Lilith the Chantrix Vol. I

A short story about Lilith. The portrayal is mostly fictional but also draws from mythological context. I will be publishing another volume to the Lilith Saga shortly. I hope you enjoy her raptures.

Slivers of silver moonlight dance on the cave floor. Each one of the rays of light is a tiny world reflecting back like stars on the black backdrop of the damp, hard rock. The rugged surface of the cave bites into my tender skin as I crouch low waiting. My naked body is vulnerable, and as the drumbeat quickens, a hateful, menacing fear threatens to devour me.

 

I am scared of what lies outside the cave mouth. I am scared of the unknown, that deep dark oblivion that lies just beyond the veil of our world. Some say it is the world of the dead created by the thoughts and memories of the living. In our stories, that world is in a constant state of flux, evolving as man’s thoughts form. Man's nature is dark to its core. It is vicious and bloodthirsty, filled with greed and hatred. The stories of the other realm all reflect that putrid nature. Creatures made from the demons of humanity’s hearts roam the everlasting darkness. They feed on whatever being wanders their way, their forms too grotesque to mention.

Those beings haunt my thoughts, as I huddle in the dark cave watching the myriad moonbeam stars dance along the cavern walls. Their light is hope, pure and simple. For among those stars lays innumerable worlds each one as diverse as the grains of sand in the desert, or the drops of water in the river.

A scream, filled with fear of blood lust, reaches my lips. Two hands reach out from the darkness. Their heads are those of the boar, their hearts filled with danger. Their mouths sewn shut to reflect the silence of the afterlife.

One man, bigger than the other, throws me to my feet, practically making me lose my balance. The other man grabs my hands and ties them together loosely. The larger man ties a gossamer cloth to my face, covering my eyes. The binding is a symbol of my powerlessness to act in the other realm. The veil is meant to confuse the mind during the ecstasy of ritual.

 

As the drums buzz to life, the men take me and spin me. In the dark circles of my despair, I twist about losing all sense of place and time. I realize slowly, as their hands grip my wrists that they are leading me to the edge of the cave. I cry out knowing that I must enter the place of darkness. The rest of the world begins to shake and pulse with a rhythm. The air smells of burning herbs, and the fire of spiced wood. The effect is dulling to the senses, leading me only further into a trance. They rest my head on a stone. Chanting voices begin to buzz around me. Ghastly sounds, slowly taking the form of high-pitched shrieks, as the drum pace quickens and the energy rises. The Crone, the sacred priestess, intones the sacred names of the old Gods, one after the other, sacred brothers and ancestors, they surround me and lift my spirits with hope. Their presence buzzes through the air, tangible, electric. This was not a tension that’s palpable and full, it’s a subtle boom of power flowing through me and around me. As the voices begin to close in around me, the world fades.

Blackness is all that exists. There is no sight, no sound, nor smell. Here I am simply an observer, unable to participate in the scenes playing out around me.

Shadows dash with inhuman speed through the bleak landscape as they devour one another. They are the conceptions of the mind, the beasts lurking deep inside of our psyche. The ghastly horror that wakes us in our dreams, that keeps us from our sleep, and haunts our innermost thoughts, they all live in this hateful oblivion. I move about wailing, begging for an escape, some hallowed place to take refuge. There is no sanctuary in this horrid wasteland, only torture and bloodlust.

Hands grab the top of my head, pulling me as a midwife would pull a newborn babe. I hear rhythmic breathing, like a wind whistling its way somewhere outside of this place. My head begins to split in two with pain. I am in a tunnel now, filled with light and damp, soft flesh. No longer am I wrapped in the safety of tissue and muscle. I will have to move freely to be brought into independence, and learn the ways of the world. The light is getting closer, and the hands are pulling harder. My voice cries out unable to bear the ordeal, and I begin to feel something strange. Though the hand is pulling me from the womb, I understand myself, the way of the world, and the movement of the cogs of space. I hold in my hands the wisdom of this cold, black oblivion.

I no longer rest in the womb of my mother, I am floating in simple, comforting darkness. My whole body begins to glow with energy, bursting at the seams. The light is unbearable pulling my energy this way and that. The flash is blinding. The energy erupts into a volcano. The waves burst my bindings and uncover my eyes. I have been given the freedom to act, and the wisdom to see. A throng of hands starts to grope me and call my name. It is the voice of the Chantrix calling me home. 

A light appears, and now I am standing in another tunnel, filled with my loved ones and friends, they smile, and call out to me ushering me forward. I run and run, until I cannot run any longer, my body is in sight. My refuge is here. I climb in ready to awaken.

 

The Crone, initiator and reaper, stands before me. Her wizened eyes, and loving smile look back at me with honor. I am power. I am strength. I have been initiated into the mysteries.

I find myself lying at the foot of a fire in a large circle of stones. The Crone helps me up, with surprising strength and screams out in a shrill, high-pitched voice, announcing to the Gods the birth of another Sorceress. The Crone takes me to each stone, intoning the name of the old, then leads me to the head of the circle.

“Old Ones I present to you Lilith Mistress of Darkness Chantrix of the Underworld!” The old Crone screams.

 

“Cry out Lilith! Intone your name with the sacred power and make it your own.”

The name is strange, unknown to my newborn lips. I am no longer Lilit child of the valley. I am the sacred queen, commander of the Elements. I feel a power rising up inside of me, filling me with pride. The name burst forth almost involuntarily. “LILITH!”

Author's Note

This story is the first part of a long saga on Lilith that I'd like to write. I'm writing to retell, and let people examine, Genesis from another perspective. I also feel the need to give a bit of background info. Lilith is part of a small tribe, consisting of about twenty of thirty individuals. They live in Edom which is part of Jordan today, that location is given to Lilith quite a bit in the bible. In this story she is being given a sort of coming of age ritual where she learns the secrets of the tribe's magickal/religious tradition.

My inspiration for this story comes from Anne Rice's "Queen of the Damned." When Rice explain the origin of vampires in the book, she tells the story of two twins who practice, magick by speaking to spirits. They lived in a similar ancient tribe near Egypt.

Reviews

[prodicallife]

What a sorted writting woww....i absolutly loved the way u lead it, This is really good vry deep....Appericiation i wish this wouldn`t have ended. One thing i would like to mention you imagine and explain your thoughts vry good....

Keep writting
Regards
PRODICAL

[Susanna F]

I don't read a lot of dark fantasy or horror, since they often rely too much on gore and disgust...but this, in book form, I would devour! The rhythm of your writing is inexorable, I swear my heart was pounding in time as I read. It seemed at first to be an occult exploration of the dark depths of the mind, but the ending - initiation - threw me for a loop. Awesome! I must read more of it.

[Larry Dyson]

I am waiting now for the first two chapters..a good novel to write...I really like where you are going with this..

[ericdeben]

I read a lot of unrealistic fiction so I didn't see the style as too unique. I think you did a good job.

[Raven Starhawk]

Your descriptions are what enchanted me. I was not sure what to type though when I finished reading. It resided within me for a few moments until I discovered that the only way to sum it up is with: Brilliantly composed!

[Maksim T. Siggurd]

The style is definately unique. I think this has potential, and I enjoyed how descriptive you were while also keeping the reader in suspense. Great work!