The Soul Draconian Council

By Leonard Oliver

Who are the Draconians? Why do they have an interest on the fate of humanity?

Something hides just off the island of Newfoundland, something big. A secret kept for as long as the Souls have been experimenting with Humanity. Now those “somethings” want to make contact with the Overseer.
Jaxon Harrison dives deeper into the circle of trust with the Illuminati. As he makes connections with the Thirteen Families, and other groups, he comes face to face with evidence that proves the Souls have made contact with other sentient species. Humanity was not the first being they tried to bond with. Mistakes made now threaten not only the world of secret societies but also hope to usher in the fall of humanity.

This is book 2 of the Soul Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leonard Oliver
• Release date: Apr 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301949892

Leonard Oliver

Leonard Oliver is a teacher in Anzac, Alberta. Though born in Harbour Grace, Newfoundland, he currently resides in Fort McMurray, Alberta. He is the father of two boys, Zachary and Devin. He is also the stepfather of two young adults, Alex and Timothy. To quote him. "I owe my partner, Angelique, a lot of credit when it comes to my novels. She convinced me to put some of my outlandish stories and ideas to paper. Since then I have made writing a hobby."

Book preview

The Soul The Draconian Council

Book 2 Soul Trilogy

By: Leonard J. Oliver

Copyright 2013 by Leonard J. Oliver

Published at Smashwords

Copyright: Leonard Oliver Publications 2013

ISBN: 9781301949892

Edited by; Angelique King

Dedicated to all my family and friends.

Thanks for listening in to my rambles!

No part of this book may be

reproduced in any way without written

consent by the author.

Prologue

Pompeii. 79 AD

The ancient mountain shook again as the solitary human grasped the weathered-leafless tree. A black and grey powder coated his Roman General armor. Deep down he did not want to be here. He wanted to be with his daughter as she journeyed a safe distance away.

Ash had already begun to fall. It had for days. Though not too thick, it was enough to scare the local residents towards the sea and nearby city. With outlining sections near isolated, their privacy was almost guaranteed. It would have to be. Any observers would be put to death, the Free Masons demanded it.

Those with money had left weeks ago. Those without, they were weathering the storm in Pompeii's narrow streets. Food was not an issue but water began to become a commodity people bartered. It was not too bad yet, but everyone was taking stock of what they had.

They were told the tremors under their feet were the growling bellies of the Gods. The simple minded and the religious accepted it as truth. Sacrifices were made to the idols in the city and the temples were full to the brim. For those who peddled religion, business was beyond good; it was booming.

Far from the reaches of the city below, a group of Centurions stood ready. Well-fed and watered, they had no worries other than the task before them. They were ready and were briefed about the visitors.

Each soldier housed a being of light and to these Lights this was routine. But for the hosts who housed them, many were scared beyond description though they did not show it. Yet they knew the difference between true bravery and foolhardiness. True bravery involved facing your fears and conquering them, like a Roman. Foolhardiness involved ignoring what you were afraid of and becoming overwhelmed with stupid bravado.

Chosen by the Temple of Solomon, each of the humans were battle tested and battle proven. None of them had lost a fight nor had they shown any uncertainty when in over their heads. Heroes to many, not one of them felt ready. As the last final few seconds clicked closer to the moment of contact, no man quivered nor showed any signs of terror. They were Romans after all.

The solitary General was Marcus Appolus, son of Cassius, grandson of Hiericius of the tribe Aemilia. He gripped the tree harder in his open hand and looked at his men again.

Every soldier knew they were in good hands. It was not his position they respected. A few were ranked higher. It was the Titan inside him who garnered their respect. It was an Overseer, one of the grandest of the Gods of the Gods.

Standing alone, he spoke to himself, You're sure you can trust him, this Osiris guy? He's Egyptian after all. I have never trusted those sand dogs. Plus, you've said in the past you two have had words. How do you know he's not again betraying you?

Marcus coughed and took the time to place his scarf up to his mouth. It felt like the ash was turning to rock in his lungs. Even his chest felt heavy. Constantly thirsty, he kept a bladder of water hanging from his shoulder.

