CHAPTER 1
To many of you what I am about to say will sound like a fairy tale, like a story that I am pulling from thin air. But I promise, everything that I tell you is true. There have been rumours in the past but they have been quashed by those who "know better", those who stopped the truth from being out in the open from the start.
I have never understood why anyone would want to keep the truth to themselves, you would think that they would have learnt their lesson during the Great War. Chances are you will never hear from me again after I tell you this story and people will insist that I was a liar, an old lady looking for someone to listen. A hag with no history. Do not believe them and make sure if you are to ever relate this story to anyone else then do it quietly, secretly and not get caught. If you do then say good-bye to everyone that you know because if they ever see you again you won't be the person that they once knew.
You have all heard of the Great War I assume. Tell me, what have you learnt from that? Nothing? Of course not, that is the way that it was meant to be. But this all started before the great war.

There was a young man names James Frogger. Some thought that he was a little eccentric, others thought that he had completely lost the plot. For many years no one saw him. He ordered his groceries via the Internet (that is like your television, though interactive. It was a place where people were able to research whatever they wanted, free speech ran rampant- perhaps a little too much. There are rumours that some people still have computers but they are slowly being tracked down) and waited for the delivery person to exit before retrieving his groceries.
I remember a friend of my brothers, Marcus, who worked at the store where James ordered his goods from, recounting how he hid behind the bushes for hours trying to catch a glimpse of James, but he never came. In the 2 minutes that he took respite behind a tree the groceries vanished.
He was born the only child to wealthy parents. Little is known of his childhood as he was home schooled by him mother. Despite their riches parties were never thrown and the family became virtual recluse. As was popular at the time they were e-commerce rich (another internet based career) and were therefore not required to associate directly with people. His father, who was a large man- rounding up to 6 foot 5 inches and weighing in at around 200 kg (440 lb). The scuttlebutt on the street was that his mother, who was on occasion seen tending the garden that was a veritable forest therefore hiding many of the windows from prying eyes, was quite the opposite. Short, petite and hidden behind a bush of red hair. Some believed she was beautiful, others heard rumours that she was as hideous as a troll.
I remember conversing with him once and he insisted that his mother was the most beautiful creature to have graced the face of the earth, that she was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind during the years of seclusion.
"I used to sit there at my study window and watch the children pass by the estate. Most of them looked in my direction but I knew that they could not see me and my heart would break. But then my mother would enter the room. Her beauty and her love would radiate to me and I would know that it would all be okay." he would say. I remember we all sat riveted as he told us stories of his life as it was almost like listening to a novel on tape. His life had been a fairytale story, something that you only ever saw in movies or Virginia Andrews novels. He was our own personal novelist.
Despite lacking childhood friends, and many adult ones that he quite possibly would have met had he led a normal life, he was not lacking any form of material wealth. His house was once listed on the National Heritage List for all the tales that it had to tell. Before being purchased by Mr. & Mrs. Frogger it was occupied by many elegant and truly interesting people. It often hosted extravagant balls, the most memorable the year that the Honourable President, John Boyah, attended the Blue Ball. It was during these festivities that he received the fatal head wound that would be the beginning of the end for the national government.
Mystery still surrounds this murder due to his notoriety for being the first President of a much-despised system. Rumour flew that the current owner of Winifred Estate (later renamed Frog Hollow by James' parents) had hosted the Blue Ball (named so because each person was required to dress in only shades of blue) as a means to bring the President to his home as he was later discovered to be a Nationalist Radical, one of the most feared groups of vigilantes during the era. He was opposed to the changes that had taken place within the government over the years without the national consensus due to the slow and subtle approach that was used.
The official report insisted that it was an accident, that whilst trying to reach a novel on the upper shelf of the 2-storey library (later to become Mr. Frogger's private study) he fell and [repeatedly] hit his head upon the Australian hardwood desk and floor. Because no one could hear the thud his corpulent torso made as it cracked the floorboards.
I digress. The Frogger’s moved into 'Frog Hollow', which backs onto a heritage rainforest, five years after their marriage. No one knows how they met or how they became recluses. The moment that they moved into the small community of Harrison they became the centre of rumours.

CHAPTER 2
Mother is sick and to fathers distaste I showed signs of great fullness for this fact. I didn't intend for this show yet my glee must have been uncontrollable. For my crime father has punished me by restricting my activities to my study for the remainder of the day to study Paradise Lost, however I have learnt this before. I tried to explain to father: "But Sir, I have.." and was viscously cut shirt by my fathers tongue and a finger indicating the direction of the stairs. I followed my orders and came to reside in my chair by the window. I know father will dole out a much worse dose of strap oil when he discovers that I have wasted my day sitting by the window admiring the children across the way. I catch only glimpses of them between the leaves of the autumn trees rushing around their front gardens. I wonder what they are playing about, what fantasies they have in their minds, whether it is the crucifixion of Jesus (though their play does not appear sedate enough for something of such importance) or if they are imagining themselves great explorers, discovering new wonders of the world when I sit here and try to envision what the main street of Harrison looks like. I can hear the humdrum of the city now as I sit here. The sound of cars and the murmur of thousands of voices talking at once cruise over the trees. I look around my study at all the books stacked high, books my mother has ordered in from places that I have only seen in books.
Alas, I hear a giggle flutter through my window as a young child glimpses into my life chasing something that I cannot see. There is a boy my age riding by on the path using his feet to propel him as he talks to a young lass I could only imagine as beautiful, as the only beauty that I have seen is that of cartoon princesses in childhood books. He hair is cropped, he shirt reveals more that I have been taught is decent and her pinks skirt covers little more than what is necessary.
I wonder why I lament my life so decently this morn. Perhaps it is the beauty of the deciduous elms as the sun trickles through them. Perhaps it is the many books that I have read where everyone has some one. Even mathematics saddens me so as for each number, there is an equation, and for each equation there is a sum. But what is my sum. Alas, what is my equation? My parents and myself, though the numbers don’t fit.
I admit to you know journal that I have performed a simple sleight of hand upon my dear mother. Whilst reading one of her magazines an insert slipped to the floor and by chance below the chair. Mothers cleaning did not begin for a further 2 hours until she had completed whatever project she had begun to sew. When she slipped out of the room I made a mad dash for whatever it was (as I am banned from such trivial matters as knitting and sewing), folded it and placed it where my mother was not bound to go.
This was but a month ago, before I had chance to write again, so I slipped my secret into the hollow until I knew that my parents would be asleep.
To my surprise it was not a knitting catalogue (which I had no interest in other than to see something other than the pages that I have already perused) but a pamphlet for subscriptions to other magazines, none that my mother was aught not to read. It took me a few days to manage a plan. I knew father would be out of town on business within the month and the routine would remain the same between mother and myself. I ordered the magazine to be delivered to the postal office in town as all our mail is delivered to the box out the front. I sent a note to post office to keep it until Monday when they were to deliver it at 8am exactly by slipping it under the door and not to mention it to my parents as it was a surprise.
To my displeasure it was but a 'comic book' where heroes (in this case seven different cartoon men all with different super powers that aided them in saving the world. The dark world that they saw was unlike the sunlit gardens that I spent my youth learning the names of the many exotic flowers. It was vastly different from the way in which I had imagined the slums of early European history. Despite not revealing to me the realities of the world, which I was missing, it has given me something to look forward to. It has given me something to do in the times that I am alone (though they seem to become sparser by the moons rise). I have to learn to be one of these men.
In the library there are several books on the subject of magick, though manly those regarding the downfall of witchcraft in the years before even my grandparents were born (oh! if only they could see me now!). I have guessed from these though that sorcery is real and I only need harness the magic to free myself of my shackles, to find the world where I belong.
I am off now to dream of this world where I belong, where I save the day. You my dear journal, my only friend, are to return to your hole until I have the chance to write again. Pray mother gets well for if it was only father and myself I don't know how it would go.

CHAPTER 3
That is just one of the excerpts that I managed to salvage from the raids. They came and too everything that they could but this was lodged in a secret hiding place that no one found whilst in the midst of the demolition.
I remember the gardens of James' house well as I lived on the western end of Dandelion Street (thus named because during my day the meadows and nature strips bloomed with dandelions during the warmer months. I'd often lie on the hammock strung between two rather fragrant eucalyptus trees and string together the dandelions that I had plucked.)
Sometimes I'd just watch the elms rustle in the breeze in the Frog Hollow (oh that travesty of such a name! to insinuate a fairytale land for children when their own was banned from it) gardens, watch the carefully placed daisies, forget-me-nots and petunias. I'd follow the development of the acorns yearly. I was though most fascinated though during the winter when the leaves had fallen (though there were a few strategically placed evergreens strewn around the grounds which had grown significantly over the decades) and during the darkened hours I could see shadows moving behind the curtains like a silent puppet show.
Times were different when I was a child. (I can see the grimaces on your faces. I am sure that your parents have said that many times before, but alas! If only you knew how different) I had a boyfriend before the Great War that my parents disapproved of (during my era our parents were less able to interfere with the daily grind of their children's lives. Things were not so planned and straight forward as they are now. Even our careers were not based on aptitude test, rather desire. often people would choose the wrong career path- but I am getting ahead of my self). His name was Joseph.
We'd often creep into the woods behind Frog Hollow where all the kids of Harrison (except the good ones that is- the sort who later came to run the country) went when they didn't want their parents finding out what they were up to. There was a certain clearing where my group tended to hang. We'd build a fire and sit around on old car seats. No one knows where the seats came from, they just always seemed to be there but no one bought them. I certainly know where all the beers cams came from! (Oh, I see the look of confusion on your faces. It’s a drink, and intoxicating drink that was often abused. It is not something I think that you or your children need to be introduced to. Once again I stray.)
Often on nights whilst our parents were in their beds worrying about our safety we would sit in the woods worrying about who was interested in who or the local gossip. When the wind blew we'd catch a glimpse of the darkness beyond the trees. But one night we saw a light.
Joseph and I wandered to the wall that divided the wilderness from Frog Hollow. Unable to scale the wall (and doing so would quite possibly have raised an alarm) we sat on a branch that hung over the wall. As we sat there we watched James sit in his window and write. Despite my parents distrust Joseph also had a natural flair for creative writing. We sat there and tried to imagine what it was that James was writing, what it was that he had to write about. I don't remember any of it now but something about that night left an impression that remained a very long time in my soul.
Some nights when I knew that no one else would be in the woods (generally the nights when it rained) I would creep out of the house with my camera (we were able to own them then without a license) and try and catch a glimpse of the ever-elusive James. Sometimes I would see him writing, sometimes he would sit and stare at the sky. Once I saw his shadow in the dark and I am certain to this day that he was crying.
I don't think that he ever knew that I was there.
He oddly fascinated me, like the way some people are drawn to obese people despite their repulsion. I never told Joseph that I went there alone. I don't know why.

It was during the semester break in our 18th year that Mr. & Mrs. Frogger passed away. On a rare occasion when Mr. Frogger was out of town on business (something he preferred to avoid unless absolutely necessary) Mrs. Frogger was required to go into town for supplies after a fire on the lower floor, which she insisted was an electrical fault which caused a fuse to blow.
As she returned to the estate Mrs. Frogger, used to the sanctuary and predictability of her home forgot to look as she crossed Turnbull Road, a notorious black spot. As she crossed a black Land Rover was turning the corner. All witnesses defended the driver saying that there was not time to stop, that the accident (which it was eventually deemed by the local authorities) was caused by Mrs. Frogger. Rumours flew that she stepped out onto the road intentionally, though Mary Abbott, who stood directly across the street from Mrs. Frogger at the time of the accident, insisted that she was elsewhere in her mind, completely oblivious to the car that was heading her direction.
The local paper (sadly named Harrison Weekly) had a write up on the accident. It reported that had it not been for her frail condition (she was in the early stages of osteoporosis) Mrs. Frogger would have survived.
Joseph was also unlucky. As he was sitting in the rear of the Land Rover he was crushed when the passenger seat wrenched free from its allotted position due to faulty workmanship in the last service. Joseph had been given early acceptance into the criminal law faculty at the university of his choice (once again people applied for courses and waited to be accepted or rejected- early acceptance was a sign that you had completed your studies well). Joseph had become the boy that every girl’s parents would want you to bring home.
I remember his mother breaking down the day of her only Childs funeral. She tore apart the wreath sent by Mr. Frogger and later throwing it over the wrought iron fence that held visitors at bay more than by its appearance than by its locks. A part of Joseph's mother blamed Mrs. Frogger for the accident, believing that she should have stayed where she belonged. If she had not come out of that house for the first time in 18 years the accident would have been avoided.
Her funeral was a stark contrast to the sombre affair that was Joseph's farewell. Only Mr. Frogger attended. There were no prayers offered, there were no tears shed. The kindly caretaker patted the solemn mountain that was Mr. Frogger on the back and left. He followed close behind.
I saw these proceedings through the rain (as it was winter at the time, not a sorrowful coincidence) as I sat by the graveside of my best friend, my lover (don't looked so shocked!) futilely rearranging the silver roses (that the jeweller has assured me would last an eternity). I never knew Mrs. Frogger, and my interest lay solely in her son, however I knew that Joseph would have been distraught if he had seen her funeral. I plucked one of the silver stems from the bunch and placed it carefully in front of the marker that was her headstone.

That night we celebrated Joseph's life by heading into the clearing. We covered the seats (which by now were held together more by the moss and fungi that covered them than the threads with which they were first created) in a makeshift canopy made of tarpaulin, built a fire and drunk our sorrows into oblivion. By the time the last person fell asleep the pain of springs poking through the fabric did little to faze our mood.
We sang Josephs favourite songs (he was a brilliant guitarist amongst other things, usually creating an ambience of freedom and relaxation as we sang along) and recounted our most memorable Joseph moments. I remember we were all bought to tears when we remembered the day that he had made a girls Christmas. She suffered from a severe learning disability and had no family to speak of. Living next to her flat one Christmas he waited for her to go to sleep, entered the house (I assume he had a key) and left gifts with tags proclaiming they were from Santa Clause. The next morning I could hear her joy as she told her carer who came that morning that Santa had come to her in the middle of the night.*
When the last person fell asleep that night I steeled into the woods to the tree. As I watched the dreary revenant of Frog Hollow in the darkness it felt as though nothing had changed on their side of the fence. No light came on that night, no shadow puppets cried.
I carved Joseph's name into the trunk and went home. I never returned.

* this is a true story that still succeeds in bringing me to tears.

CHAPTER 4
Last night in a horrific act of brutality Marvin Frogger, son of well-known e-commerce entrepreneur Michael Frogger (founder of emptyfrogger.com) was murdered on the stoop oh his home in Harrison. Very little is known of Mr. Frogger's activities in the last years of his life as he led a reclusive life style with his wife of 20 years, Sandra Frogger (nee Bergeron) and his son James.
Two weeks prior to this incident Mr. Frogger (41) lost his wife to a horrific car accident in the centre of town, though they warn not to connect the 2 as the prior incident was ruled and accident.
Police are currently interviewing the township for any information that they could provide but things are sketchy. "They never left the house" Local Mayor Joyce Withers told reporters, "They kept to themselves and didn't bother anyone." Despite living in Harrison for close to 19 years the townsfolk know little of them but rumours.
Police believe that it was likely to be someone from outside of the quiet community who committed the crime. "No one witnessed any unusual activity within the town however Frog Hollow backs onto a rather large rainforest where the culprit could have lodged for many weeks without being caught." Det. Sgt Marsden Moore explained. Marvin Frogger inherited emptyfrogger.com 20 years ago when his father succumbed to a nasty case of pneumonia while on a camping trip with his friends. The then multi-million dollar enterprise has at least doubled in worth under the wing of Mr. Frogger Jr.
continued on page 3 of today’s paper.

- - -

3 weeks after the murder of e-commerce tycoon Marvin Frogger at his home in Harrison, detectives believe that it is unlikely that they will find the culprit.
Apart from the nature of the beating very little else is known. No evidence has been found, not even the murder weapon.
James Frogger, the son of the victim, was unavailable for comment. If anyone has any information pertaining to the murder of Marvin Frogger they are advised to contact their local authorities.

CHAPTER 5
As a child Miles Redwood was a gregarious fellow who was often the centre of attention for his unusual yet entertaining behaviour. His mother, Alice, was the pride of the city with her raven hair and sparking blue eyes. She had succumbed to the advances of the local bachelor, Milton, who was renowned three counties over for his devastating good looks and extreme wealth. Rumours of him floated further though no one beyond the mountain range was sure if he was a fabricated ghost to entice the womenfolk into their region, or a reality. Often, before his marriage to Alice, he would organize balls for the locals and word would spread and women beyond the mountains would travel for days to see if the rumours were true.
Milton would bestow upon his guests riches that were undeserved, riches that could only be imagined. People would dress in their Sunday best and women would swill around Milton, each monopolizing his time and insisting upon their right to time alone on the dance floor with him. However he was starting to become bored. His parents had insisted that he marry and bear children before their time was up so as to be assured that they would be guaranteed a future line to pass on the wealth that they had gathered over the generations. To Milton it felt as though the world has stopped and he was the only one left.
The women he met were only interested in what they could gain, the jewels, gowns and galas that would be bestowed in their honour. They wanted a man that would provide not only for them but the children that they were bound to bear in the future, children that would forever be part of the upper echelon in society, children that would one day perhaps use the power that they were born into to rule what they could. Children that would themselves marry into riches and extend the empire.
However there were others, others that disturbed Milton more than the gold diggers. They were the ones that came with the rumours of power beyond money and looks. Women whose eyes reflected nothing and mouths said everything. They were often learned girls who seemed to have crawled from the darkest recesses to marry the son of the man they believed held the key to power.
And then one day the world started turning. Alice, a girl of her own means, wandered through the woods shaken by an accident that had taken place three days before. She had picked what she could from the ruins of her vehicle and walked for three days in the woods until she came to the edge of Harrison where the Witherspoon maid greeted her.
As she slept of the weariness that had plagued her she was cleaned and cared for. Due to the clothes , jewels and books that she had stowed in her pack Mrs. Witherspoon sent for Milton, believing that he may know something of the stranger. When he set eyes upon her dazzling face the breath caught in his throat. He called for his men to bring her to his home and let her rest up until her health returned.
It was three days before Alice woke from her sleep. Milton sat day in and night out watching her, holding her hand through the nightmares and making sure all was okay.
When she came too and was fed the richest foods that Milton could muster Alice explained that she had been travelling over the mountains to reach the coast where her father had decided to relocate the family for the sake of his wife. Alice had stayed behind to ensure that all matters were settled and the townsfolk stole nothing.
Her brother was to follow the week following with the remainder of their material possessions and he would find the wreck that she had left behind.
As luck would have it a flood ensues in Marriottville and her brother was delayed 2 weeks pending the fall of the waters. During these 2 weeks a succession of event led to the decision that Alice would stay on at Redwood Mansion. Love blossomed with the roses and within months the pair married. Problems arose between Alice and her father in law when it seemed that she was apt never to bear children to ensure the line would continue. One night whilst trying to avoid her dreaded father in law (who she had been fearful of since the wedding day when he had arrived to stop the proceeding though due to good fortune had been delayed long enough to fail) she came to his library door where she heard voices. A part of her knew that she should just walk on, that listening in on business that did not involve her would lead to nothing but trouble, yet she could not bring herself to move by. As she listened she heard a voice that could only be Redwood Sr., though he spoke in a tongue that she could not distinguish. Below his voice many voices echoed. Fear struck into her heart and she ran for the cover of her marital boudoir. There her husband sat on the day lounge reading a book that she had found in the attic that morning amongst the rubble of books forgotten. "What is it about?" she enquired as she sidled up to him on the couch, the grip on her shoulder comforting after her encounter with his father. "About the mysteries of an old sect called The Voice of the Truth. Apparently they were home in this area not long ago. The locals became fearful of the power that they were displaying, the havoc they were wreaking on the local children trying to sway them to "the truth" so they lynched the leader. This explains how the formed at the 'dawn of time', or so the believe, when an angel took a master of the arts under his wing to teach him the lesson, the truths that were not meant for mortal minds."
"Who was the leader?" Alice queried, enthralled as she was by folklore and local history. But all Milton could do was shrug.
"It doesn't say. According to the man who wrote this the names of all people involved were kept a secret after the first lynch to protect the sanctity of the sect and their families. It says somewhere, with the master, there is a list that lists everyone who was and is a member, but only the master has access to this list and only he chooses who can bear the weight of who is on..." a sudden rap came on the door and Salandria, Milton's matron since birth entered and announced that tea was ready.

It was 7 years into the marriage when Alice finally swelled with child. Nine months later she bore him a son, Miles.
He was a happy child who the nurses were happy to care for, happy never to let go of if the needn't. He became the jewel of his grandfather's eye. The two in his private library studying that which Redwood Sr. believed was only right for the eyes of the men in the family.
spent many hours "Then why was I not privy to this library as a child then father?" Milton asked one eve as they family sat in sitting room around the fire to ward of the chill that came with the winter rains. Miles sat at his mother’s feet petting the creature that he had found on their walk in the woods that morning.
"Because you had no interest in books my son." Redwood Sr. explained. "If you are interested now then you are welcome to join me and study what it is that your son will learn. It would be a great experience for the 2 of you to learn together." He turned and faced Alice. "Then you could teach Alice what it is that you learned."
"But I thought that it was only the men that were able to access this library of yours." Milton gasped, astounded at his fathers opening up to Alice for the first time in their marriage.
"Oh, they are! However there are lessons that you are able to teach the women folk."

However it was not to come to pass that these lessons should be taught to the redwoods that night as a bolt of lightning hurtled to the ground splitting the redwood tree outside the kitchen window setting the house ablaze. Miles and Alice made it out safe into the streets yet Milton became stuck trying to help his father retrieve some possessions from his beloved study.
The fire spread through the township causing the entire town of Harrison to burn to the ground.

CHAPTER 6
Two years before the war my father passed away. I returned from university where I was studying psychology (that is psychiatry without the use of medication) with the intention of becoming a criminal psychologist. I wasn't very happy there as I found myself drifting farther and farther away. The more I studied the more I hated the course. Each morning that I woke and realized that I had to go to class I felt like crawling under the blanket and never coming out. Instead I lay in bed and cry for 15 minutes and prepared myself for the arduous days ahead of me. The more years that passed the more classes that I failed.
It wasn't that I couldn't pass, I just didn't want to. I would write essays on the morning it was due and rather than ask for an extension like any normal person I would hand it in as it was. I'd turn up to exams completely unprepared. I knew that if I wanted to I would be the top of the class. but I didn't want to.
When my father died and my mother asked me to return to care for her (she became an utter wreck as she and my father had been childhood sweethearts- the last of the true romantics in my mind) I jumped at the chance. It was then that I first met James.
I was sitting out the front of my mothers house reading Notes From The Underground when I saw the door open. He stepped out, looked into the sun, smiled and went back in doors. I can only imagine what he was thinking. I took in every detail as he stood there for those few moments- the dark hair that resembled those of a Greek god, his skin that was pale in comparison, obvious that it had not seen the light of day for many years. He wore 3/4 length khaki trousers and a fitting black singlet. From my lawn I couldn't tell if he were a beanpole or an alpha male. The one thing that I could tell with every degree of certainty that there was beauty in his smile.

That night we headed to the woods for a gathering of minds. Krista, Rupert and Hektor, friends from school (Hektor was the survivor of the Frogger accident) had remained in Harrison. My birthday was soon to come so Alice, my best friend, came for a visit. As we sat in the woods watching the few stars that we could see flutter between the branches we could hear music coming from the Frog Hollow. Though we listened no one stirred from where they lay (the only thing that remained from our previous setting was the makeshift tarpaulin). Our camp remained silent until a rustling in the bushes alarmed us. I drank the last of our scotch (that is another form of alcohol, much more potent than the aforementioned beer) and began to cry. It was like a yawn, once one began it spread like a fire. I don't know I was crying, I don't think anyone knew what they were crying about either. It was as if years of pain had surfaced, or maybe we were crying for the future.
I know you are wondering why I would cry for the futures because this is all you have known. But you didn't live through the war, you didn't feel the past. And that is why I have to tell you this. What I have said thus far may sound like something that should not be missed, but there are many things. There are many reasons to cry for this time that you call your own. I still do.
Once again I digress.
That night as I returned from the camp I found a package bound in butcher paper and sea green wool. I knew from the shape and the weight that it was a book. I looked for signs as to who left it for me but there was nothing. I was surprised to find inside a book that was bound in what I assumed was genuine leather (the smell was magnificent) and the words written on genuine parchment. A small symbol was etched onto the cover, the origin of which I could not decipher. I was excited. All my life I had loved books and to have an original edition made me quake to the soul.
It was then that I opened the cover to discover that it was not an original, but a journal. In a turn of dramatics I closed the book, held it to me and went inside. I lay on bed and slept curled around the book. I wanted to read it the moment I opened it but a part of me wanted to delay it, to savour it, to take it slow and enjoy it. I had always hated reading a good book only to have it end.
Once again I recognize the look on your face. A novel. A book. I know that to you books are a form of education, the where about to learn what it is that has been deemed necessary. But they weren't always like that. Long before I was born, many eternities before my eventuating in fact, the main intention of books were to entertain. Occasionally there were to teach, often to pass on history. In my time most were for pure enjoyment. I used to frequent the second hand bookstore often and return with a bevy of books. As a matter of fact books became so popular that there was a mass of rubbish printed. But that is just my opinion. Someone had to read them for them to be published. Oh! don't get me wrong, there were many books on many subjects of learning, we were still educated back then.
I wanted to savour that novel, I knew that I would never again have something this precious in my hands. So I slept that night and dreamt of a world of giant spiders and water. I had often had eerie dreams that made no sense, this one just struck me as odd as it had the alcohol infused stupidity.

