Especially when doing so took me back to only one time…
The Last Supper.
It had been Jesus’ goodbye to his Apostles and one that had been unknown to them all at the time, other than myself. Of course, I had begged him to tell them and let them in on our plan, doing more than just hinting at it. But he didn’t want to make sinners out of his Apostles… all except me, that was.
The biggest sinner of them all.
But as for the others, well, he didn’t want to make liars out of their grief and their accounts would be needed for his plan to work. And for the most part, he had been right, for each of them spread the word until it continued to stretch to the far corners of the Earth.
It forever changed history and ensured one particular God’s power into being of the eternal kind. So, I gritted my teeth, held out my unbound hand, keeping the Venom of God firmly at my side, for who knew what horrors would occur should the two ever meet.
After this, I recited parts of the words found from Mark 14:22. Words that had the power to summon forth what I would need, feeling sickened at the thought at what I would soon hold in my hand.
Being once again forced to drink to my own betrayal.
“And now, I bring forth thy that is needed to grant the souls their redemption… ‘Take it; this is my body, this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many’.” After the last words were said, that same chalice I had drank from, started to emerge. The very one that touched my lips the day of the last supper and when the son of a God drank from his own Holy Grail. It matched his, being that it was a plain wooden cup, carved by his own hands. And as I looked down at it now, I suddenly saw myself there that day. Each had received one as a symbolic gesture that would bind that moment in the history books as being significant. For the memory of one man’s actions had the power to change the world, and the word of God would live on through each of them.
But there would be no power in good, without first the evil being that of a dark canvas for the bright light of Gods to be painted upon. Jesus knew this as well as I did, for what I was to receive in return would have been worth selling my own soul for. And I did, just unknowingly at the time, to the evil, not the good I had first intended.
Which was why that image was now so fucking clear in my mind, the power actually forced me to take a step back as my legs failed me. It was why I landed on my knee, being forced to place my leather-bound hand to the ground to hold me steady. A ground that started to shake from the intensity, making me ignore the gasps of shock that were whispered as a wave of horror.
The cup in my hand then started to shake as if the force of being here in Hell was a power I could barely contain steady.
“Luc!” I heard my brother call in worry but I steadied myself and held my hand out to stop him.
“No! Stay back!” I warned, before using all my strength needed to gain back my stance.
“Fuck, it cannae be true…” Trice uttered along with his brother Gryph,
“Is that really…”
“Gods in Heaven,” Vern then whispered, following suit of his brother’s astonishment, making me order in a demonic tone,
“SILENCE!” After this everyone followed my command, for this was not a power meant for Hell, but one only summoned here by its owner. For this had been my own Holy Grail. The very cup I had drank from that day and one I remember slamming down at the table after hearing Jesus’ words of warning that there was to be a traitor at his table. In truth, my actions had only helped in sealing my fate much before my wife had her hand in it.
I pushed these thoughts from my mind as I had a fucking job to do, and thinking upon a painful past was not going to get it done any quicker! So, I made the sleeves of my tunic disappear and lifted the inside of my arm to my lips. Once there, I allowed my