The first satan, p.1
The First Satan, page 1
part #5 of The A'vean Chronicles Series
The First Satan
The A’vean Chronicles
By G.R Thomas
The First Satan
G.R Thomas
Copyright © 2023 G.R Thomas
ISBN: 978-0-6457180-3-4
Author: G.R Thomas
www.grthomasbooks.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictionally. All opinions are for fiction purposes and not representative of author personally. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for reading entertainment purposes only and should not be relied upon for factual accuracy or replicated in any way as they may result in injury. This book, in any form, any portion thereof, may not be reproduced, shared or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotation for the purpose of a book review.
Australian/British spelling is used throughout this book.
Cover Design: G.R Thomas & T.C Vidotto
Interior/exterior formatting by: G.R Thomas
Books by G.R Thomas
Urban Fantasy
The A’vean Chronicles
In Reading Order:
The First Satan
Awaken
Surrender
Allegiance
Redemption
Gothic Horror
Child of Fear and Fire
The Frangitelli Mirror
Content Warning
The First Satan is a prequel of The A’vean Chronicles.
This novella contains fantasy violence, gore and death,
it contains the suggestion of infant death.
Please read according to your comfort requirements.
To my readers old and new,
Your love of The A’vean Chronicles stirred this story to life
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
William Shakespeare
Chapter 1
Yeqon hated humans. They occupied his mind night and day, year after year, century after century. He couldn’t close his eyes without thinking about them, awoke from every Psynostris sleep cycle with them tattooed on his mind. This day was no different, and it stirred his thoughts of home.
Fingers blackened, he threw a nub of charcoal back into a dying fire pit and admired his unflattering outlining of a human on the paled bark of the tree he had used for his shelter.
“No eyes, for you do not see, no mouth for you cannot speak,” he mumbled at the image. He spat at his crude drawing. “You’d be nothing without us.” Branches cracked under his bare feet as he made his way around the tree, retrieving a thick, chromious-lined belt heavy with weapons. Yeqon slid three short-bladed daggers out and rounded the tree again.
A gentle breeze sung through the trees; birdsong called in the distance. He shook his head and peered up at a strike of predawn sky, stars still fading.
“This will be the last day, Father, I’ll endure another cycle watching them.” Yeqon’s voice rumbled like a torrent as he spat the warning to I’el, the creator of all things. Yeqon sniffed a short cold breath, closed his eyes as the weapons warmed in his palms. Memories of home, the great world of A’vean flooded his mind’s eye. Enormous diamond-hewn homes, the gentle song of waterfalls and endless comforts tended the weariness of his patience. Yet the yearning grew stronger with each passing day, and that patience thinner by the second.
His eyes snapped open. “And now I suffer this.” He spat again; it was almost involuntary how Earth made his mortal body react.
Hands now heavy with daggers that glowed with A’vean power, one by one they flew blade over handle until embedded in the human effigy. One in each eye, one in the heart. Yeqon snorted. “If only you screamed,” he spoke to the effigy as he yanked his daggers free.
Roosters crowed nearby; a cow bellowed. Footsteps told him the encampment was waking.
“Ugh,” he sighed and finished dressing, mindful to let his Pterugia, his wings of light, flex before he had to tuck them away, hidden within his spine, lest they accidently blind an errant human.
He sat upon a rock by the embers of his fire, took a long draught of honey mead and retrieved his sharpening tool. The milky quartz sung as it called a razored edge back to the blade.
The quartz shook in his grip as he ran it along the edge of the chromious sword. He smiled at the way the precious, otherworldly metal purred as he sharpened it. His eyes narrowed as its shine glanced across his face, fading fire light catching the power that coursed within the metal mined only on A’vean.
Nothing like chromious existed on Earth, and Yeqon despised the place for it. The planet needed another million years at least, perhaps another cataclysm to push its evolution, but no, I’el insisted it be tended as is.
