TBV Prayer To Darkness
The city was never quiet at night, these days-- gunfire and occasional explosives always seemed seemed to punctuate the night. There was no order, no peace, no law but that of might and the gun. The sectarian violence was bad, but the presence of looters and thugs made things worse, and the historical treasures of the ancient city were wide open and unguarded, tempting targets for looters.
A group of men entered the museum that night with bags and crates. There was, of course, little to fear from the police at that hour, but there was always the risk that someone would try to steal from them, in turn, so they were cautious, and well-armed. No one was around, and their way was clear. Soon, they would be very, very rich indeed.
But a pair of eyes watched from the shadows.
May Darkness comfort and hide me, may Ahriman strengthen and guide me. In these hours in which Ahura Mazda has turned his back on the world, O Ahriman, I turn my back on him, and am a subject of the world without light that we all now live in. I dedicate these lives I take to you, Ahriman, Sacred Darkness, Master of Night, and in return, let me live as a denizen of your world. Let the eye of my foes not fall upon me, but let my eye penetrate all darkness, that I may be a terror to them, the Angel of Death they all fear.
May Darkness comfort and hide me, may Ahriman strengthen and guide me.
Soon, they had reached their objective-- a room showing many of the glories of the past of their land, golden statues and clay urns, bronze weapons and parchment scrolls and engraved clay tablets. One began cutting the glass of a display case.
Him first, Dmitri. For my father, and for knowledge, and for Darkness. Always for Darkness.
She raised the rifle, unseen in the darkness, and remembered-- her father, struggling to prevent the destruction of the historical treasures, the priceless parchments casually destroyed, the clay ground into dust, her father's pleas, his desperate struggle.
His blood, red on the floor of the museum he'd loved so.
They'd lived in fear even before the fighting-- following the oldest faith, some said, in the world, not daring to reveal it for fear of beatings or vandalism, and now? Now, looking upon her father's corpse, she had realized that the light was gone from the world-- that, perhaps for their sins, perhaps out of disinterest or ineffable inactivity, Ahura Mazda had turned his back on them all. She had decided then that this was Ahriman's world-- and that she must accept that, and reach an accomodation with her new god, if only to preserve the precious records of the past.
And the shadows she prayed to accepted her as their own.
Dmitri spoke quietly, and the looter's head disappeared in a cloud of fine red mist. They knew then that they were discovered, and fearful, whispered the name-- Samael. They tried to fight back, of course, but the museum was dark, and they were in pursuit of a legend, a ghost, a demon... the Angel of Death. One by one, shots sounded-- only one at a time, but with each shot, a man fell, dead before he could hit the floor. Soon only one remained-- terrified, he ran for the door. A figure stood before him-- wrapped in black, with a long instrument-- was it a scythe? Screaming, he charged...
One final shot rang out.
Samael sighed and was again Samiya, carefully packing away clay tablets and ancient vellum for transportation and storage. They'd be shipped elsewhere, at tremendous expense to herself-- stored safely for a time when peace returned to the world, so that scholars could again benefit from them. It was expensive, of course, and so Samiya went without herself to provide for her treasures, taking jobs that she never would have imagined, snuffing out lives to pay for her precious cache of knowledge-- and to repay debts owed to Darkness. Her phone vibrated, signaling an incoming message.
> Samael: Need work done in Tokyo. Pay 100K+ AvailableY/N?
She accepted, of course. Her work in this city was more or less done, in any case, so travel would only be for the good-- and the money, she needed. She would continue her lonely life, killing and preserving, the angel of death living in the shadows, awaiting the day that light returned to the world. It was a lifetime's work ahead of her-- no matter how short that would be.
May Darkness comfort and hide me, may Ahriman strengthen and guide me.
