Prospero Regained: Prospero's Daughter, Book III

By L. Jagi Lamplighter

Prospero, the sorcerer on whose island of exile William Shakespeare set his play, The Tempest, has persisted those prior many centuries. His daughter Miranda runs the relations company, Prospero, Inc. so easily that the majority of humanity has no concept that the Prosperos’ magic has safe Earth from quite a few failures. yet Prospero himself has been abducted through demons from Hell, and Miranda, aided by way of her siblings, has her father into Hell to save lots of him from a definite doom by the hands of vengeful demons. Time is working out for Miranda, and for the nice magician himself. Their conflict opposed to the main terrifying forces of the Pit is a brilliant myth experience.

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Mab installed his earplugs. So stuck up of their fray have been those demons and their troops that they didn't observe our passing. Now that my brain was once not interested by the revolting nature of the Swamp of Uncleanness or worry for Theo’s existence, the real horror of the environment started to sunrise upon me. each soul I had obvious in view that I arrived—every sufferer of lust within the swamp, each sleeper underneath the Styx, each burning hulk who attacked his buddies instead of break out from the molten lava, each partaker on the dinner party of gore, and each soldier within the clashing hordes—had as soon as been a dwelling person—a one who may have escaped this wretched position had he selected to stay a greater lifestyles. each of them had as soon as been somebody—once, somebody’s sister or brother, somebody’s parent, somebody’s loved little baby. How did all of them come to this? much more hectic used to be: the place did they arrive from? there have been regularly a number of humans whom every body agreed will be damned: Hitler, Napoleon, the Borgias, my uncle Antonio. yet not anyone particularly anticipated usual humans to visit Hell. but, we had handed millions of damned souls, almost certainly thousands, and that was once simply within the few sections during which we had traveled. There needs to be hundreds of thousands of hundreds of thousands beside, probably billions. may even a unmarried this type of victims have selected to be right here, if he understood what used to be watching for him? The irony, the sorrow, the sheer waste, appalled me. * * * WE now not held fingers, for right here there have been no illusions. The others have been trapped within the related dismal panorama as I. the obvious of Wasted Lives, with its darkish roiling sky, unfold clear of us in each course. We walked for hours, each one step kicking up airborne dirt and dust, which acquired in our hair, our eyelashes, our mouths. Bones crunched underneath our ft, and sometimes we needed to step over rusted breastplates and cracked helmets. It used to be like several battlefield I had ever walked, other than this dreary simple lacked the stink of carnage. that are meant to have made it much less disagreeable; as an alternative, it appeared extra ghostly, a phantom battlefield, emphasizing the waste and loss, with no unmarried reminder of existence, even the disagreeable ones. because the clouds of dirt and smog grew round us, my brain drifted to the wasted possibilities of my very own lifestyles. I had by no means identified love, by no means been a spouse or a mom. With the Water of existence working out, i'd die by no means having identified any of this stuff. I had so sought after teenagers! How ironic that Astreus used to be misplaced to me simply while i may have authorised his swimsuit. in fact, i might have refused him—unless he used to be supplying me his head on a pike! yet, no matter if he have been what I first took him for, he do not need sought after a sullied mortal girl. It used to be the Handmaiden of Eurynome he had sought after. Or, quite, the Sibyl! Sibyl … a low tortured sigh escaped my lips because the truth sank in slowly. i'd by no means be a Sibyl. All that paintings, prayer, obedience, loneliness, all within the desire of gaining a prize that might by no means be mine. considering that day, on the age of 5, whilst Father consecrated me to the provider of the Unicorn, I dreamt of emerging to the top ranks of Her servants and gaining the presents of the Sibyl: beginning locks, growing Water of existence at will, commanding the lightning!

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