“Thus is the First Pillar and from the inside of the Earth a trembling was felt and above them in the sky a mighty Wolf was seen to come upon them and this wolf was called ‘Vrim’ and was sent by the Black Sun to inform those ignorant of the way the true path. The Wolf started to savage the False Bright Sun and it became a reflection of the Black Sun itself and the Vurdhun cried and wept as the Earth bucked and toiled under the rays of truth and wisdom for its foundations were that of lies and falsehoods. So did the city fall upon itself and was swallowed with only a few who secretly practiced the Black Sun Alchemy spared and these few people travelled away from the stink of death to the North and they settled there.” So was the First Revelation revealed to me and I lowered my head as the dust settled upon the mighty towers and the city was lost to the memory of men and Vrim the Black Sun Wolf finally released the false sun and the days continued. But no thing ever grew upon the soil heaped upon the city and no stone of it was ever found. On this spot ten thousand years later a Masion was built and it was called Plas Llysin.
But Plas Llysin sat, defiant it was. Looked like it had it’s chin up spoiling for a fight.
Alas I am caught. As we progress our magic the pitfalls and traps become apparent and leak their symbols into the real, the figures of history would have us kept within this place in order to control the flows of information from the magical to the place they control. They will not countenance any equal, and that is their way. I was dead and now I am alive again and I do not know how they machined the stainless steel realities they have made to imprison me but…her again? Is their no end to this comedy? These fractured hills, the house, the Cops watching. As clean as we were, not clean enough.
I would wake early and the mists from the forest were still ethereal, pink, orange dull sick grey and green. She would be sitting on the fence watching the sun rise never taking her eyes off the infinite sky. Her hair in tangles the mist catching it, drops of pure light caught as she watched. Her feet have blades of grass stuck to them and seeds. I suspect I have dosed inadvertently, this dawn is relentless, crushing, she is too beautiful. I cover my eyes with my hands.
From the course grasses, sedges and Heather of that place erupted a slated roof, some brick work which seemed twisted and bent as their thoughts and spells commanded it to rise from the shit of that place. A weather vein attached to a bent chimney from which poured a thick black smoke. Then it birthed itself and erupted with great violence higher and higher into the grey sky. Windows and doors, sills, boards and steel structures. It was high and it was as Black as a sour heart and it caught me by my left foot and I was pulled into the madness of the architecture, tangled and trapped within it until at last the walls closed around me. From the Cottage on the hill the Police watched, eyes mist covered.
The days change and men do suffer and die and you are left unchanged.You define everything there, on that fence, doing your thing. Veins I have that fill with ice at your touch, this essence purely yours. Flow bitter mountain tears and grip the my heart tighter and call to errant Fathers. This day cast bones among the others and scrabble in the Hills above town.
Let the infants cry their own tears and remember nothing, not a thing. I rejoice about nothing for nothing is the food of the ignorant. The Alchemy they gave me hangs heavy at my chest and I ask why? The clouds still move slowly and this place burns all the faster. We resent bitterly this act that even the elders scratch thinning heads. To strike out in anger, to breathe the thicker air and gasp not. To run with limbs that do not ache with the damp of those beautiful mountains of Wales. Let the mist fall upon me and my beautiful Goddess, castigate me more, I care not. The Wizards of this land lie deep within their mounds and we forget. The innocence of youth wasted upon our heads, there is no remedy for Time.
The First Revelation of the Black Sun
Your rays entwined my soul and swept me to the first forest of Reckoning and this place was a Hawthorn wood and the Chemical path between the trees was clear. As I went to run to you and through this place a gauntleted hand on my shoulder stopped me and I dared not look upon you and these words you spoke and it was to be known as the first revelation. For the hand upon my shoulder was from a Knight of old and upon him he wore the armour of war and that armour was of the blackest Iron that could be built at the edges of the world and this Black Knight was called ‘Duramota’ and ‘Olomon’ he was the greatest of Black Sun Knights of old. His sword would cleave the soils of the earth and have them bleed their fired blood upon the bodies of those who lived within it. At his side you stood, tadiant Goddess, he caressed your bare breast with his Iron clad glove. I felt the sorrow he would give to me. The voice behind that Black Iron mask spoke and my ears bled and stabbed with pain as he spoke.