What lies between life and death?  Though I found myself drifting in that dark, tranquil sea, I can’t really say.  All I remember is that after the pain let go of me, I rested for what seemed an eternity.  Perhaps I would have stayed in that state of dreamless half-sleep forever, like a dinosaur encased in tar, if not for the sound of her voice.

“Greg,” she was chanting, which was technically my name, though not the one I usually went by.  My name was followed by harsh-sounding words I didn’t understand.  She had a beautiful voice, though, whoever she was, melodious and lilting.  But I hadn’t heard anyone speak in I don’t even know how long, so perhaps I was simply starved for company.

Hearing her call brought me closer to her, brought me a little farther from the deepest parts of the void where my soul, or what was left of it, had been slumbering.  I felt like a tether bound me to her, that her chanting was a reel pulling me in.

She chanted more words I didn’t understand, but they were less harsh, somehow more familiar than before.  I felt myself floating, and then my eyes opened—or perhaps they had been open all along, and I had only been in the dark.  Now, at the edges of my vision I saw a thin line of faint light, shining in from somewhere.

The feeling of possessing a body returned to me, though I felt large and strange compared to what I was used to.  I realized I had fingers, and flexed them, only to realize that I also had claws, claws I should be careful not to poke myself with.  This should have frightened me, but it didn’t, because I did not really believe in what I was experiencing.  I thought I must be dreaming, that this must just be what happens after death, that you become trapped in some kind of dark prison.  I reached out, but my hands didn’t travel far until my finger tips touched smooth, cold stone.  I realized I was lying on my back, that my hands had been crossed across my chest before I had spread them, and that I was entirely naked.

The woman’s voice had grown louder, and other voices, a chorus, had joined her.  This should have made me wonder, but it did not.  I had no time for wondering.  I had a strange feeling instead, a light feeling as if I had been reborn, as if all my old worries—deadlines at work, annual rent increases, endless student loan repayments—had faded away.  Soon I would have new worries, I supposed, but I had no idea what they would be yet, and for a brief moment, I felt wonderfully free.

I realized the surface I was lying on was also made of stone, and was cold and hard against the back of my head.  My ass was chilly as hell too, as if all the heat had been stolen from it.  I reached in front of me and felt what I assumed was the lid of my coffin.  A shiver passed through me, a memory of how cold it had been to be dead.

I heard other voices join the first, first a few and then many, until there was a great chorus of chanting.  “Greg!” they said, and I thought it was strange that so many people were saying my name all at the same time.  But then they said, “Greg-Theryx!  Oh, Great One!” and I started to realize they probably weren’t talking to me or about me at all.

Which, to be honest, made a lot more sense.  But it also made me feel awkward, as if I had received a mis-dialed phone call but there was no way to hang up.  Instead I just had to sit there and listen to whatever the hell this was—some kind of ritual?

I pressed against the lid of my presumed sarcophagus.  My hands felt larger than before, and stronger as well.  I pushed against the stone until it began to give, even though it was a massive tablet that must have weighed a ton.  My arms strained with the effort, but the fact I could move it at all seemed incredible to me.  What the hell?  Well, I must not be dead after all, I thought.

Outside, the chanting stopped abruptly.  I realized I had managed to crack open the lid, and more light was pouring inside my tomb.  With a great effort I heaved the lid to my left, trying to get it off entirely.  But the bulk of my arms surprised me.  My elbow struck the side of the coffin, and my left hand faltered and lost its grip.  The lid fell against me, pinning my left hand between masses of black stone.

“Shit!” I whispered as a wave of pain shot through me.  “Motherfucker!”  I have always had a bad mouth when I’m hurt, upset, frustrated, or just stressed, which was all the time.  I guess, to be honest, I’ve never needed much of an excuse.  Even though my Mom used to wash my mouth out with soap when I was a kid, if anything, it had just made me worse.

With my free right hand I heaved the lid upwards and freed my left, then moved out of the way and let the lid fall, which it did with a mighty crash of stone.  After the sound faded, I realized that everyone outside had become deathly quiet.  I wondered if I should stick my head out, but then, hesitantly, a woman’s face appeared above me, to my left side.  She had reddish pink skin, lustrous blue hair that fell to just above her shoulders, and small horns which poked out from just above her forehead.  A demon.  My heart stopped.

She looked at me for a moment, then widened her eyes as if in awe.  It was a look I didn’t remember seeing before from a woman, or from anyone at all, if I was being honest.  I wondered if I should say something, but after a moment’s hesitation she merely nodded, as if I had given a signal, then disappeared from view.

