Salvation: A Templar's Quest for Redemption Read online

  Salvation

  A Templars’ Quest for Redemption

  By

  Mark A Mihalko

  Books by Mark A. Mihalko

  Fiction

  After the Static

  Poetry

  Walking Before Dawn

  Nonfiction

  Searching the Abyss

  Copyright © 2017 by Mark A. Mihalko

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover Artwork by Dejan Lazarevic. Cover Design and Layout by Brenda Mihalko

  First Ringmaster’s Realm Edition, May 2017

  Published in the United States of America

  Forward

  It is amazing how fast time flies by. As I look at the calendar, I can’t believe March has come and gone so fast. This has already been an incredible year, and I have already finished many of the challenges I set for myself at the beginning of the year.

  In January, I started the final push on my first fiction novel, After the Static. Eventually, I would finish that at the beginning of March. Once I completed that, I moved on to a complete edit/rewrite of my first dark poetry book, Walking Before Dawn, which was released at the end of March. And now, I have completed another national Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), this time with something much different.

  Before April rolled around and that challenge came to life, I debated with myself about how I wanted to attack the month. Inside, I knew I wanted to challenge the status quo and do something that would both be enjoyable yet difficult to achieve. I wanted to accomplish something that would push me out of my comfort zone, which is when I decided that I would take on an Epic Poem and journey into darkness.

  Personally, I love the classic epics that have in many ways helped shape me as both a person and a writer. With that in mind, I wanted to try my hand at such a challenge. While this may ne reach the iconic status of Paradise Lost or Inferno, it was an endeavor that I will never forget. Inside these pages, you will find a journey toward salvation as experienced by a devout member of the Knights Templar, who was sent on a quest to ancient Levant in search of Baal, Moloch, and the Scepter of Golden Light in an attempt to redeem his order in the eyes of a splintered and corrupt church.

  In some ways, this piece adds a layer to the history researched by the survivors brought to life in After the Static. Especially Malachi Isaacs, the tormented narrator, who discovered this tale while doing some more research into Moloch and the Man of the Cloth. Malachi was not present during the writing of this epic, but he did come by long enough to write our introduction.

  In closing, like many out there, I am convinced that the End Times have begun and the world as we know it nears its finale. And, much like the Knights Templar, we could all use a path to salvation.

  - Mark A. Mihalko

  “Balance every thought with its opposition. Because the marriage of them is the destruction of illusion.”

  - Aleister Crowley

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Canto I – From the Depths

  My Quest, Your Salvation

  Jacques’ Call

  Lilith’s Spark

  The Mounds of Desolation

  Zepath Shudders

  Infested Depths

  Canto II – Lighting a Fire

  Be My Savior

  Desolate Sands

  Lucifer laughs

  Poisoned

  Damnation

  Join Me

  Canto III – Dunes of Despair

  Protect Me

  Aamon Lives

  Penitence

  33 Beasts, 33 Souls

  Purgatory

  Give Me A Sign

  Canto IV – One Last Hope

  The Weeping Sun

  The Legion of Evil Wanes

  Thunder Reigns’, Lightning Follows

  Emotions Churn

  Ascension

  Adrift in the Shadows

  Canto IV – Wisdom Through Salvation

  Seven Heads-Seven Diadems

  Vengeance

  I Bow and Pray

  Redemption at Last

  The Fallen Star Nears

  Salvation

  INTRODUCTION

  Hello again, I can believe that I am back at my computer. I really thought that when I finished transcribing the accounts for After the Static that I would stay away from writing. Yes, yes, I do have the blog up and running and am still diving into the legend of the Man of the Cloth, as well as working on more translations and research on the mysterious dead ends that ran into working on the book, but I never dreamt that I would be working on another manuscript.

  That all changed when the voices came back after I discovered an antique scrapbook at an estate sale that seems to fall in line with our religious leader and the strange Revelation of Moloch that sat at the heart of his pilgrimage. I found it odd that I stumbled upon this work inside a locked donation box that I purchased. In many ways, it felt as if the box was calling me, and I had to buy it.

  The box is marked Saint Mark the Evangelist Monastery, Summit View; an abbey that does not exist anywhere inside this small town today. Strangely, from my research, there is no specific record of this place ever existing in Summit View and those records go back to the late 1800s. However, there are tales of a monastery that once stood about five miles outside of town on the National Pike. Unfortunately, details about the location and of what transpired there are few and far between. I will keep you updated on what I find on the blog (survivingstatic.blogspot.com).

