The Great Black King

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ There was much to be said regarding history, but nothing left me as astounded as that. The firm, warm arms of the man I had always dreamed of were around me, and he looked at me with a smile in his violet eyes that I admired so much. He seemed real. "What's the matter?" he asked me with a hoarse and gentle voice. "Ahm... nothing," I replied, questioning whether all of this was a dream or not. But he was still there, and his eyes closed as he embraced me. Indeed, this was one of the best dreams I had ever had. "Sir," a male voice called out to him, and I saw Calisto raise his face with displeasure. "What the hell do you want?" he grumbled. "We heard something that might interest you, sir," the man said, and a shiver ran down my spine. "I'm busy," he said, burying his face in my back. I could feel his breath on my bare skin, warming my face. "Sir," the man insisted, and by now, I knew what would happen. I had read and reread that scene thousands of times, so

♱ •⋅ 1750 A..C. ⋅• ♱ She floated above the cathedral, her golden eyes shining, her body completely covered by a white cloak. It was as if I was seeing Mary herself—the chosen virgin by the heavens to bear the life of the one who would save all humanity. Elaine was equivalent to Mary, but her beauty was undoubtedly superior. I wasn't surprised that Calisto had fallen in love with her or accepted death for loving that woman. Elaine was like a deity in a fragile, delicate, and mortal body; she was a strong and determined heroine who was willing to do anything to fulfill what her God had commanded. I couldn't deny that I admired Elaine. Not only for winning over Calisto—my great literary crush—but also for dedicating herself to a cause as she did (even though secretly I considered it foolish when the reason was something like religion and ancient, archaic beliefs like hers). "By the nine hells," Calisto grumbled, and I could see his pink eyes burning with anger. He hated situations whe

♱ ⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅ ♱ "You... were you worried?" I couldn't help asking, and Callisto looked at me as if that was the stupidest thing Asra had ever asked him in his entire life. Of course, I should know. Callisto couldn't care less about his concubine, but then... what the hell did it all mean? "You..." he paused, his lips ajar. I smiled. "I'm sorry, darling," I said, sitting down on the bed. I should leave. "What exactly are you apologizing for?" Her voice was serious again. I didn't know how to answer, this was certainly one of the few answers I didn't have to give him, so I looked to the window for anything I could use. He snorted. "Are you apologizing for almost killing yourself? For being impulsive? For..." he stopped and even without looking I could hear his footsteps approaching the bed, "what the hell do you have on your head?" "Brain matter and horns" I replied with a smile, turning my face to look at him, but Callisto didn't smile back. "I could..." he stopped again.

♱ ⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅ ♱ Callisto's arms wrapped around my hips. "Are you sure you want this?" He asked me, and in his eyes there seemed to be a mixture of doubt and fear. It was obvious why. Asra was trouble, but, besides, I had hurt myself the last time I tried to help. He must have thought that there was nothing I could do without nearly screwing everything up along the way. I sank my face into his chest. I wouldn't give up. "Yes, that way you can work, and you won't have to endure Azrael on your foot... and..." I smiled, kissing his chin gently, "you can stay by my side too." He squeezed me tighter in his arms and I knew he was thinking, was really considering, but if I let him leave without giving me an answer, he would ask Azrael and that damned angel would go out of his way to make sure I didn't get involved in anything he considered "serious," like, for example: anything involving Elaine. "Please" I spoke getting on tiptoe and sealing the king's lips, "I promise... I won't cau

♱ ⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅ ♱ "Who are you?" the childish voice questioned me, and bluntly, I stared at the little being who was sneaking around the gardens of the emerald palace. What was I supposed to say? It was obvious who this child was, for there, in the midst of hell - children, were rare. As rare as dreamy happy endings. That little boy was Loren, Callisto's son and his one true love until then. The being to whom the king dedicated his life and the reason he opened himself to Elaine. There were even some fans who said that Elaine was not so good and had blatantly used the boy to get closer to the king. At the time, I remember disagreeing and defending the heroine. "I am Asra" I replied simply by extending one of my hands to him to help him stand up. The little boy wore black clothes that stood out on his excessively pale skin. There were reddish circles under his crimson eyes, and he smiled briefly as he took my hand. "Asra? Like the phoenix that swallowed the deadly sun?" He look