Preview - The Leviathan Chronicle: Revelation; Chapter 2

The following is the complete second chapter of The Leviathan Chronicle: Revelation. Set in a war-torn fantasy land, we are faced with the aftermath of a difficult mission for the Sinbearers of the Seraphic Church. As a dignitary arrives from the West, that event comes back to haunt all concerned in a truly terrible way.

Chapter II

The Sacred Viewing the Fall

October 3^rd, Hayamgal Seas

The ship had been rocking gently as it came nearer the lands of Sur. After two weeks on land and one week by ship navigating from the Vaticana, the prospect of spending a considerable amount of time within friendly territory at a site sacred to her venerated predecessors made Raziel feel more fulfilled than she had been in a very long time. Tradition had once demanded that new Grand Popes travel to Yerusahyn to receive their blessing in Yeshua’s native land. Now, with war raging between the Church and the Shah, such a journey was impractical and dangerous. Except for the headstrong woman who now occupied the post.

Given the titles “Her Sacrosanct Holiness”, “Virgin of the Eleven-Fold Glory”, and “Mistress of the Cardinal Assembly”, Grand Pope Raziel was a force to be reckoned with, and the first female Pope in over two generations. The Church was just emerging from a misogynistic era where women had been excluded from high office, and only in the past decade had the ruling been overturned. With that, hundreds of Cardinals had put themselves forward as potential candidates for the post. After much discussion among the upper echelons of the Church, Raziel had been chosen due to her dedication and piety. She had also been forced to relinquish her birth name, going through a second baptism and becoming who she was now.

‘Lady Raziel.’ the captain came up to her, bowing low.

‘Yes?’

‘We will be in Yerusahyn’s harbour in a few hours. We are now passing through waters held by the enemy. I suggest you go below.’

Raziel raised an eyebrow. ‘You think me some weak woman who flees from threats? That is surely not the best example for a Grand Pope to set.’

‘Of course not, Lady Raziel. But your safety comes before all else–’

‘Twin ships off the port bow!’

The lookout’s voice broke across the ship, and Raziel turned to see. Two ships were fast approaching, showing the low and sleek design of native Sur. They flew no flag, but armed men could be seen at their forward. Even with the wind to their starboard, they were closing the gap fast. The captain clenched her fists.

‘Curses, pirates! Lady Raziel, please go below. For your own protection. I must insist as your captain and your protector.’

Raziel reluctantly passed into the captain’s cabin and heard it being locked behind her. She then went to a small knothole in the planking she knew would let her see out. She had spied it a few days before when dining with the captain, and thanked the Seraphim for its presence. The two enemy ships were gaining, and raiding parties were clearly visible on the bows, prepared to jump aboard when the gap was closed. Her own ship, a powerful galleon, was more than ready for such intrusions. She heard the shuttling of heavy metal as the breaches were raised as the cannons below hauled into position.

The cannons were seen too late by the attackers. Raziel covered her ears as the shout went out: Fire! A billowing cloud of pale smoke rushed out from the side of the ship, and the barely-visible metal ball it had launched struck the bow of the ship. The impact was heavy, and the bow was splintered upon impact, sending arrow-sized splinters in all directions. Those who had gathered near the bow to port and starboard were the worst hit, with a few tumbling into the sea as bloody shadows, turning the waters to either side of the ship pink. At the prow of each enemy ship was a small ballista, which were now fired in retaliation.

The ballistae rocks whistled through the air and struck, rocking the galleon. Raziel was thrown back from her peephole, but the shock was momentary. Another burst of sound heralded a second cannon shot, this time aimed at the other ship. The cannonball glanced along the port side, stripping away the decking, sending several crew flying into the water together with chunks of wood and wisps of rope torn from the rigging. As Raziel watched, the two ships started to turn about, but not to unleash any hidden weapon. The barrage from the galleon had forced them into retreat, to limp back to their native shore defeated and crippled.

It was a few minutes later, when the enemy ships were fast sailing towards the horizon, that the captain opened the door and allowed Raziel to step out once more. She immediately saw the damage wrought by the enemy’s single retaliation. The ballista’s missile had slammed into the starboard side, jamming into the decking and trapping one of the crew beneath its fatal weight. Raziel bowed her head, then turned solemnly to the captain.

‘If I may, I wish to pray before you do anything with him.’