Yeqon hated the unpredictability and vulgarity of this planet at the arse end of the universe. Once no more than a speck that didn’t draw the eye of I’el, now, it was the centre of everything. The apple of His eye, the meat on His bones, the highest peak of all His creations, and yet, humans couldn’t see themselves out of their own shadows without help.
A sigh rumbled in Yeqon’s chest. He ran his fingers along the razor edge, winced and smiled when a seam of red ran along his skin.
“It’s been too long since you tasted blood, old friend.” He lifted the sword and kissed the flat edge of it, breathed in its unique smell, let the power of it hum against his lips a moment.
“You’d like the taste of human flesh.” His smile waned and he pushed up from his seat, and held the sword in front of his face. His reflection was warbled, his face contorted, the deep umber of his skin paled in its eye. He probed the silvery markings that curled around his right eye, his Mark of A’vean, a measure of his heritage expressed upon his mortal flesh. It glimmered under the touch of his fingers, angelic energy surging towards their warmth.
“You speak a truth,” he let the weapon rest against his forehead, and he felt every bit as twisted as the blade’s reflection seemed to infer. The sword sank quietly into its scabbard as he readied himself for another day of tending I’el’s greatest mistake… he looked back at the impaled outline of the human.
A warm morning greeted him as he left the cover of the forest, rounding the side of a hill that overlooked the mid-east lands. Hands skimming along smooth rock, Yeqon breathed in and stared across the expanse of the Göbekli Tepe region. A wide valley of sand and rock, interspersed with tree groves, Göbekli Tepe portal stood proud in the middle of a hidden village of A’vean souls. An outpost for those who had run afoul of I’el, for those who had not followed His rules to perfection.
Yeqon’s cheek twitched, his eyes narrowed as he took in a scene of beleaguered angels who struggled to find purpose day in and day out… protecting humans. Many lounged by a small river, some practiced war games throughout the trees, others drank their human bodies into oblivion with the boredom. Yeqon’s fingers twitched when he saw Belial by the river, fist-fighting another to a pulp. He could smell the rich tang of blood, almost feel flesh squash beneath his knuckles; his lips pulled into a smile. He stepped towards Belial, but felt a tap upon his shoulder, his feet ground to a stop. His brows knitted when he saw who it was.
“What do you want?” Yeqon snarled, knuckles whitening into fists.
“To get this job done and get out of here,” Pineme said. His rainbow-coloured eyes rolled skyward. “And the quicker the better, Yeqon.” His mouth was tight, eyes thin, scouring Yeqon’s face.
“I’el may be silent, but you know He is always watching us. Don’t stray Yeqon, that’s what got you into this mess.” Pineme licked his lips, “It’s what got us all into trouble.”
Yeqon grumbled, let his hand relax, unable to avoid a quick glance at the clear blue sky.
Nothing. You give me nothing, he thought as he sought any kind of sign from I’el.
“Why are you even here Pineme? Thought you were keeping some other shit hole in order?”
Pineme chuckled, nodded his head, his face a hybrid of amusement and disgust. He clucked his tongue, ran a hand across the wide expanse of his chest. His Mark of A’vean glimmered a little brighter against his brown skin.
“Well, I was until I got too persuasive with the locals of Venlos. By the Throne, they just wouldn’t evolve, wouldn’t learn, I don’t think they could learn.” Pineme scratched his head, his eyes swirled, the colour rose and fell with his emotions.
“Figured I’d nudge them, figured incorrectly. Caused a whole village to drown, literally.” Pineme’s brows piqued as his eyes rolled. “Turns out if you push them in a river to get to more fertile land, they don’t actually learn to swim, they just sink.” Pineme sucked in a breath, rubbed his chin. “Bit like this lot.” He jerked his head towards a distant mountain range where the closest human settlement struggled day after day. He laughed, “Of course, there were plenty more Venlayan’s, but unsurprisingly, the Throne couldn’t see past the accidental deaths... or my impatience.” Pineme ground his toes into the hard earth. “Now I’m here to just observe, hands off the locals unless there’s an extreme event. Just like you, Yeqon. I’ll not get caught out again though, in case I end up somewhere worse than this.” He scanned the landscape, a deep sigh whooshed through his pursed lips.