“OUR LORD HAS RETURNED!” I heard her shout, and then a great cheer rang out, loud enough that I saw, from up in the dark ceiling above my head, tiny fragments of dust shake loose and rain upon us.  “GREG-THERYX HAS RISEN!  HIS VESSEL HAS BEEN SUMMONED!”

Vessel of who?

As far as I could remember, which admittedly was not a lot, no one had ever been even half this excited to see me, and I definitely didn’t expect anyone to start now, after dying at the age of twenty-eight… or, wait, had I been twenty-nine?  I couldn’t even remember how long I’d lived, or been dead.

Did this place have clocks or calendars?  Where was I?  All important questions, but maybe…  Maybe I’d just stay inside this coffin for a bit longer.  Why not?

Wait, I realized, the woman!  The beautiful one who’d led the ritual, when she said that bit about their lord returning, I’d understood her perfectly.

Had she spoken English?  No, I didn’t think so.  My ears still heard harsh, guttural sounds, but in my mind, I understood them automatically, as if I already knew their language and could translate.  And the phrases I heard among the cheers of the crowd…  “Oh, Greg-Theryx!”  “We bow before you!  Save us from the Eternal Sun!”  “The Dark Crusade has come!  Lead us to victory, Great Devourer!”  “Save us, and we will serve you forever!”

The cheers and applause continued, and I listened to them for longer than I probably should have.  They seemed so madly full of devotion and zeal it scared me a little, and the more I listened, the more I realized these people were obviously fucking nuts, which made them dangerous.

Meanwhile, as my mental clarity grew, I realized I was starting to have a panic attack inside a stone coffin.  What the hell was I supposed to say to these people?  These people who seemed to be—I thought of her face again—some kind of demons who were part of some kind of doomsday cult in which I, of all people, was supposed to be some kind of figurehead, perhaps even their god.  I listened to my heart pound in my chest.

The sound of the crowd slowly died.  A moment of silence lengthened.  I supposed it was time to meet my destiny.  I sat up, looking out for the first time, and I saw before me a large auditorium, no, a great temple…

In the pews sat rows upon rows of either people or monsters, depending on your perspective.  Some had small horns, others large.  Some were various shades of red, some light enough that they looked pink, like the woman whose voice had brought me here.  Others possessed skin that was darker, like red clay.  Many were entirely different colors—green, purple, or blue in various shades.  Their hair was mostly black or silver, though some had a light blue, like the demoness who’d summoned me.

A few even had wings attached to their back, sinewy like the wings of a bat.  Feeling strangely excited for a moment, I tried to turn and look over my shoulder, to see if I had my own pair of wings.  Sadly, I didn’t see or feel any.  I noticed my own skin, though, a deep red color as if I had awoken in the body of the devil himself.

The temple walls were black, with large stained glass windows depicting various shadowy figures and ornate runes.  A metal chandelier hung by a chain from the ceiling and gave off an eerie, wavering light.  I closed my eyes for a moment, but the light still shone through my lids, a glowing purple aura.

Wait, how can I see that with my eyes closed?  Who even am I?  I almost laughed at for the question, for it seemed like such a silly, Philosophy 101 thing to ask myself.  But I no longer knew.  Sitting amongst all these ardent worshipers didn’t seem like the place to find out.

I looked left, and locked eyes with her, the one who had brought me here.  She was watching me expectantly, lips pursed.  She seemed stressed, I thought.  Like it was her first day at a new job.  Perhaps that was true for both of us.

When I’d sat up the crowd had begun to cheer again, but the outcries of the assembled worshipers were beginning to die down.  I knew I would be expected to say something soon.

“Your voice called to me,” I said to her, quietly enough that I hoped the others would not hear, because in truth, she was the only one I wished to speak to.  My voice sounded deep and sonorous, not at all what I expected, and I spoke in the same language she had used without even thinking about it.  I stared at her, almost in wonder.  “It was a pleasant thing to return to.”

She smiled, showing gleaming, flawless teeth, which included a pair of rather prominent fangs.  “The pleasure was entirely mine.  You are my Lord and Master, and I exist only to serve your will.”  As she said this she dropped to her knees and bent forward, bowing as low as she could.

“Well, thank you nonetheless,” I said.  From down on the ground she glanced upwards, and gave me a strange look, somewhere between bewilderment and embarrassment.  I was probably sounding a lot like myself, like a Greg rather than a Greg-Theryx, whoever that was.

