The Children of Chemosh: The False Creators, #1

By T.G.P

Chemosh had spoken, and his voice was warm and alluring. His pure light was able to heal any wounds in their souls.

 

Thousands of years ago, king Irkal rejoiced in prosperity and wealth. He prepared sacrifices and festivals to the sun god, and the people adored him. The powerful Temple supported him, and the high priest accepted his generous donations. General Sether brings him some bad news, that the kingdom of Osiris moves its troops close to Argania's boundaries, in the oasis of palm trees, they have the help of Giants. Prince Mentra, who is barely twenty years old, is one of the most capable warriors in the holy city. His gift to enter the astral world made him the king's most precious weapon. Mentra dreams about the day when he will sit on the throne and be able to make significant changes in his city.
 

In our time, George awakens in a locked and dusty warehouse. His last memory was of falling of the bank of Thames. Sarah is not there with him. He will do anything to figure out where he is and how to escape.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theocharis George Paterakis
• Release date: Apr 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781805173243

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T.G.P

Copyright © 2023 T.G.P

T.G.P has asserted the right to be identified as the creator of this novel (The children of Chemosh) in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents ACT 1998

This work is fiction. Any similarity to names, characters or real people living or dead or real events in this book is coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission of the publisher.

Cover image: 123 AI Image Generator

And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.

2 Corinthians 11/14

INTRODUCTION

I would never be able to hide the fact that when I made the decision to create this short story, I had no plans to publish it and only wrote it for writing practice. Yet, as I went along, I saw that the characters began to speak and grow in a way that many authors can understand. Even though I had plenty more to say, I decided it would be better to keep the narrative brief.

I started writing with the basic idea that demons don’t look like what most people imagine. And they don’t have long horns on their heads, terrifying wings on their backs, or a dark aura around them. On the contrary, when they appear, they will look tranquil, bright, and appealing in order to entice you to put your faith in their words and trick you into falling into traps.

Chemosh is the name I gave this new type of demon. A false god mentioned in the Old Testament, the abomination of Moab, as he was called. He takes on the role of the healer, whose light may drive away the darkness and give you peace.

On the other hand, the king is a man who craves greater power and control. That is why he would go to any length to exploit his son’s ability to enter astral worlds, the realm where demons’ presence is stronger. Hearing its words, the prince will feel as if he can accomplish more, as if he deserves more—even his city’s throne, the only obstacle, his fears, and the current monarch.

I’d like everyone to put himself or herself in that situation. At the lowest point, at the time of most need, where first help appears to be the best option, it almost always is not.

I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Theocharis George Paterakis.

1

Their great god was in the sky. It was willingly giving its light to the inhabitants of that land. The people of the holy city worshipped the sun as their creator and as a person. They believed that it could see, hear, and judge. They believed that it created from its rays everything that men could see.

A crowd had gathered in the courtyard of the Sun Temple, opposite the sacred steps that no one could touch or walk on except the chosen initiates of the sacred mysteries and the priests. They were shouting, but no one could distinguish if it was the shouts of joy or the shouts of weeping. The sound was heard far away, beyond the city walls, in the forest beyond the plain.

King Irkal was standing on the first step near the golden altar; all eyes were on him as he was completing the last sacrifice. The smell of slaughter from the fire spread throughout the area. Strong bulls, sheep, and young birds had been sacrificed on the great altar and on small stone altars. There were among them singers who sang two hymns: one for their god and one for the king. The priests and the sentries of the temple had been purified the day before in the holy water of the large river. It was the coronation day. The king was celebrating his anniversary, the day that took place many years before that story. It was not necessary, but it was proof for him. The men and women of that city loved

him, and they were supporting him. At the same time, he was making donations to the temple and the priests. As a result, it helped him maintain good relations with them.

The princess Kimiya was a young lady at the time—only fifteen years old. She was standing very close to her father. And she behaved as he taught her. The attendees were people of high society: merchants, generals, governors, and scribes. Citizens of the east side of the city. At that time, Mentra was a prince, and the two sides were connected by simple wooden bridges. The brilliant bridges, supported by stout pillars, had not yet been built. The water of the holy river was not as calm as it would be just ten years later. The great dam that resulted in that wonderful lake did not exist during that period, and so the waters were very swift. Many times, the waters were so rapid that they covered the wooden bridges.

In winter, the villagers from the west side did not have a safe way to cross to the opposite bank. For the same reason, houses were not so close to the river, and those areas were sparsely populated. The whole city was different.

But the ninety-metre tower remained the city's shining jewel, visible from every house, the most brilliant creation under the sun. And the great walls continued to surround the great city, providing protection. When I looked at them, I did not see many differences; the palace was on the top of the hill. I saw

its five gardens, and the streets, the long central boulevard, and the big market were all similar, like ten years later.

With hymns to the prominent heavenly sphere playing in the background, hundreds of musicians were holding trumpets and playing their instruments. And people repeated these hymns loudly and tried to be heard. You could see thousands of people at that point occupying the large courtyard as well as some streets outside the boundaries of the temple. The song stopped at the command of King Irkal. He looked