Part XIX – Epilogue
Chapter 2 – That Loving Touch
The War of Ghast was over—its devastation etched into the very bones of the earth. And The Ghast, that ancient weapon of mass destruction was now in the hands of Gwar, the God of War.
But what happened after that?
Well funny you should ask.
Gwar’s victory had filled him with a intense satisfaction, his violent hunger sated by the destruction he’d wrought. Hacktor’s death had been a brutal affair, and the manner in which he defiled the warlord’s body bore the marks of Gwar’s unholy wrath. But Gwar’s triumph wasn’t fulfilled by simply murdering a mere mortal like my pawn Hacktor – instead the god wanted something else – he wanted The Ghast.
Finally the magical blade was his. The weapon to end all wars. Feeling the pulsating energy flow through him when he grasped The Ghast, Gwar surely believed that could slay even The Gods Themselves.
And so, with the coveted Ghast in his possession, Gwar’s mind raced with visions of the coming war—the war for the throne of the gods. He would return to Kagor, his fortress carved high into the mountains of that desolate island across The Stormy Seas, where the winds howled like the cries of all those he’d defeated. There he would prepare. The gods of TerrVerde would fall, and he, Gwar, would take his place as ruler of all three planes. Surely none could stop him now!
That was the plan we had agreed upon—or at least, the plan I led him to believe. I always found it amusing how easily my fellow gods could be manipulated – when their egos were so large, they couldn’t see the strings I pulled.
Of course, I had no intention of letting Gwar make it back to Kagor with his prize, much less wield The Ghast against the rest of us.
This then is the story of what happened next…
The very same night Gwar murdered Hacktor and took The Ghast, as the god made camp in the wastelands where the final battle had taken place, he felt a rare moment of peace. The Ghast gleamed beside him, its eerie, shadowy light cutting through the darkness of the wild. He reveled in his victory, his mind filled with thoughts of eternal domination and glory.
Yes even gods, in all their arrogance, like to relax once in awhile – so with the world at his feet, Gwar closed his eyes to savor that moment to its fullest extent. His hand still clutching the hilt of The Ghast, he allowed the first tendrils of sleep to wrap around his form – eventually pulling him into a deep, heavy slumber.
And that’s when She came.
Sindra, the Goddess of Lust and Temptation, chose that moment to appear. However, she didn’t approach Gwar in her true form—no, that would have been too obvious—for this mission called for subterfuge. So instead, she wove a shimmering illusion around herself, becoming Mezmeriza, the Goddess of Love—Sindra’s bitter enemy.
But before I can tell you that story, I have to tell you another first…
As Sindra transformed into Mezmeriza, she felt the familiar bite of jealousy gnaw at her core. For Lust’s rivalry with Love could be traced back to to the Time Before Time – back when they were comrades under Lucifer in our war against A’H.
Mezmeriza’s truename was Alyssa, Sindra’s Inanna – and both once stood side by side, powerful, beautiful, and full of ambition. Yet after The Fall – when we rebels were cast out of the heavens and eventually made our home on Terra – Sindra and Mezmeriza took different paths in life.
Now Mezmeriza was the Drokka’s name for the Goddesss of Love – I use it here because the story I’ve told you today was about Hacktor and his people – but you may remember this lumenarc as Alyssa – the being who I encouraged to couple with the first man Adam – which led to the creation of the Atlanteans and Amorosi – two charismatic peoples who once dominated your world.
Sindra loathed the fact that I chose Mezmeriza over her to procreated with Adam. She hated that Mezmeriza’s legacy thrived through her children, while she was left with nothing but her conquests. And while she had taken over the jungle world of Ramos and claimed its people, all the gods knew they weren’t really hers. Sindra hadn’t created them. She had not tasted the power of bringing life into the world, of having a race birthed from her own essence. That was a privilege denied to her—and one Mezmeriza seemed to wear like a crown.
[Less saavy readers might claim she was the mother of the Myz, but even Sindra herself knew those grey giants were more the work of MY genetic modifications than anything she did to produce them. Unlike with Alyssa and Adam – where Alyssa provided the seeds of life for her offspring – Sindra was merely a birthing vessel in my experiment. She knew this difference and it was one of the deepest sources of resentment between her and her rival. It was also something she blamed me for. Not that I cared what Sindra thought about me; and quite frankly, it was a thorn I loved to dig into her side whenever I had the chance].
Yet there rivalry was not only political, but also deeply personal. It’s a truth as old as time—two beautiful women can never truly be friends. And while Sindra and Mezmeriza were more gods than mortals, it was still the same story – rivalry as a result of their beauty was inevitable. Just like with mortal women – beauty bred jealousy, and jealousy bred resentment. Each saw in the other not just a rival, but a reflection of what she lacked.
For Sindra, Mezmeriza’s beauty was something she could never understand – it was a subtle and innocent kind of temptation. Mezmeriza’s beauty was ethereal and pure, yet still deeply sensual. Love represented a more romantic and mystical allure—a goddess who captivated without needing to flaunt herself. To Sindra, this kind of beauty was a threat – especially when so many people of the world worshipped Mezmeriza – MORE people in fact than worshipped Sindra herself.