CHAPTER 7
This morning father handed me a book that I had never seen before. He said that it was from his private study. I was surprised as all my life I had been banned from that sanctuary, his workspace. I remember quite clearly going in there when I was 6 because mother had fallen ill and I required some form of sustenance. I knocked and entered expecting nothing except to find my father at his computer, working. And that is what I did find. I saw him sitting there, reclining in his black leather desk chair. His desk was large and placed in the centre of the room, which was lined with shelves crowded with books. It wasn't much different to my room though his smelled different. It was the smell of words that had been read before, books that had been loved many times over. My study consisted of books that had nothing but educational purposes, books that not even I love.
I was only there for an instant before father stood came rushing towards me slamming the door so hard that I could feel my nose crushing under the force. I hit the floor with a thud. As I lay there, my blood draining so quickly from my small frame I saw the door open and father rolled me onto my side with his foot.
"You know that you aren't allowed in my library. It is off limits. Now go get you mother to clean up that mess." That was all that he said and all I could think was how beautiful the carpet in his library was, from my angle the blue intertwined with mauve and a hint of gold. It was the most intricate pattern that I had ever seen. I got up as best I could when the door closed and went to the bathroom. Mother had heard what had happened and crept silently in and cleaned me up. She was white as a ghost.
I didn't dare ask father why he was handing me the book. I just took it under his order to study it. Thus far as I can tell- oh, I can hear father.

CHAPTER 8
After the fire the people of Harrison had little left. The rummaged through the remains of their houses to see if anything was left to salvage, though few found precious treasures. Slowly as a group the township migrated towards the ocean under the guidance of Alice Redwood. She believed that with her family fortune, which had since grown remarkably since joining forces with the Redwoods (though that had not been her primary objective) and the remains of Redwood assets outside of Harrison they would be able to rebuild the town.
They hadn't been travelling long when they came across a great clearing on the side of a small hill. As luck would have (and Alice noticed that luck seemed to come her way a little too often) they encountered messengers on their way to Harrison for news of the WeatherspoonsWitherspoons. As the sun rose and the moon set the messengers returned to where they had come from leaving the people to survive as they could, drinking from the river and eating only what they could catch.
It was only three days before the menfolk from Hobson who were not required for immediate duties at home arrived with their tools and any supplies they could spare. Together they rebuilt Harrison. Trees were felled to build the houses and the clearings made way for fields.
A few months later the town was completed except for one thing- the Redwood House. Alice sent for all remaining supplies and her families workers who returned to build her a house that most people could only dream of. The township was not angry for this show of wealth as it was her that had help rebuild the town. All her possessions were shipped from Redwood properties and the estates themselves sold off. She had seen the heart of the people in Harrison and wanted her son, though spoilt with riches, to grow up in this community that could pull together when it was needed.

CHAPTER 9
I'm sitting at my window again as mother has taken a siesta and father is, as per usual, in his library. My own study does not seem so mean to me in these days. I learnt from fathers book, which held some folded leaflets in it with sketches of Frog hollow, that my study was a later addition to the estate. In fact it is the only room that does not feature on the plans. I can only assume that it was mother who dreamt this room into existence, though I don’t understand why she did not just renovate one of the many existing unused rooms. But knowing that my mother made this room for me brings about a sense of ease that I never felt before.
I can see very little of the street below today as the previous nights rain is slowly lifting and a thick fog is blanketing the city. If it were not for the occasional shadow of a car of the screech of a schoolgirl from 2 blocks over I would believe that I was the only one left on this damned planet. Instead I imagine that beneath the fog is a magnificent garden that was made for a prince, a garden that I can play in. Or maybe when the fog lifts I will find a city that I have never seen before has developed out these doors and all my life has been but a dream.
Either way I remain in this study and must complete my mathematics.

CHAPTER 10
This book that I received was a journal regarding the sect The Voice of the Truth. It began with a little chant in Latin that I will not repeat here as it could bring great devastation, and I wish not to put the truth in you minds. I would hate it to hear this chant outside of my own mind ever again.
It then began with a description of how they were a sect as old as time- though they believed the 'dawn of time' began not when the world came into existence, not before that, but only when man was awoken to the arts, which had long been forbidden to them. The angel, Belial, often confused for Lucifer himself, was a demon of impurity. He was created second after Lucifer- Alas, I see the confusion yet again in those eyes of yours. I forget that religion is not a part of life in this world. You know what religion is, I see that, yet you don’t understand the minute details of what they entail. You know that a sect is in fact a religion in its on right, yet a religion that was not considered mainstream enough to be normal, or morally correct in most cases.
The religion, which I am discussing here, and which will take a predominant part in explaining this sect and the Great War, is Christianity. Oh, there are many versions of this great religion, all with the same god but different tenets. My point is that they pretty much all led to the same conclusion. In this religion there was one God (that is an omnipotent ruler, though unlike our current omnipotent ruler her was not part of the physical world) who created the universe and all that resides in it. On earth he started with Adam and Eve who ate an apple from the tree of knowledge and therefore were banned from paradise and cursed. Each child was born with original sin.
Many things happened and the world went into a downward spiral. Therefore to save the souls of the earths inhabitants God sent his own son, Jesus, who died so that we should have eternal life.
This is but an arbitrary description, but you do get the general outline of what Christianity is? Keep in mind that it was not the only religion of the time. Lucifer was the angel of darkness (an angel, or seraphim, was a spiritual being created by God before humans). He fell from the grace of god and decided to take upon himself to try and take over from God.
Many other angels fell into the darkness after the war between the two sides, Belial was the last to succumb to Lucifer. According to legend he appeared in a chariot of fire and spoke in a pleasant voice. He had the ability to grant power to those who wanted it, and have their enemies love them, yet he required sacrifices in return. However The Voice of the Truth believe that was not the extent of his powers.
After millennium in hell and servitude Belial had attained, through means by which is not known, the powers of the other demons, most notably Forneus ( teacher of all arts, sciences and languages), Astaroth (teacher of science and the oracle of the past, present and future) and Orobas (keeper of secrets of the divine and the world). With these powers he could have easily conquered Satan for the throne in the underworld, yet he did not. Not directly anyway.
The first Master or The Voice of the Truth was Master Spencer McCallery. He was a master of the arts and the languages in his time, long before the birth of Jesus, a master of philosophy. He was well known among the people and often sought as a teacher. However he was not happy with what he learnt, he knew that there was more than he could get from any earthly means, anything he could learn from his scholarly peers. Therefore he delved into the dark arts, something not often spoken of. He had studied what he knew of the gospels (the bible: it was the written word of god) and learnt of Belial. It was he who he first summoned, he who he asked for knowledge. Belial asked for only one thing in return, that Master McCallery spread his own gospel, that the power he would hold would remain tyrannical, yet eternally secret. He was only to be known to those who worshiped Belial in his own right. McCallery was to spread the word of Belial and in return he would learn what secrets of the world God and a throne hid from humanity by Belials side for eternity.
This offer was something that McCallery could not refuse as he longed to learn everything that there was to learn, most importantly he wanted to understand where it was that he was bound to return when eternity sough after him. Little did McCallery know that it would be many millenniums in eternity before Belial took his chance, many millennium of pain for his treacherous behaviour. Or so I believe.
McCallery already held much sway in society through his teachings and this allowed him easy access to those who he thought would accept the truth more readily, those who would see it as it was, fortune, rather than condemn him for heresy. He chose a select few of his students and enticed them with the knowledge of what they wanted. Belial taught McCallery to see what it was that each person desired and it was through these desires that he bought forth the first order of The Voice of the Truth.

CHAPTER 11
Winifred Estate was a grand old manor built into the edge of an uninhabitable forest 5 miles from the township of Harrison. Miles Redwood had built it as a fortress to keep himself safe from the outside. He himself wasn't quite sure what it was he was afraid of, but something plagued him in his sleep. He dreamt of women that ran through villages unclothed spreading the word of a mysterious man. Often in his dreams Miles would find himself cowering where he could. Once a harpies chased him through Harrison into the. As he crouched beneath the roots of an old tree he listened until he could no longer hear the screech of the women in the distance. When he found himself strong enough to leave his hiding place he stood in the light that filtered through the autumn leaves.
The next morning Miles went into the woods following his exact steps until he found the tree. A sudden sparkle in the corner of his eye caused Miles to turn. Half buried in the black soil beneath a sapling at the edge of the clearing he found a ring of silver. Embedded in the ring was five stones of varying colours, though he knew very little of jewels as his mother had taught him very little of the refinery that was allowed for people of their standing. Despite their riches she wore the clothes of the richest local and very rarely did she adorn herself with jewellery. The once concession that she allowed herself, and Miles, was the house. Alice was not apt to live in conditions below which she was used to as she was fond of her bath and the meals prepared for her. As a manner of easing her conscious (despite the fact that it was her money that rebuilt that town in the first place) she thought that by hiring many of the locals she was catering to their needs as well.
The moment that Miles unearthed the ring he knew that it was here that he was going to build his home, his castle. He hired some of the local youths to help the tradesmen from the coast to help build an impenetrable fortress, though from the outside it appeared little more than a manor fit for a squire.
It wasn't until the tradesmen had left and Miles had learnt all he needed of building that he began to build in secret passages that would lead to a basement below the old tree. And it was here that he realized what it was that he found. The closer he got to his destination the easier the dig became until eventually a cavern emerged at the end of his tunnel, a pre-fabricated basement to fulfil all his desires. It was as he sat on the chaise lounge, the only furniture in the room other than the innumerable shelves that spread beyond his sight, he saw a book at his feet. The Truth XXII. He knew that it was his grandfather’s library that he had found, that somehow his dream had led him to this destination so that he could continue the work that his father had left behind. As he read he learnt that his grandfather was preparing his father for future Mastery, though the process had never continued.

Mile spent many years hidden in his basement leaving only to fulfil his natural requirements and to ease his poor mothers fears that fear had in fact overcome him. It was on these occasions that he fled through the woods afraid that whatever it was that had been chasing him in his sleep recently would not catch him. The remainder of the time he spent learning what it was that he could from the manuscripts that dated back beyond most human memory. It wasn't until he had accepted that he had learnt all that he could that he summoned the remaining members of The Voice of the Truth to once again raise Belial from the depths of hell.

CHAPTER 12
I remember the first day of the war clearly, though few at the time knew that it was a war that was approaching. It was the first war of my memory, yet it was unlike any other war we had learned in school.
I was spending the evening with Marcus Evergreen at the outdoor theatre when the winds started and the earth began to shake. The quake lasted no longer than 5 minutes yet was enough to destroy all cover in our vicinity. A torrential rain followed, a cold rain that sent the patrons running for cover in the woods. We sat huddled under branches that failed to keep the rain from running down our backs. We held onto each other as we watched the waters rise and the ground collapse beneath the cars. A few headed into the woods towards the roads that would lead back to the city. Others stopped and watched as the phenomenon took over.
Meanwhile in town older houses began to tumble below the weight of the rain and everything not securely bolted to the ground blew over. Within the hour the whole out door theatre had vanished below the waters and the rain began to ease. Marcus and myself were the last to return to the city to find the total devastation that had taken over. Windows were blown in, roofs were torn away and streets were flooded. I left Marcus to fend for himself in Alice Street as I headed to home to ensure that my mother was okay. I found her sitting huddled in the corner of the bathroom as she had been taught as a youngster in the even of a cyclone (though the likelihood of it was minimal) to go to the smallest room at the centre of the house for safety). She held the phone in her hands, which had been placed on automatic redial to my phone.
I wrapped my arms around her and assured her that everything was going to be okay, that the storm had passed and thanks to our Misery Designs Home we were safe. We walked to the front room to survey the damage that we could see (as Misery had designed most of our street each house and street light was solar powered- not such a common thing back then). A crowd had congregate around the Frog Hollow gate, water up to their knees.
"I bet he had something to do with it." was the first voice of accusation that I heard. I deemed it as ridiculous. Mother asked what was going on and Mrs. Navert, our elderly neighbour from 3 doors down pointed towards Frog Hollow roof where James sat perched like a gargoyle reading aloud from some book in Latin. I knew it was then that it was he who had given me the book, but I still did not understand.
We watched him read louder and louder, eventually standing and squealing into the wind. I saw that he was wearing traditional Wiccan garb and I understood why he was being accused and I was afraid for his safety.
I had taken it upon myself to learn Latin following the day I received the book and if I may say so myself, languages are my specialty. I didn't learn it by myself though, I had a teacher.

The next day when the waters had receded to ankle depth and the natives had migrated into town to survey the damage I feign illness (though it did not take much as I had developed a fever from the previous night in the rain) and found myself at Frog Hollow's front door. Through historical repetition I didn't think that he would answer the door but the instinctive part of me knew that he did. I knew that he had watched us for years from his window and I perhaps was the only person his that he had witnessed on a regular basis.
As the door opened I witnessed for the first time how strikingly handsome he was. He had a strong set jaw and full red lips. His eyes were a starry seaweed green and his dark hair shone. His slight body was not the skeletal frame that I had come to think of it as since my first glimpse of him at his doorway, but a well-toned and cared for torso that any star would have worked for. Oh no! not a gaseous star. Stars and starlets was what we called famous actors and singers when they were once perhaps the most sought after commodity- the careers that more people sought after than any other job. Films, like books, were for entertainment. Our television was not propagandist tripe like today (well, not completely anyway) but something to waste time with every day. There was innumerable stations airing films every day and numerous films were produced for billions of dollars each year. I hear a rumour that before the raids a member of my society succeeded in salvaging many of the films from his town and has since been collecting them on the market. If he were ever to be caught all would be lost for future generations because I know that one day the truth will come out and the world will revolt! Maybe not this generation and likely not the next, but one day. I only wish that I had children to teach, if only they hadn't taken that ability away from me as well.
Ah, I forgot I was talking about James. I know that you picture him as the bad guy in this history, that it was he who caused the storm, but you would be wrong. He led me to sitting room where he bought me tea to sooth the fever. He sat beside me and presented me with the book that he had been reading the previous night.
"I don't understand it." I told him. "I haven't learnt much Latin as of yet."
"That is okay, I'll teach you." He read the passage that he had been reading the night before on the roof. I followed his finger as it traversed the page faultlessly translating the Latin into English. It was an incantation to summon Vassago and his 26 legions. "It was he who cleared the storm on my behalf last night." James explained.
What is it that you must offer in return?"
"Nothing. Vassago is a rather benevolent demon. He is one of the key spirits in divination and the keeper of many secrets but he opts to keep them mostly to himself. He is not a well known spirit yet he is loyal to those who he favours." I sat in wonder as he explained Vassago's history and how James had discovered him by mistake when traversing a magazine that he had ordered. He found more information on the Internet and set up summoning him for assistance. I began to ask what he needed help against but a finger was raised to my lips. "Slowly."
I left Frog Hollow not 15 minutes later feel much better than when I had entered. James asked me to return and I gave him my word. I took home with me not only a modern Latin dictionary (which I had once before seen in the book store on Alice Street) but a sense of forgiveness. I didn't understand why it was this emotion that I should feel upon this excursion, but not everything has an explanation.

CHAPTER 13
I was the first person outside of the police who talked James. He had communicated with people through his work, though it was never direct face-to-face confrontation. I didn't understand why he chose me, but I thought that it was due to the fact that I had resided across the road from him for so many years that I was one of the familiar faces. I was the only person of a similar age in the street and for that reason alone I appealed to him. Mr. Rubenstein on the other hand, they had more in common than street frontage.
First impressions are lasting impressions, and in this case they were falsified rumours. He was rather well known in this area as he was often centre of the gossip columns for his philandering ways, his good looks and great business sense. Scuttlebutt said that he was a con man, and he quite possibly was, but that didn't bother me. I was too swayed by his dashing good looks. He was a life long bachelor of 42, just above average height with a medium, well cared for frame. His hair was not unlike James, though it was starting to see the beginnings of grey and closely cropped. His eyes though were a deep chocolate brown that begged to be stared into and an aquiline nose that rounded him all off.
But it wasn't these good looks that had enticed James Frogger, it was the depth of knowledge that he conveyed on matters of the metaphysical. He had spend more than half of his years deeply engrossed in his books. As an attempt to refine his knowledge he had spent the last 5 years becoming an expert on demonology. He could list without a thought the names of every viable demon known to man (a demon is a spirit, generally thought to be evil) and some of the not so viable. With each name he could recount the legions is ruled and the qualities that it possessed. I am certain that there are other people out there that could do this, but they did not know the every in and out of each demon and the incantations to bring them forth. He had spent these years researching and travelling, discovering old sources that had long since been thought to be missing, studied alternate forms of religions and compiled similarities. If there were ever to be a more comprehensive source of information on demonology it would be the creator himself.
It was through Mr. Rubenstein website about demonology that the James and he met. After a year of conversing and James successful cessation of the storm the 2 thought that it was inevitable that they meet. They knew that they were on the same journey and together they would be stronger. I am none the wiser as to why I was involved, but I am glad that I was. For he is the romance to my story. He was my first love after Joseph. In fact my first love. But that comes later. It comes before they take away my rights. It comes before the end. It may not come to you at all, but we'll never know how sidetracked I will get, I am old you know. Memories take you on a walk when you least expect them to- then again I was never much better as a kid. Could never quite figure out what I wanted out what I was up to. Oh well. Back to Mr. Rubenstein.
He was born rich, like Frogger, though he had little interest in procuring money for any other reason than to use it to further his education. I half expect that he wanted to be the most erudite man of the century, or forever perhaps, for is not the study of the occult often a way to... I am just rambling now. He had no intentions to live forever. I just believe that he wanted what knowledge that he could not have, which is how he was lead to The Voice of the Truth.
On and excursion to South Africa upon the decline of the final revolt of apartheid (often referred to then as the Battle for Civility, which lasted no longer than half a century) he came across a young man in possession of his fathers studies. Everyone in this lifestyle had a tendency to be book learnt and accumulated a sundry of books, and Grosser was no better. His son however showed no interest in the old mans studies and ignored all attempts to be swayed in the way of the truth. He was an atheist (much like people are today, though he chose to not believe) and the moment the courts gave his fathers possessions to him he was on the phone to the nearest dealer. He had the books appraised and put up for auction at the soonest availability. He had a drug problem you see, and drug addicts needed money. Six months after he sold the books he had to hand over the estate to the government for outstanding debts. 2 months later he took his last hit and was found in a ditch somewhere outside of Paris. It took 3 years for his sister to report him missing and claim his small, anonymous grave that had begun to become a part of the grounds. She never had him transported back, her one concession to erect a headstone bearing his name and the correct dates.
Quite obviously Mr. Rubenstein was the one to purchase the library, though not in total. Many of the books he already owned, some he did not. The one that interested him the most was Grosser's journal, something that had inadvertently come with a package of bibles as a gift, something that the dealers thought no one had any interest in. Mr. Rubenstein on the other hand wanted to know more. He was the only one outside the circle that knew that Grosser was not ranting mad when he wrote in his journal. He knew it was the truth.

CHAPTER 14
Every whisper, every waking hour, I am wondering when someone will come and take it all away from me, when this world that I have known for too long now will come crumbling down and I will be forced into receivership, I will have to make it out into the sunshine. It occurred to me today that I have not spoken one single word in three months. That was when the last police officer turned up at me door and told me that they were going to put my fathers case on the back burner because there was little to no evidence and no one, not even myself, was showing interest in finding justice. There was more pressing matters at hand, like staffing the ill-fated city, destined for nothing greater than being than being the next point of upsurge in Belial's plans. You can see the struggle now. A young lass, no older than 24 they said, walked into her sociology class and ordered them all to repent at gun point. With one final screech she turned the gun on herself and ended it all in a bloody mess that no one there will forget in a long time. Soon it will all be erased from their minds when the horror begins, but until then it will haunt them in their very sleep, wondering why they didn't see it coming. I could tell them why- because she had only just seen the truth.
According to friends and family she had always been a friendly, well-liked girl (but aren't they always, who ever says that no one liked the victim) whose latest problem was trying to find the right pair of shoes to wear out on the weekend. And she is not the only one. They're all losing it over there, suicide is at an all time high and domestic violence has taken a turn for the worse. A few of the citizens have even fled here to Harrison for sanctuary and the B & B's around the country are starting to fill with the people too scared to live there.
I don't understand why Belial chose Habourtown to start with, why the people there are the more likely candidates for conversion. I fear that perhaps it is the hectic city life full of disappointment and desire that causes them to turn. Country folk are more likely to be content in their vision of the world, content to kick back and watch the sun set on another football game. I hope that is the case anyway. I have no practical experience.
I was sitting in my study this afternoon watching across the road when she came out with some of her friends. Autumn has cleared most of the leaves and my view is one thousand times better since purchasing the binoculars. I assume her mother had gone for the weekend as they left the front door open and their music playing. It was rather warm for the time of the year and the girls were all parading around in short skirts, apparently the fashion for the season. I have no complaints, I have rather developed a taste for women. Alas I am yet to talk to one other than my mother (oh pray she is watching over me through these troubled times). But she was dancing with a bottle in her hand and toppled to the ground in a fit of laughter. I watched as her friends fell off their chairs in an aim to assist her and they all came tumbling together. I wanted to walk over there and ask if I could join them, but I would not understand their laughter, they would not understand me.
I am attempting to progress toward this laughter, but it will be hard. I will tomorrow endeavour to feel the sunshine on my face, understand why they choose to be on the lawn enjoying their days than indoors. I breathe the same air as them by we live worlds apart. For now I am due to converse with Rub'. He is perhaps waiting for me as he is pecuniarily on time. I guess if we are to fight together then I need to get out of this house. One step at a time. Tonight though I will tell Rub' of the book that I found in the corner and then dream of their laughter as I sleep.

