A Letter to Death
A letter to Captain Diogmos Caruso of the Solar Ray, herald of humanity, purveyor of death, and scourge of my people... Part Three of the Jogen Series
Welcome back for part three of the Jogen series! If you missed the last story, you can click here to go back and read it.
The Year of Man’s Dominion
I am writing this account for his lordship, Captain Diogmos Caruso of the Solar Ray, herald of humanity, purveyor of death, and scourge of my people, the Rephiim. I write in haste with hopes that my letter is the first to reach you, Dio, so as to ensure you are given the most accurate account of the life and death of your brother, Eleos. Your orbital strikes hound us day and night, and my people are close to breaking. It is only a matter of time before the leaders of our tribes will seek to contact you. They will wish to slander the namesake of your brother and make him into something he’s not, so I must tell you the truth of what has happened.
Thanks must first be given to the aid of BT-9, whom Eleos brought to aid us in our endeavors. Without his assistance, you would not be reading these words now. It is the droid who made it possible for Eleos to reach my people, and it is he who has made it possible for you to read these words now. I know little of your technologies or how my message will reach you, but BT has assured me that my words will be most accurately translated and transcribed for you.
I care little for you, Diogmos, so please do not take this account as a token of my affections towards you and your kind. May the sacred blood of my people curse you until you die. What you have done to my people, and to me, has forever marred your image in my heart. It is only out of reverence and respect for Eleos that I write this.
BT-9 cautioned me to omit that line, but I will not. If you’ve read it, take it as confirmation of this translation’s authenticity.
The purpose of this recounting is to prove to you that Eleos, both in life and in death, fulfilled our prophecies in every way — the very same prophecy I shared with you when I was aboard your ship. I firmly believe that Eleos is the Promise that my dear friend, Shemesh, gave his life for. I hope you come to believe this as well. If not for me, then for your brother. You owe him at least that much.
Let it be known that Eleos sought first to love those he encountered long before he ever considered conquering them, though I now doubt he was even capable of harboring such desires. Please understand that it was love — compassion — that brought my people to peace, not the inferno of your Solar Ray’s ion cannons, nor the razing of our towns, or the raping of our land. It was love, which, of the nine Virtues, Eleos aspired to most.
As you know, our shuttle was the second of any human craft to make landfall on Jogen. The first, of course, being the one you rode on the day of my capture. Eleos and I were greeted by my people just outside of Tashank. They came equipped with bitterness in their hearts and blades in their hands. I thought surely my own clansmen would betray our blood and kill me solely out of hatred towards you, but it was Eleos who stilled them. Not with a strong hand, but with the offering of his own life as payment. It was just as the prophecy had said it would happen. We will scorn him, judge him for his people’s transgressions, and he will wear that scorn upon his brow.
I still reflect upon that moment with awe, for I know that only the Virtues could have empowered him to accomplish such a thing. It was the first time my people were shown that humans could be capable of something other than bloodshed, and I have suspicions that such a revelation was what saved us that day.
As Eleos had advised, we came not with weapons but with rations. He was right. My people were starved and badly beaten thanks to the destruction of our farms and our power grid. I’ll spare you the details, for it was you, Dio, who ordered the strikes. Unfortunately, it was your brother who was left to pick up the pieces.
I was not with Eleos those first two weeks, as I’d been taken hostage by my own people. Parts of this recounting come from BT-9, who was a witness to it all. Eleos’s first priority was to ensure the people were fed. He was deeply hated at first, along with myself. The same mouths that ate his food soiled his clothes with their spit, vowing to kill him if given the chance. Eleos accepted it all, shouldering the weight of their scorn all on his own.
He went on like this for a week before the hearts of Tashank revealed the first signs of softening. It began when a Rephiim man, Kasdan, came to Eleos for aid. He’d broken his leg and Eleos had mended him, not knowing what would come of it.
From then on, more of the Rephiim from Tashank began to warm to Eleos. In hindsight, such a thing was inevitable. Eleos burned bright with Goodness; not with the heat of a murderous flame, but with the warmth and benevolence of the distant sun. He shone like a lamp in the night, casting out the darkness that has shrouded our planet since the dawn of man’s arrival. But like all lamps, his light could only reach so far — could only do so much to hold back the encroaching night.