The captain nodded. ‘We would count it an honour for you to do so. We cannot take him back home, only bury him when we come to land. To have your blessing will surely secure his soul, and free him ever more from sin and sorrow.’

Raziel nodded and went over to where the man lay. Half his body had been crushed beneath the great rock, causing oozing lines of blood to creep out around him. Others were close, but they drew back as Raziel approached. Kneeling down just outside the area where his blood gathered, she placed her hands together in prayer and spoke in a soft yet clear voice.

‘Grant unto this poor soul eternal bliss, oh mighty Seraphim. Let your light shine upon them and deliver them forever more from sorrow and sin. May the souls of those departed, if they be true to you and love you ever, forever more rest in peace.’ she then added. ‘And may this death be the last rather than the first in a new flow of life tossed away upon the sacrificial pyre of this foolish war.’

Raziel rose and motioned to the crew. ‘You may now take and tend to him. I have prayed, and I hope the Seraphim have heard and will spirit him quickly to their realms of tranquillity. Let us now show his body what respect we can, in memory of his life.’

The Grand Pope drew back to her position on the quarterdeck, and watched as the crew tipped the missile into the sea, then did their best to prepare the body of their comrade for burial on the mainland.

Yerusahyn

‘No. Please. I cannot stand any more!’

‘But you are barely finished. Come now. Let me see that eye. Yes. Yes! That is the look... Ah no, it is gone! Why does it always go? Can you not sustain it, become my perfect model. You have endured so much, it would be a shame to give up now. Perhaps depriving you of your flawed vision will render your sublime qualities of suffering incorruptible by hope’s foul balm.’

‘I cannot stand more. Kill me, I beg of you. There, you see! I am begging! I beg you, end it, please. Spare my wife any more of this.’

‘Ah. Yes. Your wife. She also is a wonderful piece, one of the best. Her face is a vision of sorrow and anguish, hidden beneath a veil of growing darkness. Can you not see it? Can you not? Can you not? Can you....?’

The voice trailed away, slipping into the back of her mind. Why could she not recall any more? All she could sense were voices, no images to go with it. Arariel rose slowly from her bed and began pacing in her room once again. She had wanted to find out the truth, wanted to learn what had happened. It would be simpler if Phanuel returned. She had asked once or twice where he had gone, but his sister Nuriel was being evasive. Why? She could not fathom the reason. Sitting again, she tried once again to fix faces to the voices.

They had first come in dreams two days prior, lingering on the edges of her consciousness like noises coming through a door. She had sat on the bed, raping her head slowly with her hand, hoping that some fragment of the vision connected with the sounds would return, but it had not. She now paced, paced, paced up and down with such vigour that the physician had come in and asked whether she was unwell. She had asked whether she could get onto the roof for some peace and quiet, but he had refused for reasons he would not share. Why was everyone keeping secrets from her? And where was Phanuel?

‘Please. Please, kill me.’

The voice. She knew that voice. It was lingering in her mind, something good and clean. But in this instance, it was dark and terrible. A black mark on her memory, if she could retrieve it. She finally managed to sit still for a few seconds, then she felt suddenly restless. She went to the door and opened it. The attending physician came up to her.

‘Is there something you would like?’

‘I need to get out of here for a bit. Can I go to the garden?’

‘Surely. I will accompany you.’

Arariel allowed herself to be accompanied down into the infirmary’s gardens, which were beautiful and medicinal, holding herbs brimming with wondrous smells and beautiful blooms. She sat near a large patch of mint, restrained by a border of rocks that went down several inches, and let the smell take her back to another mint garden she knew on Khypra. She looked round, imagining the house she and Phanuel lived in. Smiling, she thought of the child that would soon be in her belly, if Phanuel could get round to it. He loved her full and true, but the few times they had tried had been unsuccessful. This time, it would work.

‘Children. Children.’ she murmured to herself. ‘Something about children. Phanuel and I want children. But that is not it. Children, children.’

She pondered for a few seconds, then the voice came again. That dark voice she could not remember.

‘My adorable children. My greatest creations, sculpted from the purest despair, born from no foul union of bodies. You please me exceedingly.’

Arariel suddenly shuddered. The way it had been said. It was nothing short of terrifying. Had she truly been anywhere near that voice? Or was it her uncertainly playing tricks on her mind? She could not tell any more. Her minder was by a small growth of lucerne. She looked at the plant, which was currently in bloom, and suddenly felt sickness creeping through her.