  This tale is extremely interesting and seems to date back quite a few years and is written in a style that appears to be closer to a work of epic prose. Personally, I love that style, but it can be difficult to follow at times. Especially in this case, as the manuscript was handwritten and some of the pages were tattered, water damaged, and weathered. Plus, there were some strange burn marks on some of the pages, almost like someone was trying to destroy it.

  All I know is that ever since I opened the case, the voices and vision have returned and I have been consumed by documenting this so the world could see it. I know, I know, this all sounds crazy. Hell, I am not sure what it means or if there is a connection to the religious leader or possibly the Man of the Cloth, I have a feeling that there is something in this account that is real and that it is somehow important to the secret hidden in this area.

  Plus, as you people know if you have read After the Static or the blog, you know that I don’t believe in coincidence. Which, would mean that I found this scrapbook for a reason. I may not know what that reason is, but I know it is real. With that being said, sit back for a couple hours and give this tale some of your time, I hope that you find it as enlightening as I have.

  - Malachi

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank all of the poets of the world, who for a month every year come together and focus on creating inspiring verse and recognizing the influence classic poetry has had on society. While this may not be the greatest epic poem ever, you have all helped me find the dedication and motivation to complete it.

  Canto 1 –Into the Chasm

  I

  My Quest, Your Salvation

  Behold the day when the exiled one rose from the East, and pestilence shuttered; ancient evils for one scepter, a cathedral defiled, and redemption stood as humanities final gasp. For in this
man, the forsaken had hope.

  (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 1.7)

  Father, why did Clement forsake us?

  Did he not see our piety? Our deeds?

  Such a dark day for humanity,

  The leaders, crusaders-defiled by hypocrisy,

  Falling prey to a vicious cycle of unjust torment by a false prophet;

  Your devout sons, persecuted in your name,

  Their humanity impaled on a fiery altar.

  Their names exiled like Adam from your garden.

  How dare he place us in league with Baalberith?

  We stand, holy, righteous, trapped inside the turmoil of sin,

  Your words, your gospel are our guiding lights within the abyss.

  Now, banished to the depths of Levant, my epic quest our only hope of resurrection,

  The fallen star is near, I can feel it,

  The mouth of the beast, our passage to anguish, and our redemption at hand,

  Asherah, no, the elder, Cain, will know the truth,

  My actions and sacrifices will again justify our existence,

  And upon the sated ground in Moloch's Sanctum, my destiny will be fulfilled.

  The primordial demonic evils will at last perish, and my soul, our order, redeemed.

  Father, will Clement forgive us?

  Will he not see our piety? Our deeds?

  II

  Jacques’ Call

  The almighty spoke and the cathedral trembled; thou shall drive the infected from Levant and into the inferno. Their sins cleansed before the left hand of the father. The repugnant king opened his mouth at the base of the mount, and laughed at their despair.

  (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 1.12)

  In the dark depths, mysterious decay shrouds the eternal light,

  Where the golden sands decimate all powers of might,

  Where the pallid hands of life tastes the Nephilim blood,

  And the seeds of evermore rise from the depths of the foreseen flood,

  Bones wane and bodies entwine, hearts race-souls whine,

  And within the chasm, feed the flames of lust, or lovers divine,

  This excursion is just; my tortuous blades embrace illicit lips,

  My shaking hands, the leather strap, impaled inside luscious hips,

  Destinies fulfilled, consummated by words; unbroken bounds,

  The branches stand with the heretics, no one left to be found,

  Golden dawn, ancient texts, undefiled gospels, or curse,

  My dreams stolen by time, love, and loss; oh God, or something much worse,

  From the pit, I can hear Jacques’ call,

  His verse radiates among the ruins, to my knees I fall,

  The golden owl upon the scepter of light,

  The sacred vault trembles, please, save us from our plight,

  Sadness descends upon starry nights when the loneliness calls to me -

  Come to me Father, my faith wavers, please, save me.

  III

  Lilith’s Spark

  From bowels of the cathedral, the stench of evil grew and the sun wept; inside the darkness an innocent suffers, raise your cross and sharpen thy blade, his wisdom will guide you through salvation.

  (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 2.9)

  Bound in white, a phantom ruse

  For the meek, and the shamed sin--

  Thorns of bondage aligned to amuse

  Abandoned prayers, the pure must win.

  Empty scriptures line the throne of gold,

  Prophesy forgotten, forbidden, undone,

  The deceiver spoke, her message foretold,

  Praise thee, for I am the son!

  Nephilim bloodlines, sacred shores

  Signs of life, signs of love reborn

  Death surrounds us, within vessels so pure

  A tear falls into the void, my lonely heart torn.

  Sheep graze, and eyeless speak,

  Know naught the true meaning of revelation,

  Seals broken, impale the meek,

  Drink from the sanguine chalice, at last grasp for salvation.