Yet for her part I knew Mezmeriza envied Sindra’s raw sensuality, her ability to command desire with a single glance, her audacious power to dominate others. Sindra held power – and it came from her skill with seduction, temptation, and dominance. Lust radiated an unbridled and dangerous sensuality, drawing others to her with promises of forbidden pleasures. And her greatest power came when she took the soul of one of her mortal victims – for Sindra was a Soul Sucker and she was incredibly good at the skill. All this Mezmeriza lacked – yet she was not immune to wanting these abilities herself. [And we prove yet another eternal truth: women – be there mortals or goddesses – always want what their rivals have].
Love and Lust’s competition for dominance through beauty and charm extended into their social circles, especially among the gods. Sindra, with her overt sexual energy, had her share of lovers and conquests, but there was one god whom she desired the most—Pan—the God of Fertility and the Forests. Pan’s primal passion was an insane attraction to Sindra. Yet he only had eyes for Mezmeriza. This drove Sindra mad with jealousy – for no matter how Sindra tempted him, how brazenly she flaunted her beauty and power, Pan’s gaze never strayed far from Mezmeriza’s ethereal form. It was a constant humiliation for Sindra, knowing that even her potent sensuality couldn’t sway Pan from his infatuation.
And yet Mezmeriza didn’t even return Pan’s love— sure she allowed Pan to enjoy pleasures occasionally (for women do love to be ravished once in awhile) – yet the goddess never gave him her heart – which only made Pan want her all the more. Thus not only did Pan ignore Sindra for Mezmeriza, but Mezmeriza didn’t even care for Pan’s affection, making Sindra feel spurned twice over.
Why didn’t Mezmeriza settle down with Pan – why did Love and Fertility shack up in a cozy little house forever? Because Mezmeriza loved Rhokki.
But once again it was a case of a love forlorn – because Rhokki never requited Mezmeriza’s feelings. You’ll recall Rhokki was in fact in love with Gaia – and since Gaia was the poor lumenarc that Lucifer and I imprisoned in the North Pole of the Flat Earth in order to bring your world to Life – well that love was doomed as well.
And then there was Gwar, who also lusted for Mezmeriza – yet Love would have nothing to do with War. Sindra hated Mezmeriza for that too. Not because she cared for Gwar – in fact Sindra could have Gwar whenever she pleased—he’s was her plaything. She had seduced him, manipulated him, and used him for her purposes more times than she could count, but he would never truly look at her the way he looked at Mezmeriza, never want her in the same desperate way. Gwar’s obsession with Mezmeriza surely felt like another betrayal to Sindra, another moment where Mezmeriza was more desirable, more beautiful than herself.
It was all a sickening tangle of unfulfilled desires, and Sindra was trapped in the center of it, a mere shadow to Mezmeriza’s light. To Sindra, the entire situation was humiliating – and I don’t blame her for feeling that way – after all the Love Triangles of the Gods of TerrVerde was as complicating as a soap opera. [Which is why I always stayed out of it!]
And to top it all off was this – while Mezmeriza was indeed one of the Fallen like the rest of us rebels, she and a few others (Rhokki, Pan, Oceanus, among them) later rebelled against Lucifer and sought to sow harmony on earth to make up for their past sins – while Sindra and the rest of Lucifer’s minions continued to thrive on conflict and conquest. Thus the goddesses became rivals in the war of the gods as well and Lust thus had yet another excuse for wanting to destroy Love.
When you understand all this, you now also understand why appearing as Mezmeriza wasn’t just a trick to manipulate Gwar—it was also an outlet for Sindra’s deep-seated resentment.
Thus it was that Sindra now stood before Gwar, cloaked in the illusion of her enemy. When she saw that way Gwar looked up on her, Sindra felt a surge of wicked satisfaction. In this form, she could wield Mezmeriza’s power for herself, play on Gwar’s desires in a way her own beauty never could. But beneath that satisfaction, there was a flicker of something darker. Sindra knew that no matter how many illusions she wove, no matter how many men she seduced or conquered, she would never truly be Mezmeriza.
Yet Sindra also knew this – Mezmeriza would make the perfect patsy for this play. For Gwar has just defeated the Drokka in a brutal war, and to him, claiming Mezmeriza now would surely be the ultimate triumph. By finally ‘conquering’ Mezmeriza, Gwar could assert his dominance over Rhokki once and for all.
Mezmeriza, with her celestial beauty, was the unattainable desire of all who laid eyes upon her. Her hair, golden like the rays of the sun at dawn, cascaded in delicate waves down her back, catching the light with each movement. Her skin was pale and flawless, smooth as marble, and her eyes—deep pools of oceanic blue—held a kind of magnetic allure that no being could resist. Her lips, full and red, curved into the softest smile, a promise of pleasures untold. Even the finest silk could not compare to the way her figure moved with effortless grace, her wisp of a light gown clinging to every curve as if woven from the very air itself.