Cian's thoughts reverberated over Marcus' brain like it was whispered in his ear, 'Though we may hate each other, we all agree on one thing… the Draconians are dangerous to both our people. Every other time in history we formed a Council to deal with their interactions. It's the one cause we can all agree. It's our way to ensure we'll have a say in how to deal with them.'

Again Mount Vesuvius shook and made Marcus' body unstable as he stood on the rocky ledge. Its violent rage was amplified by actions below the surface. These tremors were not completely geological, for the most part; they were technological.

Machines, the construct of non-human minds, tore through the solid bedrock. Loose soil, and anything else in its way, was grounded into nothing. No Roman alive had ever witnessed these devices and lived. The soldiers present were warned talking about this, afterwards, would be punishable by death. Until now he could not understand why. As the first black-bug-like mount broke the surface, he knew no one would believe him anyway.

Tunnels deep in the mountain spewed forth wave after wave of cone like chariots. To Marcus, they looked like knife-covered wagons. The surface was coated in moving teeth of metal. Each lunged forward with a speed which looked magical.

Obviously they were the constructs of a sick necromancer's mind, he thought. No god fearing Roman would play with the rules of Jupiter. No, these devices were things Pluto himself would walk away from.

Throwing the triple-elephant-sized group carrier slightly in the air, it came down with a jarring force. As soon as the dust settled, the back opened up. The clanging was silenced by the mass of grinding and digging from the rest of the incoming abominations.

Each was filled with a dozen or so cloaked figures. Once disembarked, they waited in a perfect line. All of the beings looked massive, even from this distance.

A few seconds passed. With it, more and more horseless chariots arrived. In time, they left the air heavy with dust and rock particles. The god awful smell of thion, as the Greeks called it, filled the air. To him it always smelled like rotten eggs.

Marcus continued to talk to his Titan, Are the Masons ready for us, incase diplomacy fails?

The Roman General spoke as the stench polluted the air around them. It was almost overpowering. He was sure the beasts within must have been trying to 'stink them' into submission. He would gladly trade his grandfather's sword for a breath of fresh air.

Again the whisper chat flowed across his brain, 'Hu-tien and Fillius are moving them now as we speak. If this goes sour, there's nothing they can do.'

As the two beings, both home to a single physical form, made their way down the mountain ledge, the last of the Draconian vessels erupted from the grounds below.

The mountain side looked like badly made bread, pocketed with holes. Each metal enclosed chariot looked as inhuman as anything he had ever seen in his short life.

The platform they stood on towered in front of the mass of hooded figures. Even from this distance, they were larger than two men side by side. Some were wider than three. A few had feet, but they were nothing like any foot he had ever seen on any man, living or dead.

Others wore robes. They hung too low to see any appendages. As they moved, they seemed to glide across the ground. Each movement resembled a snake more than a man.

The twelve centurions stood there, a short distance from Marcus, and looked puny in relation to them. It looked like his soldiers were children, standing in the open field, surrounded by the biggest of the gladiators. Gulping, he knew they were in over his head.

Though their plates of iron armor glistened from the burning torches held in their hands, he could easily tell they were outmatched. He wondered if even one of the beast could be too much for the greatest of squads.

His human brain found the concept hard to struggle with. He was Roman, the God's choice to rule the world. It was their destiny to be the new world order, to unify everyone under Caesar and Jupiter. However, in the shadows of these monsters, that one truth was now drawn into question.

The beasts below were now more like statues. None moved. Once they found their spot, their eyes were fixated on the thin creatures that were his men.

'If looks could kill...' he remembered his grandfather once saying as he was snarled at by a general in the street.

By the impression these creatures left, he wondered if this may be one of their powers...

***********

Standing where he could be seen, Marcus yelled towards the frightening creatures below him, Naga, the intrusion in your domain has been dealt with. The humans who found your city have been captured and left for you as a sacrifice on the alter. There's no need to go any further. The Roman Empire is large and powerful. Please accept our apology and the bodies of these three young men in return for peace.

The valley was silent before Cian took control of Marcus' body.

