Part XIII: The Cradle of Despair
Chapter 5: The Womb of Forgotten Dreams
Timeline AO 304 to ? to AO 314
The Key from the roots of The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil – the key the Illuminated One Gabriel inexplicably helped me find – now trembled in my hand, its golden surface humming with a resonance that sent shivers down my ancient bones. I hesitated before The Keyhole that had materialized in the trunk of The Tree, an opening that seemed to pulse with a life of its own, the silica wood around it shimmering with a faint, iridescent light.
My mind was still a tumult of emotions—fear, anticipation, and a gnawing dread that all of this might be a trap. Although he was long gone Gabriel’s impish smile still haunted me, his cryptic words ever echoing in my mind.
Was this all a grand illusion? A final jest by the heavens to mock my endless pursuit?
Yet, the lure of the unknown, the tantalizing possibility that I was on the cusp of something monumental, was too great to resist.
“What’s the worst that could happen, Azazel old boy?” I tried to joke with myself as I slid the key into the keyhole.
It turned with an almost imperceptible click, and then the entire tree shuddered. Immediately Light – the very essence of that which was <LIGHT> – exploded from the keyhole, engulfing me in a radiant blaze!
The ground beneath me shifted, and I felt myself falling—not downwards, but inwards, as if I were being drawn into the very essence of the tree. The world wherein Eden was then dissolved into a blur of light and shadows, the fabric of reality unraveling and knitting itself back together in a rhythm that seemed to defy all logic. My thoughts scattered, and for a moment, I feared I might lose myself in the abyss.
Then, just as suddenly, the sensation ceased. I found myself standing in a space that defied comprehension, a realm not bound by the physical laws of Terra.
“Is this the Cradle of Despair?” I wondered looking around. The air was thick with a melancholic energy, a palpable weight that pressed down on my spirit, filling me with an inexplicable sadness. “Huh, I guess I was expecting something more sinister. This really ain’t all that bad.”
I could see the space was vast, stretching endlessly in all directions, yet it felt confined, as if it were a dream struggling to break free from the mind of a slumbering god. Ghostly images swirled around me, each one a fragment of a lost dream, flickering in and out of existence like dying stars. I could feel the despair emanating from them, the weight of infinite potential lost. Each fragment whispered to me, echoing my own failures, my own dreams that had slipped through my grasp over the eons.
“Well I guess this is the ‘despair’ part of the Cradle.” I joked, still not impressed with the place as I reached out, touching one of the images – it dissolved at my fingertips, leaving behind a cold emptiness that seeped into my soul.
So many dreams… so many failures. My mood changed ever so slightly. I had always prided myself on my indomitable will, but for a moment I felt the hint of a crack in my resolve, a doubt gnawing at the edges of my mind. I brushed it aside and started walking to clear my mind and seek the clue for which I came here.
I wandered – for how long I do not know. The dreams continued all around me but I paid them no mind. Ever onward I strode through until, at last, I came upon something that did not flicker like the dreams around me. It was solid, tangible—I recognized it as a fragment of an ancient celestial seal, its surface marred by cracks and fissures. It was broken, yet it radiated a power that was undeniable, a remnant of a time when the very fabric of the cosmos had been torn asunder.
I knelt before the seal, running my hand over its surface. Inscriptions, ancient and indecipherable, covered it, whispering secrets from The Time Before.
“May A’H strike me down if I’m wrong but I would bet my soul that this seal bear the mark of The Firmament!” I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Could this be the key to unlocking it?”