For ages, Gwar had lusted after Mezmeriza, his hunger for her growing with each failed attempt to possess her. She had always eluded him, slipping through his fingers like sand, leaving him consumed with fury and desire. But now, fresh from his victory, with The Ghast at his side and his blood still boiling with the thrill of war, it seemed as though Fate had finally decided to grant him his prize.
When Sindra’s Mezmeriza appeared before him, stepping out from the shadows like a dream made flesh, Gwar’s breath caught in his throat. The moon’s light danced on her skin, casting an almost ethereal glow around her. She didn’t speak at first, only smiled that maddening smile, the one that had haunted him for centuries.
“Mezmeriza…” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “At last… you come to me.”
“Do you not deserve me after all these years?” Sindra’s version of Love replied softly, her voice like honeyed silk, dripping with warmth and sweetness. She took a step closer, the air between them charged with tension. “The mighty God of War… victor of the great battle… slayer of kings. And now The Ghastwielder. How could I resist such power?”
Gwar’s chest swelled with pride, his arrogance growing with every word she spoke. He reached out, his fingers brushing her delicate arm. This time she did not pull away. His mind raced—had she finally realized that he might possess her. That no one, not even the Goddess of Love, could escape his grasp?
“I knew,” he growled, pulling her closer, “that you would come to me eventually. I’ve waited… and now, you are mine.”
Mezmeriza—Sindra—tilted her head, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Oh, Gwar… I am yours. Completely.” Her fingers trailed lightly over his chest, sending a shiver through his body. “You have claimed victory in battle… now, claim me.”
The God of War, drunk on his own power, grinned wickedly. He grabbed her, his hands rough and demanding, pulling her against him. She let out a soft, breathy sigh, playing her role to perfection.
“Oh, Mezmeriza,” Gwar murmured against her neck, his voice a low growl. “You’ll see what you’ve been missing… I’ll show you what it means to be mine.”
And then, with a ferocity that matched his lust for war, Gwar took her. He ravaged her, again and again, convinced that by possessing her, he was proving his dominance over all. Each time she gasped, Gwar thought it was out of pleasure. Little did he know, her every sound was one of mockery, her every movement a well-played deception.
Later, when Gwar finally collapsed into a deep, exhausted sleep, spent from his violent passions, Sindra’s lips curled into a sly smile. She slipped silently from his arms, her form shimmering as she shifted back into her true self. Standing over the sleeping god, Lust chuckled softly to herself, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
“Oh, you poor, pathetic fool,” she whispered, bending low to his ear. “Did you really think you could claim Mezmeriza? That she would ever lower herself to you?” She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her voice low and dripping with disdain. “You were always so easy to manipulate, Gwar. You lust for power, but in the end, it’s always your own arrogance that undoes you.”
Sindra’s gaze drifted to The Ghast, gleaming ominously in the moonlight beside him. She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing the hilt. “And now… your precious magical weapon of the gods… soon it will be gone, just like everything else you thought you could conquer.”
As she carefully lifted The Ghast from its resting place, the blade seemed to hiss in response to her touch. She straightened, casting one last glance at Gwar’s slumbering form.
“You won’t wake until I’m long gone,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But when you do… I want you to remember this moment. I want you to feel the rage, the humiliation… and know that you have lost again – not in battle, but in the game of gods – something you’ve never been good at!”
With that, Sindra disappeared into the night, The Ghast now in her possession, leaving Gwar alone in his sleep.
When the God of War awoke – weeks later – the cold light of dawn was creeping across the land. He was alone. His muscles ached, his head pounded, and he was still spent – for though he still didn’t know it, he’d endured the soul-sucking sex magic of Lust many times over. Had he not been a god himself, Gwar would be dead. Yet he was a god and thus he recovered from his ordeal. Still believing he’d finally conquered Mezmeriza, Gwar relished the memory of his conquest.
But then, his hand reached for The Ghast… and found only empty space! His eyes shot open, panic coursing through him as he sat up, frantically searching the ground around him. The Ghast—gone.
“Mezmeriiiiiiizzzzaaaaaa!!” His roar echoed across the barren landscape, a scream of fury and disbelief. His fingers dug into the earth, his rage boiling over as he realized what had happened.
“You vile witch!” he howled. “Come back here and obey your new master!”
But there was no response. The only sound that filled the air was the hollow howl of the wind. And the God of War, for all his strength, was left with nothing but his rage.
In fact, Gwar never did learn the truth about the actual identity of the goddess he had just possessed, but his mind never allowed him to contemplate anything other than the fact that, to him, it was indeed Mezmeriza that he had coupled with.
And so, for many decades after Gwar had but one focus as he insanely searched for that thief of goddess, forsaking all else. For not only had Mezmeriza stolen the magical Ghast, but she had also stolen Gwar’s black heart – if ever there really was such a thing!
Meanwhile, The Ghast was about to get a new home…
The Apocrypha of Azazel 