CHAPTER 15
Once upon a time in Harrison a young man from out of town moved into a house that had been abandoned for years on the outskirts of town that was reputed to be haunted. He took his wife and 2 adolescent children with him and they settled in quickly, the boys attending the local school and fitting in nicely. The house was so large however that it was a long time before Greg, the youngest son, found the stairway leading to the basement through the first floor library. He followed the passage adorned with archaic portraits of men who had lived here once before: Spencer McCallery, Spencer McCallery II, Spencer McCallery III (obviously a family tradition), Armaus Thackery, James Redwood, Preston Redwood, Milton Redwood, Miles Redwood, Francis Cocker (who Greg noted look rather like an ogre from a children’s story) and Spencer McCallery IV. Each wore the same attire, a deep plum coloured cloak secured with a silver pin. A shudder ran down his spine kept walking through the passage, finally coming to a rather large, heavy wood door intricately carved with the figure of an angel in a chariot that was ablaze whilst all around it others fell to their doom and the people rejoiced, whilst others perished. An inscription lay at the bottom of the door welcoming any who desired the truth to enter.
Greg shook of the nerves that had followed him since finding the passage and pushed the door open. Inside he found a library that even brought him to awe, a library covered floor to ceiling with book, shelves spreading beyond the eye. The floor was carpeted in red laced with what looked like real gold and the chaise lounge in the centre begged him to sit. Upon the lounge lay a robe not unlike the ones in the portraits and a journal that was starting to drown in the dust. Wiping away at the leather bound cover he unearthed the title; The Truth XX. He picked it up and perused the shelves where he found volumes I to XIX sitting neatly. He replaces XX into its rightful position and reached for one. He retreated to the lounge where he sat reading until he heard The Voice of the Truth of his distressed mother calling for him. He wanted to return her call but knew that she was above ground and would not hear him call, nor did he want to reveal the whereabouts of his treasures. He made a quick retreat down the passage and into the library. He ducked through the hall door and to the 3rd floor where he called to his mother from the window.
That night he spent awake reading the rules of the Truth and the list of the first 50 members of the sect. The rules stipulated in no uncertain terms that only the members of The Voice of the Truth were to know of its existence. If someone were to learn and be found not to be a faithful member their rights were to be terminated immediately. The Master, to whom Belial gave all knowledge, was to produce and heir whom he would teach the rule and bring up in the way of the Truth. It was believed that only a member from birth would be able to successfully undertake all of what was required of him, be able fully love the Truth for all it was without hindrance from outside forces.
The women were allowed entrance into the sect and were able to work and learn, however they were banned from any form of official power. The one important duty that they were to fulfil that the men were unable to do alone was produce children for the men, children that they would later give up as faithful servants for Belial. If they refused to do so the women would suffer the same as a traitor.
The one rule that ruled them all was thus: When Belial commanded, ye follow his orders to the letter.
The next many months Greg spent reading the Truth and outlining a tree of the members. His studies into resurrecting The Voice of the Truth did not interfere with his daily life as he wanted no one in his family to be any wiser of his activities. He went to school and succeeded in attaining high marks (often these marks were attributed to his growing understanding in the magickal side of The Truth and all thing occult) and even courting a young girl, Melissa, that he knew to be the offspring of one of the many members who had gone into hiding during the last revolt.
The one thing that Greg knew he was to do was to avoid all the traps that many of the last Masters and servants of Belial fell into causing a rift to form and destroying what was available. He even kept his mission a secret from those he knew were eagre to enter anew phase of The Truth, those who he knew were to weak to control it themselves. He knew that there would be parts the mission required that he would not like, but he knew they were necessary. He began the quest at the end of his high school career.
He informed his parents that he was taking a sabbatical with the money that he had saved and headed off into the wilderness in search of all remaining members. He had in mind a set of requirements that each member must fulfil before they be accepted back into the fold.
His search took him three years traversing the country in search of past members, often finding that they had lost their faith. When Greg informed them of their fate for their disobedience many fought in return, but with the aide of Belial he succeeded in sacrificing them for the cause, all except for one member who he lost somewhere in the African wilderness.
Greg returned to his family home where he was greeted with love from his parents to whom he quickly revealed his plans. He informed them that if they like they may become members, but neither did.

CHAPTER 16
I can't tell you why I liked Mr. Rubenstein so much, because I have to admit, I soon discovered that he was the criminal that everyone thought that he was. This should have deterred me from showing any signs of interest in him but I was drawn to him beyond comprehension. Maybe it was that when we were together, I was the only one. I cannot substantiate the rumours that he was a womaniser because I saw none of that as we were too busy trying to save the world. He was once arrested for defenestration, though it was later ruled suicide. I remember one day we were sitting in the basement studying the History of Belial as was recorded by The Voice of the Truth (and they recorded every word ever spoken- they even wrote the transcripts for the ones on film) when he turned to me:
"Sylvia, oh how I love the way you smile when you look at someone. You know we couldn't do this without you." I knew it, I just didn't know why. I nudged him with my toes and returned to reading. We had transported the desk into the basement and sat either side of it taking notes while James was upstairs keeping the business running. We knew that it was an important part of the process for we knew that if The Voice of the Truth were to ever discover out plans then we would be ruined.
Three months into the formation of our very exclusive society I was only half way through my part in organizing a concise history and timeline of The Voice of the Truth and Belial when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around in fright expecting to see James to find only the door shut and locked firmly, the alarm flashing rapidly yet silently. Mr. Rubenstein followed my gaze and bolted to his feet. We had updated the security features of the basement over the previous month using my knowledge of Misery designs (she had been exceptionally paranoid) and Mr. Rubenstein's knowledge of magick we secured the premises from humans and spirits alike. I stood behind him and we watched the monitor for movement on the grounds. For the longest time we stood watching, nothing appearing to be out of the normal until I a sudden breeze revealed the whereabouts of our trespasser- a young woman my own age.
"You keep an eye on her and tell James where she is while I check her out." I picked up the intercom phone and told James that the girl was hiding in the elm in the back corner of the yard and that he should keep an eye on the rest of the property lest someone else be hiding out there with her. Mr. Rubenstein came back to my side with my laptop where I had devised a system of recognition (it was a rule of The Voice of the Truth that anyone entering must be prepared to offer a drop of blood, their fingerprint [a Voice member had been the one to present this technology to the world] and their image rendered permanently into the annals) where by you would search the particular features of a suspect be it either their age, gender, or hair colour. Eventually with the invention of photography sketches were fazed out and replaced with more specific images. Even family members were required to follow this process.
I asked Mr. Rubenstein to keep an eye on her as I searched the database (I was much more technologically efficient). The Voice of the Truth had been deactivated in the area for nearly 5 years and I knew that what image I may be presented with may not be completely accurate. I uploaded her image to the computer and searched through 96 women in their 20's, few with any reliable similarities to compare. I shook my head and informed him that it was quite possibly just an outsider on a bet. He picked up the phone and informed Frogger of this discovery. We had decided upon a plan of action were anyone to enter the grounds, a plan for each occasion that we could simulate. I watched as James left the building and began to wander around the yard, trying to appear aimless until he came to the tree. A few words later she dropped from the tree and followed him into the house. Mr. Rubenstein and myself studied the monitors for a further 5 minutes for any sign of any significant activity. I felt his hand slip reassuringly into mine and we headed up to the house for the interrogation.

James sat directly across from her position on the lounge, I sat to her right and Mr. Rubenstein to the left in the direction of the exit. James informed us that her name was Annabel and they had not discussed her criminal past as of yet. I asked her for identification and she readily handed it over.
"I am just going to make a phone call." I explained. I exited to the study where I had left my laptop. I saw that she was a local, though I had never seen her before I assumed that she had attended Grove Private School on the other side of town. Entering her name into the national records (Mr. Rubenstein had contacts) her details came up and confirmed her details. I made a record of her parentage and the fact that she had no acknowledgeable criminal history and returned with a drink for everyone to the same silence that I had left behind.
"I informed Joe that we had a trespasser. He checked her out and cleared her, said to call if we needed any assistance." Nods all around as I took my position in the silence. It was James who broke first (years of silence had left him deploring any form of silence in a room full of people).
"Well?" was all he said. I remember it quite clearly as I had never heard the word used so harshly before. She informed us that she had been taking the news lately into great account and it scared her. She had heard the night that the storm had destroyed half the city that it may have had something to do with James, though she was hoping that it was he who stopped it.
"I watched the storm spilt into 2 and I had this feeling that something good had come to my aide. I just knew that someone in this town was a good. I kept my eye on you and saw them coming in and out of the house. For a moment I was concerned because of Mr. Rubenstein but I knew that she could not be friends with anyone with ill intentions." I was shocked at this statement. I knew nothing of her. He name nor her face was familiar. She saw this confusion; "I asked around about you after seeing you come in here. I have heard nought but positive things about you. Some of your male friends were quite willing to talk about you for hours- the girls on the other hand were a little defensive, but that is typical of the female psyche."
I didn't feel in the least satisfied with this answer. I hadn't seen any of my old friends in the last month but I knew that they were still friends and would not talk about me to a stranger.
"You're also on record at town as being quite a philanthropist. I accessed the records of all the local institutions to find that you had helped financially or physically with most of them. These are not the gambits of a scofflaw." She continued to explain how she had believed that something terrible was going to happen and she wanted to be safe, she wanted to be on the winning team. We decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and let her leave. Oh, I can hear you wondering what it is that we would have done if we caught someone that we thought were a member of the Truth. That comes later.

As she left we returned to the sitting room to watch her leave. I retrieved the tape of our interview and proceeded to digitalize it for future reference (you think we were a bit paranoid?) and James extracted her prints from the glass she had been drinking from. Neither her prints not the tapes gave us any conclusive evidence and we converged to the window seat where Mr. Rubenstein sat staring into the fading light.
"I doubt that she studied solipsism in high school." we all giggled as it was a theory that had crossed all our minds since the beginning. We stared at the road watching the occasional car or family go by. "Maybe it is better if they don't know. Go down in ignorance."
"But we're not going to fail." That was the mantra I lived by throughout the war. Looking at this future I am not so sure about that any more. Don't get me wrong, this future is not as insidious as I make it out to be. Prejudices have been erased (from being vocalised anyway), abortion has been made illegal (but the chances of getting pregnant without intent are almost impossible) and the crimes that are committed tend not to be violent. I know that I should no be complaining. But there is so much missing. We weren't created to live like this, oh no. And this is not what we had in mind when we tried to cease the proselytising of the masses to The Voice of the Truth.
I keep faith in the human race to take back what is rightfully theirs. And then they had the right to convert to such a faith if they really wanted to, we only had the right to stop The Voice of the Truth from taking the right from others.
A few hours sitting in by the window discussing the news I saw my mother across the street contemplating whether to come and get me for dinner. She was wary of my involvement with 2 men that she saw to be bad influences but she never said anything directly. Other, more unscrupulous neighbours informed me on more than one occasion that "those boys are nothing but trouble". I knew that she would not dare enter Frog Hollow so I decided to ease her conscious and go home for the night. I collected my computer and the volume that I had reached and went home to study.

CHAPTER 17
"Why are we here?" a voice trying to remain anonymous called from the crowd that had gathered in Winifred Manor, though Francis Cocker recognized it to be that of a young man by the name of Joseph Gellar. He raised his hand to placate the hum that was driving him to distraction and call the emergency meeting into order. A deafening hush slowly seeped its way through the crowd until Francis was happy to continue.
"There is trouble in the ranks of the most disturbing kind!" Francis yelled into the crowd to surface the intrigue of the sect and gain those whose attentions were close to wavering. He didn't want to pass the news along for he knew that one day he may be seen as a traitor, but he knew the correct procedures to follow and Belial would never accept a person who had strayed from the guide to work in his kingdom. "Our gracious leader has fallen from grace. Last week Miles revealed the Truth to his mother as an offer for her to join us and she declined. As well all know those who refuse to conform must perish by the hands of the group and our disdainful leader is all too aware of this rule. However Mrs. Alice Redwood continues to reside in Harrison, completely unharmed and Miles intends for it to stay this way." The murmur once again took over, some shocked by this transgression, others not so sure that it was the truth. Many still were not sure how they were to proceed.
"Does the Master have control of this matter?" Martin Hannover asked; "Does he believe that she will come to her senses and see the truth?"
"I am afraid not. He believes that as the Master he has the right to change the rules as he sees fit, that his mother should be exempt from this rule. The rules can never be broken." "But it cannot be!" Martin Hannover erupted. A furore followed in the hall each person discussing the merit of assassinating Alice Redwood, no one game enough to voice an opposing opinion, no one admitting to the times that they had let the information slip. Francis watched the faces from his pulpit trying to discern the liars from those who were faithful to the cause. He knew that it had to be done despite the fact that it was Miles who had reformed The Voice of the Truth after the terrible loss of Milton and his father and he was perhaps the most intuitive of the Masters since Spencer McCallery. It saddened him to know that it had come to this, but sacrifices had to be made or else Belial would not extol the truth. He raised his arms to calm the throb. He saw many faces looking towards him expectantly, many others fearful because they knew that they too would be caught out one day. Francis hoped that by punishing the victim no matter who they were then the others would learn not to break the rules.
"But what of Miles? He has the power to see things unlike any of us." Damien Cain asked. Francis shook his head.
"He is currently being held below by Troy. As for his powers, well, they were granted by Belial and therefore they can be granted to another." And who will this 'other' be?" "It is Belial's choice, you know that." Francis snapped. It eased him to know that Belial would choose him for his leadership qualities and outright faith in the Truth. The crowd rang with the noise of fear and hope. "For now it is a matter of how to handle Alice Redwood. As we all know she is a favourite of the townsfolk for the assistance she provided in the aftermath of the fire. If it were not for her Harrison would not exist. Therefore we need to be subtle about it. We want it to look natural. Fortunately for us she is getting on in age. I have put Jarvis in charge of her. For now I need a vote. Belial has given us permission to do with Miles as we see fit, and as you all know he has not only been blessed with the virtues of the Truth, but he has also received some natural talents of sight from others. What I propose is that we keep Miles below, create a cell within the boundaries of the basement and keep him there for the term of his natural life. It is either that or he is terminated along side of his mother. Those for imprisoning him raise your hand." Francis and Jarvis stood and counted the raised hand. 72. "Now those against raise your hands." The room of wavering arms was replaced with but 23.
"I believe that those who commit the crime should be castigated." shouted Wesley Booth. Francis stood for a moment waiting for others to voice their opinions, but no others were game as they were glorifying the punishment for a crime that they themselves had committed.
"I am sure that being imprisoned in a cell with barely enough room to stand or stretch for the next 30 or so years on minimum rations will be punishment enough in exchange for the help that he could grant to us. Either way, The Voice of the Truth has spoken. Marin will begin work the cell this very evening. Need I say that the womenfolk are not to know of what has transpired here this evening. Good evening men." With that Francis exited the building and returned to the basement.
Miles remained bound and dutifully silent in the corner of the corner of the basement, his eyes red from crying. Francis stood and shook his head at the sight of a man fallen. He explained the result of the poll to Miles and ordered the commencement of the cell. Three days later a cell measuring 6 foot by 4 foot by 6 foot was erected into the wall opposite the door for easy surveillance and to remind Miles forever what it was that he was being punished for. That same night as Miles resided behind the bars that would hold him for the rest of his life Alice Redwood was found by her ladies club on the foyer floor. A funeral was held in her honour, the entire town putting in an appearance, even those who knew the exact details of her demise.

"Master, I think you should come here." Damien insisted as Master Cocker entered the room. "He hasn't eaten anything in 3 days and it looks like it is taking its toll." He led him to the cell that held Miles where the prisoner was looking sallow. His head only registered a small nod of recognition in Francis direction then fell directly back to his chest.
"Force him to consume something then." Francis ordered.
"But we have Master, he just brings it back up again. Nothing stays down for longer than we are able to watch him."
"Then watch him!" A group of men opened the cell and Miles was too weak to fight. He knew that they would stay so with every ounce of food they forced into him he cold feel his swollen throat contract and he began to choke. Had no intention of staying around and helping the progression of The Voice of the Truth. In fact he no longer believed the truth, he wanted a lie. He lay and allowed them to keep stuffing food into him until he began to choke on his own vomit. It was too late when Damien realized what was happening. The world had gone black for Miles and he was about to learn the consequences of his own behaviour.
"What are we to do Master?" the throng asked in distress. Francis wandered around the library until the answer came to him.
"Leave him there and brick up the wall."

CHAPTER 18
I found the cell the day after Annabel crept into our lives. I was preparing the wall for extra re-enforcement. I was removing the bricks from behind the shelves when the brickwork began to fall by itself. In fact it was the only faulty workmanship that I found in the entire house, I even found that 5 foot behind the rest of the walls lay 10 separate layers of steel. Miles had gone to every extent to make certain that the house was indestructible. He even made certain of keep these walls far enough back so as to be able to extend the basement at will and kept it off the designs so no one else knew that it was there. How he ever got caught out revealing the secret society to his mother is beyond me. But he certainly did a good job of the house for someone preceding modern technology.
His body was nothing more than a skeleton. At the time I had no idea that it was Miles that was buried in that wall, I had not yet reached that part of the history as it was well hidden in the back of the library, secreted as though it was something to be ashamed of. He still remained clothed, though to touch them was like running your hands through a fen. I removed all remnants of his person and buried them against the back fence. I felt no need to give him any sort of proper send of because of his part in reissuing The Voice of the Truth. I felt no compassion at all for anyone who felt the need to kill to make it in the world.
I didn't return to work on the cell for a further three days because I didn't feel the need to come across any more skeletons. It seems that wasn't the only secret hidden in there. For the first few days before he became too weak to move Miles had kept a journal that he hid in the wall when morning rose and his guards returned. He began to detail the dreams that he had been having which he had not dared to record lest someone discover him. He wrote about how he was having doubts as to the validity of The Voice of the Truth.

I dreamt last night that I was lead by an angel into the woods dividing Harrison and Winifred Manor. I asked the angel her name and she answered, but I have since forgotten. I know that at the time I had never heard of her. She told me that she was going to show me where Belial was going to take us. I fear that he may know of this indiscretion, though she informed me that he would never know unless I revealed it. There are some things not even he could violate.
We entered mothers house where there remained many mourners. They all noted that I was absent from any proceedings. When she opened the door to my mother’s drawing room we entered a hell that I had never imagined. I saw mother stuck in a place where she was to spend eternity facing her greatest fears. It would never stop hurting.
I asked why she was here she had never done anything wrong. She was the epitome of benevolence, her one and only failing was that of materialism.
"She's not here because of anything she has done. It is what you have done. Your mother was sacrificed to Belial, she is his now. This is where all of his sacrifices stay until they are called upon to serve him." I felt sick to the very depths of my soul. I watched all the souls around creaming in eternal suffering, the souls which I and my predecessor had condemned.
"Is there anything that I can do?" I collapsed to my knees and reached out to my mother, but the closer I got the further away she seemed, our hands forever an inch away.
"Yes, there is. You must destroy The Voice of the Truth and all its remnants so as not to further propel the faith. But that is the easy part. You then have to take down Belial himself. You may bot be able to do it, but you must prepare the future for it, or he will continue to rise."
This was several months ago, I have had a dream every night since. Sometimes they weren't even dreams and my angel would come to me. It was a slow learning process, and I most certainly could not be the one to destroy Belial. First she had to teach me all that she could in regards to the witchcraft that conjured up this terrible spirit in the first place. And I began the journey. I may not have time to explain it all here because I do not intend to be around much longer, but I have another journal where I kept minute details of each and every encounter that I had with this angel. I won't write its location here so that if this one is found there is chance that the other may survive. If they other are found then perhaps this one will remain. I hope that neither is found except by someone pure enough to defeat this demon. If you are a member of The Voice of the Truth, please, please change your path. Leave as far as you may go. Save what souls you can. Save yourself, Belial is not what he seems.

CHAPTER 19
We watched the news that evening and saw the destruction that was going on around us. A teenage girl who was for years alienated by her peers took revenge. She locked the doors together with heavy-duty chains and set fire to the main buildings. few escaped, a few were crushed in the melee. 1,421 children on the upper floors perished. When questioned by the police she said that she did what was necessary and that she was free.
A man, posing as a doctor for 6 weeks performed 13 incidences of euthanasia on patients suffering from non-life threatening diseases. As police tried to apprehend the man he ran in front of an incoming car and ended up in a coma at the same hospital he worked at. An angry nurse took it upon himself to enforce justice prescribing a lethal dose of morphine.
Mary Abbott, saddled with the onerous task of caring for elderly at Midsummer Retirement Home laced the evenings soup with enough laxatives to kill 3 of the patients. Mrs. Abbott said that she had been working alone but authorities (brought in from out of town after the local officers beat and killed everyone in their custody, even those only there for traffic infringements) believe that the entire nursing staffs was involved.
A mother of her new born child leaves the hospital immediately after the birth for a cigarette and never returned. A flash flood leaves the capital devastated, those surviving were stranded and would soon too be casualties if they were not rescued in the next few days.
Though not all the news was destructive. Harrison was receiving an influx of refugees from Habourtown. People were pulling together to erect makeshift accommodation on the outskirts of town until they were able to provide themselves with regular housing. Anywhere that volunteer work needed doing someone was there to offer. A group of young people had taken it upon themselves to fix the town hall on Alice Street that had partially collapsed during the storm. The influx also created more jobs for the locals and the local produce. It was so overwhelming in fact that local produce was beginning to sell out and stores were beginning to import from surrounding towns.
Groups were getting together to discuss the situation and how to deal with it. The one thing that people avoided discussing was the one thing on everyone's minds- what was going on. The most popular groups erected in town were the religious groups where discussions circled the topic, but no one dared ask. No one wanted to know.
We however, knew that it was time that more decisive action is taken. I had long since created a general timeline for The Voice of the Truth and knew that it was time to go in depth and see how each fell. We had as of yet been unable to find the new home of The Voice of the Truth (and we knew that it must exist) but we had the general fear that it was in Habourtown. It seemed pretty obvious anyway.
Mr. Rubenstein and myself decided to take a trip into town. Miles journal had revealed very little to us. After the first few days he became delirious, confusing the sanctity of the world with what it was the he had 'foreseen' for The Voice of the Truth. He spent most of his last days describing the beauty of his angel (who we were as of yet to discover more information on) and the few words that he could remember from their last conversations. The one thing that he wrote that made any sense to us was the general message that he was trying to convey. It was up to each person. He gave no explanation how.
I had spent several days sorting through every piece of paper in the house entire manor trying to find any remnants of Miles former journal that he had alluded to in his last will and testament, but I turned nothing up. I was ready to start digging up the grounds, destroying the garden beds, but I knew they were too obvious. Miles had been a smart man, despite his predilection towards evil.
One Friday night in the midst of summer when the war had become worse. People were beginning to turn on each other on the streets, the good versus the bad. We knew that The Voice of the Truth thought that we were up to something so we knew that we must tread carefully. I was still rather inept at the world of magick and was more of a human lackey so I left it up to James and Mr. Rubenstein to summon Vassago. He worked a spell upon us to disguise us not only physically by spiritually. I went from a 5 foot 6 underweight blonde with blue eyes to a 5 foot 3 curvatious brunette with sparkling green eyes. I admit, when we returned from out trip I asked to keep the curves.
Mr. Rubenstein was transformed from handsome to boy band cute (A boy band was a group of singers made mostly of younger, almost feminine, boys. The craze never really ended until the end of music). We headed into town in a rental car under the names Julie and Frank Thomas. We were a curious pair of sociologists braving the war front to see why the town in particular had plunged into a vat of sin. We had no real idea of what we were doing or what we were heading into, just a basic plan to save the world and if we could do it on a road trip then fun could be had by all. Or so was the dream that we all had.

Not only was it in Harour Town that Mr. Rubenstein and I discovered that our relationship went beyond the crusade, but it was also where we talked to our first victim of the war. The people who had migrated to Harrison had thus far not discussed their experiences of the war (though they were as of yet to know it was a war) and we were none the wiser as to what was in fact happening.
Maria (with an undiscernible surname) was one the remaining few in Harour Town who were ready to fight. She knew that there was a place where they gathered, but she was slowly losing her mind trying to make it through the day without being found out. She had moved ever hour or so grabbing sleep when she heard the silence.
For her it began three weeks after the shooting at the school. By that time many people were already starting to lose it or leave. She had fallen asleep guarding her door from the recent muggings when she was visited by a man she had never seem before. He had a pleasant appearance and a soothing voice, but a part of Maria knew that there was something just not right. He stood in front of her, smiled and spoke as though he knew her.
"Maria, my darling. Don't fear. I am here to offer you a deal that you just cannot refuse." According to Maria's interpretation of the story, which is all we have to go on, was that he knelt before her, took her hand and offered her the world. "I want you to have everything you ever desired. Your deepest darkest desire."
"I had no idea what it was that he was talking about, not even I knew what my deepest desire was. I had spent the last 5 years of my life trying to not think about myself." Maria explained. And that was what he offered her. He offered her the chance to change herself completely, intelligence, beauty, and money. All the things needed to get into the inner circles. And the ability to read minds to stay there. The chance to have friends.
All he wanted in return was a few minor sacrifices. In lui of the lives of those closest to her (Maria had no social ability and therefore no friends. She was alone but not by choice. But she chose to remain alone.
"I am uncertain of life itself and I did not trust this man. I wanted to keep my soul. His face became contorted with anger and vanished. I returned to my sentry by the door because I could here looters down the road thrashing through the Reddington's home. Not long later a woman approached me. She offered me everything, but in return I had to give nothing."
It dawned on us then that the war began as all wars- recruitment. Belial was presenting himself to the masses of Harour Town and offering them things that they could not achieve without some assistance, all for their allegiance. It looked like a lot of Harour Town had been recruited. We were not so sure about Maria so we kept our secrets to ourselves.

CHAPTER 20
I think that it is time to introduce the obligatory chapter on love. During the era of films love scenes seemed to pop up where they weren't needed, it seemed to be what people wanted. And I assume that no one here is any different. Despite political changes there is always the same basic desires that drive us. Different things drive different people. But people tend to like watching people fall in love, it makes them feel good.