Since nigh the dawn of Time we of The Fallen had sought a way to break through the celestial barrier that Michael The Mighty used to imprisoned Lucifer and the rest of us away from Illyria – effectively ending The War in Heaven and locking us all in The Middle Plane. Although I worked with Lucifer and the Evil One Zebub to create the flat earth of Terra that wasn’t enough to satisfy Zebub and Evil and It’s son Lucifer later created Illusia – with both of them eventually getting imprisoned in their self-made prison. Although I was allowed to return to The Middle Plane by my masters, it was only because I, like all my lumenarc brothers and sisters, was tasked with finding a way to help Zebub and Lucifer escape so they could take their revenge on The Great Creator A’H who they blamed for all the wrongs of Existence. It was always my theory that finding a way to break through The Firmament was the key to opening the doorways between The Planes, yet I’d never come close to finding anything to help me in that quest.
“Could this be what I’ve been searching for?” I wondered as I held the fragment of the seal. “But how does any of this relate to Dagaal?”
The war among the gods… The thought echoed in my mind, as I thought back to our rebellion in The Time Before. Then came a realization that chilled me to my core: could it be that Dagaal was not merely a weapon meant to kill me, but it too a key?But Dagaal – the Bone Dagger – came from my rib? Am I a key too?
I lost myself in that mystery as I continued to study the seal – there was something more here – another clue began to emerge, faint and elusive. The inscriptions seemed to hint at a place of unimaginable power, where the lines between life and death, reality and illusion, blurred. Could this be The Crypt of Death’s Horrors? Is this broken seal part of a map? Could it lead me to the Crypt – a place that could alter the very fabric of existence?
I realized that my quest – the one that really mattered was no longer just about Dagaal. It was about something far greater, something that could reshape the cosmos itself. And I was that something!
As the dreams of Despair continued around me, I became giddy with delight. “Azazel, old boy, don’t you see?” I laughed. “All this is confirmation that I am destined to be the Ruler of the Planes. I am The Key to everything. Why, I can become ALL!”
Unfortunately my celebration was short lived for I now sensed a Presence far greater than my own
“You stand within the Cradle of Despair,” A Voice echoed within the vast, shadowed expanse. “It is the inevitable byproduct of your interference with A’H’s divine work. You, Azazel, in your ambition and folly, sought to create, to mold life with your own hand. But in doing so, you fractured the divine design, introducing flaws, imperfections that could never have been in A’H’s original creation.”
Although I couldn’t see the speaker, I knew immediately it was the Arch Angel Gabriel and my mind buzzed with the implications of Gabriel’s words. The Voice, like a powerful melody, was both beautiful and terrifying. If I’m forced to be honest, I’ll admit that I’d always known that my actions would have consequences, but this… this was something far beyond my imagining.
“The Cradle of Despair,” Gabriel’s Voice continued, “is the final resting place of those flaws, a reservoir of the despair born from dreams that could never be. It is a paradox, Azazel. A cradle, meant to nurture, but instead, it holds this Womb of Forgotten Dreams—where life, instead of beginning, ends… before it can ever start. A cradle should come after the womb, to protect and cherish the living, but here, in this twisted creation of your sin, the womb is held within the cradle, nurturing nothing but despair and unfulfilled potential.”
My joy now a distant memory, I soon felt a cold dread settle into my bones as Gabriel’s Voice wove the explanation around me, drawing me deeper into the heart of the paradox.
“It was you, Azazel, who tried to play god, alongside Lucifer. You sought to create life, but your creation was flawed, imperfect. Mankind was marred by your ambitions, and the Cradle of Despair is the inevitable consequence. Within it lies this Womb – a place where the hopes and aspirations of countless stellarones wither away, trapped in a limbo of despair. It is a reflection of your own soul, Azazel, the emptiness and unfulfilled desires that haunt you.”
My grip tightened around the broken celestial seal I’d found and I forced my hand to move enough so that I could hide the seal within my robes – away from Gabriel. It was foolish to think The Illuminated One didn’t know about the fragment of The Firmament, but I couldn’t think of anything better.
Meanwhile Gabriel’s words stirred something deep within me – try though I might to fight against it, a gnawing fear took hold – that perhaps, this place was a mirror of my own failures. The dreams I’d chased for eons, the power I’d sought, the dominion I’d desired—it all seemed hollow in the face of the despair that now surrounded me.
