The Rise of the Fallen

de de Lucian Mareș


The Payment
As I travel to the point of origin, all is fading and black void shrouds the nexus from which all life sprouts. I find myself lost in the black void, with no compass to follow and no means to travel further.

I am alone, yet the one that whispers inspire my thoughts:
“What makes you cross the gates of blood? You wish to undo your creation?”

The shores I am aimed to find are far, and alone I cannot travel.
I need fuel for the far journey.

“Blood is life” I say, and my knife burrows deep into the flesh of my sacrifice.
A cascade of blood drowns the blackness, and embers fire rises from the spirit of the slain.

Pay with blood.

The blood of others.



The Crossing of Styx

As I journey into the fog of doubt, a great river blocks my path, and I have to build a sail to cross it.

Hope is the ship for the soul. Without it we cannot bare life. In search of truth, many ships are lost along the way from light to darkness.

The ship of the lost souls rises, and a dark figure asks payment for the crossing.

I say to him:
“- I won’t pay. For I am not one of the dead ones…”
“- If you are not one of the dead ones… What brings you here, to this desolate wasteland?”
“- I wish to pass to the other realm. I wish to explore my infinity…”

Where there is life, there is hope. And there is nothing that a mortal cannot achieve.

I spread my wings and rise to the crimson skies, and fly over the place where no one sleeps while the undead cry, and the hounds of hell hunt the ghosts of those who are trapped between the worlds.


In search of Mephisto
Beyond the colors of my eyes, into the corners of my mind, I hide and gather the strength for the journey into the outer reaches.

I seek islands in the sea of dreams. Always sailing, always searching, I draw myself towards my center.
In the Center of the Universe, we are all alone.

Sleepless, not really quite awake, I stand on the edge of chaos and gaze into the fiery chasm from which all order is created.


-“Behold, I am endless!”

But from where does come my infinity?
What is beyond the sea of fire?


Where the soul conforms to deeper needs, free within frames of custody, I revolve my spirit and exhale.

My wings are growing…


  1. Pingback: (Oliviu Craznic) Semnal: EgoPHobia nr. 32 « Oliviu Craznic's gothic novel

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