Whilst in town Mr. Rubenstein and myself thought that it would be fitting to stay in the Amphora Hotel, the most luxurious hotel in the area before the war. It seemed to be the meeting place of the 'reformed'. Upon entering we were accosted by a couple of large men who we allowed to take us up to the penthouse. There Benjamin Thackery met us. He was a rather imposing man, tall and broad. He looked like he had just left national army to join the army of the underworld. I assumed that he had been granted power to convert.
"So what is it you are doing here, love. My sources inform us that you are not one of us." His voice was deep and commanding. Had I not been half toasted on the wine we had indulged in whilst visiting Maria he would have frightened me. His footmen rallied behind him. I noted that each wore a pendant above their archetypical figure hugging white shirts. I couldn't quite make it out but I knew from experience that it was the symbol of Belial, the symbol that all members had tattooed behind their left ear. It seemed that they had no reason to hide their devotions now.
We explained our cover story. When asked if we had converted we explained we had no idea what it was that we were converting to because we had not been approached.
"You will be. Tomorrow we are moving on from here and eventually we will get to you." He let us sleep on the 5th floor though all our exits were guarded. We were ecstatic to know at least who it was that we had to bring down to size to hinder the progress, though we knew that there would be someone waiting on the sidelines to take over, that the time had come and there was no way that they were going to be beaten- so they thought. They relied on the fragility of humanity, the greed.
Our room was lush, completely free of harm from the looting. They provided us with food and alcohol. As the stars came out we took cover in each other. I remember we were sitting on the balcony sipping white wine when Mr. Rubenstein laced his fingers through mine. I didn't move believing that the best thing to do was pretend that it was such a natural thing, not something that I had desperately been dreaming about since the day that I met him. Our conversation avoided everything of possible consequence- the world around us, us. We talked about television and film. Being almost twice my age I barely remembered half the films he enjoyed as anything other than the classic section. It didn't matter.
It slowly grew colder and we dizzily headed back into the bedroom. It was perhaps the most romantic moment of my life. Though we looked different to the outside world to save confusion we saw each other as we were. He gentle placed his hand on my cheek and kissed me so gently, so carefully, but with so much passion. As he pulled away he looked into my eyes.
"I'm glad you're here." We began to slowly unbutton each other and slipped into bed where we made love whilst looking into each other’s eyes. I was about to doze off when I felt his lips slightly brush mine. "Always remember that I love you." I was too tired and shocked to respond. It was the first time someone other than Joseph had told me they loved me (other than my parents) and for the first time it felt real. I curled up into the nook of his arm and slept soundlessly, despite the furore that was taking place all around us.

The next morning we were approached by Master Thackery's henchmen and taken to breakfast where we met again with the man himself. It was all pleasant until he mentioned Belial.
"I was speaking with Belial this morning and I was informed of something shocking." He left the sentence there for a few moments hoping that the silence would break us, though we sat there trying to look as perplexed as possible. "Okay, you know nothing? Well apparently you are inaccessible. Belial was to offer to you last night whilst you slept."
"Offered?" Mr. Rubenstein asked, obviously knowing what the answer was but feigning with great ability that he was clueless.
"Yes, offered. Belial is here to offer to the world that which you want the most. He was to come to you last night but something was stopping him. Do you know what that was?" I was starting to feel sick to the stomach, worried that he could sense that we were not what we seemed. "Something has been put in place to stop anyone from accessing you."
"Oh that!" Mr. Rubenstein gasped. I looked in his direction, his face looking like something had just clicked; "My mother was a witch. She went a little weird in her later years thinking that someone was out to get her and would go through me to do it so she put some sort of barrier up that would stop any psychic attacks. I thought that she was just kidding." I watched Master Thackery's face and saw no sign of disbelief. We spent the remainder of the morning eating pikelets with jam and whipped cream, drinking the nicest lattes I have ever had and discussing what we intended to do with what we learnt. We explained that we had not known what was happening when we first arrived and it was only this morning when they had informed us that we knew people were being offered their dreams. All we wanted to do was study what was going on, perhaps write a book. We were sociologists after all and we thought that we could understand why there were some people that were accepting the offer and others that were rejecting it for a life of difficulty (he liked my use of that word).
We explained that we needed to return to the capital to retrieve our materials and then we would return. We thought that we were safe. As we left it was only entering the afternoon and the real danger of violence had dissipated with the sun. We were driving towards the capital, expecting to take a rather convoluted route back to Harrison when we were suddenly accosted by some men that we had seen lurking around the hotel. Mr. Rubenstein had half expected this and prepared. Our route, which I had though been a little off target, to begin with had been planned as a manner of escape. He began leading the men in a game of cat and mouse through the alleyways and side streets until we lost them. It was much more dramatic, but I have never been a fan of chase scenes.
We son found ourselves safe on the outskirts of Harour Town. My heart was racing beyond measure, I was still sick from out interrogation by Master Thackery earlier. We drove for around half an hour through country roads until we pulled over to the side and set up camp.
"If Thackery is on to us then he must suspect that we came from Harrison. We have to wait it out here for a few days. James made sure that we would be off the radar." We set up tent and spent the next three days roughing it and making love. I had no complaints, I didn't really want to return to work.

CHAPTER 21
Watching the ball room floor from the second storey balcony he would have been forgiven for thinking that his eye sight was beginning to fail The room was awash with every shade of blue imaginable, from the darkest of royal blues, sapphire blues, azure and even aqua. Despite this John Lowe could discern President Boyah as it was he that the women swarmed too. He wore a baby blue suit complete with navy blue shirt and tie. John could see that his wife was one of them, her armed linked protectively around his. IF he wasn't certain of her motives he would have fired at her in a fit of jealousy.
He slowly, quietly, walked down the stairs trying to avoid the attention of the party. It was his party, that didn't mean that he wanted to grab any attention. He was greeted with kisses and many proffered hands on his entrance, many wishing to monopolize his time with conversation. He graciously spoke with each and every one, excusing himself at the earliest opportunity. He found his wife gracefully guiding the President towards the stairs, her hand placed possessively on the small of his back- quite a role reversal for the ever-dominant President Boyah.
”Ah! John. Your lovely wife here was telling me about a new book you have in your collection regarding the uses of local remedies. I hear it dates back to the beginning of the last century.” John nodded and gestured towards the top of the stairs from where he had come. The walked up, slowly as everyone again wanted conversation that they could tell their friends about the next day.
As they finally left the multitude behind and were in the sanctuary of the study Mrs. Lowe locked the door behind her. The colour in the presidents face disappeared.
”I wasn’t going to tell anyone, I swear!” He began to beg as the Lowe’s approached him. “I swear it! I just cannot be a part of this when there is chance that someone might discover me. I would lose the next election!”
“I am afraid Mr. President, that you knew the rules when you joined.”
“How can you do this John? We are friends!”
“No traitor will ever be regarded as a friend of mine.” John snapped as he brought the first blow onto his head. It took seven blows before President Boyah stopped breathing and Mrs. Lowe ran screaming into the hallway. As curious eyes looked into the study as the paramedics worked on him John noticed the few that were glowing with expectancy. This assassination would be par of the course for the future, this assassination would go on their records as each traitor became entwined forever with those who were faithful, forever to do their bidding. For them it felt good to bring down someone in so much power because they knew that they had more than him.

As the hall cleared out and only members remained they began discussing the evenings events and how it was absolutely necessary (there was always those who were never entirely sure that their involvement was a great idea. Most were eventually taken out in the same sort of violent manner) and how The Voice of the Truth was to profit from this event.
“We all know that this was a requirement. He signed the papers before he joined and knew that leaving was never going to happen.” As his said this John espied a glimpse of black and white amongst the sea of blues. “Oh shit.” The crowd slowly turned in the direction of the Master’s gaze only to see that the detective who had come to monitor the case had returned. He looked panic stricken amongst so many people who were quite happy to kill for their cause.
Suddenly Belial emerged from the crowd, dressed solely in a navy blue suit and shirt. It was obvious to Detective Marrow that his many was in fact not a man. They stared into each other’s eyes while the whine of the crowd ceased.
“You know Frank, the men down at the station would just love to find out who it was that raped that 6 year old girl 6 months ago. Would you like to go with me and tell them?” Detective Marrow shook his head and reached out to hold the doorframe. “Well then, how would you like to tell them why there was 6 kilos of cocaine in the lock up and now there is only 5?” Once again Marrow shook his head looking sicker by the moment. “Well then. How about you follow us and we discuss what it is that you want and what it is that you are willing to give up in return?” The crowd parted and Detective Marrow followed the grotesque Belial through the ballroom and towards the library where Master Lowe followed. The rest of the crowd remained silent hoping that a vestige of sound would alert them to what was going on behind the closed door.

The silence in the library could only be described as ugly. Belial sat behind the desk waiting for the pleading that most victims offered. John Lowe stood behind him hoping for a simple outcome.
“You don’t know anything.” Detective Marrow muttered, though he knew better. He had come to this town an unknown- he had never been placed in connection with the Sandra Wills case. The only person who knew anything of his workplace theft was safely locked away in a wooden casket. He felt sure that no one would connect him to anything. But some how, this man knew.
“Alas, Frank, I know everything. And that is your problem. Or, it could be a good thing. All you have to do is hear me out.” Marrow sat in dread awaiting his own demise. He knew that they couldn’t be sure that he would keep quite, that one day he would grow a conscious and blab his entire list of transgressions- he had almost done so on more than one occasion. “You’ll keep quite, Frank. Because we can give you everything that you want, and no one will ever be the wiser.”
Despite his fear Frank was intrigued, especially when the man indicated to the door. “Out there Frank there are many men and women who are living their dream and safe in the knowledge that when they leave this mortal coil they will spend an eternity living however they want to.” His hand swerved slowly to the man standing behind him, “Master Lowe here has the one thing that you want the most- a 7 year old daughter. And there will be many more, if only you agree.”

Belial left through the passage and allowed John Lowe to explain the situation. Detective John Marrow returned home that evening a waiting member of The Voice of the Truth. He knew it was insane and that he was condemning himself for an eternity, but he needed what he was not allowed, and they endorsed his behaviour.
a sudden rap on the door startled Marrow out of his reverie. He had expected to be followed, its what any good sect would do when their asylum was threatened. He expected however to be greeted by a great burly man but was instead bathed in the radiance of Mrs. Lowe, still dressed in her baby blue evening gown.
Her beauty dissipated under the snarl on her face as she bought down her adversary.
“There is no way I am going to sacrifice my daughter.”

CHAPTER 22
It was three before James found us camping in the woods. I had no desire to leave the shelter of the woods where I remained with a man who was fulfilling my every desire, away from all news. It was nice to be away from the demise of the world. For all we knew everything had already ceased to be and we were the last remaining people on the face of the earth.
Sadly, I was wrong. Our days of cooking by the fire and making love under the stars were ended abruptly when we heard the crunch of stones as James rolled up in his purple Mercedes. We welcomed him with hugs and anecdotes of our time away. Whilst we were gone very little happened. James had spent his days wandering around the township where more people had flocked since the Capital had begun to fall apart under the premise of an eternity with whatever you want. It was one of the bigger footholds that Belial was likely to take, but more and more were making the journey to Harrison. Word had gotten round that it was there that someone was putting up a Stand-ish fight. Someone had the power to stop the fall of humanity.
Many were turning to God for reconciliation, many others were turning away. Belial had not entered Harrison after the first storm and we knew we were safe to return, for now. We had to go back and save the world.
I will never understand why it was us that took it upon ourselves, delusions of grandeur perhaps. We packed up camp and headed back to Harrison where we knew that the work was only beginning.

CHAPTER 23
We watched Annabel as she meandered through the gardens of Frog Hollow today. Neither Sylvia nor myself fancy to trust her, though Rubes tends to be a little credulous when encountering new people. He wants to believe the best of everyone.
I know something happened between them while they were away but they try to pretend everything is the same as it was before. She most definitely is not. Sometimes she is distracted, looking into the horizon. This afternoon she left early to be with her mother and I watched the way Rubes’ eyes followed her as she left. I doubt that it will affect much, though I must admit to suffering from a fit of jealousy when they first returned. She is the first woman that I ever talked to outside of my home. She had for years attracted my attention, though she is still a good worker. There is something in her that inspires me to believe when I am starting to fall into the trap of despondency. She has such amazing strength for someone who was introduced to this world of lunacy from a world where she was safe from the evils of the occult. She welcomed it so easily.
I still don’t understand why it is that Annabel came to us, whether she wants to help (or hinder) the cause, or if she is just curious. If she is on our team then I think that perhaps it is that she wants refuge from the dangers as opposed to giving assistance. The one thing that fears me most though is the way she walks. When she is peering around she is not looking at the gardens themselves, nor at the architecture of the manor. She doesn’t stop and take notice of the carvings in the neither arc traves nor sojourns to smell the exotic flowers that mother had specially imported to wile away the days. She did however stop and inspect a section of wall at the back of the garden that has long since started decaying. I suspect she believes that it will lead to a secret entrance, or perhaps the secrets of our work. We still have not revealed to her that we are by any means attempting to encumber the efforts of The Voice of the Truth, nor have we given her any reason to believe that we know anything of such a sect, despite living under the same roof which has housed every previous generation of Master. There is nothing outside of the basement that is in relation to The Voice of the Truth.
Last night we attended the town meeting (which was housed in the local gardens at Alice street to hold all the new comers) where the ennead of town supervisors (appointed at a previous meeting which we had not attended) informed us that news had stopped coming from the capital and that we were likely to remain radio silent for some time. Therefore we were going to recruit scouts to survey neighbouring towns and send back news concerning the outside world. Someone asked why we didn’t just let ourselves become cut off from the rest of the world, let them deal with their own issues. There was uproar that I guess successfully answered questions.
Reconnoitres were named and in a few days lists will be placed regarding their destinations. If people wanted word on family they had in the area they were to leave the names and addresses of such people with Michael Shanks.
I asked last night where had been affected however thus far it was still Harbour town and the capital. The capital seems to be sliding easily into this world of degeneracy, the darkness of the street corners and the previous availability of what they wanted gave them more reason to seek more. Few have come here from the capital. I best return to work and complete some more research before they return tomorrow. Rubes is out and about surveying Annabel so that leaves it to me today. Perhaps Sylvia should have gone with him. No rest for the wicked.

CHAPTER 24
My mother had begun to lose it a little pending the doom and gloom that was about to take place. She had always been a very religious person and feared that this was the end. Obviously that was what everyone thought.
I was tired of searching for Miles’ journal and set about interviewing the migrators instead. I knew that there would be some willing to talk. I left Mr. Rubenstein to keep searching for the journal and Miles accompanied me. He still had very little experience in the outside world and now less than 50% of the new population knew of neither him nor his history so I assumed that it would be safe for him to venture out and begin anew. However rumours had already begun to fester in the new camps about the night of the storm.
The children were not as petrified of him as their parents and they were the most willing to discuss what had happened before they took the expedition to Harrison. They all related the same tales as before; that a man who was agreeable had approached them and offered them everything that they wanted, in most cases computer games and new parents. Most of them were willing to participate but their parents had intervened by removing them from the fen of transgression and into the inviolability of Harrison.
Few adults were disposed to divulge what it was that happened, as they were mortified that others would discover what they had been offered. There were those that were willing to talk, like Heidi, the girl who had been offered nothing but the eternal love of the man who just broke her heart. She had known that it was iniquitous to make someone love her who clearly did not. She had woken the next morning when someone had broken into her house. She ran and hid in the neighbours yard until she thought that all was safe. Upon her exit she had been approached by her neighbours, Julie and Wendy Reed, who proceeded to chase her until the Fry’s who were about to vacate the city rescued her. She had heard the blether about such a city of Harrison, though as she had been one of the later ones approach those remaining in the city had denied the talk of a man gratifying wishes.
I found it disturbing that Harrison was the place of refuge when previously it had housed he likes of Miles and all previous Masters of The Voice of the Truth. I returned home that evening safe in the knowledge that Harrison was safe from the menace that was menacing the country at that very moment. I knew that someone, sometime had placed a curse of some sort on the city that would protect it from Belial and his army. I didn’t know how long it would last but I knew that we were safe for that night at least.
My mother was staying with friends she had made of people who had come from out of town and helping them settle into their new lives. I settled back and took the night off. Mr. Rubenstein joined me and we spent the night enjoying what we knew could be the last of the peace. Providentially for us it was a while to come before the Great War hit full force.
The next morning as we converged on Frog Hollow I noted that there were people gathering around the gates of the manor, some had even set up camp on the nature strip. As we waded through them we saw the desperation in their faces. They had heard of our visit to the camp the morning before which had sparked gossip to the tone that we were out to save the world.
James was sitting at his window watching the people, despairing that there was little that we could do for them. I had at least one solution. We should let some of them into the house. We were wary of few and knew that it would take some time to sort through those we thought were fighting for our adversary. James spent the following hours trying to summon a spirit to inform us of each persons situation in the war, wether they be free of Belial or as surveyors for The Voice of the Truth. James eventually settled for Caim, one of the handfuls of demons who had not been destroyed by Belial in his attempt to dominate. He remained on the condition that the proceedings be very quick as to stay in the open for long would mean his demise.
All that approached us that day were on the side of the virtuous and we allowed them into the manor on the condition that they never enter the library or James’ study. We rigged each room with an alarm that would keep anyone from entering the rooms without our knowledge. There was a family to each room, though it left no space for a sundry of families that were left to camp in the grounds. There were no complaints however as they felt safer closer to the manor. If only they had known that it was here that the disasters began. It was here that Belial had gotten his clutch on the first human he was to corrupt.

Later that evening Annabel returned to the manor. I queried her on where she had been during the induction of new members to the House of Frogger (as we kindly nicknamed it) and she informed us that she had not known there was to be such a trial of persons and had been wandering through the woods. I doubted her motivations as I knew that had meant to meet with us that morning so as to discuss what plans it was that she had in store for us. We had ourselves devised a plan to wipe her memory should it come to that, as we were opposed to the killing of anyone, no matter what side they were employed by.
Before Caim’s disappearance James had requested a spell for truth though he turned down the request as he had no ability to attribute to a petty human. He vanished in a cloud of flames and we were left wondering how we would do this in the future, how we could weed out the liars from the ones that could be entrusted with our mission.
Annabel asked if she too could stay on the grounds of Frog Hollow, intimating that she stay around Mr. Rubenstein. I of course was terrified of the idea on many levels, though we all thought that this was avoidable. We allowed her onto the grounds, though she was to camp with the others who could not be accommodated.
Some of the groups who had formed close camaraderie’s had made an agreement to share the accommodation. For instance on Wednesday the Hooker’s would sleep in the room. Thursday it was the Rook’s turn and Friday once again it was the Hooker’s. They continued this to allowed even amounts of time sleeping in comfort, especially once the autumn winds began to chill.
That night I spent in Mr. Rubenstein’s bed, not only afraid for the integrity of our relationship, but also for the fear that perhaps Annabel’s interest in Mr. Rubenstein was not wholly sexual, but somehow malevolent.
Before turning in James, Mr. Rubenstein and myself spent several hours in the library trying to get a grasp of the situation. I suggested that someone who had known of The Voice of the Truth had wanted to maintain the safety of his or her family and placed a defensive enchantment on Harrison, which forced The Voice of the Truth to flee. We spent the time researching the notes that we had taken returning to the journals where we found an intrusion into The Voice of the Truth, but nothing came clear to us. That night I had had an extraordinary dream.

An angel was by my side sitting in the tree behind Frog Hollow. She was fingering Joseph’s name, which had long since been healed by the redwood and was but cicatrise left as an eternal reminder of my first love. We watched over the grounds of Frog Hollow where most were sleeping though others wandered without purpose through the tents, the night enhancing the trepidation that they felt by day.
“I cannot be here too long as it is dangerous. A mere moment could lead him here to me. You are on the right track.” She placed a warm hand on my shoulder and indicated the window where Mr. Rubenstein and myself slept. I turned to ask her what I was meant to be looking for only to find that she had gone. I was alone on the tree assessing the grounds. A light came on in the window where I slept and I saw Mr. Rubenstein sitting on the sill reading a book.

I awoke in that very instant to find that everything was the same. Mr. Rubenstein sat in the window while others wandered through the grounds. He looked in my direction and came back to the bed, taking me in his arms. I slept soundlessly for the rest of the night, waking up in my lover’s arms.
I didn’t tell him what I had dreamt but I knew that it was something that I could not keep from James. I illustrated my angel to him and we realized that I was describing the same angel that Miles had seen in his reveries.
“What book is Rubes studying?” James asked. I shrugged trying to remember what it had looked like when I awoke, though my eyes had been hazy. All I knew was that it was leather bound, but so was 75% of the population of our library.

CHAPTER 25
I dreamt of my angel again last night. She took me for a walk through the woods to where I found the ring. The tree looked different, the area where I hid was gone as though the tree had grown around its own nooks. She sat me down on a large branch that had over time come to hang over the wall into the gardens of Winifred Manor.
“It is time that you learnt the first lessons in the nature of this world. To pass on the knowledge you must have the knowledge. What he has over you is this. He knows everything. He has taken the secret lore of the world and made it his own so you therefore must learn. But first I must bestow upon you the gift of great intellect- or rather the ability to remember everything that ever goes into that frail little mind of yours.” I thought that was a little mean on her part, but I am rather sure that she does not like me very much. I guess she has reason to dislike me.
She gave to me an incantation by which a person may remember everything that they need to remember. I have transcribed it to a separate sheet of paper, which I have hidden in Frog Hollow. I am certain that no one will find it unless guided there. I know that it must be found eventually and someone else must use this knowledge, so if it is you who has found this book then she will help you, I am certain of that. That is in fact the only thing that I am certain of.
I am beginning to learn everything that has come to me. We have begun with the function of everything that can be found in nature such as the herbs in the garden or specific flowers. I dare say this is going to be a laborious journey to take, though I know that it is necessary. If only there were a way to save my poor mothers soul now then I should take action. Alas, it will take time. Lucifer has been fighting since his fall to govern this world and Belial has only begun. We have had centuries to fight him with the knowledge that we have learnt over time. And we are only just starting.

CHAPTER 26
The capital begun to slide into a quagmire of debauchery. Men could find and take whatever it was the desired. Women had become little but objects. Those who declined their offers (and they were becoming fewer by the moment) were used as sacrifices to those who fell into the ruse. Drugs were no longer found only on the street corner, but wherever and whenever they were wanted. Often though, the weaker fell with one final hit into an eternity of suffering.
Children were naïve participants being prepared for a war that they didn’t understand. Their parents removed from the picture (as was often the desire) the more hurt the child had been the easier they were to sway and turn into sadistic soldiers.
Despite the appearance of luxury homes and well-fed families they were only the tip of the iceberg. Hospitals were over run with injuries (and the staff were quickly learning that it was a much better idea to leave, though few saw it as their duty to remain and help the helpless), crime was at an all time high, though there was no one there to keep the order.
The streets appeared to be lined with gold (and many hallways actually were) it was just a gild. There was no money in the city because everyone had what he or she wanted when they wanted it. People were having sex on the streets, others watched. Bodies lay in the streets.
These were only a few of the things that the scouts recollected when they returned, if they returned, from their expeditions into the world outside Harrison. Many places had remained unaffected though they were cut off from the world and knew very little of what was happening in the cities. Some scouts brought back bad news others brought back those who wanted to avoid the temptation. The township grew larger and larger. People began to talk about what was happening. The grounds at Frog Hollow were over run with tents and camper vans and they were spilling over into the streets. The people in the camp on the other side of the township had begun to erect semi permanent housing and people began to create a habitual routine for standard survival.
People pitched in to do what they could- those with any speciality or teaching ability led the new schools established for the people from out of town (as there was no room left in the regular schools). The already reputable farms were manned with extra people in expectation of growth in the future seasons. New farms were created for the same future cultivations.
A group had formed a makeshift council by town consensus that was there to create harmony amongst the different levels of the new society. Everyone worked well together to try and create a microcosm of the world that they wished they lived in.
The one thing that had not been established was protection against what was to come. The township hoped that the feeling of security that they felt within the confines of the ever-expanding Harrison would last forever, that they would not have to think of the outside world. The preponderance of the populace was content to leave the outside world where it was and attend to new comers.
We were however less positive about the protection of Harrison. We knew that we must learn what it was that was holding fort in Harrison before it was too late. I was still struggling with the feeling of unease that had come with the dream trying desperately to quash the belief that Mr. Rubenstein was in some manner involved with the dismay that was taking place. I refused to believe it but was left with a niggling sensation. James and I kept my dream quiet while I tried to alleviate Mr. Rubenstein of the volume that he was studying only to find that he was a light sleeper. I remain awake in our bed the nights that we spent together awaiting the signs of sleep only to awaken him with any slight movement that I made. One night I even had the gumption to wander around the room in a state of aggravation contending that I had dreamt of some form of surveillance taking place in his room. Mr. Rubenstein insisted that it was but a mere dream to which I responded that in this state of affairs even dreams needed to be heeded. In my search for surveillance paraphernalia I found no vestige of the tome that I was searching for. I could feel my heart wrenching inside for a satisfactory answer to the situation that I found myself in. I felt like I was creating the biggest farce as I lay in his arms that night.