A vision returned to her, as if rising from deep water. A man, cold and smiling, standing in front of another mutilated man, her beloved Phanuel. He was holding a lucerne in his hand. They grew wild on Khypra, and he had picked a flower spike and brought it. His words echoed through her mind.

‘Such a beautiful plant. I have always found it a most invigorating inspiration for my work. Its symmetry is so stimulating, and its scent is so subtle and relaxing. It reminds me of when I reached epiphany, when I find a truly wondrous piece of art. Or at least, it puts me in mind of that dream. You may yet fulfil that dream, my beautiful Phanuel. You, and your wife, shall be my dual masterpiece. Physical anguish coupled with mental agony, all enhanced by your bond of love. I think, once I have completed you, I shall paint you. I am an excellent painter. I shall capture this moment, and you shall be preserved in eternity. Is that not fine?’

Phanuel’s voice came through. Arariel suddenly clutched her head, shaking from head to foot.

‘End...me....you....fiend.’

‘Dear, dear. Surely not. That voice is so rough. It grates against the vision I am creating. I know. I shall muffle it. But how? How, how, how indeed...?’

‘So... beautiful...’ the whispered words came as if forced from Arariel’s throat by another’s hand. ‘Beautiful, a work of art. Suffering incarnate.’

‘I shall remove at least a part of it, the part hampering my work. I shall... remove your words. You shall be as a wonderful being, a wordless–’

‘NO!’

Arariel’s scream of agonised defiance startled her watcher from his rest. He came over, gently helped her to her feet, began escorting her back to the house.

‘Come now. You will be better soon.’

An expression passed across her face. It made her companion very uneasy.

‘Better.... Yes. I shall be better. Very soon.’

After half an hour of clear sailing, Raziel was ready to disembark at the port itself. She was sombre in heart, as she knew she would need to get off before the crew could attend to their fallen fellow, and the ceremony of officially welcoming her to this holy land could be quite long. She stood ready on the edge as a crowd of Yerusahyn’s local population cheered from the bank. The most obvious feature was a quartet of Machina placed ready for trouble. A large division of high-level Crusader soldiers formed a barrier between the people and where she would be walking, watched over by several Sinbearers. She recognised the local representatives who formed the Grand Cathedral’s Higher Conclave, and among them she recognised the face of Patriarch Cassiel and.. Surely, that could not be Lady Sophia? It had been years since they last met as young students.

The ship pulled into port, trumpets sounded welcome, the gangway was lowered and Raziel began her descent. The eyes of the Higher Conclavists present, Eremiel alongside Kerubiel and Muriel, saw the damage done to the ship and looked with concern at Raziel herself. She appeared unharmed, and for that they were thankful, but what else had befallen her? Raziel descended to greet both Cassiel and Sophia, pressing their hands warmly before turning to Muriel. She launched into her speech, her voice carrying to all within the harbour.

‘Your Most Sacred Holiness Grand Pope Raziel – leader of the Seraphic Church, Virgin of the Eleven-Fold Glory, and Mistress of the Cardinal Assembly – we wish to welcome you to our city. Here, in this most sacred land, and in this most sacred of cities where our beloved founder Yeshua experienced true revelation, we hope that you will enjoy a most pleasant and instructive visit. Though the times be trying to us all, and the threat of heretic attack ever present, we shall protect you even with our lives, and we all dedicated ourselves to you and to the greater glory of the Seraphim, for you in whom they have placed their trust.’

The speech ended abruptly, and Raziel was surprised it did not go on for some little time more. In her land, speeches that short were frowned upon, as the key to delivering oratory was to say as much and as little as possible. What she had just heard seemed to say much with very few words. Maybe it was something about local culture. She responded promptly.

‘I thank you for your kind reception. I shall be staying here for perhaps five weeks, during which time I shall receive visits and messages from those in these lands who are loyal to us. I would also wish to learn local traditions surrounding our beloved founder, and of course the progress of our most unfortunate skirmishes with those who still refuse to accept the Seraphim as our true creators. Conduct me as you will, for in this land I am the visitor, and shall be led accordingly.’

