Xonereth appeared dead as he lay eyes closed, pale as fine porcelain on the slab of sacred basalt, his lengthy, straight midnight hair hung over the end of it tracing the floor. He lay upon the still warm zilant's blood, the entirety of his naked body being etched in sable runes. Words of power that would allow him to make the sojourn and appear before the omnipotent being unscathed. He bore not a single adorning jewel or the coronet of his reign. He must go before the oracle simply as he was made, no more and no less, for judgment. His attendants hovered and fussed, and mentally he readied himself for the trial ahead.
He had drunk of the sacred vessel, the skull of the first of demon kind, after which there could be no return, and now he would sleep readying himself to pass into the Oracle's realm. Demon time did not move the same as the time on earth passed above, though it be just days for demon kind, two human years would elapse before the King of Demons could traverse the corridors of Baiæ Italie and seek his answers.
Xonereth would not awake until he had been judged, and if found wanting he may never wake at all. Sheharizade kept vigil by his side and saw to all royal matters in his absence.
*****
Xonereth emerged by night in the high-domed Roman baths of Baiæ Italie, fed by the hot springs from below. To begin with, he had felt somewhat surreal, light, and strange, as in reality, he had left his mortal essence behind, as only his incorporeal one could make this pilgrimage.
He sought out and found the deep passageway that ran far into the earth, traveled by many feet over the centuries, all seeking their answers from the powerful being that resided within.
Termed as the entrance to Hades and the river Styx. Humankind had long ago forgotten the true purpose of the tunnels ofBaiæ Italie if they had ever known them. In historical times there had been appointed a succession of drugged young women, probably priestesses, or even slaves that stood in for the oracle in this place of stifling darkness. Many fearful petitioners would come to ask their god's favor and to beseech that the future be kind. Leaving offerings and gold depending on the magnitude of their request.
Before the greatest of Wars, the ancient baths above and parts of the tunnels had been turned into a tourist attraction. Many historians and archaeologists studied them hoping to glean their secrets, everyone had vastly different theories as to their exact purpose. Many of the dark passages had become impassable due to cave-ins from seismic activity over the course of many centuries. Tourists came here to marvel at the hot spring-fed Roman baths that still lay beneath the beautiful domed ceiling. All who journeyed to this site saw something different, some beheld sin and vice, some fear, some darkness, and others an acute closeness to the divine.
Most who dared walk the dark interior tunnels that were still whole, commented on the heat as they descended. By torchlight, they saw little more than a narrow arched passage that dove deep into the earth, with empty receptacles for candles cut into its sides. At least that is what human eyes saw with their dulled senses.
There were many other sites of power such as this one scattered across the upper earth, places where the dimensions were conjoined. The sites scholars and scientists puzzled over, full of unplumbed mysteries. All of these power points were entryways to the Oracle's presence, but not an audience with a drugged slave girl or priestess as had been the circus in the Roman days, but the real Oracle, a being of immense wisdom and power.
The entry passageway was narrow and slightly arched at its top, Xonereth would descend some two hundred feet into the earth. Yet that task he knew would not be so simple. Two hundred feet hardly sounded like a trial at all. To demon eyes, the tunnel was not bathed in impossible darkness, as it appeared to others. At intervals of some thirteen feet, there were small ledges carved into the walls. Where in the past candles must have been set in the entrance passage. To demon eyes in their place shone a ball of luminescence, a fey light, not unlike that of the moon in miniature. Yet the dull-witted humans could see nothing but all-encompassing darkness manifesting their greatest fears.
None had traversed this passageway for many years. Although Xonereth was effectively out of his body which still lay motionless on the basalt slab covered in the zilant's blood, his passing left his foot marks, and he could very much feel the dust and the terrain under his feet.
As he descended he could sense the increasing humidity and heat. A feeling of dread rose in him and he felt his heartbeat quicken, and the blood in his temples pound. It was not long before he came upon a divide in the passageway. Xonereth remembered this moment well, he had after all made this journey once before.
Before him extended two identical shafts, both narrower than the initial entrance. One going barely to the left, and one barely angling to the right. He paused trying to sense which one to take, and he knew as he looked into the narrow darkness that beckoned before him this was where his trial would begin.
He had gone left last time, and he shuddered, glad his court could not witness the unease he felt. Yes, it was a mercy he was alone, yet terrible, everything was on his shoulders. He did not even wish for Sheharizade who knew his heart to see him this way, he was a King, and he was supreme power. Right now he felt none of those things, his birthright and Royal legacy stripped bare. A new vulnerability rested over him and he did not revel in the sensation.
He vividly remembered the last trial, even though it was eons ago, it had almost killed him, or even worse reduced him to a maddened imbecile. He would not go left, this time the right corridor beckoned. It was possibly the one he should have taken the first time.
He committed to the right on this reasoning. Whatever lay beyond could not be more difficult or harder to endure than the last time. He was more seasoned and wise now, no longer at the beginning of his reign with all its insecurities and unknowns. He would be far better at this task. He would hold on to that.
Once he had taken a few steps over the threshold he thought the heard whispers, or were they the rustle of bats wings? His acute magical senses told him he was not quite heading west. The orbs set in the passageway were less bright but set at closer intervals. He heard the whispers again and suddenly distinct words came to him.
"So great ruler this time you thought you were smart, why did you not take the trial you already knew how to complete, it may have been the easier?"
Xonereth shuddered, but it was too late to turn back...