“This is what your interference has wrought,” Gabriel’s voice softened, almost pitying. “The Cradle of Despair is not just a prison for forgotten dreams of the stellarones; it is a monument to your own failures. And now, you stand at the edge of a choice. Will you continue down this path, seeking the power of Dagaal and the secrets of the Crypt of Death’s Shadows? Or will you finally see the futility of your pursuits?”
With that I could sense that Gabriel’s presence was gone. I was left with just myself – and all the dreams of despair around me. My mind raced, but for the first time in eons, I found himself truly unsure of my next move. The weight of Gabriel’s words pressed down on me, the reality of my own flawed creation surrounding me in the ethereal mists of the Womb within the Cradle.
But The Angel’s question brought no comfort, only a deeper sense of dread. The air around me thickened, the energy of the Womb pressing in on me, amplifying my fears, my doubts. The dreamlike quality of the space became suffocating, the boundaries of reality slipping away.
Was this my destiny? To find the key, only to be consumed by the despair of forgotten dreams?
I stood there, paralyzed by the weight of what I had uncovered, the key to The Firmament’s destruction within my grasp, yet unable to move forward. Gabriel’s words haunted me still. Was this what he had intended? To lead me here, to this moment of indecision?
“But I am Azazel!” I gathered my pride and tried to fight against the power of Gabriel’s sinister designs. “What do I care for the stellarones? They’ve always been my pawns. I tortured them of my own Free Will and I decide my fate and theirs! For I am destined for Gr–“
“FOOL!” Gabriel’s Voice came back with a <POWER> greater than I’d ever heard it use. “YOU SHALL SUFFER FOR YOUR GREAT FOLLY!”
The Womb of Forgotten Dreams suddenly pulsed like a living thing, its vastness an oppressive blanket of despair that now smothered every last shred of hope. As I stood within this angry ethereal abyss, the air thickened with an unbearable weight, pressing down on my very soul. The shadows of the stellarones that swirled around me were no longer mere specters; they became twisted, writhing entities, each one carrying the unbearable burden of a dream that was never realized and all the agony which that entailed.
I began to hear voices, faint at first, like the distant murmur of a dying breeze. But they quickly grew louder, their tones filled with an anguish that clawed at the edges of my mind.
“I was meant to be a healer, to save countless lives, but I was snuffed out before I could take my first breath!” a voice cried out, its tone drenched in sorrow.
“I was destined to unite nations, to bring peace to a fractured world, but my existence was erased before it could begin,” another voice lamented, each word a dagger to my heart.
“I was to be a creator, a weaver of beauty and light, but I was denied the chance to even lift a brush,” a third voice echoed, the bitterness in its words lacerating my spirit.
The voices of the stellarones I’d tortured eons ago now multiplied, growing in number and intensity until they became a roaring tide of despair, crashing over me in relentless waves. The air vibrated with their collective grief, their pain seeping into my very being, poisoning my thoughts with the weight of their lost potential.
“Why did you bring us into existence, only to let us die?” one voice accused, its tone sharp and venomous.
“You meddled with the divine order, and we are the byproducts—empty, hollow, and forgotten,” another spat, its words filled with a hatred that sent chills through me.
“You are the cause of our torment!” a chorus of voices screamed, their combined fury making the very ground beneath me tremble.
I could feel my strength crumbling under the onslaught, my resolve weakening as the stellarones’ voices continued to hammer at my psyche. Each accusation, each lamentation, was a reminder of my failures, of the countless times I had tried and failed to bend the universe to my will. They were all reminders of how far I had fallen, how much I had lost in my futile quest for power.
“You thought yourself a god, but you are nothing!” one voice sneered, its tone dripping with contempt.
“You were never meant to create. You were never meant to hold the power of life and death,” another taunted, its words echoing the deepest fears I had buried within myself.