“Ah, I suppose this is my cue to introduce myself,” a voice said from my right, and when I turned to look I realized I had been completely ignoring a male demon on the other side of my sarcophagus.  I must have shrunk back slightly in surprise, though he didn’t seem to react to that, which I counted as a blessing.  He was handsome, with pale blue skin and massive, black curved horns that projected out from his forehead.  “I am Ilmatar Lampshade, My Lord, and I have been named as your majordomo for as long as my service is desired.”

He spoke smoothly, as if he had rehearsed it many times.  But I couldn’t get over his name itself, and had to keep myself from laughing.  Ilmatar Lampshade?  What kind of absurdity was that?  I must have looked incredulous, for Ilmatar smiled, and explained, “The Infallible Generator was cruel to me, My Lord.”  His eyes shifted, as if he had said something untoward.  “Not that I would ever complain, of course.”

Infallible Generator?  His name was … generated?  What did I even begin to say to that?  Thankfully, if there was one thing I had always been good at, it was talking out of my ass.  Though admittedly this current situation was very far out of my wheelhouse, and I wondered how far my bullshit would be able to take me.

I hoped I could last a minute or two, at least.

“Serve me well, Ilmatar,” I said, “and your name will be spoken of only fondly.”  He smiled, and before he could respond, because I did not trust myself to an extended conversation, I turned back towards the woman at my left.  She had slowly risen to her feet, but her head was still bowed forward.  “How about you?  I hope the Generator wasn’t similarly unkind.”

“I am known as Desdemona Fell, My Lord.  I shall be your High Priestess—pending your final approval, of course.”

“I approve so far.”

She nodded simply, a thin smile on her face.  “I am pleased to hear it,” she said coldly.  Ah, I realized.  I should not praise her, even though she was the one who had saved my life, who had brought me here from the dark void I’d been lost in.  Of course, she thought she was summoning someone else, so I suppose there was no reason to feel gratitude towards her for what was an accident.

And yet, if she had not chanted, if she had not called me … I would still be dead.  So I suppose I was already enamored by her, even before I had seen her, just by her voice, by the fact she had brought me to life again.  And now that I was looking at her, it was hard to deny her beauty.  It was a shame, I thought, that she was at the head of what I assumed to be an evil cult.

She was smartly dressed, in a long dark robe clasped with a gold brooch.  She had neatly trimmed bangs, while the rest of her hair fell to either side of her face.  Her lips were full, and her eyes shone as if a fire burned within her.

The way she dressed, it seemed she had tried yet failed to hide a shapely figure.  From what I could see, my impression of her was that she must have resembled some kind of living statue of a fertility goddess, carved expressly to appeal.

I grew self conscious of the way I must have been looking at her and turned away, glancing down at my very naked body sitting in a stone sarcophagus in a temple in who even knew where.

My cock was on full display, I realized, so I covered it awkwardly with one hand.  I thought it had gotten bigger than before, but then every other part of me seemingly had as well, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I couldn’t help but notice the muscles of my arm ripple when I reached out with my free hand to steady myself on the edge of the sarcophagus.  What happened to me? I thought.  It wasn’t just Desdemona Fell—I couldn’t help but feel rather statuesque myself.

I might have even appreciated my new body, too, were it not for my present situation of being naked surrounded by fully-clothed, zealous followers.  As my eyes scanned the pews again, it seemed that everyone else was dressed, thankfully, in black uniforms or robes.  This cult wasn’t nudist.  It just seemed that I, as a newly awakened Vessel of Greg-Theryx or whatever, hadn’t been provided a wardrobe.

Well, I thought, if I was really a God or Lord or whatever, I guess I probably shouldn’t be shy about asking for things.  I looked at Desdemona and tried to feel confident.  “High Priestess, I require some clothing.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she knelt down so that her face was level with mine, and she whispered, “When you last passed from this world, My Lord, you instructed the previous High Priestess that when you returned to us, your magnificent nude form should be seen by your most faithful followers, so they might better appreciate your perfection.”

“I…”  I felt my face break out in a smile, from embarrassment as much as anything.  “I suppose I did say that, but I, er, my will has changed.”  I tried to compose myself, and tried to resist the urge to cover my crotch, pulling my hand away.  Nudity had apparently not fazed this Lord Greg-Theryx, after all, and part of me feared what they’d do if they figured out I wasn’t who they thought.

Desdemona looked worried, and her eyes glanced to Ilmatar, who remained composed, his face placid and still.  She turned back towards me, and bowed her head slightly.  “Well, in that case, I, um, we, would like to apologize for not anticipating your needs in this regard,” she said.  “Clearly the Welcoming Ritual has been bungled, and for that I do apologize.”  She reached down to her waist, and when her hand returned, it was carrying a knife, handle extended towards me.  The rune for “blood” was carved into the knife’s blade, and it curved slightly, clearly designed more for ritual than for war.  “Do you wish to discipline me, Master?”