Marcus swore in his own head. He hated how easily the Titan could make him an avatar. The feeling was eery every time. It felt like he was watching a play where the actors were addressing the audience. All he could do was listen and occasionally comment. Other than that, he was completely helpless and at the whim of the being inside of him.

In a language older than man, older than anything most mammalian races heard, the old Titan received the message. The rocky outcroppings caught the words and bounced them around the halls like a pig's bladder.

Fractured sounds returned to him. Ricocheting back and forth, it was a few seconds before they died all together.

The silence continued. Marcus, now a whisper of a voice inside his own body, asked, 'Do they understand? Are they willing to back down?'

A cackle started at the far end of the line.

It became infectious as it continued down the column of frightening creatures. Sounding like the breaking of freshly boiled crab legs, it was followed by the jiggling movements of over a thousand hooded figures. A roar bellowed from the back. An eight foot tall beast stomped forward, his hood rippled in the wind which ran freely over the mountain top.

By the looks of it, he was their general. Thinking to himself, Marcus knew they were equals in only this one area. The creature looked larger than him, faster than him and stronger than him. His only hope was his Roman wits. His people were the pinnacle of Jupiter's creation. Nothing could compare to their greatness, or at least he hoped so

Raising two of its three fingered arms above his head, it screamed back. To everyone there, it sounded like the roar of a whole pride of lions calling out at the same time.

If Marcus was in control of his body, he was sure the goose bumps would be stacking themselves on his skin. Nothing human could sound like that. Nothing human could be this big, frightening and animalistic. Nothing human would even consider themselves better than the Romans.

Still inside his own mind, Marcus was able to sense the meanings of each of the words spoken to him. They were not good. Any plans they had, well they went out with the chamber pot.

Uneasy, he listened closely.

Bah, the mighty Ape empires-sss. We can grind you under our feets-ssss like we did the Olmec, the Cucuteni-Trypillian, the Clovis-sss and the Indus-sss. In ttt-time even your blades-sss will not be worth wiping the dung of a hatchlings-sss leg. I sss-spit on your Empire. I sss-spit on your peoples-sss and mostly I sss-spit on the ttt-thieving-murderous demons-sss of light inside you! Said the cloaked figure.

One of the centurions flinched at the hissing voice.

Marcus knew he would be doing the same thing if he had control of his body. The soldier's companion had translated the message. Obviously a young Titan, and in his first body, it still had much to learn about control. Impulse took over and his host whispered 'Bastards'.

The others ignored him.

In a way, he agreed with the young Roman. His main regret was not saying the word before anyone else. No one should talk to a Roman like that. He had cut the tongues out of barbarian children for saying less.

Off in the distance, two shots of Greek fire shot up from the ship. It was the agreed signal Cian requested from Hu-tien. She was safe and so was his daughter.

Marcus felt a wave of relief; he was glad. Finally something was going right. He had come to trust his Titan's mate. Though she was not like any Roman woman he ever met, or cared to meet, his talks with her showed a true soldier.

She was Amazonian-like, strong in both ability and will. It was always strange standing next to a woman, sword in hand, depending on her to watch your back. However, every time she held her own. Now he missed not having her here beside him. Weirdly, she acted more like a man than most soldiers.

But her part of the plan took her away from him. She was entrusted with ensuring the safety of the elite. She was guarding the lives of the Masons, the Brotherhood of the Snake and the others who had been living on the lap of luxury in Pompeii.

Most of those hiding or scurrying away were senators though a few had connections to the underground. Either way, they were too important to risk.

To Marcus, she was too important to risk also. Her host, Fillius, has stirred an emotion inside him. She was full barbarian but it was this raw untamed power that attracted him. She had the fire red hair of the Celtics and the same mysticism of the Druids.

Once this was over, he thought, maybe he would ask for a garrison closer to Gaul or even in the island of the white savages she called home.

Yes he would get her opinion. He was sure she would not disagree, her presence in his tent last night showed a mutual understanding and a union of beliefs. In fact, there were a few unions he would never forget that night himself.

She left the tent with a good understanding why Roman men were envied by women worldwide, in his opinion. He pulled out all the stops, AFTER ALL he had a reputation to protect.

Cian shook Marcus's head to bring him back to the real world.