“You are a failure, Azazel. A failure!” the voices chanted in unison, their words a relentless drumbeat of condemnation.
The torment was unbearable. My once unshakable confidence crumbled, giving way to a deep, gnawing despair. The stellarones’ voices became hands—cold, spectral hands—that clawed at me, tearing at my flesh, my spirit, my very essence. They dragged me down into the depths of the Womb, pulling me further and further into the darkness.
“Join us, Azazel,” they whispered, their voices now a seductive lullaby. “Become one with us in the Womb. Share in our despair, and let go of your futile quest.”
I could feel myself weakening, my will to continue slipping away as the weight of the forgotten dreams pressed down on me. The despair was all-consuming, a black hole that threatened to swallow me whole. I could see myself becoming one with the shadows of the stellarones, my own dreams and ambitions dissolving into the mists, forgotten and lost like the countless others before me.
But it wasn’t just the forgotten dreams that haunted me. No, it was my own failures, my own missed opportunities, my own shattered hopes that tore at my mind with vicious glee.
“You tried to create life, Azazel, but all you wrought was death and misery,” a voice whispered, and I knew it was right. The flawed beings I had helped bring into existence, the twisted, imperfect creatures that had become humanity – they should have been my greatest achievement but were instead the grand testament to my failure.
“You wanted to be a god, but you were never more than a shadow,” another voice taunted, and I felt the truth of those words like a knife in my gut. I had sought to challenge the divine, to prove myself equal to A’H, but all I had done was prove my own insignificance.
“You are nothing, Azazel. Less than nothing,” a voice hissed, and I felt myself shrinking, my sense of self eroding under the relentless assault.
My mind began to fracture, the edges of my consciousness unraveling as the voices continued their merciless tirade. I could feel madness creeping in, a dark, insidious force that sought to devour what little remained of my sanity. My thoughts became disjointed, chaotic, a swirling maelstrom of despair and self-loathing.
Why did I do this? I wondered, the thought echoing through my mind like a dying ember. Why did I think I could defy the will of A’H? Why did I believe I could create something greater?
The answers eluded me, lost in the overwhelming tide of despair that threatened to drag me down into the abyss. My vision blurred, the shadows closing in around me as the last vestiges of my divine strength slipped away. I could feel myself falling, sinking into the darkness, my soul crushed under the weight of my own failures.
This is the end, I thought, my mind numb with the realization. This is where it all ends. I will become one with the Womb, a forgotten shadow in a forgotten place.
Just as I was about to succumb, to give up and surrender to the Womb, a violent force surged through me, an inexplicable burst of power that shattered the spectral hands gripping me. The voices of the stellarones, once so powerful, began to wane, their venomous words fading into the background as a howling wind tore through the Womb, ripping the shadows apart.
But this was not a rescue.
It was a violent expulsion, a rejection so forceful it felt like the universe itself was casting me out. The Womb shuddered, recoiling as if it could not bear my presence any longer. The ground beneath me cracked open, and a blinding light erupted from the fissures, engulfing me in its searing brilliance.
I was flung backward, hurtling through the void, my mind reeling from the sheer force of the expulsion. The last thing I heard as I was cast out was a haunting echo, the voice of Gabriel resonating in the depths of my consciousness:
“You do not belong here, Azazel. Your fate lies elsewhere. The Womb rejects you!”
With that final, jarring jolt, I was cast out of the Womb, out of the Cradle, out of the Tree, out of Eden, and into the Unknown.
I tumbled through the void, lost and broken, my mind a tempest of despair, fear, and confusion. Time flashed by in the blink of an eye, forward, backwards, perhaps even sideways to alternate realities. All the while the world (or worlds?) around me spun, a chaotic blur of light and shadow, as I fell deeper and deeper into the abyss.
Where am I? When am I? I wondered, but the answers never came. The only thing that remained was the overwhelming sense of failure, the crushing weight of the dreams I had never realized, and the terrifying uncertainty of what lay ahead.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 