Yeqon glared at Pineme, his eyes rolled over him from head to foot.
Pineme shifted, one foot edged back. He swallowed h ard, hands slipping to his belt, hung low with weapons.
“What of Venlos now?” Yeqon asked.
Sweat beaded above Pineme’s lip, “It was abandoned.”
Yeqon’s lip twitched. He nodded; brows still tight.
“Watching, isn’t it the pinnacle of existence, that I can assure you of.” Yeqon grimaced. “Get used to it, I’ve been trapped here an age with no sign of release. I’el has forgotten us, just as he has abandoned Venlos, you can be sure he has abandoned our wellbeing.” Yeqon released his wings of light, the heat of them wilted the leaves of a low tree branch, the deep green curling into a blackened crisp.
“Perhaps though, there could be a way…” Yeqon’s words faded. “I’ll be back by dusk.” With one undulation he was airborne, banking north west towards the northern henge portal, escape on his mind.
Chapter 2
Yeqon crossed the globe, through the change of season into a bleak, chilled airstream. He focused on the shadow of his body on the clouds below, a blurry-edged grey blot following mindlessly along. That’s exactly how he felt, relegated to what he now was; nothing more than a shadow of a great warrior. An equally rage-filled wind whipped at a dark band of his hair that striped through an otherwise silvery length. The weather pushed him up, then down, and he let its anger buffet his body until he cleared the expanse of a wild and frothy ocean, eventually drifting across the island continent he had suffered on a daily basis for more years than he cared to count. He set down in the middle of a thick forest, denser than the mid-east with a feel to it that prickled his skin. The air was frigid with dew, his skin tightened with the bite of frost and he fanned the heat of his wings around his body to dry off.
Yeqon’s eye ticked as he tucked his wings away, immediately uncomfortable as the cold resurged against him. The forest spoke, its melancholy chorus of swaying brunches and rustling undergrowth in tune with his emotions. He drew a deep breath, thought momentarily of flying in the opposite direction, but then recalled Pineme’s worries.
What if I’el was really watching them? Would He deliver a worse punishment if he strayed again?
“You wouldn’t be that interested anymore.” Yeqon glanced up, a thick tree canopy obliterated any view of the sky. “Hmm,” his teeth ground; he sniffed and spat. Yeqon watched the slimy wad of phlegm ooze down the brown cap of a mushroom… and that was all he ever did… watched like a mindless, purposeless lacky. That’s all I’el allowed. His fists clenched as he thought of war, of purpose, of that gut tightening joy of victory. His knucklebones gleamed through his skin, his teeth grated, and he broke a sweat forcing away thoughts of no action, no interference; frustratingly little fist to face, skin to skin, weapon to bone contact.
Yeqon moved silently through the forest, his bare feet sliding through a slimy undergrowth, his sneer deepening as mud squelched through his toes. I’el forbid he flew too close to human settlements and stunned one of them. His dark eyes flitted skyward where the green canopy was thick, where the daylight was mere slashes of cloud here and there. The ground was icy. Leaf litter carried upon a slithering fog, it tried to claw into him, to sink within him. Yet, with every step it shrank away, overwhelmed by the power that burned just beneath his skin. The fog bowed to his presence, folded back upon itself and made a pathway ahead.
A veil of pasty light struck a clearing beyond the tree line. Yeqon turned towards it, an easier pathway towards his charges. A brisker wind whistled through a thousand tree trunks, sucked at the fog, clawed for leaves as it birthed a storm. He stopped in a patch of light streaming to the ground and breathed deep. The forest seemed to stop, take a breath of its own, as though listening in, waiting to see what his next move was. Toes clawed back from a deepening mud, Yeqon peered skyward again, thumb and forefinger rubbing a stubble he’d let grow. Squinting, his pupils narrowed upon an unsettled sky.