The exodus of these people were a precaution, he remembered being told. It would not matter for much longer. This was supposed to be a simple exchange: pass over the intruders, shake a few hands and then get on with real life.

However, the legions below worried him. They looked more like conquers and not a formal escort for a band of thieves. This did not smell right and he did not mean the stench from the weird chariots below.

'These beasts, with their overwhelming legions, are going to be difficult.' The Titan inhabiting his body whispered to him before speaking to the creatures below.

In the ancient language, moving Marcus' lips, Cian responded, This time around, we will not back down, Draconian. I'm an Overseer, one of the Lights' High Council. I'm the destroyer of civilizations. You cannot win. To lose will bring dishonor to your families. Your King will let your enemies feed on your warm livers, while you still breathe!

Marcus was floored. Cian must have been showing off. The being he was connected to never seemed this powerful or ruthless. Yes he could take on many men, with weapons of light and magic, but that was as much as he had ever seen him do.

The majority of Romans fell to his Titan's feet on sight. There was never a need for such threats except with barbarians and savages.

If Cian was this strong, why were they not vying for leadership? Why were they not ruling Rome rather than defending it like a common soldier? Why could he not be a Caesar now and have left these dirty beast to someone more fitting?

There was no doubt about it, he was impressed when he first found out he was hosting one of the Great Titans. Even Jupiter feared the Titans, locking them away.

Yet, a destroyer of civilizations, this was the first he had heard of this tale. Obviously this Titan was playing the weighted dice. Bluffing or so Marcus hoped, to make himself greater than he was. But one fact gnawed at him, why would a Titan need to lie? If he was as powerful as he seemed, why would he need to create a tale as momentous as a destroyer of worlds?

With a lumbering massive boom, a solitary set of gigantic feet came running towards Cian. Marcus watched as the elephant like legs moved with an agility which should have been impossible. If his own eyes were not spying this, he would have argued it was a falsehood and doubted the narrator of the tale as being drunk off Aesop's wine.

Instead, it defied logic and came rushing towards him.

Though slow to start, once it fell on all four limbs like a dog the speed increased almost instantly. Within seconds, the movement stunned him. Reaching speeds most horses would stumble at, given the terrain, it did so as nimble as a goat.

The hood fought to stay on. Whatever had tied it back worked so well that little could be seen, other than the glowing cat-like eyes. Cat-like?

The... eyes... were... not... human!

Marcus felt his screams of terror echo through his own skull. This was impossible. How could creatures like this exist? They were beyond description and every part of him wanted to run for safety.

His body, however, was not his to control. He felt tied down, restrained, but there was no way out of this unrelenting nightmare until Cian let go.

Bounding from boulder to boulder, the titanic warrior covered the distance a running man would need an hour to safely climb in minutes. With a final thrust it pushed itself straight up in the air like an arrow. Coming down firmly, a few cubits from Marcus, neither the Titan nor the human knew who was responsible for the shiver which ran down their shared body.

The form looked bigger up close, too big. What little skin that was revealed looked like scales. Green and golden, it had a shadowy effect when it moved like it was catching the light and changing color. He hated snakes, he always had.

Its smell was revolting, a combination of rotten egg and decaying flesh, aired too long in the warm summer sun. It was obvious; the only thing keeping flies away was the noxious gasses.

Even Cian could feel the revulsion rising from Marcus. Retching, he tried desperately to keep down the breakfast of bread dipped in wine. Throwing up over an ambassador, as unholy and disgusting as this one, was never a good practice.

The Draconian cocked his head slightly to his side, Your kind has-sss ttt-taken to wearing sss-shiny rocks-sss to protect-ttt their sss-soft ttt-tender fleshes-sss I ssss-see.

It's not the metal you have to be afraid of Draconian. It's the light inside. Cian replied trying to hide Marcus' growing fear.You're young, Naga. You may not know the full tales of some of our battles. Let's say there are two sides to every story and each time my story and your's will end the same. You return to the hell you came from. Save us both the time and trouble, BACK DOWN!