It was like any other polite acceptance of a courteous reception. Cassiel and Sophia took charge, and walked with Raziel down the prepared pathway, with the Conclavists following behind and Crusader soldiers on either side. The procession took them through a presentable part of the city, and approached the Cathedral grounds. As its spires appeared over the edges of the buildings and wall, Raziel felt a sudden chill passing through her. It was as if she had seen something watching her, a form unlike anything in the mortal world, which had then vanished like smoke. The feeling lasted but a moment, and it was quickly forgotten in the midst of the surrounding cheer. All the same, a slight fear remained.

She approached the grand frontage of the Cathedral, entering its atrium and greeting the other members of the Higher Conclave. They were accompanied by members from the Lower Conclave, and the voices of the Choristers could be heard from within the Cathedral. Many other senior and junior Sinbearers were present. She graciously and piously accepted their genuflections and near-fawning praise in reverence to her status and mystic power. She bore nothing related to this land’s heretic sihr, but her role as Grand Pope lent her a similar presence.

‘We are more than honoured to receive you in our lands.’ said Qaphsiel, raising his hand to hers. ‘We never dared expect such a visit.’

‘We all feel the deepest reverence for your visit.’ said Ambriel. ‘The stars beyond the firmament were surely moved to grant us this.’

Eremiel chuckled. ‘You must forgive my fellow’s turn of phrase, Grand Pope. As Astronomer, she puts things in..’

‘Astrological terms.’ completed Raziel. ‘I fully understand.’

‘It is good to have you with us.’ said Sophia.

‘And it is good to see you once again.’ said Raziel. ‘Some little time ago, we served together as Church students.’

Sophia took a little time to remember. ‘Ah, yes. I recognise you. Though I cannot recall a name.’

‘My name now is Raziel. Let it remain so. I am pleased to find you as the new Saint of Yerusahyn’s Grand Cathedral. I had always hoped you would rise to greatness in your own realms.’

‘Indeed. I have had a good life here. Patriarch Cassiel has been most supportive in these dark times.’

‘Indeed.’ Raziel turned to Cassiel. ‘I have heard of the Sinbearers’ admirable efforts in these lands.’

‘I would have you meet some of my staunchest fellows.’ said Cassiel. ‘They bring pride to the Sinbearers, and lead the Crusaders in their marches against the infidel lands with unflinching devotion to the Seraphic Church.’

Even as these near-lies passed his lips and made him feel utterly wretched, Cassiel motioned for Uriel to approach. She was introduced, and was greeted with a smile by Raziel.

‘It is good to meet those keeping the sanctity of this realm intact.’

‘Aye.’ Uriel’s reply was controlled. ‘But none can work alone. These two here are my close companions. They have aided me in recent missions. Grigori and Nuriel, two new recruits.’

The two bent knee to the Grand Pope, who bid them rise and greeted them with a benevolent smile. None of those present noticed the figure who was running round the garden area, looking around frantically. Eremiel asked whether Raziel would like to see round the gardens, and she agreed to do so. They began walking through the garden areas, admiring in turn all the plants present, medicinal, edible and ornamental. It was then that Nuriel, walking behind Cassiel in the procession that had formed behind Raziel, glanced to one side and saw the fleeting and anxious figure. She knew him; it was one of the staff at the infirmary. Her heart skipped with fright at who or what he might be searching for.

‘Grigori, I must....’ she tailed off. ‘How can I get to him? I must know what he wants, even if he is just looking for a herb.’

‘You think it may be about Arariel?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you can hardly leave this procession without warning. And would you interrupt a Conclavist speaking with the Grand Pope?’

‘I do not care. I must find out.’

Grigori glanced round, then bent close. ‘Get ready. Now. Ai!’

Grigori suddenly crumpled, drawing everyone’s attention. As he clutched his calf and loudly bemoaned an attack of cramp, Nuriel slipped away from the procession and approached to the man.

‘Speak quickly.’ she hissed, drawing him aside. ‘Why are you so agitated?’

The man looked pleased to see her. ‘Nuriel, thank the Seraphim. I thought I would never find you. Arariel has gone, vanished from her room.’

‘What? When?’

‘A few minutes ago. She had been brought back in some half hour ago after suffering some kind of attack in the gardens. We put her to bed and she seemed calm, but the woman who was watching her went away for a few seconds and returned to find Arariel gone. We have people combing the infirmary, and I was checking the grounds with some others.’