I looked down at the blade and panicked for a moment at the thought of cutting her for no good reason with a knife she had handed to me herself.  Play it cool, I thought, then turned away dismissively, towards Ilmatar.  “That will not be necessary, Desdemona,” I said.  “I will … expect you to do better next time.”  It seemed like an appropriately ominous thing to say, I thought.  Maybe I could do this.  Maybe I could pull off being evil.  I just had to sound as menacing, cold, and ruthless as I could, even when doing nothing.

No, I thought.  This is not in my wheelhouse at all.

“Not even a single cut, sir?” Ilmatar said, surprise in his voice.  “You have cut off more for much less in the past, have you not?”  From the corner of my eye I saw Desdemona stare with rage towards him, but when my gaze reached her, her expression transformed into one of perfectly calm obeisance, as if a switch had been flipped.

I thought her anger had been justified, considering her fellow demon had just thrown her to the wolves.  Well, I was just one wolf in this case, I guess, and was far less dangerous than they might have assumed.  But Ilmatar had no way of knowing that.

Hopefully.

Still, I couldn’t help but notice that whenever Desdemona looked at me, her expression was one of studied, professional friendliness, like a fast food worker or hotel concierge.  She did not want me to see behind that mask.  Who was she, really?  This woman who had summoned me here?

“Not today, Ilmatar.  At the beginning, when I pushed the lid off…”

“That was very impressive, My Lord.  You know, we had assembled a team of incubi to lift it for you once the awakening performance was complete, as per usual.”

“Of course, of course… I suppose I was feeling both strong and impatient today, Ilmatar, but my point was, when I arose I heard the congregation speaking of The Dark Crusade.  Their devotion to our struggle pleased me greatly.  Since we have such a calamitous occasion to prepare for, this is hardly the time for any unnecessary bloodletting.”  I cringed for a moment, thinking that surely I would be discovered sooner rather than later with this type of performance.

But Ilmatar seemed pleased by my words, actually, as he cast me a grin, his fangs showing.  Perhaps they expected a newly summoned avatar to be somewhat out of sorts at first.  Or perhaps they’d had no idea what to expect.  For a brief moment, I hoped they were just as confused as I was.

“Your Lordship,” Ilmatar said, “I am so glad you mentioned the war.  We have summoned you in a time of great need.  The Army of Light is still assembling their host, but they will be mobilized in mere months.  We must plan how to deploy our mighty legions.  With your leadership, I am sure we will claim victory this time.  Would you like to head to the Hall of War after the welcoming ceremony is complete?  Or would the Council Chamber be more comfortable?”

Legions?  With me at their head?  No, thank you…

“Of course I would be happy to discuss it with you … tomorrow.”  My mind panicked for a moment, reaching for an excuse.  “This frail mortal vessel you’ve placed me in sadly appears to be rather depleted, and I must rest.”

“Oh?” Ilmatar said.  “How strange.  Usually, the ritual leaves Your Lordship in full vigor.  Why, last summoning it is said that Your Lordship spent all day in the Hall of Pleasures before retiring.”  He paused, perhaps realizing what he’d said.  “But I think the High Priestess must have performed the ritual poorly this time.”  He cast a look at Desdemona, who only glared at him.

You have no idea, I thought.  “Be that as it may, I wish to rest.  Show me to my chambers.”

“My Lord,” Desdemona said, a hint of scandal in her voice.  “You will not speak to the assembled?”  With her hand, she gestured towards the congregants, whose reverent silence had collapsed into whispering.

Oh, fuck, I thought.  I was done.  It was a perfectly reasonable request for a god, or vessel, or whatever I was, to have some inspiring words for their most loyal followers.  To leave now would be like a politician not bothering to thank the voters after getting elected.  But the more I spoke to them, the more likely someone would figure out I had no idea what I was saying, and then they’d send me back to the endless dark, and that would be the end of it.  Then I would be dead.  Again.  Forever, probably.

No, I thought.  If I was going to go out, I would not go down easily.

I took a deep breath, and rose to my feet.  As I rose, in my head I thought over everything I knew: these people were obviously part of an insane cult, they thought some kind of holy war or end of days would soon be upon them, and they thought I was named Greg-Theryx.  But I didn’t even know who that was, or the least thing about what passed for scripture or a sermon in this godforsaken place.