In exchange? What would you give as-sss ttt-tribute? We want the ttt-tender meats-sss of your young and the fatty bodies-sss of your females-sss. TTT-They shall be our prey, feeding sss-stock and ssss-sport for the next-ttt few centuries-sss. Give us-sss this and your sss-spineless males-sss can crawl away and mate with each other in wild abandon, like Apes-sss. Do ttt-this and I'll let the Lights-sss inside you live until our next-ttt hunt-ttt.

Marcus thought of his family. Yes, his daughter, his to raise since his wife died, had left with Hu-tien.

Other kids, those of the elites, were safely bought along and making their way out of the harbor. But his sisters' families were not among them. They were commoners who worked the trades and the fields. Their spouses were no one of importance. Each was still below with their families, his young nephews and nieces among them.

This was not the agreement.

No, he had been promised by Cian, Caesar and the Masons something else. These spawn from the underworld were supposed to pop up, boast and run back the way they came. The most they would steal away was the poor bastards who stumbled into their caverns.

No one would pay for their stupidity and bad luck. No one would be sacrificed but the poor men themselves. He was even promised, Pompeii, his home since his wedding, would not even feel the flesh of their feet.

His father's bones lay in the ground outside the city. His wife's bones laid next to his dad. Both rested, waiting for Marcus to join them.

He had people who were honor bounded to bring his body home if he fell in battle. But here, there was no honor in any of this. There was no honor in feeding the mighty Roman people to these monsters just to defuse a war.

They had lied to him.

The deal was not done. Either that or this had gotten out of hand faster than anyone them had expected. Now, the whole agreement was being hammered out. The bloods from those decisions were upon his hands. These same hands, which he had no control over, were choosing the fates of the innocents below.

The wall of hooded figures began to stir as the solitary one on the hill raised his hand, The cowards-sss have decided ttt-tribute, brothers-sss. Tttt-take the weak and the young. Remove the females-sss but have your fun with the males-sss. Tonight our attack shall end at the city borders-sss.

Marcus was stunned. Desperately he tried to get through to Cian but his Titan was ignoring him. Every effort to make his body move ended in nothing more than a fruitless struggle. Cursing, he screamed out in silence.

Locked in his own mind, his protests went no further. They were muffled by his own inability to be heard outside his head.

*********

Are the last of the Draconians gone, Centurion? Cian spoke to the soldier in front of him.

Cian continually jabbed the end of the blade in the small stump of tree which laid at his feet. The repetitious behavior did nothing to quell the raging host trapped inside him, though it helped the Soul to ignore the protests.

Bowing slightly, the centurion spoke, Yes, and we're spread out over the rim of the volcano. All is set to go. Just say so.

Marcus finally gave up screaming. If he had been using his vocal cords, he would have been horse. Instead, he was mentally exhausted.

Defeated by the one being who knew him better than a brother, he was entombed in his own flesh. He felt like he was watching some sick Hellenic play where the hero suddenly has a change of conscience.

However the climax had come and gone and yet there was no catharsis, there was no lesson to be learned. Every actor had acted their parts and the curtain was closing. Nothing was left to play out, or so he believed.

His double, his Titan, his alter half was not letting him take his bow. His soldier instinct was alarmed by what was happening. No one was willing to give him the script to read. Was this the final act or was there more to come?

Whispering again, he calmed himself down, 'Cian please talk with me. For Jupiter's sake, and for all the Empire stands for, give me some reason to forgive you old friend. I have family down there. I have friends you told me would be safe. You owe me.'

Still Cian did not reply. It was as if he was unaware of the pleading from the human who shared the last twenty years with him.

Marcus began to think, maybe there was a real reason behind him being ignored. Maybe the connection was broken and as soon as the time was right, everything would be back to normal. He was sure of it.

Once the Titan finished off what he needed to say to the head centurion, he sent him on his way. No swords were drawn to defend the families below; they were all gone, dragged to the depths with Pluto while they were still alive. Not one soldier raised a sword, they lay in their sheaths. The only thing in each soldiers' hand were a single lit torch.

The being that was controlling his body now turned to the empty mountain side. It was peppered with the masses of holes which had collapsed in on them. The chariots which gave birth to them had retreated back under the soil.

