The Countess and the Jester
Darkness has consumed the land. The all encompassing darkness shows a scene of pitch black, nothing more. Only a voice sounding out from within the darkness, full of heavenly confidence. A voice unwavering. The voice of Lux Bellator.
“A kingdom was once left without a ruler. Many laid claim to the throne and thought they were destined for greatness. Many gathered supporters from all walks of life. They took up arms, eager to fight for who they believed to be the rightful ruler.”
Other voices sound out from within the darkness. Voices that cry out, screaming for help from the depths. Bellator’s voice continues despite them.
“A group of the downtrodden, undervalued and poor peasants began to rise up, believing their place to be more than their current lot.
The peasant uprising was led by a Countess who sought to use the downtrodden as her own army to lay claim to the throne.
‘The downtrodden will rise and claim what they are owed’ she would cry.”
The darkness is broken by a very faint shape. The figure of a man coming closer. He stops, the white of his mask giving off a little light in amongst the darkness. Through the dark void, his eyes can be seen burning with fire.
“One day, the Countess was approached by a Jester who spoke of an impending evil that he was tasked with fighting. Yet, he alone was powerless to fight this evil and being a Jester, was not taken seriously. The Countess brushed him aside in her quest for uprising.”
In the next instance, he is gone. Only his voice remains.
“When a great darkness consumed the land, neither Countess nor Jester could do anything to stop it. The darkness bred fear, the fear bred resentment and the weak-minded peasants soon turned on the Countess. Overnight, she had lost her army as the downtrodden allied themselves with the darkness.
Countess and Jester, forced to each other’s sides, stood powerless as the darkness swept through the land and lay waste to everything they had worked for. They could not stop it, for it was a force they were powerless to control.”
A single light illuminates him, mask and all. The only light among the darkness. Lux Bellator stands, pure white in contrast to the eternal darkness around him.
“The darkness consumes the land as we speak. Darkness in many forms.
It is a darkness that has taken your forces in its wake, prophet Calypso.”
He balls a fist as his mind turns to the point of his parable.
“You stood there, a smug look on your face, believing that nothing could touch you. Yet as that darkness rolled in, it took the one thing from you that you had in your possession… Your power.
You stood there, powerless to stop the darkness and forced to the side of the Jester whom you despise.”
Bellator draws near again. Close enough to see the very same fire in his eyes.
“What you fail to see is that you have build your army not out of the meek of the Earth, but the weak.
Weak souls susceptible to darkness. When that darkness washed over them, their weakness was revealed. Your short-sightedness was revealed in you naive ambition for a power you can never claim.”
His lips curl to a snarling grin, shaking his head slowly.
“The meek shall inherit the Earth… But what state will this Earth be in that your Meek inherit? I’d rather set my sights on Paradise than a broken and dark Earth.”
Bellator claps his hands. Then, his very fingertips appear to burst to flames.
“Then there is Jake Jeckel. Tasked with a task that goes against the very fibre of his being. Fighting for good, forced to step in and protect this world from the scourge that has been released upon it.
But what power do you have against the army of the damned, Jester? Like a strand of hay standing up to a raging fire.”
He closes his fists, hiding the light from his fingertips and plunging the scene to pitch black once more.
“What you both, the Countess and the Jester fail to see is plain. There is but one power that can vanquish the dark scourge. The power of light that shines in the darkness.
A power you will never understand. Step into that light or be judged in the darkness which your army stands.”
He opens his hands once more, sending a blinding light that illuminates his entire surroundings. At his feet, countless figures lie, crawling and scratching at his feet yet he takes no notice. The figures of the damned are left in their place as he utters one final sentence.
“Repent… The Lord comes.”