It was your own orbital strikes that brought on Eleos’ demise. Your cannons struck the heart of Tashank, leveling an entire city block and leaving naught but dust and death in their wake. I remember that morning vividly. Going against the orders of our chieftain, myself and Kasdan — who had healed from his prior injury — sought out Eleos before the sun had risen. After what he’d done for Kasdan, we had hoped that perhaps Eleos could tend to the wounded and show our people that death could be avoided.
We’d made a calculated risk, one that ended only in failure. Eleos was not able to save any of our people. His intervention only made matters worse, but I doubt he would have turned us down had he known what the outcome would have been. If there is any blame to be shared for what happened after that day, then I am just as guilty as you, Dio. Had I not tricked Eleos into betraying his oath to our chieftain, then perhaps he would still be alive.
It wasn’t long after the attack before the tribal leaders from Kothamb caught wind of Eleos. Their emissaries came like bandits drawn by the smoke of a distant fire, hoping to catch their quarry in a moment of weakness.
The Anakri.
BT-9 tells me your language does not have an exact translation of our word. Inquisitor is perhaps the closest, but even that does not do the Anakri justice. You have not yet learned this about our people, but it is forbidden for Rephiim blood to be spilled by the hands of another tribesman. We do not kill each other, not like you humans do. It would be treason if I told you why, but know that all Rephiim lives are sacred.
But the Anakri are not Rephiim. Though they share the blood of the Ancients, they have been placed beyond the societal confines of our species. The Anakri are given credence to spill Rephiim blood without punishment. They act as our judges, saving the rest of us from having to enact the crime of justice on the guilty.
The Anakri came not in the night, but in the plain light of day for all to see. They struck our shuttle first, setting it to flames in hopes of flushing poor Eleos out. Thankfully he’d not been there when the smoke started, nor when the fuel tanks blew. Myself and Kasdan harbored your brother after the attack. You see, Eleos had done more for the tribes in Tashank than the elders had since the beginning of the human invasion. He gave them hope; hope that our people could live in peace, just as the prophecy foretold. He will show us that our people can live in harmony under the reign of this new god, yet we will not hear it.
Of course, the Anakri anticipated such a thing. It wasn’t long before they drug our chieftain by his hair into the town square for questioning. They wanted to know who this human insurgent was, and why our people were calling him the Promise.
To his credit, our chieftain did not betray your brother. He was willing to give his life to protect Eleos, believing in that moment that peace between our people was worth more than our blood. That was when I first believed in your brother’s dream.
But then Kasdan, poor Kasdan, spoke up. He could not bear the thought of watching our chieftain be slaughtered, and so he sought to reason with the Anakri. He was a fool. In his haste he confessed to our betrayal, and the only payment he received was a blade across his throat.
Eleos and I saw it happen, and your brother handed himself over not a minute later. I tried to stop him, I did, but I failed. As I’m sure you know, Eleos is strong of will. He cannot be denied what he believes is right, and in that moment he truly believed only his blood could repay the debt.
Your people call us monsters. Giants. Demons. If ever there were a day those accusations were true, it would have been the day of Eleos’ persecution. The Anakri charged him with every crime they could dream up. They had him beaten and flogged before the very people he had lived amongst and loved. Though they claimed to love him back, not one of my people tried to stop your brother’s torment.
Eleos remained strong through it all. Not once did he curse my people for betraying him. No, he wore the stripes of his accusers on his back with Patience. The Anakri questioned him while they tortured him. They hoped to obtain more information about you and your people. Eleos did not betray a single word. Instead, he hung his head and he wept.
Once the Anakri knew that breaking his body would not break his spirit, they sought to make an example of Eleos and strung him up in the heart of Tashank. They dislocated his shoulders and broke his legs at the shins, then tied him to a log and stood it in the center of town, right where your cannons had struck. Then, he was left out there to die.
We have studied your people. We know how frail you are. We know how your minds are quick to descend into rage; how your hearts cannot resist your greed; how your bodies cannot last without sustenance.