All the horrors visited on Jupiter's chosen People before the invaders disappeared were unbelievable. Years of battle could not prepare even the strongest of Romans.

Children and women clung together in fright. Some were dressed in fine robes but they were few. Most had the drabs of the poor and unfortunate. Most were of little importance and would not be missed.

All of them sported bruises, cuts, scars, missing limbs and eyes. Their capture was not a peaceful one. With true Roman spirit they fought their captors, he was sure of it. His people were a proud people who would die by the sword if given a choice.

Bewildered, they were led into the carriers. Those who protested died swiftly as the blades showed little resistance against the flesh under their clothes. The tangy smell of their blood could be smelled over the sulfur.

There were few men, at least none alive and walking. The occasional male was thrown over the shoulders of some of the beasts like slabs of meat. In front of Marcus' eyes the adult males were dismembered. Raw, the parts were torn apart like poultry and Romans were consumed like they were nothing more than cattle.

The mothers and children were forced to look on in horror, each at the end of short leashes attached to poles. Their father's, uncle's and grandfather's fates were played out in front of them.

But no women and children were eaten. You could tell by the looks in their eyes they knew this time would come. It was their fate, just not their time.

A few screamed to the Centurions on the hill. A few screamed to him, knowing his name and the tribe he came from. Each plea pleaded for their assistance. They trumpeted prayers for Mars, begging the soldiers to defeat their captors.

Yet Roman Centurions looked on emotionally reserved, their Titans controlling their actions.

Marcus struggle to break free, to try to save at least one family, but Cian refused him any control. He was crippled by his Titan and held within his own head.

Once the last cloaked figure entered the enclosed chariots, he finally breathed a sigh of relief. Though the horror was over, the images would haunt him, he thought, for the rest of his life.

Finally, the God of Gods who was controlling him spoke.

Marcus I am sorry, I truly am. You've been good to me and deserve much better than this. But this, this is the role we Titans have to play in your world. These Gods you have are no more than children. In fact, they're our children. They play with you like toys. And still you worship them. They give so little back to your kind. Cian shook his head, It’s my kind, their parents if you could call them this, it’s us who do the real hard work. It’s our kind who works to protect humanity.

Marcus interrupted, 'Protect? PROTECT! You never raised a hand for us! You stood by and allowed innocents to be harvested like lambs while your kind looked on detached. PROTECTED? WE NEVER HAD ANY PROTECTION!'

Your kind is not ready for the Naga, my host. They're too powerful. Even with the combined energy of all the Titans and Gods walking Terra right now, the damage would be apocalyptical. The deaths would be beyond humanity's ability to survive and rebuild. The people of this city will be unsung heroes, Marcus. They'll die so all men can live another day.

'Unsung? There had to be survivors hiding here and there. There has to be. No army can kill a whole city. Trust me we've tried. There are always a few survivors. Hell there are fifteen of us here. That, with the people leaving in ships, well we'll all tell this tale and the might of Rome will come crashing down on these animal's cities.' The whispering voice of the trapped human protested.

Hu-tien, Osiris and Ra have their orders. Few of the ships will make it to port. In time this place will be a legend and nothing more. Those below will probably never be found. Anyone who may escape and speaks of the Draconians will be silenced. Humanity is not ready to face them. This is all done to protect the greater good my friend. Cian lowered his host onto his knees and placed both hands on the rim of the volcano.

"NEVER... NEVER, NEVER, NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE NO FRIEND TO ME NOR MY PEOPLE. IF I COULD KILL MYSELF RIGHT NOW I WOULD, JUST TO SPITE YOU!" Though still a whisper in Marcus's own head, it felt like a roar to him.

Looking through his own eyes, he saw the silhouette of the lone Centurion who left minutes before. The torch was still high as he barked out an order. It was louder than any human could make without the added energies of the beings inside them.

It was obvious; the night was far from over. What was happening, he wondered? He knew he had participated in the surrender of a town of Roman civilians. He had witnessed the slaughter of innocents and lived. Nothing could trump this, he was sure, nothing. Let this cursed night end!

The solitary Roman dropped the torch in the mouth of Mount Vesuvius. As it fell, eleven more torches of light joined it. They were like shooting stars until they joined the flowing red blood at the center of the mountain.