The next morning we were visited by Annabel, which seemed to have become a normal occurrence. She seemed to believe that we were as accepting of her as she would like us to be, though neither James nor myself were of the constitution that we could tell someone to leave when they were infuriating us.
I know it wasn’t her alone but the entire situation that led me to have a partial breakdown. I couldn’t find the words that were in my head to express how I felt. I went home the morning that she came to find the house empty, my mother on another do-gooder trip. I switched off all the lights, closed the curtains and lay on the couch for respite only to find that the tears wouldn’t cease. I sobbed myself into oblivion that night. When my mother returned she found me asleep on the couch. I don’t think that she understood how difficult it was to be lobbed with such responsibility and to have to cope with normal social interactions as well. I don’t think anyone fully understood what we were up to despite the gossip that was forming around the streets. I don’t think even James knew how I was feeling and I sure didn’t let Mr. Rubenstein know. I felt completely alone. More alone than I have ever been before.
I don’t think even I knew how hard it was.
I dreamt of the angel again that night whose gentle touch and reassuring hug was all that I needed. She lay with me for a while until in my dreams I fell asleep.

The next morning I went to work like nothing had transpired. I even kept the dream a secret from James despite my utter confidence in him.
I held my aficionado’s hand while I felt that the equation was no longer making any sense. I had the job of finding the spell that would allow us to learn everything that we needed to comprehend to win the war. Upon searching I came across a secret that was kept even from the pages of The Truth.
As I was examining the hangings of the ground floor (in the belief that Miles Redwood had somehow hidden a cryptic clue in something that was in plain view) I found a loose tile at the corner of the ballroom floor. It was a strategically placed tile in the further recess of the room under a side table that had remained in place for many aeons. I lifted it to discover a steel box locked with a common padlock. I replaced the tile and stole off to my home where I locked myself in and beat the welding off the case. Inside I found a mauve sheet of paper on which was scrawled in a delicate hand a note of apology.
This morning when I returned from my ‘walk’ to the detective’s home I for the first time realized what it was that we were involved in. I was not prepared to surrender my daughter for any cause, to no man. I know that it will not be long before they realize that it was me that committed such a horrendous crime so I have taken it upon myself to bring this all to an end. I have employed the assistance of a spirit (whose name I will take to the grave to keep anyone from destroying what I have done) to bring some harmony to this area. I know that it is here in Harrison that The Voice of the Truth are at their strongest and it is from here that I wish for them to be expelled. With the help of this benevolent spirit we have secured Harrison as a Belial free zone, an area where he is unable to travel.
Alone I would not be able to do this and the spirit assures me that this will last many years to come, though not forever. When the war begins (which may be soon as they are preparing for it now in the dungeon) the spirits powers may weaken, and perhaps even be taken completely. Once this happens the barriers will begin to fade until they are gone altogether. It is then that Harrison will once again become vulnerable to the wiles of Belial and his slaves.
I will search for a way to keep this power up longer, though I know that I am but a mere mortal with many great sins upon me. I will understand if I am never forgive but at least I will spend an eternity knowing that I tried to stop The Voice of the Truth.
With this I leave the one charm that I found would protect the wearer from any intrusions that The Voice of the Truth may have planned for them.
I hope this letter finds a soul that is willing to fight. I know that with the restrictions that have been placed on Harrison The Voice of the Truth are considering relocating until they are free to return. I have only one other plan for these people and may I please be forgiven for the action that I am about to take. I know that by ridding the people that are currently here I will not be erasing the entire history of The Voice of the Truth but I will find it easier to expel those that are left. Oh pray that this works.
I do not regret a thing that I have done since my awakening. If you ever see my daughter please tell her that I love her and I did this for her. I hope that she will understand.
Many hopes are rested on your shoulder,
Lila Lowe.
It help that I knew how and why my adversary was restricted from access at this current time but it hurt to know that eventually they would be able to return.
That evening I told James what I found and knew that we were to keep it a secret from Mr, Rubenstein. I felt immense guilt at the secrecy that we kept from him but we had learnt to trust no one but each other. It was that night that James trusted me with the one thing that he vowed never to tell anyone.

CHAPTER 27
Master Benjamin Thackery sat at the head of the table and surveyed his crew as they ate their meal. He saw no signs of tension or fear amongst them, which pleased him. He waited until they finished their meals and were sufficiently inebriated before leaving the table and returning to his chambers in the penthouse. He was still ill at ease at the escape of the 2 from Harrison and the knowledge that Belial himself was still inadequate in detecting these sorts of intruders. What worried him most was that the people were willing to send in people to survey the damage that had happened. He knew there would be resistance but they were showing more nous than anyone had expected.
He could feel Belial’s presence before he actually saw the spirit standing in the room. Something about his appearance displeased Master Thackery as he turned to face his superior.
“I see disillusionment in you.” Belial stated as a matter of fact. Master Thackery knew that there was nothing to hide from him and nodded his head solemnly. “We don’t need a leader who does not believe that he can win at such an important moment as this Benjamin. Am I to assume that you are suffering from such cynicism so as to make you fail in your charge?” Benjamin jumped to his feet.
“Never!” he almost shouted; “I still believe that we will win this battle, but I suspect that it will be much more difficult that we had first planned. We have so many good men that will fall. It means that we need more men to take their place here.”
“Never worry Benjamin, we are spreading our boundaries tomorrow into the neighbouring cities and there will find many willing advocates who will help when the rest are gone. I can also feel the weakening of the impediment and we will soon enter Harrison and from there it will be easy going. Conversely I am not so sure about you. Am I to give you my trust?”
“Of course, Sir, I will not fail you. Perhaps it is the alcohol.”

On the first floor of the hotel lay Annabel with her arms covering her eyes. She held the pendant that her mother had given her for protection when she left her in the care of strangers many years ago. Her face would be barely recognisable to the people of Harrison as she lay on her bed in her natural form as she had aged many years since her mother had taken her. She knew that returning in the form of her younger self had been a danger to begin with but no one had seen the similarities. She felt that perhaps it meant that they were not searching for a way out as was supposed until the day she had learned that the 2 had left for the city.
A part of her felt bad for this betrayal against her mother but she knew that once it was over she would be reunited with her parents and spend an eternity with them by her side, though this time it would be her that would be in command.
She fingered the green stone that was embedded in the silver pendant and wondered why Belial had so often shied away from the sight of it. At times she wondered if he would like to have her give it up in his favour though he never asked and she never offered. It was the last thing that she had remaining of her mother and the memory of her insisting that she never be parted with it. She often wondered if she would surrender it if asked.
She laid in the middle of the perfect king sized bed drinking scotch directly from the bottle wondering about the world she had been spying on for The Voice of the Truth. She saw no harm coming from Harrison except that it was where the non-believers went to avoid the wrath that was sure to come upon them. Annabel didn’t understand why they just didn’t allow the people to have their space and take the rest. A small town was nothing compared to the rest of the world.
Then she thought about James and how happy he was to be able to venture out into the small world that he had helped create and maintain by hindering the efforts of the other demons, which in turn we relieved of their duties upon failure to complete their tasks satisfactorily.
A branch in her heart wanted to return to Harrison the next day and never return but she knew that it would be the ultimate betrayal and she would pay for it with an eternity of terror. Her mother would always be at an arms reach.
She slowly drifted off into sleep where her dreams with filled with intoxicated dreams of her mother calling out to her from the grounds of Frog Hollow. She tried to chase her but kept tripping over the cords that held the tents up. “You’ll never be able to reach me” was the chant that stemmed from her mothers mouth; “unless you stray from the path.”
She awoke the next morning with a terrible hang over that caused her head to throb. She was summoned to the penthouse where she was administered a dose of the most repulsive hang over cure she had ever tasted and given her orders to return to Harrison where she was to gather more information on what they had gathered. She knew that her task involved getting closer to Mr. Rubenstein as she knew he held a key ingredient that the others knew nothing of and the procuring from him the information that they had gathered.
Annabel also knew that by doing this she would be alienating the girl who she saw as the biggest threat to that cause. Something about her resoluteness scared the wits out of Annabel. Something about the way in which she seemed to be able to know if there was something wrong going on.

CHAPTER 28
Last night I did something atrocious. I know that there is no pretext for what I have done, but I didn’t really put any forethought into it. It just happened.
Father and I were in his library and we began deliberating the merits of the book he had given me earlier to study. I insisted that it was the most ridiculous thing that I had ever read and quite blasphemous. “That’s what your damned mother said.”
It really hurt to hear him say anything in regard to her as he had completely dismissed her passing as though it was a mere inconvenience to deal with the essentials. Things have gotten quite bad since she departed as he rarely lets me out of his sight. On the night of her funeral (which I was banned from attending) he insisted that we spent the night in his study researching the properties of natural gems. I was horrified. Then yesterday. Oh how dare he not allow me to lament the death of my own mother!
I asked him what he had done when she had rejected his newfound religion and he said nothing, but she got what she deserved. I could not contain my anger and let loose with one mighty blow rendering him unconscious. I ran to the telephone and attempted to dial emergency only to realize that I didn’t know the number! How asinine is that. Years of seclusion only to be left in the lurch.
I grabbed father to take him outside and call for help but as we came to the door I became conscious of the fact that he was not breathing. I lay him down on the floor and returned to library where the phone was. I searched the phone book and came across the relevant numbers and dialled for help.
By the time the authorities arrived I had broken down into a mass of horrific sobs that would shame any male in the manuscripts that I have read. I held nothing back and told the authorities exactly what had happened.
When the detectives arrived I heard the officer explaining the situation; “He has been kept here for all his life. It was an accident and I don’t think it would achieve anything to take him from one prison to another. Nor to allow anyone outside of this house to know what happened. He needs a chance to have a life.”
I had at times thought of my house as a cell, though it had not occurred to me that others would see it this way. My parents has insisted that others would believe that I was living a life of luxury that anyone would be envious of.
When the papers arrived this morning we made front-page news and a dedicated section on the third page outlining the situation, though assuming that I was not directly involved, or rather involved all together. I do not understand why it is that these people want to save me from this transgression that I have made. I guess I will never understand. I do not understand anything. I am book learned, yes, but when faced with a person face to face and the need to deal with raw emotions and the sentiments of humanity I am mystified. I appreciate none of it.
I haven’t moved from this room for the entire day except to answer the door and usher the detectives through the house. One man confused me though. He said his name was Maxwell Grimm. He seemed to know nothing of the incident and was a little too curious about the surrounds. He even hinted at The Voice of the Truth once or twice indicating that he thought perhaps my father was involved with them.
I assured him that I had no idea what he was talking about and that my father was a good Christian man. But I still have reservations regarding this sect that my father had become so fanatical about.

The officer that first arrived here on the night of my father’s death (Jason Franks) just came with some information. According to the reports made by the coroner the injury that my father sustained was unlikely to have caused my fathers death, it was only a precursor to the sudden stroke that came from the shock it was caused. The officer informed me that they are going to continue the investigation as per the request of the judge in the case that assumes that to end it here would lead to ‘revelations’ of a conspiracy.
A conspiracy, I thought that there already was one. Mr. Franks has been visiting me since the day it happened. I don’t understand his generosity. He asks no question of me rather tells me other the things that I have been missing. He comes because of the skirmish but stays because of me. He could be no older than the girl across the road (who I assume is my age, though I have no idea in regards to this matter- mother often gave me gifts on October 24 though she made no fuss and insisted that I keep it from father) and appears to be acting as a surrogate brother. I respond very little so he just sits and discusses the case and things that are happening in the outside world. His visits were daily though have become every third of so day. I believe that if things go the way they are he will give up on me and stop coming. I don’t really want that but I don’t know what to say.
I started going through father’s library today as it has always lingered on the edge of my conscious as an unexplored domain, almost as great as the street beyond the front gate. I found some interesting things on the subject matter of the occult and all things spiritual. I had seen some before though these were much more in depth on the issue and rather frightening. I believe that these have something to do with The Voice of the Truth which father was trying to convert mother and myself to. I comprehend why she was frightened now.
There is one other thing that I found when I was cleaning out my parents’ bedroom (incongruously I have never been further than the door in relation to that room) and I found a journal. My mothers. Certainly I am curious as to what is in it but I fear that by reading and finishing it I will be leaving all of her behind, it will be the final remnant of her in this world. I grieve for her still.

CHAPTER 29
It was hard to here this from James because I did not want the impression of him being the most pure human on the face of the earth ruined, though it made him seem more human. Every human has one deficiency, why not our perfect and wholesome James?
We never told anyone, and in fact I was the only person to have read James’ records. We began to keep a lot of the things that we were learning from Mr. Rubenstein. That didn’t meant that I was falling for him any less, rather trust was a major issue. This may be of little consequence to the tale but issue was a big problem for me. Once a man who I loved dearly proposed to me and when he did I walked away from him. The next morning he asked why and I told him that I did not trust myself not to let the ennui settle in and cheat on him to which he responded; “I don’t think that you trust me not to get jaded and cheat on you.”
His rejoin failed to flummox me as deep inside I knew that was the case. I just didn’t trust anyone- except James. And I suspect that this is what I was feeling with Mr. Rubenstein, that and the dreams. Dreams kept coming. My angel appeared most nights that I was away from Frog Hollow and sleeping in my own bed (where I was inclined to sleep much better) and giving me indications of things that I needed to know. “We don’t know everything that goes on here and I have very little time to come back and teach you, that is why you must find the spell yourself.” She would become fearful of something and vanish. She informed me that the world I travelled to in my sleep was unlike many others and not confined to the area in which I resided. She was apprehensive that Belial would one day realize that there was someone inside of Harrison that he could penetrate prior to the fall of the barricade, but something was protecting me.
I had a feeling that perhaps it was James but when I approached him about it he insisted that he could not have interfered with my mind unless I had specifically agreed to it, which I had not. It was a while before I realized that it was the pendant that I had found which was protecting me.

On my search through the house for the incantation that would provide us with the ability to learn everything and retain this knowledge led me to some amazing discoveries. In one of the canvases in the main hall, which dated back to long before humans had begun the process of globalisation, I found an encrypted message detailing the necessary invocation for the capacity to see the past.
The most amazing things that I found were the belongings that the itinerants had bought with them. Many had salvaged photographs, others jewellery and material possessions. It was mesmerizing to see what people prized most from their lives. I saw families that loved each other beyond anything else in the cosmos, strength to evade the perils of instant gratification. I saw the potency of individual faith that bough everyone together.
I never told anyone outside what it was that I was searching for, explaining that I was appraising the house for potential opportunities for expansion when the spiral ceased. I doubt that anyone actually believed me, though no one questioned my motives- except Annabel.
She would return spasmodically to Frog Hollow elucidating that she wanted to know more that was going and therefore travelled out into the world to see what was going on.
James and myself tried to summon Caim to assist us in revealing the truth of what she was arranging but he refused to come to our assistance. Fear had transmogrified all spirits into frightened children.
Annabel was beginning to grate on me. She was like the friend who was always there but yo could never trust. Someone that you wanted hug and reveal all your secrets to, but something kept holding you back. If I had not distrusted her so greatly I dare say we could have become great friends, friends that out lasted all other friendships. But I just couldn’t trust anyone, and I felt that there was more reason for it with her.
One wintry afternoon when the masses were huddled against the weather in the manor or together in their tents or caravans Annabel and I took a constitutional around the garden extremities. She was a woman of average height and a little over weight with naturally dark hair cut short in the tradition of Felicity. On this particular occasion she was clad in non descript black winter clothing that could have blended her easily into the crowd. We said nothing as we walked. I never said anything when I saw the pendant that she adjusted between her middle and forefingers. We just kept on walking in silence listening to the rain as it fell on the grounds around us.

That same evening there was a general assembly held at Alice Gardens. The crowd extended into the streets as they milled around to find out what was happening. We were informed by the Ennead that all scouts that were going to return had done so and only four had fallen victim to the ‘intolerable cruelty that is going on outside the cit limits’. He then began to welcome the new comers (as more and more towns were beginning to be duped by the ever-expanding Voice. Fewer people were vacating at the right time and supplementary amounts were being fed what they wanted to hear.
“But there is one thing that we really want to discuss tonight.” Former Mayor Joyce Withers announced; “And I think you all know what it is. People have been flocking to this town because of the belief that we are free from what is going on and as it appears so we are. Most of us know that there are a few people at work trying to understand what IS going on and how to stop it but they are keeping the rest of us in the dark. I think you know who I am talking about.” Oh how I wanted to sink into the mud at that very moment. It had been easier when there were no expectations and if we had failed no one had been any the wiser. We had not wanted people to expect us to move along quicker than we were or hinder us with their assistance.
I could feel Mr. Rubenstein’s hands on my shoulders impelling me towards the stand where Joyce beckoned us. It was at once reassuring and terrifying. I could see the utter terror in James’ eyes as he trudged towards his destiny. It had not been long since he had been introduced into the world and I was vacillating about whether he would be able to stand the pressure. He was to prove me wrong.
Adrenaline took over and he stood in front of the great crowd and began to speak. I felt like a mother watching her child giving their first performance.
“There is too much to what is going on to relate to you all at the particular moment as this has been centuries- millenniums even- in the making. To begin with I will introduce you to Mr. Rubenstein and Sylvia who are equally responsible for the information we have thus far unearthed regarding this current cataclysm. Former members of Harrison will perhaps recognize her and everyone else will be well acquainted with the persona of Mr. Rubenstein who has for many years been the face of terrible scuttlebutt in the tabloids.”
“Whatever you have heard of this trio in the past I urge you to disregard.” Joyce interrupted. “As we can see what has happened in the past is of no regard in this matter and we believe that they are our greatest hope.” I felt the bile rise in my throat as she placed us on a plinth that we were likely to descend from in the near future. The worse I felt the harder Mr. Rubenstein gripped my hand. “For now I would like you to explain the essential matters involved in this catastrophe as you know it. Then later we will discuss any further action that we can assist you with.” Mr. Rubenstein gestured for calm as the murmur of the crowd began to develop into a roar. I stood facing the people I had grown up around, my friends perched somewhere towards the middle of the crowd scrutinising and defiling my every move, though appreciating me at the same time. Anger took to them easily at me not including them in crusade, though they knew that if we had offered they would have feigned ignorance to avoid such an arduous task.
“It all began many centuries ago when a fallen angel by the name of Belial found his position in the world of spirits a too demeaning and began an attempt to dominate the underworld. He knew that if he were to be successful he must take his time and avoid any conspicuous signs so as to prevent his own demise.” So began James in his concise version of the circumstances. “He granted power and knowledge to the people who sacrificed the things nearest and dearest to them and in exchange for utter devotion he promised them everything they ever desired and an eternity by his side. Little did they know that this eternity would be one of servitude.
“These men whom he gave to formed a faction called “The Voice of the Truth” and through most of their history have resided in this area using Frog Hollow (or Winifred Hall as it was called prior to my family’s relocation) as their base. We are as of yet to understand what it is in this area that they are so interested in.
This sect continued to be a relative covert operation as one of the rules upon entrance was to acknowledge the sanctity of The Voice of the Truth. Anyone to be found having second or traitorous thoughts were immediately dealt with in a manner that most would retort at the thought of. Our esteemed President John Boyah was one such victim. Even Alice Redwood fell victim to these treacherous people, though she was never a member of the group. She was the loving mother of one of the former Masters (that is the person who heads the group) and when he presented to her the inner workings of The Voice of the Truth and a chance to be a part she demurred the opportunity, only to be taken down by them.” The crowd were sitting in stunned silence. I scanned whom I could for their reactions, observing any who reacted apathetically or those who were exaggerated their disbelief. Annabel belonged to the former. I could see from her eyes that she knew we had known her position from the beginning.
“Not long after the elimination of President Boyah at the hands of Master John Lowe a detective was offered something to push the matter aside. Unable to abide by this sacrifice Mrs. Lila Lowe took matters into her own hands and removed around 70% of The Voice of the Truth through poisoning and issued an enchantment banishing Belial from entering Harrison. That is why for this moment we are safe from the destruction. Though it may not last much longer.” It was during this element of the dialogue that my qualms concerning Annabel were confirmed. She became instantaneously alert at mention of the Lowe’s and grief stricken at the revelation of her mother’s contribution in the demise of The Voice of the Truth. I was so busy heeding her reactions that I missed the anger that was brewing in Mr. Rubenstein at the discovery that we had been keeping matters of importance from him. It wasn’t until his grip on my arm became so excruciating that I turned to see the ire in his expression.
“This far we have learnt little. The spirits that have remained are in hiding and are often reluctant to assist us lest they be caught and perish at the hands of Belial and his mob. We have seen that many times the structure of The Voice of the Truth has failed due to the fallibility of individuals, though they are increasing in numbers twice as fast as we are and the spell is beginning to fail.
“We have been informed by a certain spirit (who desires to remain anonymous) that there is a way to beat this end of the world but there is never enough time to give her the information so we have been on a search for a certain spell that will give us the knowledge to defeat our nemesis.” I could feel the breath catch in Mr. Rubenstein at the mention of my involvement with a seraph that he had been kept in the dark about. “We are as of yet to find any remnants of this spell but feel that we are getting closer to it. When we do we will be granting this knowledge to those that we trust, and I am sorry to say that is very few people. In Sylvia’s case it is no one.” The people that knew me laughed at this, except Mr. Rubenstein. “That is all the information that we can give you at this moment. Only the advice that you have consequently done the honourable thing by declining offers made to you and to continue to stand against this monster. Only by staying strong will we be able to defeat him.”

CHAPTER 30
After the meeting had come to an end I returned with James and Mr. Rubenstein to Frog Hollow where he confronted us about out deceit moments within entering the library.
“Why have you been keeping such vital information from me?” he bellowed at us.
“You’re keeping something from me.” I stated as a matter of fact. I wasn’t sure at that particular moment whether it was anger or hurt that was more predominant in his expression but I knew that I felt awful. I looked in his eyes and attempted to look resolute as he sunk into a chair.
“What in hell am I keeping from you?” he demanded.
“That journal that you keep reading, the one that you were sitting at the sill reading the night I woke. It appears that I can never find it and you have never proffered it to us for examination.”
“It is in my damned bag.” He said indicating towards the black bag he carried everywhere with him. “It is just Grosser’s journal. Get it.” I went to the bag and retrieved the book that I had seen him with that night. I was certain that it was the same one. “Why didn’t you just ask me about it?’ I could feel the hurt and I knew that it would be detrimental to our affiliation, however I believe that I did what was necessary.
“She never did say that you were hiding it. Now I feel bad.”
“Who?” Once again I could perceive the bitterness. I tried to approach him but he raised his hands defensively.
“The angel, the same one that presented herself to Miles Redwood.”
“And Grosser. We all know about her so why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? Who has she come to see?” A sudden wave of confusion reeled inside of me.
“Grosser?”
“Grosser’s journal. You’ve read it before haven’t you?” James became pale at this mention of Grosser. I looked in his direction as he too took a seat.
“I completely forgot that you mentioned that.” Things were starting to come together. I flipped through Grosser’s journal and noted immediately that it was in the same script as Miles Redwood’s journal. “Grosser must have found the journal and left The Voice of the Truth. I can’t believe I didn’t follow up on it.” Things began to make sense to us and I felt relief at knowing that Mr. Rubenstein was not hiding something from me, though fear at the knowledge that we could make such a simple mistake that could bring the whole thing down, and despair at the thought that Mr. Rubenstein would never forgive me for such immense lack of trust. We explained the entire situation to Mr. Rubenstein, including the dreams and the amulet.
“Why would this angel mislead you?” Mr. Rubenstein conjectured.
“I don’t think that she intentionally mislead me, perhaps she didn’t realize what it was that I was thinking. She is never available long enough to get anything out, and times are getting shorter and shorter.”
“Then what is it in this journal that we are meant to use? All it discusses are the dreams, some uses of precious stones and flora.” Mr. Rubenstein queried. I flicked through the book to see if any page caught my attention immediately although stood out. “You look through it. I think that you may have more idea of what it is that you are looking for.” With that he left the library. James and I sat in stunned silence staring at the leather cover of the journal.
“Do you think he’ll forgive us?” James thought allowed. I shrugged and began to read the journal.