The Anakri thought Eleos would be dead within the day. They thought his persecution would be a public execution; an example of what happens when humans meddle where they’re not welcome. They were wrong.
Eleos lasted fourteen days.
No food nor water was given to him. None dared to help for fear of being next to die by the blades of the Anakri. Instead, we kept vigil over him day and night. We witnessed the strength of the human spirit, which we learned survives long after the body has broken. BT-9 tells me your people would call it a miracle; that is a word the Rephiim have no concept of.
Your brother, again, proved that he was the fulfillment of our prophet’s words. He will suffer many days, yet will not succumb to death until after the moon has darkened and returned. In this time of trial, he will show us what it means to die. He will show us that blood is worthless when weighed against the soul. This is the Promise.
For fourteen days and thirteen nights, Eleos hung atop that post, and never once did he cease singing. BT tells me now that Eleos sang of your home planet, and of the Virtuous god who created it. We did not know this god then, but we all believe we saw his Virtue in Eleos during that time.
On the fourteenth day, the Anakri returned to claim Eleos’s body. When they found he was still breathing, they accused us of interfering, but they knew the truth. They knew they could not break him. They’d birthed a martyr before the very eyes of their people. The Anakri cut Eleos down, then cleaved his head from his body. The man’s spirit broke then, and so too did the spirits of my people.
Now Tashank has fallen into turmoil, as have the neighboring villages. My people, led by the example of Eleos, no longer fear death as they should. They sing his songs in defiance to what the Anakri did, and willingly subject their bodies to punishment. Eleos not only taught our people how to live, but how to die. It is a sad thing. Nothing like this has ever happened in the history of the Rephiim before.
What’s worse, my people truly believe that humanity will now come to our planet seeking peace. Because of Eleos and his hospitality, they’ve all but forgotten about the orbital strikes. They’ve forgotten the light of their homes burning in the night, and the smell of smoldering flesh. They’ve forgotten about you, Diogmos, and the crimes you’ve enacted against them.
But I have not. I cannot.
When I first came to you, you spoke to me of your religion. You told me of your god and his Virtues. You sought to make a convert out of me; you sought to make me human. But I knew from the moment I met you Dio that the Virtues were nothing more than dead words and false ideals which dripped like poison from your lips. It was not until I met Eleos when I realized those words held truth in them. You may have spoken them eloquently, but your brother lived them. That is the difference between you two. That is why Eleos was successful where you’ve failed time and time again. That is why he is the Promise.
I know the next time I see you will likely be my last. I’m under no illusions that you’d have me murdered for these words. It is a price I’m willing to pay, if only to ensure that Eleos’ story lives on.
There is a part of me that believes you were behind all of this, Diogmos. I can’t say why, or how, but somehow you knew this would happen. You knew your brother better than any of us could, and you knew what he was capable of. Did you also know what his death would do to my people? That they would spiral into rebellion and defy the Ancients for the first time in our history? Of course you did. How could you not?
Our planet is crumbling faster than we can manage to put it back together. Eleos’ message spreads like a wildfire amongst the Rephiim, and the Anakri cut down any man or woman who sings his songs. If ever there was a perfect time for mankind to invade, it would be now. I can see it all. Eleos was your seed, Diogmos, planted with the hope of a plentiful harvest, and my people’s blood watered the soil for it to grow. What fruit will this seed bear? Only time can tell. Unfortunately, time is not a luxury we have.
I know you plan to visit us soon, Diogmos. Your ships will rain down from the skies by the thousands, and we will not be able to stop you. My only hope is that the news of your brother and his success will inspire you. Perhaps you will come not with cannons blazing, but with food and medicine; not with clenched fists, but open hands.
It is a fool’s hope. Had I not met you in the flesh, I would be apt to believe it, just as my people are. But I have known you, Diogmos. I have stared into your eyes. You are not your brother.
No, you are death.
If you made it this far, then I sincerely thank you! This is the first of four installments I’ve written for this short series. Stay tuned for part four, The Peace of Diogmos, which will be coming out next week! If you’d like to be notified of when that happens, then I encourage you to follow me on Substack, or subscribe to this publication to have it sent directly to your inbox.