‘I wish I could...’ the official side of Nuriel withered like flowers in the desert. ‘No, I will help. To oblivion with my duties. Come.’

Grigori was just being helped to his feet and his calf being massaged when Eremiel glanced up and saw Nuriel leaving with the man. He called out to her angrily, but she was deaf to his cries. Raziel frowned.

‘Is something wrong? She seemed quite agitated.’

‘It is nothing.’ said Eremiel calmly. ‘I am sure Cassiel or Uriel will discipline her later. It was most unseemly to leave without asking permission. On such an important day too.’

‘Grand Pope,’ Sophia cut in gently. ‘would you care to see the infirmary gardens? I can near-swear that they are the finest in this land.’

‘Of course. And I would see what happens with its patients.’

‘Most certainly.’ said Eremiel, bowing. ‘This way.’

The procession went along the paths and reached the open infirmary garden, where Raziel was nearly knocked over by a rushing page as she came out of one of the side buildings. She saw who it was, and kowtowed at once.

‘Grand Pope, I most humbly beg your pardon. I did not see–’

‘Calm yourself.’ said Raziel. ‘Is something amiss?’

‘A patient is missing. I was sent to search these outbuildings.’

‘Which patient?’ asked Uriel.’

‘The woman Arariel.’

Uriel’s face paled. ‘Oh no. No, no, no, no. Not now.’

A doorway burst open on the other side of the yard. Nuriel and her companion rushed in, looking near-frantic.

‘She must be here somewhere.’ snapped Nuriel to an unheard interjection. ‘We must continue the search. She must be–’

Eremiel looked bewildered. ‘What is all this foolery? I will not tolerate–’

‘We must focus on other matters now, Eremiel.’ Cassiel spoke with authority. ‘Nuriel, is this woman a danger?’

‘Not an active danger...to anyone, but unstable. She may do anything. In the name of all that exists, why did she have to experience–’

As Nuriel spoke, Uriel had turned her face up to look at the infirmary’s roof. It was then that she saw its new occupant.

‘Look, on the roof!’

Everyone looked up at the infirmary roof, and gasped. Arariel stood on the edge of the masonry, her nightgown billowing in the wind, her face visibly streaked with tears. Uriel acted first, rushing towards the door with the intention of getting to the roof as fast as possible. As the others watched, Nuriel came forward, gently calling up to her.

‘Arariel, what are you doing? You should be in bed.’

Arariel looked down. ‘Such foolish words. What does it look like I am doing? Do not interfere, Nuriel. Not you.’

‘Arariel.... Phanuel is waiting for you. He will surely be sorry to see you do this. If you come down, we can talk.’

Grigori came up to her and whispered. ‘Nuriel, this is not helping. Look at her face. She.... She remembers.’

‘Yes!’ Arariel was almost hysterical. ‘I remember. How could I forget? I cannot forget, Nuriel. Now that I remember again, I cannot forget. I watched him do it.’

‘You...really remember?’

‘I watched him cut my husband, torture him, mould him into his twisted shape of “perfection”. I watched as all that happened. I wanted to scream, and I did scream for a time, but eventually I could not. I could not keep screaming.’

Nuriel took a few steps forward, looking up at her sister-in-law. Her words were full of honest emotion.

‘Arariel, what happened was terrible, but that is no reason to do this. You will continue. You are young, you have friends. I can talk. I know what you have–’

Arariel’s words cut her off. Her voice was now totally hysterical.

‘Do not try to understand! You did not live it. You even try to deny it now. You deny that he is dead.’

‘You did not seem to remember. Would you have me hurt you so?’

‘Nothing could be worse than what I endure.’

During this exchange, Uriel had managed to get up onto the roof, and was quietly approaching from behind. If needed, she could yank Arariel away from the edge.

‘You know the funniest thing?’ Arariel looked down at the ground. ‘In my dreams, I see that moment. Again, and again, and again. And when I see Phanuel before me, bloodied and gored, I am pleased.’

Uriel froze, and Nuriel felt her stomach drop. Arariel’s eyes rose to stare out across the city, her arms shook from strong emotion.

‘When I look at that vision, I admire it. Aeshma talked so much about the symmetry, the bloodied beauty. He compared it to lucerne blooms. I saw it, the art he was producing. Though my voice was silent, I was delighted to see it nearing completion. Then you and those others arrived, and I was faced with the reality beyond Aeshma’s walls. And all I could feel was my wish to return to him, to Aeshma. To complete his work. I saw it and felt it, yet I could not accept it. I still cannot, yet I still see it. I cannot forget it!’