That evening when the house was quite and I had tired of reading the diary I crept up to Mr. Rubenstein’s bedroom. I found him sitting in the dark by the window watching the lights move about in the camp. A fire had been built in the centre where people gathered if they were feeling forlorn or there was something to celebrate but at this moment it was absolutely still. He gave me a glance and returned to watching the scenery. I approached slowly afraid that any sudden move would send him into a tangent from which we would never survive. I sat beside him and watch the illuminations for a few minutes.
“How are we supposed to do this when you can’t even trust me.” He whispered into the darkness. His strong features were elucidated in the light of the moon that shone through the clouds. I felt absolute pity for myself for destroying something that had been authentic. I lent into his hand as he caressed my face and I began to cry. A part of him had already forgiven me as he picked me up and carried me to the bed where we spent the night in each other’s embrace.

In the middle of the night I awoke from a dreamless kip with an insight of where we were to locate the spell. I capered out of the bed, shook Mr. Rubenstein awake and ran to James’ room. In the library I explained my breakthrough.
“It’s encrypted in the journal itself! My mind must have been working over every word that we had seen in the journal when I realized that in each paragraph there are certain words that don’t seem to belong. They are very subtle so as not to grab attention however when every excruciating detail is being taken note of it comes to light.” I pointed out what I saw in several of the paragraphs.
“You’re very perspicacious, my dear. I have been studying that for many years and it had never occurred to me.” He tendered the journal back to me after a hasty study and placed a kind kiss on my brow. “I think that we should leave it with you.” James nodded in agreement.
“Until morning then.” We all agreed and went tried to sleep for the remainder of the night. I don’t know what James did but Mr. Rubenstein and myself lay talking eagerly for the night about our lives. He told me of how he had grown up with a father that was a swindler who had taught him how to make a living by defrauding others. He made it no excuse for his behaviour, he knew what he was doing was immoral. He didn’t want forgiveness for it either. He had an absentee mother and no siblings. I told him of my rather plain existence with normal caring parents and average grades. The worst that had happened to me was a close call with alcoholism to relieve the blandness of every day living and the death of Joseph.
“Would you have married him?” he asked. I doubted it. We were childhood sweethearts, all each other had known all our lives. I did love him, sure. He was my best friend but we would have grown apart over time. It didn’t make his passing any easier. It is always grim to lose a friend.

The next morning we met with James who appeared well rested and fervent for the task at hand. We knew that it would not be instantaneous gratification that would be found in the performing of the incantation, it was just the beginning of a learning process that would lead to us understanding what it would require to win the war.
We heard news of the outside world through new comers. Squalls were destroying towns in one fell swoop. Fires were ravaging the northern section of the country, looters ransacking the rest. Those who had not fallen or not been approached by the members of The Voice of the Truth or Belial were starting to lose the stratagem for survival. Others were falling at the hands of the members themselves. It was like the early 1950’s- it seemed if you wanted to kill someone you just did it.
No news as yet had come of how large the army itself was or the activities of Master Benjamin Thackery or his henchmen. All we knew was that a census was soon needed to be taken so as to know the details of our own army, so we could assume the skills that we had in attendance.
We set about implementing the spell that I had spent the morning working on while Mr. Rubenstein showered (“it may be the last shower we can have in a while” he insisted). Once I had acknowledged the pattern it was straightforward to decode. We proceeded with the spell (which I will not narrate to you for security reasons- we even made the journal insolvent and encrypted it elsewhere following the way to protect it from any future decimation). I had resolved to have faith Mr. Rubenstein and we all consequently partook and received the same product from the spell. We were all endowed with great memories. Whoever said knowledge is power probably participated of this same enchantment.
We spent several days without sleep and distraction studying what we could from the library and the basement. We learnt all spells available to us without the conjuration of spirits. We understood the beneficial and malevolent applications of all things known to man. But we knew it wasn’t all- we were human after all.

CHAPTER 31
Annabel stood on the outskirts of the camp surveying the migrators who had flocked to Harrison for protection from the likes of her. In Harrison she was unable to participate in any wrongdoing and it was all because of her mother, the mother that she had spent years despising for giving her up. Her hatred was more intense now than ever before because she gave her love to these people for all these years and never bestowed and ounce upon her in the last 30 years.
But she wasn’t sure if it was love and appreciation that she felt for Master Thackery for caring for her either since the death of her father 14 years prior to now. She wandered around the fringe watching the mothers playing with their children, the fathers kissing the mothers and the happy families.
Eventually she found herself heading towards the manor. There she believed she would find the resolution to the quandary she was in. As she wandered into the library an alarm was raised to inform its patrons of an intruders presence. The knowledge that even to these people who occupied the home she was meant to grow up in she was a stranger made her feel callow with the entire predicament.
She watched as Sylvia drowsily opened her eyes and said ‘stop’ which caused the alarm to cease. They all looked at her through eyes that were fighting to stay open and James indicated that she could take a seat. She watched James and Mr. Rubenstein watch her as she watched Sylvia fell asleep. James mumbled something incoherently.
As Annabel took in the scene she noticed that there were more books than usual strewn across the room, little thought given to the order that they were in. A sense of reassurance swept over her that for the moment they had not discovered what it was that they were searching for.
Sylvia suddenly jumped with a start and looked at Annabel.
“Gee, I thought that I was dreaming. Or am I? Eh.” With that she slid back into Mr. Rubenstein’s embrace and a deep sleep. James continued to look at her while Mr. Rubenstein drifted off too. She could see that despite the appearance of alertness James’ brain was still asleep.
“I’ll come back in the morning.” Annabel said. She didn’t understand why but she had every intention of going back.

The next morning when Annabel returned to Frog Manor there was a large breakfast being attended by all that desired to attend in the garden under a magnificent marquee that had not been there the day before. Sylvia noticed her entrance and beckoned her to sit by her side. Confused Annabel obeyed. The sat and talked amongst them all, discussing subjects that considering the circumstances seemed inane. But they were happy and Annabel was a part of it.
She related tales to them that were fitting and unlikely to reveal her heritage and listened to others reveal their darkest secrets which now seemed trivial. The conversation eventually turned to the offers that they had been give. Some declined to answer (though everyone felt safe in the knowledge that these people had rejected the opportunity ergo they were not a threat) some gave glorious details of the vision that they were approached with. All were glad that they had discarded their dreams in favour of eternity.
Breakfast turned into lunch and lunch into a giant siesta. The early part of the cool afternoon most people spent asleep in their accommodation while Annabel followed the trio into the library.

They sat in anticipatory silence as Sylvia left the room to retrieve something for Annabel. She could see a profound difference in the people she sat in the room for, but she couldn’t place what it was. They seemed happier to her, but so did everyone else after the morning meal.
Sylvia returned with an envelope in her hands that she appeared to handle rather delicately. She walked directly to Annabel and placed her hand inside of her shirt to retrieve the pendant that was suspended around her neck. Annabel recoiled taking the pendant with her. As she did so Sylvia produced an identical pendant much to her surprise. She sat flabbergasted beside James on the couch staring at the jewellery that was hanging between her fingers. Once again she approached and reached for the one that adorned Annabel.
“My mother gave it to me when she left me.” Annabel stammered.
“I know.” She handed Annabel the note that she had carried in with her. They scrutinized her guardedly as their adversary burst into uncontrollable sobs, gasping for air as she read the missive her mother left her before departing from her life.
“This is a load of bullshit.” She squealed as she threw the letter towards Sylvia and them proceeded to collapse into James’ arms. Sylvia sat beside her and explained the situation, from her mother’s involvement and her refusal to sacrifice her daughter for the cause.
“For the cause you are a part of Annabel.” Mr. Rubenstein announced. They left the room and allowed her to view the tape a propos the interview with Detective Marrow. They waited outside the door listening to the tape play and allowed her an extra five minutes to digest the situation before re-entering the room. She was perched precariously on the desk chair staring at the image of her mother, an image that she had never seen. The tears remained brimming to the edge awaiting any change to set her off.
“She knew the rules when she entered The Voice of the Truth. If she hadn’t she would not have joined.” Annabel tried to reason.
“If she had of declined she would have met her end immediately. It was your father’s choice to inform her about The Voice of the Truth and therefore only giving her 2 choices- to die or to submit.
“That doesn’t mean that I think that you mother made the right choice and she could have chosen to give herself up in aide of the others. And that is exactly what she did for you.” James informed her.
“I knew what was involved before I became a member.”
“You were a member from birth, Annabel, you never had a choice. If it weren’t for the consequences would you have stayed there all this time?”
“It is all I know.” A part of Sylvia still didn’t trust Annabel and therefore they kept their shenanigans a secret from her. She was right, The Voice of the Truth was all she had ever known and she had to make the decision to betray them or continue on with her mission. It was like betraying family.

CHAPTER 32
Master Benjamin Thackery stood at the podium watching the congregation rally themselves into frenzy. He raised his hands to calm the mass and listened as the silence spread through the multitude. They were an unruly lot despite their clean cut good looks everyone wanted to look good) and their clothes that only the well-to-do could afford. Now they were all affluent. It didn’t mean that they could save their souls.
“Today comrades, we must begin preparing for the crusade ahead. Alas I can see the despair on your faces. You accepted the terms of your eternal happiness and now you must begin to fulfil your part of the agreement.” A few faces in the crowd paled, some tried to slink backwards without being noticed.
Kevin Foster was one who finally realized what it was that he had become contracted to. When Belial had spoken to him they were walking along a garden path and no one stared- something that had not happened since he had been caught in the fire. His face was free of scars and he was able to lead a normal life. But he had begun to wonder if he had a right to this happiness. He wondered if there was a way out. He knew there wasn’t for his soul because he had witnessed and participated in many damnable crimes since he had accepted the offer, but he wanted to save what trace of decency he had left.
Regrettably for him Belial was amidst the crowd and could hear each though being made by his men. Those who strayed would be punished.
“Friends! Fear not! You have chosen the right path. For mow let me introduce you to the men whose orders you must obey to the letter.” He pointed out each man as they came forward. “The time is near. The barrier is beginning to fade and we will soon be able to enter the territory that has thus far been denied us. We will be able to go home!” A roar shook the room as they cheered at the acknowledgement of their future. “Tomorrow we will begin the true arrangements. To conquer them on a spiritual level we must initially beat them down physically. They will have their defensive spells in place and consequently our warfare must be fast and brutal. We will be unable to use any magic to win. That is why you must prepare yourselves for the battle.
“We will provide you with the weapons that we have been able to secure. Regrettably for us one person who could have provided us with the weapons of annihilation opted for the quick way out and therefore denying us the opportunity for a quick and straightforward war. Who would have thought that someone who created these weapons would fail to use them when they were most needed.” A small chuckle ran through the crowd. “Tomorrow you will become soldiers.

CHAPTER 33
We arranged a town meeting for the very next day when we were to announce our preparations for the future. We had sent a scout on a mission to Harbour Town from where he reported, before his unfortunate demise, that they were preparing for a bloodbath. We ourselves had not been provided with such weapons, though we believe that ours were of much greater strength.
As we spoke to the crowd (from which Annabel was denied access as we were still unsure of her involvement) we gave them the low-down.
“We have discovered the spell which has allowed us to learn everything that we need, though the absence of teachers has left us a little short. We have also learnt that they are preparing for warfare. Despite the fact that we do not wish to abide by the use of violence it has come to pass that it will be unavoidable. Therefore we have prepared a surreptitious region where the children will be sheltered and supervised by those who are unable, or unwilling, to participate in the defence. Through the use of magick we will be able to provide you with weapons and some spiritual defence, though we fear that they will be fighting us with their own.
“We have, with the aide of one soul created a barrier that will cease all magickal violence. This is the best that we are able to provide. I know it is regrettable that we could not keep them out forever, though this in itself would not be a means to an end. If we were to remain here forever then they would continue to ransack the world. We need to be able to provide a safe future where choice is still available without fear.
“This is the future we want and if we all work together the chance is that we may defeat them. We cannot say that many great people will fall, it is a war and every war is appalling. We need to remember that we are not on the offensive, rather the defensive, and not for ourselves but for the future.” Applause caused the room to quiver. I cannot say how terrifying it was to stand up there and rile a group up for war. But it had to be done.
We were lucky to have been provided with the ability to create weapons. It was the final lesson that the angel was able to provide us with as she was certain that to keep communicating would mean her demise, and her demise would mean that her knowledge and abilities would be transferred to Belial. Thus far he had only procured the demons from whom he could take knowledge and not the physical, and none had provided him with this knowledge. However they had the means to attain these weapons despite this.
One person questioned why we did not just create bigger weapons and destroy them all at once.
“Because we want to give them the chance to repent.” Mr. Rubenstein countered. ”When they come we will be prepared to offer them the chance to change sides. During the fracas there will be chance for them to fight against what they have chosen, make right some of the wrongs that they have committed. Perhaps save them from an eternity in hell.
“If you fall injured Belial will probably offer you a chance of survival by succumbing to him. I cannot stress enough the consequences of such action. Not only will you be required to fight against and condemn the people that you currently call friend but you will be condemning yourself.
“We must fight against desire.”

We provided each person with a weapon (and for our luck we could have unlimited ammunition- oh the luck!) and created a protection spell. James took the people unable and unwilling (and there were very few of the latter) and gathered up the children. He ushered them to the secret area that they had created and defended with the strongest power that they could must and left them to wait out the war.
We returned to the manor where we tried to summon more spirits to provide us with more information because we were lacking the one thing that we needed most- a way to destroy the evil himself. Or luck had gone missing as everyone refused their summoning for fear that they would be reached and destroyed as many had suffered in the last few decades leading up to this moment.

The same evening of the speech I spent sitting on the sill watching our army prepare themselves for something that they anticipated, or hoped, that they would never see in their lives- another war. They hoped that their children would never see it now some of them were involved in it.
Mr. Rubenstein sat behind me with his arms almost completely enveloping me. For the first time I felt real love in me. I felt someone feel real love for me. We watched the people, with James as their leader. We had contemplated giving the power to the mass as a whole but our fears that someone might be a mole made us search a different route.
“Who ever thought that we would be seeing this in Harrison. I remember the streets being peaceful and beautiful when I was a kid. Winifred Estate was nothing but a grand old manor that held some fantastic balls. We all hoped that we would one day be invited to one. Oddly I remember Annabel being the same age as me.” Mr. Rubenstein remarked.
“Perhaps eternally looking youthful was one of her desires, it sure would have been mine.” Something suddenly occurred to me. I turned to face my lover, his eyes pleading for a quick answer because he was tired and wanted to spend the night sleeping for fear that soon they would not be able to do so for long periods of time. “Do you remember what happened to Mrs. Lowe?” He shook his head. “The records that we have ended with the mass poisoning of The Voice of the Truth. There was no record of how, or if she was punished.”
“So? What use do you think that she would be?”
“Perhaps she would know how to end it all. Maybe in the time when the spirits were not so afraid to come forward someone confided in her. Or someone else.”
“She does seem to be the most likely of subjects though for her action towards the sect which probably pushed back the date of dominance some decades. Perhaps it would have left them weaker.”
“So how would we find out what happened to her?”

CHAPTER 34
We asked weapons expert Harley Hill (who had been offered the right to make all women he came into contact with obey his every whim) to take charge of the proceedings while we took care of matters at the local library. James studied the Harrison Weekly, I read The National and Mr. Rubenstein began with the hours of the town meetings.
We thought that it would be more advantageous to begin at the beginning, when Alice Redwood had hired people to begin taking records, to challenge anything that The Voice of the Truth may have left out on purpose that gossip had found.
They hadn’t, until their final demise in Harrison. James had finished the local paper long before I had come to the era of Master Lowe and his family so he began to work alongside me. And it was he that made the discovery that was to aide us in propelling into a world of truth.
“Does she look familiar?” James said as he pushed the whopping volume in our direction. We looked at the picture of a beautiful young wife standing by her husband greeting people as they arrived for the inauguration of the local mayor. I felt as though my heart was about to jump out of my body.

That evening after completing an entire study of all media documents in the local library (and scoured the books for anything we thought would give us more information that we required- though it was a small library barely comparable to that of the collections that I had seen over the last while) we returned to Frog Hollow. The entire manor and grounds were quiet as everyone slept. They had become warn out with all the preparation.
“Do you think this is really what we think it is? It could be a mistake. She could just be a sister. Everyone has a double.” We sat and thought this over though we all knew what we had seen.
“I can’t handle this. It can’t be real. In the morning I will wake up and this will have all been a terrible nightmare. My life was completely normal before you left that book on my doorstep.” Rage began to build in my core. “You knew. This is all your fault! Why didn’t you just leave me out of it.” I stormed out of the room followed by a concerned Mr. Rubenstein. I found myself curled into his arms in the dark where I sobbed myself to sleep. It was there that I had my last dream of the angel.
We stood at the front gate of Frog Hollow watching the stillness beyond the gates.
“They are as prepared as they are ever going to be. They all know what they are in for. Yes, they will be hurt by it- even if not physically. But they all know that it is for the right reasons. And they know it is close. Everyone can feel the lifting.”
“Why is it starting to lift now?”
“I think you already know the answer to that one my dear.”
“Then please just tell me. Tell me what I already know. Tell me why I never knew any of this before.” I wanted to cry but I was too angry to do anything but yell at her. I knew it was wrong because she was only there to help us. I was shooting the messenger and I felt bad about it. I just didn’t know what else to do.
“She’s dying. And once she does the spell will fall.”
“But can’t you stop that from happening.”
She shook her head despairingly.
“We know that she has done a lot of good in postponing this and leaving The Voice of the Truth, but she has done too much wrong to warrant eternal life. She doesn’t want to live forever. The people need to fight this battle eventually.” I stared at her in disbelief. “And there is no one around to stop it anyway. If he gets any more power then there will be no stopping him.” She indicated towards the shadows. When I looked back she was gone. I felt a sense of emptiness and let sleep come back.

I awoke that morning to Mr. Rubenstein’s watching me. He insisted that I had slept soundlessly and that was the problem, he was used to me thrashing and talking in my sleep. We made love and spent the whole day in bed not talking about the situation. We listened to the noise across the way and read to each other. We talked about the past (there was still so much we had to learn of each other) and slept.
The next morning we knew it was time to stop slacking and take some decisive action. When we heard the front door click and 2 sets of feet walking in the hallway.
The town had agreed to another meeting that evening and we knew that it would be the last we had before the war. We hoped that there would be many more to follow. No more scouts were being sent out and the army was beginning to form as close as they could get to Harrison. Our army had sent the strongest to face off with them. We knew that when the war came the front that held the longest would be the deciding factor. We knew that their army was bigger than ours, but we knew that ours was stronger.
A short, sharp rap came on the door and James entered with Annabel in tow. They had for the most part been inseparable since we had revealed to her the true nature of her mother’s refutation. Mr. Rubenstein and I rose and we discussed the situation over breakfast. James had informed Annabel of what we had found.
“I still don’t trust you.” I said to Annabel. They all stared at me but I knew that they all felt the same.
“And I don’t like you but we have to deal with that.” She retorted.
“No, we don’t.” Mr. Rubenstein defended me. “I know that everything that you have learnt will have come as a shock and that you think that you are standing for the right reasons, but how do we know that when faced with the people that have cared for you for your entire life that you won’t side with them in reaction to what you perceive to be a rejection by your mother.”
“I promise that I won’t. Why would I want to fight on the side of evil?” James faced her and she knew what was coming.
“I don’t think that we can be sure of that. Up until 2 days ago you were fighting for the enemy. They are your life. They are all that you remember. Not even you can be certain that you will not defend your family.” She started to cry and James held her. “For the record, is there anything that you remember of your mother?” he wiped the tears from her eyes.
“I remember her the night she left. There was a feast for my father’s friends and their wives. I now know that they were members of The Voice of the Truth. I wasn’t invited though I snuck a peek from the kitchen where they were preparing an epicurean feast that I was picking from.”
“ I remember quiet clearly mother walking in the kitchen after the meal had finished and dismissing the staff for the evening (as was apt to happen when a meeting was due to take place) and opening a bottle of wine. She was dressed in the most elegant evening gown. It was a latte colour with chocolate coloured flowers embroidered sparingly over the seam and becoming denser towards the hem. Had it been white it would have made the most magnificent bridal gown.
“She smiled at me as she collected the glasses eventually bending down to look me in the eyes. There was a magnificent happiness in them as she bent in to place a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘I love you’ she said, ruffled my hair, patted my butt and shuffled me off to bed. I felt loved.
“I don’t remember her coming in during the middle of the night and taking me away. I woke the next morning in a different room to be told that I was going to stay. It all felt like a nightmare. It was a nightmare now that I look at it.”
“How did you become re-involved with The Voice of the Truth again?” I asked, curious.
Father had not perished that night but he was forced to relocate. He spent the first many years concentrating on finding me rather than re-establishing The Voice of the Truth. I was protected from all sorts of spiritual hexes because of the pendant, but one day- and the only time ever- I took it off. Father was immediately alerted to my whereabouts and came to claim me.” We all sat and listened to the whine from the outside world. I didn’t know what to say to her. We hadn’t been paying attention to anything but the story and had completely missed the fact that mother had entered the room until she announced herself from the doorway.

CHAPTER 35
Master Benjamin Thackery stood on the balcony of his penthouse overlooking Harbour Town. He saw the crowds that had begun to gather at the base of the hotel waiting for his command. The obvious weak had been weeded out but he knew that it wasn’t until they were put to the test that they would really know who to had the stuff.
Most of them had nothing to live for anyway. They had committed so many damnable crimes that if they were to fail then they would be sternly disciplined for them. He wasn’t sure if they were the sort of people that he really wanted to rule over anyway when they won. He turned and returned to the room where Belial awaited him.
“They’re not all that bad. They’ll come in handy when it all ends for you anyway.” He stood and walked to the door. “It’s almost time. The blockade is almost down. Send out emissaries to gather the last of the army and head to Harrison.” With that he vanished into a cloud and dissipated.

Master Thackery surveyed the crowd. He saw a paedophile, a drug addict, a philanderer, and a homosexual. That was only the first line of the crowd he was faced with when arranging to send out emissaries to retrieve the rest of the army. He knew that there were much worse and hoped that in an effort to keep their freedom and desires they would fight well and with more brutality than the do-gooders would. They were a much more savage group.
“The northern part of the country is gone from the fires and the west is being ravaged by storms. These are the towns that you will be able to salvage people from.” He pointed out the cities where the delinquent had gathered for safety from the tumultuous conditions. He assigned each group of five to a specific area. It had appeared that certain groups would congregate in the same areas and therefore assigned those with similar tastes to the areas where they would find the like-minded people.
He watched as they headed out amongst the dark (he though how eerie it was that it happened at night- they had watched too many films before the war) and felt a shiver run down his spine. He had a feeling that someone, somewhere was talking about him, and not in very kind words.
“Go get Annabel for me.” He ordered Robert (whose passion was subordination, which suited Benjamin just fine). Robert returned 5 minutes later empty handed. “Where is she?” he demanded, his agitation showing. Robert shrugged his shoulder.
“She hasn’t returned since she took her last trip.” Benjamin Thackery felt no remorse when he knocked Robert out cold on the floor. He yelled for Belial to come to his assistance, to which he responded reluctantly.
“What is it?!” he demanded. “A few more days of peace before you buffoons take over my damned life and you want to interrupt it.” Master Thackery was taken aback by his master’s abruptness. He felt as though he had awakened a child from his afternoon nap. He took a moment to gather his wits “What?”
“Where is Annabel? She took a trip a few days ago to return with news for us and she has not returned. Has she been captured? Has she been killed on her return? What has become of Annabel?” he had so many questions that he wanted to ask. Suddenly it occurred to him. “Has she been going to Harrison?”
“So far as I know you dim wit. I cannot track her, remember. Something that her damned mother did to her keeps me from doing anything with her. The question is, how has she been able to get into Harrison in the first place, no one with my mark on their soul has been able to enter. If she is able to then there is something missing. She has gone awry.” Belial stated, his frustration with being disturbed being replaced with frustration at being backstabbed by someone so close to the cause. Thackery raised his finger to gesture for a moment’s silence (which in turn further angered Belial).
“I don’t think that she has ever been approached. We knew that she was affected by some hex, though we also assumed that she was a part of The Voice of the Truth because she had always been here and been a part. There was no need to approach her. Did you?”
he asked. Belial shook his head. “I assumed that it was because of her mother that she was still able to go to back to Harrison. Now it all makes sense.”
“Then perhaps she has been apprehended there. She may come in useful if you and we should send in someone to find her the moment that the barrier breaks. Send them in to bring her out and get any information before the first assault.” So the plan was decided.

CHAPTER 36
“Mother.” I said; “Sit down”. I indicated to the seat opposite from me. We sat in silence (which seemed to be a popular craze lately as we found that we had less and less that we wanted to discuss) and looked at my mother. She smiled warmly and placed a protective hand on top of mine.
How is it that you lot became the saviours of he planet?” she asked.
“I don’t know. You tell us.” Annabel retorted.

