Clouds rolled by, dramatically sliding through the sky almost unnaturally as the wind howled through the trees. Leaves rustled and limbs complained at the treatment almost as if frightened of the event to come. Thunder clapped overhead a horrid roar shaking the very foundation of the Earth. Rattling existence itself.

Unshaken, a huddled figure made arcane symbols in the air with a blood-drenched hand. His naked body was wracked with sweat and fatigue, pale skin appeared almost translucent in the ink black night. Hair was matted with sweat and gore-- wild eyes unfocused and glazed.

Before him lay a make shift altar-- two stones thrust into the stale earth with a pine board bridging the gap. A Tupperware bowl sat in the middle filled with blood. The man's left hand continually stirred the thick gore while every few moments the right hand plunged into the swirled pool as if wetting a quill.

The muttering became a chant-- resounding powerfully from his abused body-- a sound uncharacteristic of the frame. With the increase in volume, the weather reacted in kind enhancing its own fury of wind and thunder. The clouds began to converge into a gigantic swirling mass and lightning flashed above him. Unwavering, the ritual continued…. More blood applied to his already gore-wrinkled hand.

Eyes closed he threw his head back and screamed out-- a flash exploded from the swirling cloud and light beamed down upon him, bathing his emaciated body in a perverted divine light. His screams echoed in the night, a mix between agony and ecstasy-- cries became praise and his quivering body collapsed before all fell silent as if nature's serenity had never been disturbed…

***

A cacophony of discordant tones danced about like a circus performer gone mad. Chimes and pipes bursting out tunes desperately echoed eerily in the blackened night. A cry rang out-- a macabre accompaniment to the already horrific scene. A gut wrenching gurgle resounded wetly-- A body being spilled like plastic bag filled too full.

And then the blood.

So much blood it was unnerving-- maddening. Filmy residue all over the floor the sickly sweet scent assaulting the senses, forcing the body to gag and retch… Organs, flowing past mere lumps in the river of gore contaminating the sanctity of the church adding their own stench and repugnant horror.

A light burnt upon the altar, exploding behind a tremendous crucifix, shattered in the center suspended by some unseen force. Blood spilled from the break… the source of the continuing flow of gore. Candles burnt upon black sconces, blood red the wax dripped lazily toward the floor…

The stained glass windows, suddenly visible with a new light like the rays of dawn, harbored weird images… Strange figures danced about-- the glass moving unnaturally-- to the offbeat tune. Each held recognition… someone he'd known. Dead or alive, they leered down at him wickedly, their mouths twisted in evil sneers… their familiar laughter turned horridly evil…

Then he noticed, his father's face looking down at him, bloodied face disgustingly contorted. He hadn't noticed him before, all the myriad noise and movement… he could barely keep himself coherent but now he was discerning details and each detail forced a greater fear upon him… built the tension and ground his nerves. Philip cackled maniacally above the other voices and pointed a glass hand in his direction. "Your time has come, my son."

A cry from the bedroom, Gabriel bolted upright with a curse, wet hair blinding him a moment as shuddered uncontrollably. "What the hell…" He whispered trying desperately to put to ease his thumping heart. Sun splattered the floor through the shades casting strange shadows across the mason walls in his room in Schloss Ritter.

He wondered if he would ever have a decent night's rest again as he pushed himself out of bed and stretched, feeling tired muscles tense beneath taut skin. He'd been getting quite a bit of exercise as of late for some reason finding a pleasant solitude in his serene mountain hikes. He wished that the physical aptitude he had toned would be followed by spiritual rest…

A knock at the door broke his thought and he snatched his robe off his chair before responding. "Yes?" He called, pulling the garment over his shoulders.

"Gabriel, it's Grace." Her voice was muffled through the heavy oak door. "Wondering if you wanted to head into Munich this afternoon with me."

He pressed down the shades and looked out over the green countryside covered in sun… A light breeze was flitting through the trees and he could see birds fluttering about lazily. The mountains stood ominous in the background, color bursting in all directions from the snowy peaks and tranquil forested sections. A world without a care. Probably do him some good to get out for a while.

"Sure Grace. I'll be ready in a bit." He walked into the bathroom and started the shower, glancing the mirror for a moment… he was forced to do a double take. For the briefest moment, a vision remained in his… something familiar. His father's broken, withered face pressed in glass leering at him… laughing.

"Your time has come, my son." The whispering voice seemed to come from the cilia within his ears-- airy and ethereal. "Your time has come."