‘Arariel, please. I saw it too. Tell me. Show me. I cannot help you if we simply argue and disagree. Show me your vision.’

Arariel shook her head, and her voice trembled. ‘No-one should experience what I saw. I am sorry, Nuriel. Your brother loved you so dearly. And you were such a good sister to us both. I wanted to know you. I am glad I could do so before this. I.... I shall bring your love to him!’

Arariel raised her arms. Nuriel started forward, guessing rather than seeing what her sister-in-law was doing.

‘NO! STOP!’

Uriel started forward and grasped, but too late. Her hands clutched at emptiness as Arariel threw herself forwards. Nuriel started forwards, but Grigori’s strong arm held her back. She saw Arariel’s body hovering as if suspended in mid-air, then turned and covered her ears. She heard and felt the impact barely a second later, and slowly turned to look. Arariel’s body lay on the ground in front of the infirmary, her limbs twisted into unnatural positions, blood oozing from the back of her head where the skull had cracked on the stone flagging. Her face, staring up at the clear sky, was grotesquely peaceful.

Nuriel looked at the sight for some seconds, then felt Grigori turning her around. She buried her face in his shoulder, bursting into tears. Despite there being no urgency, Uriel rushed back down to stand outside the infirmary, looking from Arariel’s corpse to Raziel. Despite Eremiel’s gentle protests, Raziel approached and looked down at Arariel’s shattered form. She turned to Uriel, Cassiel and Sophia.

‘See that this poor woman is given full rights and burial.’

‘But Grand Pope,’ this was Muriel. ‘our sacred laws dictate otherwise. She took her own life, affronting the Seraphim and the very world we live in. Hers is the ultimate sin. She cannot be granted burial in consecrated ground.’

‘We cannot just leave her as carrion.’ said Grigori.

Eremiel frowned. ‘Due to the circumstances, I shall overlook your discourtesy. But Grand Pope, you must decide this.’

Uriel looked long and hard at the Grand Pope. This was the moment that would decide local opinion, and weakness was typically not looked for. She would surely condemn this woman to a fate worse than death, to be shunned and effaced from the lives of everyone who knew her. Both she and Nuriel waited, and after a few moments, Raziel placed her hands together in prayer and spoke.

‘Cry death, for we forgive. Cry sorrow, for we transcend. Cry sin, for we forget. O Seraphim On High, let this body be as dust, and let the soul be eternal. Let all that passed in life be forgotten in death, that our sister be returned to your wholesome embrace. We who are but sorrowful sinners, we who are not worthy of passing merit upon any of our fellows, leave judgement to your eternal wisdom, and let go any sin of this mortal realm.’

Everyone was surprised. No-one had heard the prayer before, yet it stirred ancient memories, and seemed authentic. Eremiel spoke first.

‘Grand Pope?’

Raziel turned to him. ‘I have absolved her soul. She may be buried with full ceremony.’

‘But–’

‘Do you question the decision of the Grand Pope?’

Eremiel lowered his eyes before Raziel’s stern gaze. ‘No. I do not. We shall do as you ask.’

‘If necessary, set a Machina to stand guard until the Seven Sacred Days have passed so she may truly remain in peace.’

‘Yes, Grand Pope.’

Uriel looked at Raziel for some few moments before the procession moved on and others were left to tend to Arariel’s corpse. In those moments, she saw a person she had not expected. She had always thought of the Grand Pope as an imperious figure, a symbol of might and cold faith. The woman standing there in the Grand Pope’s garb was not those. Instead, she held the tender compassion Uriel had first looked for when she joined the Church. A warmth filled her heart, a feeling she had not experienced for many years. A light was in her eyes that had still not been extinguished, a light all Sinbearers gradually dampened through their harsh and burdensome duties.

But was this feeling her salvation? Or her impending ruin? She did not know, could not know now. Glancing back at where Nuriel still rested in Grigori’s supportive arms, she returned to her place in the procession, her mind lost in thought as the tour continued.

The Leviathan Chronicle; Revelation is available now as a downloadable e-book, and a physical edition will be available within the next few days. The first volume of this story, The Leviathan Chronicle: Genesis, is already available.