CHAPTER 37
A group of the survivors milled around the fire that was being utilized as an impromptu meeting are since the war began several months before. No one had planned to set it up; it just happened as it laid a little left of centre (when looking from the manor) and someone had already created a clearing. Someone had brought logs in though anyone you asked would say it wasn’t them. This evening people had been avoiding the subjects that were on the forefront of everyone’s minds. They preferred silence. They had been like that since arriving. They broached the subject with timidity or ran a complete circle, never touching base with it. Despite this it was in everyone’s minds, it was hard to avoid while camping out with the thousands of other survivors. Tonight was different. They could feel that the war was getting closer and some felt the need to vocalise their fears to quell the pain. Misery loves company.
“How do we know we are on the right side?” Harley Hill blurted aloud suddenly. “Really, how can we be sure that they aren’t lying to us and that out there is the world that we really should be living in.?” Everyone sat and contemplated the thought for a moment.
“Because we do.” An anonymous voice muttered in the darkness.
“Well I don’t know anything for certain except that I am missing out on having my dreams fulfilled in the hope that it will mean an eternity in peace.”
“Better to live in hope than fear.”
“Better to know what is going to happen then spend the rest of my life worrying that I made the wrong choice. Anyone with me?” They all shook their heads and watched as Harley left the camp and exited Harrison. No one spoke for the rest of the night and the slowly dribbled off into the camp where they spent the night wondering whether it was all going to be worth it in the end.

In Harbour Town the same circumstances were about to crop up, though in much more agreeable living quarters. A peck of men were sitting in the living room of Soldier Derek Armstrong drinking quality beer and avoiding the subject that they, and everyone else in the nation, were thinking about until one unthoughtful person brought it up.
“Are we on the right side?” It was laconic, sharp. No one had wanted to hear the question; they just wanted to remain ignorant. They tried to convince themselves if no one else thought about it then they must be on the right side. For someone to ask it meant that there was the mere possibility that they were on the wrong squad.
“I don’t think so. But what alternative do we have now?” Armstrong garbled.
“We could relinquish our stance. You know, go to the other side.” Josh Montoya said. Everyone contemplated the notion for a moment and Derek was the first to agree. “Let’s go.” They all rose quickly and gathered what they could. They realized too late that the floors below them were fiery pits and they were about to meet a blistering death.

Others sat in complete accord, knowing in them that the option that they had made was the right one. Some of those waiting outside the confines of Harrison and in Harbour Town all relished the fact that they thought soon no one would ever be able to tell them that they were making the wrong choices, that they could do what they wanted without any unforeseen consequences. Some knew what was coming for them when it all ended but wished the enemy dead so they could forget their destiny for a little while and pretend like it was never going to happen. Enjoy it while you got it was the general attitude.

In the township of Harrison people pulled together. Yoga, defence and religious classes were being led. Some, if not all except the few who were concerned about their choice, were wondering if there was a way to conciliate with the opponent. They’d prefer that to an all out war where innumerable people were apt to fall- and they didn’t even want to see that happen to the enemy. Though they know that to defend their way of life they would protect themselves with all force required.
Others relaxed so as to be fully prepared for the war as it come at them full force.
No one was not thinking about the confrontation that they were due to take part in. Even those sleeping were dreaming of it. Everyone was scared, but they tried to hide it.
Families gathered in the hiding area for the children, hoping that it would not be the last time that their children saw them (nor did they want to leave their children in a marsh of misdeed), partners made love trying to make it worthwhile for their other half, friends spent time together, children played. It was as though everyone had been asked what they would do if they had 24 hours left to live, and they were fulfilling these desires. All that mattered was the way that people were reacting to the whole thing.
Some people cried, others laughed. Some people went on, other could not. On the north side of town Sally Vajda sat in the cold and damp tent that had become her home for the last few months. She had left behind a mother who had wanted nothing more than her first born to return home to her, and sacrificed her for this cause. She felt completely alone- neither friends nor family had come with her. She had been offered the love and affection of many, including her family, but she knew that it would all be a façade, that the people she was being loved by were not real. She wanted to be loved by someone who didn’t have to be cursed to do so. She sat in the darkness and listened to The Voice of the Truths around. One by one she consumed each little green tablet from a bottle of pills she knew nothing of that she had swiped from the makeshift hospital on the other side of town. She followed the linctus with a bottle of vodka.. She didn’t want to fight, she didn’t want to live when it all come down. She wanted to end it all and avoid the conflict. She wanted to stop being alone.
Not far away on the same side of town Melissa Worth practise her defensive moves with friends she had been around for life. She wanted to protect the city that she grew up in, the city that was her home. They practiced as they discussed films they had loved and were certain that they would never see again. They didn’t care so long as they survived the war.
Christopher Rankle sat by the beach in Harbour Town enjoying the buzz from the hit he had just taken while sitting in full view with the sand in between his toes. He washed the blood off of his fingers as the tide ran up around him and watched the torso of Jane Ellison float away.
Warwick Mansfield watched the numerous family moments that had been caught on film prior to his wife taking their children and relocating to Harrison without him. He had just wanted a promotion, his wife just couldn’t understand that. Now they were in Harrison where he knew that he must destroy her and he had received a better promotion than he had ever thought.
Paris Maloney squirreled away in her pantry with what goods she could find in town and taken great care of producing in her back yard since the influx began. She had always known that though she chose to stay in Harrison she was not going to fight. She barricaded herself behind the basement doors so no one could get in when it all began. She refused to participate. So did many others.
They all made their choices. They all knew what they were getting into.

CHAPTER 38
While the crowds bustled with the noise of living around the city four people sat in silence across the road from Frog Hollow. I sat gripping Mr. Rubenstein’s like I was falling from a cliff. Never in my life had I been so angry as I was at that particular moment in time. I tried to avoid her glance by looking towards Annabel who was seething- and with good right. I knew I was angry, but I was never abandoned, just lied to about my heritage for my entire life. It made everything that we had ever done appear in a different light.
Mr. Rubenstein was a solid foundation that we all lent upon, waiting for him to voice our anger. He sat and stared ominously at her through a veil of composure. James looked solemn. He had loved his mother dearly and would not have known what to do if his mother had betrayed him. He felt the anger for us.
I understood why we were so irate, deception is always a troublesome affair, and the difficulty was the subject matter on which she had betrayed us. No one wanted to know that his or her mother was a murderous cow who had at one time opted to take the life of someone else to get what she wanted rather than just letting it all go- finding another way out.
We knew that it was difficult to leave The Voice of the Truth and no one had been cunning enough to do so until she did, but she had never tried before. She had always opted to live a life of luxury and slavery.
A part of us all thought that perhaps we should be a little more forgiving of her for it was her that betrayed The Voice of the Truth, she was the reason that Harrison (a place that seemed to be of great importance to them though no one knew why), she was the reason that this war was postponed until now when the world knew something of the sects existence and were able to fight against it, she was our mother.
But none of us could forgive her. If she had known so long then why had she not informed us. Even if she had thought that we would not understand before the war began, before James walked out of the door at Frog Hollow and into our lives, why had she not told us when she had realized that she was going to die? We wanted to know why she had not been more help in this conundrum when it was obvious that we were suffering. Did she think that the hegemony by The Voice of the Truth was so strong that perhaps we would not be able to fulfil our goal- and if that was the case then why had she not told us that and allowed us to live out our last days in relative luxury?
Why had she kept this a secret from us all these years? We didn’t trust her, so we asked.

There were tears welling up in her eyes as we stared her down. She tried to reach out to a distraught Annabel who flinched and removed herself to beyond mothers reach. Our mother looked at me and I shook my head disdainfully. I felt such anger that it was akin to hatred- something I never thought that I would feel for my mother.
“I want to know everything.” I started, keeping my voice steady and fractious. The tears began falling down her cheek and onto the glass tabletop where we had spent many nights together conversing. I slammed my fist down in frustration, everyone’s attention drawn to me. “There is no time now for you to start feeling sorry for yourself. We need to know everything that you can tell us now, and we want the truth.” I noticed that both mother’s and Annabel’s bottom lips quivered exactly the same when they were upset. It made me want to scream blue murder, run out of the room and declare victory for the enemy for the enemy was among us. I felt Mr. Rubenstein holding my hand so firmly to assure me that he was there and that it would all be alright, if I just let myself relax for a moment. But I couldn’t relax, I didn’t want to relax. I wanted to strangle her with my own bare hands, but I knew that I couldn’t.
“Firstly, tell us, why didn’t you leave The Voice of the Truth long before you did?” James asked. She looked at him hoping for a friendly face and found none.
“How did you find out? I left no records.” She replied. I jumped out of my chair, slammed both hands upon the table and went face to face with her. I could see fear in her eyes that I never thought that I would be able to instil upon anyone, I didn’t really care.
“How we did is of no concern to you! Why you kept it a secret is the problem. But I asked a question!” I screamed. Someone walking down the street heard my yelling and alerted others near by. They began to gather around the entrance so as to catch what was going on inside. It was no secret that this was where I had previously resided in Harrison so when they heard an argument ensue it gained everyone’s attention. They had right to listen in too, it was them that had also been betrayed.
“Maybe we should just nuke the damned country.” James sighed. I remember it being so out of the blue that it was almost amusing, if it wasn’t a thought that had crossed everyone’s minds. The thought that if we could just remove every last trace of The Voice of the Truth we could wipe out Belial’s strategy for another few millennium and prepare the future generations to destroy him. Now we just realized that we would never know who was betraying us and we’d have to kill everyone to make sure we got them all- pretty much the plan the enemy had for us but they wanted everyone else wiped out. I turned my attention back to our mother.
“Tell us why you didn’t get out earlier.” I demanded. In her silence I heard the rustle of the crowd outside but I chose to ignore them. I didn’t care about anything but answers there and then.
“Because I loved your father so much.” She said facing Annabel. “I could betray him and The Voice of the Truth was his life. In the beginning I had thought that we were on the right side, that if we could get what we wanted then there was nothing wrong with that.”
“What about the people that you murdered, mother?” Annabel snapped. “Was that what they wanted?” Mother shook her head.
“I know that it was wrong now. Shouldn’t that count for something.”
“Maybe somewhere, but not with us. Now just tell us the answers to our questions and perhaps we will grant you some leniency.”
“Leniency? Leniency? I am your mother!”
“You are a murderous hag!” I yelled. I gave her a moment to stop sobbing because I wanted coherent answers. “Now, tell me, do you think that just because you loved a man and lived a life where you got everything that you wanted gave you the inalienable right to take what was not yours?”
“At the time I didn’t care. I was young, in love and getting everything. I made a mistake. It was a grave mistake that I will pay for dearly for the remainder of eternity. No, at the time I did not realize that I was making such a giant error in judgement. I thought that I was entitled.”
“For the sake of argument then, just to make sure that we are getting this all in the right order, what finally changed your mind.” Mr. Rubenstein asked. If it had been caught on tape, the filtered light of the room and the manner in which mother had been estranged to the opposite side of the room it could have been mistaken for an interrogation scene from any old hack of a film. I was the bad cop. The one who thought that she was so morally superior that I could judge whomever I wanted whenever I wanted. Mr. Rubenstein, who I had judged earlier, was the good cop. I was the reasonable one that was trying to find a way out of the situation that would please everyone. I knew that the only thing that would please me was an answer to the end of this war.
“We-well.. I think that you already know that.” mother stuttered. I stared as ferociously at her; “The night of the Honourable President John Boyah’s assassination we were discovered by a detective on the case- Detective John Marrow. I will never forget his name.
“The offered up my daughter to him. He had a thing for little girls and to prove how dedicated we were John offered her to him. Sarah-“ she looked towards Annabel; “that was your name originally. I asked him how he could do that and he insisted that we could have more children, as many as we wanted. It was all for the cause.
“It made me sick and I immediately began devising a plan.”
“How could you protect yourself from Belial, he knows everything that goes on in the mind of his members.” I interrupted.
“Alice Redwood. No! She was not alive during my time. I found the amulets in the same place that I hid them. She knew of The Voice of the Truth long before Miles Redwood revealed it to her, she just kept it a secret. She had secretly studied the nuances of all things occult when her family had been out of the house and she had been left alone. During that epoch Belial was not as strong as he is now, he couldn’t penetrate everyone that he wanted to.
“After the fires and when she saw how mad her son was becoming she thought that he best thing to do was find a way of protecting him. She summoned a spirit and requested amulets to protect all that she could, but she was only granted 2.
“She was to give them to him one night but when she arrived she discovered that there was a meeting on in the house. She sat and wrote a note and placed it in the safe in the hall to wait out the meeting only to be ushered out of the house and home. It was that evening that she was killed.”
We all sat for a moment trying to process the information.
“I found them one day when I was rearranging furniture. I tripped on the loose tile and discovered them. I didn’t have a daughter then so I threw away the note and kept the pendants. I wore one at all times and gave the other to Sarah when the time was right.”
“My name is Annabel.” She stated with such sorrow that it was almost pliable. James held her tighter. “Which spirit did she invoke to create the pendants?” I could see her fingering the pendant under the green paisley blouse that she wore.
“Morax.”
“He has long since been taken.” I said.
“How do you know that?” Mr. Rubenstein asked, his forehead creasing in despair.
“The spirit alluded to him in one of my dreams- more of an encryption than anything. Perhaps she feared that if it was his powers that were discovered then they could be over written.”
“Can they be?” Annabel asked, her voice cracking under the strain of such immense fear. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.
“If he doesn’t know then he cannot. That is all that matters. But now, we need to know more. I want the answer to the biggest question of them all. You know what that is.” Mother stared blankly at me, then searched the room for some idea in the visages of the others. “Oh don’t play dumb you inane cow. We want to know why you did not tell us earlier of what the hell was going on. Why the hell you didn’t give us the opportunity to defend ourselves from an earlier stage?” I was almost screaming now. The people who had been milling around the front door were beginning to gain courage and such intense curiosity at which the traitor among them was they begun to come inside. It was the jury of a lifetime, people who had suffered so much and were going to suffer so much more, they wanted to weigh the evidence. Even if they were most likely the more lenient jury that you would ever see, opting for a life of hard labour than eternal suffering. “Why didn’t you tell us?” I reiterated.
“I didn’t want to involve my daughter in the whole situation.”
“You involved me!” Annabel screamed.
“And I am terribly sorry for that. You will never know how much I regret my actions and wish that I could take them back, Sarah.”
“My name is Annabel. You call me Sarah one more time and I swear, I don’t care if it means that we have to start fighting now, I will take you down.” I could feel the anger- and it wasn’t only from Annabel, Mr. Rubenstein, James and myself. The anger was spreading through the crowd.
“You didn’t want to involve me in it, huh. Then why not tell someone else. Wouldn’t it help if we began preparing earlier?”
“I did tell someone. I told Mr. Frogger. I told James’ father. It was only there that we could access all the information that was needed to defeat this horrible apparition. But Mr. Frogger had other ideas. He was approached by Belial and swayed to the other side. It took time to do so. Once I realized what was happening I began preparations for the spell. Before I completed it Frogger put a hex on me. It stopped me from being able to mention anything of the situation to someone else before he could get to me. I have effectively therefore been completely unable to inform you of any of this until the day that Frogger died.
“I contemplated telling you of this, but it felt useless.” For a moment I thought that she had a valid reason. Once she informed us that she had felt that it was useless the anger resurfaced. I wondered how dared she keep it a secret because of her beliefs. But it wasn’t the only belief that she hid.
“I never thought that it was this close to coming either.” Mother continued. I knew that upon my passing the barriers would be broken and they would reclaim Harrison, but I saw James and thought that he would be able to control that. The night that he stood on the roof and commanded the storm away I thought that he would be able to protect Harrison as much as I could. I thought that if I presented him with all the information that I have (which isn’t very much) before I passed then perhaps it would all be okay.
“But most of me always felt that we would lose anyway. I never thought that so many people would reject their offers. I had long since seen many people fall to The Voice of the Truth. I never believed for a moment that so many people would pull together so well that we were given a fighting chance.” The only noise that came for the next five minutes was the shuffling of feet throughout the crowd. Everyone stood there, judging mother. “Once I realized that the war was so close, you had all the information that I could give you. You knew everything and more than I ever knew. I was but a Master’s wife. I learnt the dregs. You 3 took it upon yourself to learn more than I could have ever taught you. I just hoped the war wasn’t so close. But it is, and you are all prepared.”
“Mother. I don’t know what to say. How are we supposed to know that you are telling the truth. You have spent my entire life telling me a load of kaka.” I said, though with less emphasis than anything that had been said the entire day. My resolve was weakening. I still disliked the woman with so much despair that I felt as though everything that was falling apart.
“I know that saying that I never lied to you will not help, because withholding the truth is exactly the same. I never told you a lie, I just left out an entire part of my history. And you never asked. I know that doesn’t help. I do love you, and I always have. I cannot take back what I have done and I have tried my dandiest to try and make up for what I have done.” I reclined despondently back into Mr. Rubenstein’s chest and stared at her. No one was talking. I could hear the stifled sobs coming from Annabel and the feet outside. We had judged her, and we thought that it was enough. It wasn’t our job to put her in her place, we could just try and keep he alive as long as we could.
“I have no place in judging you. I don’t trust you and I cannot forget what you have done. But we all know that this barrier depends on you, and for that reason we are going to put all our effort into you. How much longer do you think that you have left?” I spoke as thought it were a business deal, not the end of the world. I didn’t want to be a hero.

CHAPTER 39
Slowly the crowd that had gathered began to filter and make their way towards Alice Street and the town meeting. We followed thinking that the best we could do for the moment was keep mother alive. Annabel’s face was pale and her eyes were red. Half way to the meeting place she collapsed to her knees and began to cry so vehemently that James had to pick her up and carry her the remainder of the way.
As we were ‘the leaders of the group’ (or “The Trio Of Witches”, sometimes “Witches” as we were more often referred to by the mass as a whole) we were given designated seats on the stage so that if we were needed to respond to questions regarding the safety of our fair city from the hands of the enemy we were at hand.
It felt strange that before the war began James was but a rumour, I was a non-entity and it was only the dashing Mr. Rubenstein that had been used to being under the critical eye of the public. Now we were making history, we were saving the world. I was tired.
The main topic of conversation that night was how to keep the barrier from falling, and we all knew that there was only one thing that meant. But we could not grant eternal life. It was not something that we had come across in our studies and it was not a commodity that the spirits had been willing to pass onto us mere mortals thus far. And there was none left around to help us.
I understood why she had initially been denied such a treat, something that is sought after for so long by so many people. And I am sure it is something that she wanted. But they couldn’t do it. The spirit had informed me that even if they had seen it fit to do so this close to the end they could not, no one was around. And all that it would mean was that our side of humanity would forever be confined to Harrison until The Voice of the Truth killed them off. There was no one left around to help us. We had to fight our way out of this. We had to defend our right to survive the way that we wanted without the threat that they presented us with. They were a much more dangerous threat than any government had ever been, even the ones that invaded countries for their produce based solely on a lie.
Someone in the crowd asked why it was that we were allowing Annabel to break into the tribe when she had previously been an antagonist. I did wonder, as I still had my doubts about her ability to stay on our side and not inform them of our plans- what plans we did have.
I told her that when we returned to Frog Hollow that evening, I knew that it would bring her to tears but we weren’t sure if someone who had just seen their mother for the first time in 20 years, the mother who had left her in the lurch (and no good intentions were ever going to heal that wound) was going to fight to save her.

That evening mother was watched over by some old beloved friends that she trusted and trusted her. They understood her secret life and had for some time guessed at it.
James and Annabel held each other for the night (and he received his first kiss- I know it has nothing to do with the story but it was an exciting moment for all of us involved to watch him grow into someone who could have easily fit into the world that we had come from- the world he would never know) and Mr. Rubenstein and I loved each other. We discussed what we knew, what healing properties there was for all available herbs and gemstones. We tried to unravel the knot. We loved each other.

CHAPTER 40
By the time that the next morning rolled around I was so miserable and tired that I refused to do anything. It just seemed that it was all too much. I wasn’t born to do this sort of thing, my mother had specifically kept me away from it for my entire life so as not to involve me in the deplorable life that she had once been a part of. I felt the kind hand of Mr. Rubenstein caressing my face and his lips touching mine. It felt right, like the only thing that mattered at the moment.
“How could we have not seen this before?” Mr. Rubenstein asked. It was a valid question, the tapes had been there all along. We could have figured it all out. But we didn’t.
“Because I never saw the tape, only read the letter. The day that we let Annabel view it I never saw it. James never saw it, and before that point I don’t think that you ever actually net my mother. I only ever read the letter.” I was amused at how everything was coming together to pervert the course of justice, and there was no curse involved with it at all! It was just plain, human stupidity that was standing in the way. It was really funny.

CHAPTER 41
The army was beginning to gather outside of Harrison. A camp was set up by the river bank that ran outside of the town (which used to be much further off, thought population was now more than 5 times what it was before the war began) and there were a few strategically placed groups assemble through out the forest behind Frog Hollow. Master Thackery remained in the riverside camp where thousands upon thousands of tents were erected (though there was the occasional person who thought that they might as well just wish themselves grand houses they were shot down. Master Benjamin Thackery informed them of how inane it would be to have grand mansions strewn across a battleground. Imagine what would happen in the middle of the melee if there were stairs to run up and doors to hide behind!).
The members who had fallen completely to the escapades of The Voice of the Truth were making their pilgrimage to the outskirts of Harrison.

In Harrison others were gathering. Through the night, to the risk of her own sanity, Sylvia had spread the word to those who remained outside the walls, those who had gallantly fought the urge to succumb to the demon that would offer them everything that they would want. There were many who remained unaware of the safety of Harrison because the town that they came from had fallen too easily into the hands of the enemy. Many towns had fallen to complete devastation. Many places in a state of natural emergency, in a drought or a flood (often caused by Belial or his slaves to begin with), would agree to Belial’s demands to cease the corruption of the world around them, only to fall into corruption themselves.
Some had refused, some, though not many, had decided that their soul was worth keeping. Though most were of the general school of thought that if there was this demon running around wreaking such havoc in the world then there must therefore, logically, be a good man who was there to make it all right at the end.
Others wondered why he was not interfering, why it was that he allowed such pure, unadulterated evil to traverse the earth. They were the ones that fell into the slum of apathy and retire to their rooms to avoid the war.
Others still did not have enough faith and fought only for the side of good on the basis that they wanted to be safe rather then sorry when the sword struck down upon them.

And it wasn’t only in Harrison and the surrounding countryside. Every nationality, everywhere was falling. The only difference was that they had no heroes to look up to, now safe haven where to travel. They relied on a 24-hour surveillance and the help of those who were in the same situation. No one trusted anyone.
At St. Francis and the surrounding neighbourhood the towns and villages were being devastated by fires created by a man going by the name of John who had a predilection for watching things burn. He was willing to spend the rest of his life burning for these fires.
In Harcourt gaggle of children sat watching the people in the streets walk by through the grate on the basement in which they hid. Their mother had left them when offered a life free of nappies, free of them. She slogged her husband over the head with the eldest child’s hockey stick for refusing to succumb and walked out the door.
Somewhere in the desert a lonely hermit who had for years felt that he was run out of town by his family for his intimate knowledge of his sister was granted clemency (oh, if only her knew the truth) and returned to the small, hot village where he came from, terrorizing those who had previously called him family. One girl of 14 escaped herself into the desert where she knew that she would not be found, and would perish. When offered safety by the demon with the cleansing, calming voice she shied away, digging herself a shelter into the side of dune. She knew that she would rather perish I the scolding sun then accept an offer who allowed her cousin to return from his sin.
Little Mary-Lou camped by the fire that he father had built at the edge of the cave. She watched the water tumble down the moss covered rocks across the lake and was happy to spend the rest of her life in this paradise. Belial could not offer her more than she already had.
Erika’s only wish was to have the man responsible for the demise that put an end to her wedding plans to come to a horrific end. Belial was not about to grant a wish that meant his own demise. One soul perishing in a sudden freeze that would catch her unawares was nothing to bother him. He only regretted that he could not get them all. All he wanted was to concentrate on bringing the army together and defeating the brats that were stopping him from complete domination, from bringing it all to an end.