Beyond bilious clouds, he wondered if I’el was really watching. Did the creator of all things have the time to focus on what he was doing so very far away from A’vean, the world he was birthed in, the world he called home… the world he yearned for? Yeqon’s thick brows twitched, a brief beam of wintery sun struck his skin, a warm slap, then it was gone, cold eagerly settled into its place. His eyelids narrowed further, the rainbow orbs within glimmered a little brighter.
“Is that all you’ve got?” The chuckle died in Yeqon’s chest.
He cracked his knuckles, one hand slipping down to rest upon the hilt of his sword. The familiar vibration of it set the coil of his muscles at ease and he let it course up his forearm until its power shot through his body upon his next heartbeat. The damage this weapon could do on such a planet, slipping through all the human skin yet to be tested made his heart race a little faster and that empowering tingle last all the longer. He imagined the blade sear through delicate human flesh like air, as though nothing at all had glanced upon the powerful weapon. His smile was more genuine now, it pushed his cheeks up a little and the cold no longer bothered him.
His fingers slid from the sword, they twitched, unsatisfied with the lack of war. He turned his hand back and forth, examined the flaxen sheath of skin that held the muscle and bone within. His fingers curled in, cracked, then extended until the veins on the back of his hands bulged.
“Hmph,” he sniffed as those veins lit like liquid silver beneath the skin. The fleshy body he acquired when he was sentenced to Earth was at first an annoyance. It felt pain, took longer to heal than his patience tolerated, and it was far too susceptible to the elements. Yet, over time, and through utter boredom, he had come to enjoy the variety of its colours and textures, as well as the pleasant physical sensations when one or more bodies was thrust upon another in certain ways. He licked his lips, his heart raced, and a flush of something distinctly human clawed up his neck. He smiled a little more, eyes glassy, a warmth flushed through his lower half and he groaned. Thoughts wandered, Yeqon ran a thumb and forefinger over the back of his forearm, pinched the skin until it whitened and bruised. He enjoyed the pain, but pain was also the ultimate weakness that controlled humans, as well as this flesh and blood casing he had to endure. His skin cooled, and his mouth sank back into a grimace. He snorted in disgust and spat once more.
Yeqon walked on, the edge of the forest nearer with each unwilling step. He pinched his nose and scowled; the excrement smell of humans assaulted him before they even came into view.
The forest thinned, light chased darkness away and a miserable slice of openness presented itself. Yeqon recalled the shimmer of his veins deep within the meat of his arms, locked his Pterugia snuggly into his spine, and tried to look as human as possible before he stepped out towards the ancient stone henge portal. He hesitated, swallowed disgust as he stared across the land, one hand on a tree trunk, nails biting into its bark.
Despite the early hour, when the birds had barely finished their morning song, humans toiled around the great stones, grunting and yelling; laboured breaths misted into a bleak and colourless backdrop. Two bulking overseers lashed the less enthusiastic, the ones that lagged behind, the ones that dared to look up from their task. A whiskered length of plaited twine swung through the air, its tip coated in blood, old and new. Yeqon smiled again, despite himself, this he appreciated. The warm odour of fresh blood fanned a comforting curl of satisfaction in his belly.
He stood a while, allowing the sun to arch over the horizon, an insipid white orb that lent little to the day other than a muted light. As the morning wore on, the humans toiled harder, faster and Yeqon watched on in resentful, intolerant silence. He recalled his feelings about humans; an obsessive mantra chorused his thoughts.
Stupid, weak; a plague.
It helped momentarily, but in the end, day after day, there he was, as he had been since the great directive, watching the miserable creatures exist, trying to pull themselves from swamps and caves with little more than hunger and sex to drive them. His tongue ran along his teeth, his teeth sank into his lower lip, and boredom set in, a gnawing tension that teased his power, made his skin shiver.