I stepped forward, out of my sarcophagus and down onto a stone platform that looked out over the congregants in their tiered pews.  As my foot fell on the smooth stone, my cock swayed, feeling cold and exposed.  But there was no helping it.  I had to be convincing, after all.  It was time to play my part, or at least try to.

There was a breeze in the temple, particularly uncomfortable on my tender regions.  As I looked around I realized that at the far end of the hall, a large open door led out to a balcony.  From here I saw a bleak vista of shadowy mountains surrounded by gray clouds.  It made me wonder even more where I had found myself.  Clearly, I was no longer in New Mexico.

My eyes scanned over the various demons, noticing one in particular, a massive brute near the front row with bright red skin and large, curved horns that jutted prominently from his forehead.  He stared at me silently, betraying no great emotion.  Next to him sat a lithe woman with pale green skin and silver hair up in a bun.  She was beautiful, though less so than Desdemona, I thought.

Unlike many of the others, who looked at me as if in awe, her demeanor seemed inquisitive, more interested than reverent.  I looked back at her for a moment, holding her gaze, then swept my eyes across the rest of the assembled.  There were too many faces to process them all, but I thought close to a hundred souls filled the pews.

I lifted my hands, and the whispers ceased.  All were silent, their faces turned towards me, waiting for the wisdom I would dispense.  They were about to be gravely disappointed.

“It is true, my Children.  Your Lord has returned to you.  In the coming days, you will see your faith rewarded in fair measure.  We will push back the Army of Light, and drive them into the sea!”  As I spoke, my words grew more confident.  Though I didn’t know any of the details, I was hoping that I could be vague enough so as to essentially say nothing at all.  And I could see in the faces of many congregants that they liked what I had said so far.

Many, but apparently not all.

“Which sea, Oh Lord?”  The call came from the massive demon near the front.  He filled twice as much space on the bench as the demons to either side of him.  I should have known he would be trouble from the start, I thought.  He had just seemed the type.  Unfortunately, my knowledge of demon geography was severely lacking.

“It’s a metaphor,” I said, then paused.  I noticed that some of the other congregants had seemed to grow uncomfortable at the massive demon’s question.  “Do you always speak to your god this way?”

“I did not intend any offense, Master,” the large demon said.  “I only wished to know … for strategic reasons.”  He smiled at me, showing long, pointy teeth.  He nodded his head, as if considering something.  “I thought that if you wished for us to push Sun-Domia’s army into the sea, I will need to know where!”

Sun-Domia?  Sadly, the more I heard from these people, the more confused I was becoming.  “No need to worry about that,” I said.  “Perhaps we will simply slaughter them instead.”  He seemed like a brutal type of demon, so I thought he might appreciate this.

“I will go wherever you lead us, Master Greg-Theryx,” he said, with that same toothy grin.  Then he touched his fists together and bowed his head.  Seeing this, the rest of the congregation followed suit.

“My time away from you all has been extended,” I said after a moment.  “I look forward to seeing you again, my closest faithful, in the days ahead.  But before I lead us to glorious, brutal victory, I must meditate on the state of this world and the path ahead of us.  You may return to your duties.  Now.”

I knew this would probably catch up with me eventually, but for the time being, I saw no other option but to delay relentlessly.  I turned back to my sarcophagus, and to Desdemona and Ilmatar.  Behind me, I could hear the congregants already beginning to file out of the temple.

“I desire rest.  Rest, and … clothing.”

Ilmatar looked downcast for a moment, perhaps at the shortness of my proselytizing, or perhaps still upset that I’d turned down his invitation to the war room or whatever it was called.  But my attention was fully taken by Desdemona, who reached forward and placed her hand on my elbow.  Even if it was just my elbow, with my cock still dangling in the drafty air, any touch felt like an intimate gesture.

“I shall take you there, My Lord,” Desdemona said.  “The tower layout has changed somewhat in your far too long absence.”  Perfect, I thought.  That should make it easier to explain when I inevitably get lost.

Looking down awkwardly, the thought came to me again—it was hard to forget—that all of these perfect strangers were now intimately familiar with the appearance of my naked body—red, muscular, and … veiny.  Eventually everyone would know, if demons were ones for gossip.

I looked to Desdemona.  Her eyes glinted darkly as she gazed back at me, a cool smile playing on her lips.  I couldn’t help but swallow a lump in my throat, standing so close to someone so beautiful, even if she was a demon who would just as soon cut me open as look at me if she found out who I really was.

“First, though,” I asked her, “how about that robe?”