves into paranormal, urban fantasy, sci-fi, and horror. His debut novel, The Shadow Gospels, is currently being pitched to publishers. He's also had several short stories published with Black Hare Press, Blood Song Books, and had another longlisted for inclusion in Cohesion Press’ Last Stand anthology, sponsored by Tim Miller. As his career progresses, he's always looking for opportunities to expand his resume. Writing is his passion and he hope to spend his days cultivating captivating stories with impactful messages.
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