The demesne surrounding Frog Hollow people were wondering what was happening to their international counterparts. Mrs. Rush was wondering what cruel end had been brought upon her sister who lives 9,000 kilometres away (she was in fact walking, talking, looking and acting like a 21 year old. She had suffered from all the terrors that age brings and had wished them away). Peter Vajda contemplated the whereabouts of his brother who was travelling through the winter slopes as a ski instructor when the war began (he unfortunately fell into the hands of an insanely jealous bunny who dared not to allow him to look at any other female, even if it were harmless).
Even Jessie Walker was wondering about his friends who were half way across the globe and were unable to contact him. He had wanted to go on a holiday with them, to lounge on the white sandy beaches where they were protected from prying eyes by the rock ledges that gave each cabin its own private beach. His financial situation had fallen through at the very last minute and he was unable to go with them. (They were now floating around somewhere in the digestive juices of several large sharks after a tempest upturned the catamaran that they were on. This was before the war began.
James, Mr. Rubenstein and Sylvia had no one to worry about. James knew only his long departed parents and knew of no other living relative. His only friends were the ones in Harrison. Sylvia knew her mother was a heinous murderess and was about to die some time in the near future, which would lead to the final conflict that would befall society- for now anyway. Mr. Rubenstein’s father had passed away when he was but a young man and his aged mother had suffered a stroke and had spent the last 15 years in a coma which she was apt never recover from (unbeknownst to him when the power failed in Moville where his mother remained in a state of the art nursing home she had passed away. Mary Abbott had tried to save who she could from the home (only to find that many were no longer old and decrepit) but was hindered in her attempts by a half crazed member of The Voice of the Truth had locked her into a locker that measured 2 foot by 2 foot by 5 foot and left her there to die).
But they had everyone to worry about. They knew that they were the last strong hold, that when her mothers untimely death came about it was going to be a full out war, and they were not just fighting for the residents of Harrison, they were fighting for the people who were trying to survive against all odds outside the boundaries.
They also knew that they were fighting for the people who they would in fact be fighting against. When it was all over and justice prevailed (hopefully) then the souls of those people who had condemned themselves to an eternity suffering their worst fears over, and over, and over and over. They would have the chance to choose when faced with eternity to make the choice again.
Sylvia’s mother was in her bedroom, feeling like an outcast from the society she was trying to save. She knew that if she were to continue on they would eventually forgive her, know that she did regret her actions in the past. But she also knew that it was something that she did and she could not take it back. She had made her choices willingly and no matter how much she wanted to take it back, she could not. And they were bad choices.
She held no animosity in her heart for the people that we condemning her in their hearts at this moment, she would do the exact same thing if she was in their position, and she knew that. She was just now more concerned with staying alive and giving her children the chance to save everyone else.
The one thing that concerned her most was Annabel. She had wished her the best when she had left her, thinking that by leaving her out of the loop she was safe from the terror that was involved in being a part of The Voice of the Truth. She wanted to give Annabel a chance, which she knew was not likely if she were to remain with her. She had never for a moment dreamt that Master Thackery would survive and spent most of his spare time searching for her, bringing her back into the fold. Training her in the way of The Voice of the Truth.
She feared that perhaps despite the discovery of the events leading up to her desertion, Annabel may still have in her heart the love that they had bestowed upon her- what love they could give her. Annabel had left behind a life of luxury, the only life that she really knew, and she may feel some affinity towards for them.
Sylvia on the other hand, she placed all her faith. Somehow when she had not been looking her daughter had grown up and changed. She was a strong, determined and intelligent woman that she had never met before. She was no longer the continually inebriated, slovenly and utterly apathetic young girl that she had thought that she had brought up. She saw in Sylvia the strength and the belief that would save those who had erred- though in her daughter’s convoluted manner she believed that no one was making the wrong choice as it was their decision to make. It was after the outcome that she wanted to save them, and save the ones who had made a different decision. That was what she opposed- The Voice of the Truth wanted to take the choice away.

CHAPTER 42
I see the end coming and realize that if we make it through this there is very little coherence in my journal. I have rambled rather inarticulately through out about how I feel, and once the real task of understanding the situation began I fail to write consistently. Admittedly I do believe that it may have more to do with the fact that I was out of the house, our of the grounds of Frog Hollow, that there were no restrictions put on me by parents who believed that they knew better.
I was a tragic case.
There is little to detail that has not been written already. Sylvia has the notes and a general outline of the every day life of The Voice of the Truth over its growing decades, all information has been detailed in a concise manner for future reference- in fact it has been referenced categorically so as to be accessed easily. Sylvia is good at that.
The relationship between Rubes and Sylvia has hotted up quite a bit. When she is around I can see the desire in his eyes as he watches her. Perhaps it is an encumbrance in the process of discovery, as he would rather be studying her than more film, which we have since reviewed so as to note any recognizable faces that he may have missed due to his unfamiliarity with the locals. We have not discovered anyone else in them.
Oh, I am so sick of studying. I have the chance to leave Harrison for the first time since my mother and that atrocious man who called himself my father brought me into this world, and I am stuck here. I cannot travel more than a few kilometres without being faced by a hoard of drooling, slack jawed enemies who want to do nothing more than rip my teeth out one by one.
It is much like many novels that I have read. The two armies have their camps, though in this case we can see each other. They are just sitting around, planning, waiting for the right opportunity with which to attack.
What I find unsettling is that the enemy have had much longer to prepare for this war, to construct a strategy to tear us to shreds. Oh, this will be a most devastating event.
It saddens me to think that if, and that is a big if despite all our best efforts as our army is quiet less than one fifth of theirs, when I eventually leave to see the world, there will be no world. Many of the things that I want to see will have been destroyed by ‘natural disasters’ (HA!) or taken over by the monstrous people who believe that it is their right to take everything from everyone.
What is it I was going to write again? My mind is not focused despite this great amount of energy that has been placed in it giving me the ability to remember everything that goes into my mind. I am human, I tend be frail at times. My mind wanders to the things that I want to see. I daydream. Sometimes it is Annabel my reveries are concerned with. In a way she has been set on the same path as me. Though I knew both of my parents, we were both restricted by what they taught us. She was involved only in the matter of The Voice of the Truth. She had no friends outside of the sect, no family to call upon. No real knowledge of anything but the inner workings of one place. And when that is all that you have known then it is difficult to see things any other way.
That is why we have decided to keep Annabel from the war. I doubt that she will understand why it is, but there is always the off chance that when seeing the people who had kept her all these years she may fight for them against the town she was expelled from. And the sister that her mothers kept by her side all these years.
Rube is in the middle of preparing a spell that will keep her to a certain area; somewhere well away from the war. It will be more of a confusion spell directed at her as we are going to attempt a confinement spell on the masses of the army outside Harrison, though we dare believe that they have prepared a counter spell to such a measure. They have had the time to think of the spells that we will use and prepare to fight them. We have had very little time and have thought only of a few spells that they may attempt.
We are sorting out our positions. We have trained the defence force as well as is possible as we saw yesterday as we watched them practise their drills.
I told them so too when I was compelled into an extemporaneous speech.
We have a great army here. When I watch you practise amidst the fear and confusion of the situation I see a well-oiled machine ready for a war that no one had ever expected- outside that hideous group of people that is. I watch you train to defend yourselves and your right to go on when you know that the enemy is right outside your door. When you know that the enemy is the people you used to love.
They may believe that our behaviour is quixotic, and we all know that it may be true. We are all dreaming of a peaceful end to this war- this invasion. But we know in the deepest depths of our hearts that this is going to be a bloody fight to the end and I can see in everyone’s eyes that you fear that we will lose! But know this! If we do in fact lose- and I desperately hope that we will not- we will have won in the long run. We will not spend an eternity suffering pain at the hands of the man that we put our faith in. We did not succumb to the beaucoup of temptation that was brought forth by that repugnant eidolon and by that we have already prevailed.
He will come back and try and corrupt us in the midst of the war. He will offer the wounded and the dying the chance to regain health and eternal life to rise from the dirt and fight for him. You will have to reject him! Remember that the fight is for your soul and if you give in at the last moment you will fall. When it is all over he will dispose of you as he sees fit. Remember that if you fall- remember it is for your soul! But we will not be subjugated! We will find a way to vanquish this, this suppressant from the world. We will find a way. We will be victorious!
Oh, the applause that followed that impromptu speech where I spoke only my heart. Rubes and Sylvia said that they could feel the atmosphere change and belief in them became apparent. I feel that we can do this. Many will be taken down with much bloodshed (which to me will be something new as I have never seen anything but my own blood on that one occasion when I fell off the bottom rung of the ladder in the my library. I screamed and screamed because it was so terrifying. They will perhaps be used to it, maybe even numb to the blood as they have often seen it in their media) and I trust that they will not give in and fight against us.
The ennead has helped us in strategizing and offered that we (Rubes, Sylvia and myself) will remain at the gates of Frog Hollow and cast spell after spell. They informed the town of this and there were no complaints voiced. I will focus mainly on hindering them by casting any hex that I can whilst Sylvia will be spending her time defending us. Mr. Rubenstein on the other hand will be the go between. When one situation heightens he will go there. If our fortifications weaken then he will assist Sylvia. If I need help then he will come to us. Though currently he is pre occupied with keeping Sylvia’s mother alive.
It is not as though she is dying of anything in particular that we can remove or defend against. She is just dying of old age. I am not even sure of her exact age! She has been around for many epochs.
Sylvia is having a hard time stomaching all that is going on. She is trying to suspend her disbelief in the aid of the war but it must be hard. She knows that this traitorous woman who lied to her all her life is the reason that everyone is still alive. She also knows that she is her mother and that she did treat her well and loves her. Not only is Sylvia an integral part of the war, one of our greatest strengths, she’ll have not only to deal with the war but the knowledge that her mother is dead. Most others don’t know for certain and are living in hope, she’ll know.
It really must be hard and she knows that it is for everyone else and is putting on a brave face. I wonder what she would have been offered?

CHAPTER 43
It was only a matter of a few weeks before the wall fell and the final battle began. It was a terrible few weeks. Sylvia had learnt somewhere in her soul to forgive her mother for the crimes she committed, she knew in her heart that it was not her place to judge. She spent many days watching her slowly fade away before her very eyes. She wondered how a woman who looked so young could be dying of old age. She questions her mother for everything that she knew that had never been written, but there was very little. I tried to get her to talk about the incantation that Caim had used to protect the city of Harrison, but she preferred to talk about the near past, about her daughters and the things that they had done. She often lamented how she had missed Annabel’s life, though at the time she thought that she had made the right decision. She had only wanted to protect her daughter.
Meanwhile Annabel was bound by confusion in the depths of the forest. She had forgotten that it was her that was sent in to betray Harrison, that she was the daughter of the only woman keeping the war away. She forgot there was a war. All she knew as she wandered through the forest was that she wanted to reach the sea and there she would build a house and live-forever.
When she was caught and encounters Master Thackery in the base camp he feared that they had lost her that somehow she had become infantile and was worthless. Belial tried to approach her but was held away by the charm that hung around her neck, the charm that no one could remove and that Annabel never would. She was protected from any harm and sent off to find the beach where she would spend the rest of her days. Not once did it ever cross her mind that she had been an integral part in a war that would change the world forever.

On the other side of the world Julie McGrath tried to summon the demons and spirits that she had long feared in her study of the black arts to try and save her from the people who were pursuing her across the fields and would not stop until the had her.
In tow she carried a young child that she had found abandoned in the hospital where many bodies were strewn recklessly, disregarded as though they meant nothing.
No spirits came.
Around the corned sat one of her pursuers, waiting patiently for a chance to attack, to take what he wanted, to have her beauty all to him. His name was Mark Plant who had long since admired her beauty and had often been rejected by her. Now it was he who had the power.

A group of 23 had evaded capture and wild weather to find sanctuary in an abandoned city at the country border. It was a small parish that had suffered great poverty before the war. Only a few bodies remained, decomposing in the streets.
Viktor, the oldest member of the group, discovered some hastily dug graves. This lead to a search of the city whence a 16 year old girl was exposed, hiding in the darkness of the town library from the new comers. She was tired and scared, unwilling to trust anyone. Viktor took her under his wing and soon learnt that the town had fallen rather quickly to their demise. Many were tired of living in a town so far from any modern conveniences and were ordered to take out their family who refused to conform.
Most had left with in the influx to the city where they thought that they would no longer have to toil for their next meal.
Elise had stayed behind and buried whom she could. She survived by continuing the harvest of the local produce. She had found it rather difficult as she had very little experience and had often thought of succumbing but had already seen the wreckage that it would cause. That was not something that she would ever wish for.
They spent the last days of the war in the town. It wasn’t until the tempest on the horizon disappeared and they ventured out to see what had happened in the rest of the world.
Jeremy Woodland, famous actor, was left stranded on a desert island after the hotel staff headed for the mainland. He tried to call out and see what was going on. Belial and left to bake on the golden sands never approached him.
He spent his last days fishing, cultivating the land that was already existing and wrote out his memoirs, The last few years became a mess of pages dedicated to the insane ennui that lead his every day life through the turmoil of his memory.
He died many years after the war, alone and unknown.
In Harrison Julie Rows sat huddled in the corner of the caravan that was her home. Wondering about her husband who had left her to be with incalculable nubile blondes when he was offered (he was currently on the outskirts of the city sharpening the knife he had bought with him to the war in a symbolic gesture of strength. He was wondering where his wife was because without the love his life felt hollow.) She listened to the whispers outside the caravan fade off in the direction of the campfire and wanted to join them in a feast. She had been offered the looks of her dreams, to never have to worry about what she ate, to be the stunning creature that she was when she got married. But she knew that she could do it herself. But no one here cared that her belly wobbled when she walked. No one seemed to care that 3 of them could fit into one of her outfits with room to move.
Ebner Rosenthal was perched in a tree watching the people move through the grounds of Frog Hollow in the fading light of the day. They had been warned earlier in the day that the barrier was fading and that it would be but a matter of days before they could go in, so be prepared.
Watching the people he wondered if it was worth it to destroy these people simply because they would not conform, He wondered why he confirmed when it was obvious that in the world the people that wielded the power were the murderers, the rapists, the paedophiles, anyone that could destroy the lives of those around them. Over time these people would kill everyone in their grasp off one by one and that was the way that it was meant to be in the eyes of The Voice of the Truth.
No sooner than this thought had crossed him mind Ebner was knocked from the tree by as gust of wind, breaking his neck as he hit the ground. He died to be debt free in a world that no longer had banks.
Linda Mailman replaced him on the branch before he had even gone cold.

Sylvia dreamt of all these people as she lay on her bed, in the arms of the man who loved her more than anyone else in the world could. She herself had always wondered what it was that she would have been offered if she had left the town, free of all hexes, free of amulets. Wondered if she could have refused.
“I am sure that you could have.” Mr. Rubenstein said as he wiped the tear from her cheek. “I had the same dream. I saw the people. I knew what they had been offered. I knew how they were surviving. I know that you could have refused.”
“Refused what?” Sylvia asked. “No matter how hard I think I cannot think of anything that I want that would make me want to kill for it. I can’t think of anything that I really do want all that much.” She paused; “Even before I met you.”

CHAPTER 44
The war began on a cool Friday evening when my mother passed into oblivion. I was not sitting by her side; I was waiting by the gates of Frog Hollow. We had known that it was coming and through the night we had rigged the walls and the grounds with explosives under the protection of a thick fog. Anyone trying to enter that way was liable to be blown to pieces.
James and Mr. Rubenstein were by my side. Earlier that day Mr. Rubenstein told me that he had been offered (long before I even knew that there was a war to be had) someone who would love him the way that he wanted to be loved. Someone who wasn’t just a one night stand to add to the little black book, but someone who would truly love him and give up everything to be with him. The perfect wife.
But he had declined because he knew from the journal that it wasn’t worth it to be loved in life to spend an eternity unloved. He already lived that in life and didn’t want to spend eternity like that. He had never felt love from his parents, though he knew that did. They were just unaware of how to treat a child.
“It didn’t matter anyway. Because I found you by myself.” Oh, it sounded corny all right, but it was true. He did love me. And I did love him and when this was all over I planned on being the (almost) perfect wife.
Our armed forces were preparing a strong front where the masses were gathering on the other side of the barrier, The sensed the weakening even though they couldn’t see the crowd beyond the fog.
We were the first to attack for we thought that to get the upper hand we must make the first offensive move, have them backing away and defending themselves as opposed to us defending our miniscule army.
The first to fall was Herbert Dreary. He had been offered a life of wealth with his wife, and had died for the opulence that he desired. He was taken down by the first shot fired into the mass of malefactors by Gertrude White. She had always remained in the boundaries and was never offered anything by Belial, even three days later when she lie wounded at the base hospital, preparing for her own death.
The shot was taken through the fog before it was lifted and took the enemy by surprise. The fired in return only to find that through the night a wall had been erected Shots were fired and many of them were taken down and forced to retreat until the could find a way to destroy the wall.
Christopher Fry (who had been suffering from heroin withdrawal when approach) was the second to be hit, though it took him many hours to bleed alone on that ground, sometimes under the feet of his allies as they stampeded the wall and brought it down.
Melissa Worth was the first from inside Harrison to be hit. And they soon all began to fall one by one. Some of the wounded remain where they fell for a long time. On occasion one of the strongest would rise with the help of Belial, renewed strength and life given to them.
Belial approached each of the ones who had either rejected him or been able to avoid his wrath and offered them again life, if only they fought for him. Most took their last breath and left him behind to offer life only to the flesh that they left behind. Some succumbed. Jane Mansfield, wounded several times, was given the second chance. In the haze of pain she rose and began to fight. Though as she turned and faced the people that she had lived with for months, prepared to fight this exact same war together. She fell to her knees and felt the wrath Belial fall upon her as the wounds that she had suffered before took over her and she lay at the feet of those she had betrayed. Though they didn’t betray her.
They wrapped her up and took her to the base camp where she was cared for.

Master Benjamin and his Wizards (as the were called outside the walls) defended themselves against everything that they could throw at them. We attacked with what we had. We tried fending them off with a new barrier, but they blew it down with a counter spell.
We tried confusion, though the army wore amulets that protected them from us. We even attempted to fight like they fought, bringing in a storm, a sudden freeze and sweltering heat, but we could not avoid bringing it upon our own people as well.
We endowed several of our best scouts with invisibility and sent them into the ranks of the enemy where they were discovered and killed. The Voice of the Truth endeavoured to use the same tactics only to be made visible when they touched the grounds of the original Harrison.
We attacked and defended, we defended and attacked. People kept falling, but we were winning. Our offensive had worked as well as we had intended. The walls and grounds of Frog Hollow had taken many of the enemy to even the field along with the enemies who looked into the faces of those who had taken the choice of not joining The Voice of the Truth and could no longer fight. They fell to the hands of the man whom the chose to obey.
Others saw the ones that they had been disloyal to- wives, children, friends, lovers, girlfriends, boyfriends, aunt, uncles, and the whole shebang. If they had taken the time to destroy their lives they were being faced by them now, and either they gave up and went to hell in a fired of repentance, or they stood and fought. There were many cold hearted and cruel people in the enemy’s armed forces.
As we stood by the gate fending off the advances of Master Thackery and his wizards on the eve of the third night fell and our armies weakening we were at an even keel. We had each exhausted all our supplies and were rehashing spells that we had done before. Suddenly the air became cold and we all felt it. It was like an immense amount of power was swelling and being prepared to be released into our world. It was then that James realized what was happening and what we had to do.

CHAPTER 45
It was quite simple really, and something that we had not really thought of before. Belial had not been prepared for the ferocity of the our army, he believed that we would fall under the sundry of violence that he had bought with him, he had not expected that we had the willpower to destroy our enemy.
He needed to take matters into his own hands. And he needed the basement to do it.

We had known that Frog Hollow held some significance and James realized what it was. And it was quite straightforward. We lived at the centre of the universe. When people had believed that we were centre of the universe they were right. Though it is ever expanding we are still the core, where all the power and energy comes from. And it was in Harrison, below that Redwood tree that kept drawing back the members of The Voice of the Truth that was the essence of it all.
I don’t understand why it was here in particular. But it was. Right there below that stump that you sit on.
Oh, it inaccessible now so don’t start thinking that there is anyway that you can get to it and use it for your own gain- not that any of you really have an aspirations for world domination as you already live in a autocratic state. But we made sure to protect it forever from anyone who thought that it would be right to take over again. Alas, there will always be someone. Not even this rubble will be enough to remind people of what is true and right because no one knows.
And I know they will try and stop you from understanding. I can hear them coming now through the bush. They are far enough away that I can finish, but then what will happen?

We sent out army into the woods to hide and there they watched the enemy perish, each person burning in a sudden burst of flame. I can still remember the people running around for the few moments that they had before they were incinerated in Belial’s revenge.
James, who was becoming rather weak. His as he was the one expelling the energy he needed to take it from somewhere, and it was from him that it came. Mr. Rubenstein was still standing strong beside us as we ran towards Frog Hollow.
As we entered we found many-wounded waiting for attendance. I had learnt at some point a spell to heal, though I could only heal those with whom I can in contact with. In our mad dash through the hall I revived those who I could without hindering our progress and left them behind to remove and care for those who were left. We entered the library, caring little for if we left the opening free or not as we knew that Belial was going to get through no matter what we did.
One of the reasons that earth had been placed at the epicentre of power was that we were never meant to have the strength to control it by ourselves- that we would eventually come to our own ruin through our greed, or any other sin that we had, before we were able to gain proper control.
But with the assistance and guidance of Belial some had gained the strength to control, but they had not counted on the strength of the opposition. We had managed to stand and fight. We had found the fallibility of our enemy and stood up to them. We were going to be safe, and we knew it.
Ass we stood prepared in the basement we heard the world above us falling. Around us the shelves that had once contained the florilegium of history pertaining to The Voice of the Truth (which was currently in James’ study as that was where we preferred to work) collapsed into a mist of dust that coated the room.
As we stood Master Thackery entered the room, though we knew that it was no longer the man that had brought together the country worst into one place, but the demon himself who needed to use a conduit to use the power. As we stood there holding each other we faced the demon that was prepared to destroy us without a thought, though he stood there, staring, waiting for us to make the wrong move. He did not know that we knew what it was that would destroy him, that we knew his weakness.
James held my hand and took a step forward. As he began the incantation you could see the fear in the eyes of this spirit that we had thought was immortal, this spirit that could not go near an emerald without his power faltering. It was this that we needed to destroy him.
I held out the pendant towards our adversary and James completed the spell. We watched as the demon twisted and turned and ravaged the body of its host. He was finally expelled into the air, his human like face, which many had often described as beautiful, was contorted into a snarl and his pleasant voice screeched. I could feel my ears begin to bleed as he squealed, trying to free him from our grip. But he was too late. We had finished, he had finished. He became trapped within the stone that hung around my neck, the same stone that my mother had had created to protect her children.
A part of me wanted to build our own Emerald City, so that he would never return, though I knew that it was a fantasy. This one simple stone would be enough to hold him for an eternity. But that wasn’t what we wanted. We wanted him gone.
James collapsed to the floor where he drifted into a deep slumber that he did not come out of for 2 days. Mr. Rubenstein and myself headed to what remained of Harrison where we sought out the jewellers. There we tore the stone from the silver in which it was set and broke the stone into as many pieces as we could. Some pieces were so small that if anyone is ever to go on the search for them they will never be found.

CHAPTER 46
We went to Harrison where I used my power to heal all the wounded. No enemy was left as Belial had made sure to destroy them before he overtook Benjamin Thackery. All around the world people were waking up to a new world. They had seen the war in their minds and knew it was almost all over. All that was left was to salvage what was left in the world, teach the remainder of those who had fallen that they could no longer go around destroying the people around them if they did not like them.
James, Mr. Rubenstein and myself took separate journeys around the world to secrete the separate pieces of stone. We never recorded where they were.
On our return to Harrison Mr. Rubenstein and I married and James spent his time planning more trips for his future. I buried my mother right over there. At the time it was a bed of daisies in Frog Hollow.
But it was not the end. The war was over, no one was fighting, but a new government. Their infiltration was much more insidious. It was slow and took many decades to take over. It wasn’t until the day that they arrived at Frog Hollow (which James had bequeathed to us) and bulldozed the entire house that I saw what was happening.
They took me away and tried to program me with what they thought would lead to a more peaceful world. In their attempt to further banish the world of the scourge of devilry they went a step to much. But that is another story all together.
They took Mr. Rubenstein away from me and then removed my uterus. They thought that by wiping me out they would be asking for trouble. James just stopped returning home and the missives ceased to come. I know they got to him, but I’ll never know how or where.
It is time to go. Flee now, remember what has been told to you because it is real! We have the power in us to defeat whatever it is that we have to face, but we have to have the choice to do it! Go! I can here them coming!
You. Yes, you. Take this. It is a gem that will give you all that you need to know.
Oh shit. Go! It is all true! If you want to know you will find it! Let go of me you creep. Let go!