  Observe a pale horse, ordained by the tainted light,

  Behold the garden, the trumpets, the wine,

  Prophecies fulfilled, devastation in sight,

  The mark stands ready, 264 vanish, the words divine.

  Senses open, blood saturates the tide,

  Putrid worms replace the despair,

  The liar, the deceiver, and the blind churn the divide,

  Processions of candles, tainted souls, devout beware!

  The mindless and brainwashed claim to pray

  And their endless verse cascades,

  Words held high, calls to obey

  Within the shrine and upon the altar, truths evade,

  Through the door, a gentle sway

  A minion or more, rising from the shade,

  On faded hymns, over lovers prey,

  Inside tortured foundations, whose tenants fade?

  Heed thy warnings; embrace the light

  Cain has fallen, the demons’ lark

  For beneath the Cathedral, in a tomb of might

  Quatrains bleed; wounds from Lilith’s Spark.

  Doorways open, humanity cries

  Death beyond boundaries, tainted verse etched in stone.

  Virtuous believers embrace falling skies,

  Demons moan, serpents rise- the righteous stand, alone.

  IV

  The Mounds of Desolation

  Do not fear, for your pious deeds are many and I have watched your deeds, and sanctified your path. Tolerate not the wicked men, vile creatures, and false prophets; Go forth to rebuke them, bless them, and absolve them- for their will has been tainted by the darkness of the golden owl. (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 2.11)

  Father, how much longer am I to be trapped in this Hell?

  How much longer must I bear this weight of sin?

  The golden sands of Gezer fade into oblivion,

  The murky depths surround me, but I have been here before,

  This sea of life poisoned by the ordained,

  Virtuous beliefs, destroyed by Satan’s sway,

  Faith crumbles, under the burden of Belial and Abaddon,

  Darkness and despair abound,

  Naamah rises in front of the mass,

  Her followers prostrate to the false idol,

  Mocking the godliness that once ruled Levant,

  Defiling ageless texts, sacred scripture,

  I can feel it, in Zepath, the Daemonum Codex inhales the blessed souls,

  The angelic rhymes stir the banks,

  Earthquakes touch the mountains; shake the bazaar,

  Voices join the chorus of thunder, and the lighting dances,

  At last, my foretold path to deliverance is in sight.

  Father, is this where I will face Baal, retrieve the scepter?

  Will the weight of sin finally be lifted, our order restored?

  V

  Zepath Shudders

  The fallen king shall be reborn in flames, his depravity as legendary as your suffering. From the depths, torment will rise and the sated scars of slaughter will appear. Be faithful, even death cannot defeat the devout, and from the ashes, a lone tree and an angel rise.

  (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 2.13)

  In the chambers of agony, lost within the boundaries of despair,

  Where the revolting spawn of Naamah poison the air,

  And the river of blood cascades through dominion,

  The horde stands upon the altar, my sacred blood-their demonic communion,

  Mortality lost, my mace ablaze with deliverance,

  Taste the flesh, for through my fathers’ blessed foundation,

  And within his everlasting light, redemption can be found,

  Bodies fall, Zepathr shudders, souls freed, the disemboweled corpses bound,

  The scripture is just, this prophecy true,

  The infections i
nside Marduks’ lair awaits, his impaled offering in view,

  Where is Reric? His mortal pleas echoed across this forsaken plain,

  His anguished call soaked in blood; his cries, his verse, shrouded in pain,

  Did he fall to Marduk? His holy blade unable to penetrate the well of soulless decay,

  Or sentenced to death? His earthly vessel, castigated; for he could not obey,

  Souls of the fallen Nephilim line the halls, my presence in this dying lair foretold--

  Staff in hand, I cannot fail; for thy savior’s blade, foretells the demons demise,

  Alone at last, my heart turns cold.

  VI

  Infested Depths

  Upon the day the untainted rise and across the rugged cavern, a righteous follower of the Lord will descend into the cavern at the base of the mount; the martyr will shed a lone tear inside the garden, and the cries of the sinners will flood paradise.

  (The Epistle of Anacletus to the Priory 3.3)

  From the demon infested depths, through their modern sacrifice,

  From stolen knowledge, to the corrupted saintly verse,

  The eye on the tomb stays true,

  My mace, a beacon of hope illuminating the fallen,

  Baptizing Belial's serpent demons in the way of Thy Father,

  The blind prophets bow before the altar,

  This pilgrimage to the garden foretold,

  Control them? Repent? They must be christened in the way,

  Enlighten the world; avenge Cain, with hallowed sway,

  I must be strong; my faith cannot waver,