A message was being sent, Marcus thought, but for what?

On cue, beams of light were emitted from the twelve bodies. Like the lighthouse in Alexandria, the humans burned brightly. In the dark sky, it lit up the top of the volcano like it were day. The bodies looked almost transparent as the luminescence flowed down them like flowing water.

Frightened, all Marcus could think about was running away. It was almost too much for his already fractured psyche to handle but Cian refused to relinquish control.

Standing there, imitating beacon fires to ward off ships, the lights grew brighter until his eyes hurt. He refused to look away. He was a warrior. He was Roman. He would look death in the eyes and spit in its face. He would stand defiant until the end.

The mountain rumbled and roared. Shaking hard, the lone centurion who had left earlier fell from his standing position. Awkwardly he tumbled in after the torch. Screaming for the first few seconds, he was finally silent as his body hit the red hot blood like center of the inner mountain.

His disappearance did not affect the brightness; in fact the luminescence seemed even more intense than before.

Each shake became worse.

Though Marcus was in agony, Cian refused to close his eyes. Unbearable pain was forgotten momentarily as massive explosions could be heard from all corners of the mountain. Warm liquids poured from his ears. It had to be blood, he thought.

It was then a blast of steam tore through the earth just behind Cian.

The super-heated gas cooked his sandaled foot instantly, the bone showed through the burnt peeling flesh. Marcus bellowed in pain but Cian did not flinch.

Pain was an anomaly the Titans did not understand. They could comprehend hurt, or even longing. These were things they had experienced. But excruciating pain, his Titan once explained, it was beyond their ability to sympathize with.

Though Cian felt bad, a job was to be done and this overrode any complaints from his host. His kind needed him. Their experiment, humanity, needed him. There had to be sacrifices to protect the Hosts. The needs of a few were nothing when it was compared to the whole human population.

Marcus' whole body by now was burning due to the raining ash, embers and scalding fluid. Red blotches formed where unholy precipitation rained down. To the human entombed in his own body, it felt as if he were cooking from the outside. His lungs hurt, his skin burnt and his eyes were stinging beyond description.

Yet his protests remained unanswered. His agony was not registering with his Titan, it was ignored by the being he considered a brother.

He fought to remain conscious through the pain. Somehow he knew passing out would cut his life even shorter, but he wanted to live. He wanted to hold his daughter. He wanted one more night with Finnius. He wanted to walk the grassy fields of the Emerald Isles she spoke so fondly about.

He wanted to open his eyes and awaken from this nightmare.

Cian still did not move.

Pouring a life time of Titan energy in the earth, he shed a solitary tear. He had shared life with enough hosts over the eons to know how their pain could lead to madness. Every human had a breaking point and he was sure he had pushed this one to the point of no return. Soon, Cian thought, soon it will be over, soon you will rest.

Marcus, I am sorry, I truly am sorry. Cian whispered.

With that the mountain came apart. A rushing ball of superheated air flew forward faster than humanly possible. Chunks, larger than the buildings buried below, were sent spiraling into the air. The concussive force was strong enough to shatter bones and force anyone inhaling to drown in a pool of their own blood as the bruising inside their lungs leaked their crimson liquids.

Fortunately, Marcus was dead before the blast fried him to ashes and shattered his mortal form.

The being inside quickly left his ruined-burnt body. Though nature erased it from histories, he would be forever encoded into the Titan's memories.

Chapter 1

The Original Tenants

"If we like it or not, we will have a One World Government.

The question is if it will be achieved through consent or

through conquest"

By: J. Warburg

As I looked across the gaping maw of the black luxury stretch limo, the traffic buzzed in my ear.

We whisked past the crowded streets. All I could concentrate on was her body resting on the black leather seats. When she slept, she looked like an angel. Her eyes twittered and danced as dreams stimulated her mind. She was still the most amazing sight in the world.

Exhausted from the long helicopter ride, her nose was cuddled into a satin pillow and, like a china doll; she looked newly out of her package. Her body still amazed me, though she had given fifteen years of her life to ensure I still had mine. Still she stirred my most basic