I: Serenity and Sanctuary on the River Styx

When we live our lives, relentlessly lashed without mercy, by dark fears that terrorize our mortality -- serenity and sanctuary on the River Styx inters preposterously beyond reason or sense.

Nevertheless, inasmuch as our lives are no more within our incontrovertible control, than the lives of any kind are unequivocally within any kind's control -- in one time or another, in one form or another, in one life or another -- one and all traverse the River Styx, to brave the one and only reality worse than death:

eternal amnesia of the mind, heart, body, soul.

Serenity and Sanctuary on the River Styx

Have you heard the tale of Serenity and Sanctuary on the River Styx?

No?

Pull up a chair... and let me weave a story of long ago and far away... well... perhaps not so long ago... nor so far away... 

The tale giver's voice drifted away... then, she continued.

Let's have a go... shall we? For this tale is long... and how much time is granted, you and I, is not for me to decide...

Pshaw! Enough of this glooming nonsense!

The tale giver settled into the cushions about her and intoned with a clear, crisp, radiant, resonant cadence:

Once upon a time... yesterday in fact... there were allkind. Some served black purposes. Some served white. But all served with diligence and fidelity, honor and brilliance.

Yet...

Three stood apart.

A queen. A knight. A king.

The queen and the knight were assigned white purposes. The king was assigned black purposes. But, over many many traverses through the River Styx, their purposes obscured as their clarity and vision disappeared beneath the blackest of black waters, over and over and over and over. For the River Styx ever transformed them, into:

Creatures of hatred. Creatures of vengeance. Creatures of intolerance, condemnation, vilification. Creatures of reprisal, retaliation, retribution. Creatures of cold mind, silent heart, hard body, empty soul. One and all, creatures in service to -- none other than -- the River Styx.

But time and time again, matter and matter again, life and life again, Grace wove her magic. She pierced every shadow. She lit every corner. She flooded every path with the light of truth. Over and over and over and over.

Until...

The queen, the knight, the king... awoke from the unliving undead slumber typical of all allkind in thrall... of the River Styx.

Thereupon their minds, their hearts, their bodies, their souls were flooded with all that was real and true. Thereupon memories returned. Thereupon hope returned. Thereupon, joy, love, faith returned. In full glorious measure... and more.

But their awakening stirred more than themselves. Their awakening stirred the allkind.

Thereupon...

A great horn reverberated with the deep thrum of the inevitable across all allkind... thus to commence the war of all wars to end all wars amongst all allkind. 

The queen, the knight, the king, startled amidst awakening, found themselves forthwith, at a crossroads -- whereupon Grace and the Moirai spoke with quiet audience -- to each -- in turn. Upon each was bestowed a blessing -- of a future that could have been, a future that may have been, a future that could yet be -- and a destiny -- of a future that could have not been, a future that may have not been, a future that could yet not be.

Consequently...

The queen chose the road less traveled. The knight chose the road most perilous and lonely. The king chose the road most arduous.

Three in a race -- against time, matter, life -- to return all to allkind -- all that was real and true -- their memories -- their hope, their joy, their love, their faith.

For the war of all wars to end all wars amongst all allkind -- could -- would -- end all allkind for all eternity.

But...

What were three... against the might of all allkind?

Continued...