In the beginning, there was only pleasure.
Deep and resonant, it was the nature of the Lord’s kingdom, the very foundation of his exaltations. Those who bathed in his graces, those first Archangels who sat by his side lived in a world of myriad ecstasies, untouched by the confusion of emotion, they knew only the warm, thick undercurrents of pure joy and for untold millennia they knew passion beyond the flesh; love beyond joy and felicity beyond comprehension. Theirs was a blessed existence, the love of their Lord being the only sustenance they required.
For millennia, the servants of the almighty drank from the streams of his kindness, his grace, the years stretching into millennia with his love for them only equaled by theirs in return. There had never, nor will there be a paradise to compare. This empire was the fundament upon which music was created; laughter was forged upon its very foundations and all that was joyous and celebrated ran through the air like leaves upon a stream.
Yet, inevitably, there were those who grew dissatisfied.
The most rambunctious, the most zealous of the Lord’s minions grew unsettled, began to want for more. Tiring of the pleasures their Lord had deemed worthy to dispense with, these Seraphim sought more… idiosyncratic pursuits and in their pursuit of greater pleasures, created the first of the seven sins; Lust.
Seeking ever-extreme forms of satisfaction, they pursued pleasures of the flesh, something their Lord was not concerned with; simple acts of domination, indulging in the initial thrills of the body and the delicious ambivalence of pain. Still, over time, even this became inadequate to their urges and in their quest for ever expanding horizons of sensation, they began to transgress the boundaries of their station; torture, blood letting, humiliation, flagellation, the bondage of the flesh and the warping of the soul became their sole purpose.
The Lord, in his infinite wisdom turned a blind eye to such perversion, trusting that his servants would not stray too far from the light of his graces. Yet even in his all seeing wisdom, the Lord did not see the limits his children would go to in the pursuit of this new form of pleasure. Unable to reach the heights required, incapable of satiating each others primal lusts any longer, these Seraphim, those who had grown obsessed with their longings created their own servants of the flesh, their own minions through which they could exercise their rampant desires. These zealots of perversion, these Cenobites were created with no other purpose than to fulfill their masters every need, to pleasure them in ways beyond the soul, to take the spirit into ever darker and increasingly warped wonders.
Knowing how wrong such an act would be in the eyes of the Lord, the Seraphim entered into a pact to keep their creations a secret from his eyes and combining their powers they sought to create a world, a hidden dimension shielded from the Lord’s eyes by their own warped divinity. Although nameless, this pocket haven became a place where the Archangels could examine the full depravity of their flesh in solitude, away from the watchful eye of divinity and lay themselves at the beautiful and cruel mercy of their creations.
Yet, little did the Seraphim know how quickly their servants would learn, how little time it would take for them to surpass their masters in their craft, creating pleasures which transcended all that had gone before, their notions becoming almost… insidious. The pleasures ended, replaced with torments and horrors the likes of which could never had never been imagined and in giving these Cenobites such power as to create the most dread imaginings of the flesh, the Archangels knew that they had indeed wandered too far from the light of their Lord.
All, that is, save one.
Most cruel and wicked of the angels, it was he that was held up as scapegoat to the Seraphim’s transgressions. When the Lord saw what had transpired he sought out Leviathan, the dread angel having fallen from his Lord’s gaze. When he was found, Leviathan was deep in the pocket world created by the Seraphim; his body twisted and warped into that of the serpents, his mind broken and ragged with naught but an endless trail of joyous obscenity running like an effluent stream from his lips.
About him stood his Cenobites. So proud of their work.
It was said that for the first time in all creation, the Lord felt fear, an unheard of emotion before, he looked upon what could be made with selfish desire and he was angered by such transgression.
The Lord, wrapped in his righteous anger cast these Cenobites into a hell of their own making; a dire other world filled with their own dread imaginings; a hell of their own choosing. There, they would spend an eternity, trapped in a world of their own carnal desire, with none but the other to feed upon.
Leviathan’s punishment was worse still; imprisoned in a great casket, its exterior marked with intricate runes within which would be kept his never ending hunger for pleasure in all its extremities. It would be he who would oversee his ‘children’, bear witness to the soiled fruits of his labour; doomed to forever be a purveyor; a witness to the sins he had wished to enfold himself in, never again to feel. For an eternity, he would watch, the great black light of his vision scouring the mazes of hell around him as he spun in its centre, watching as his Cenobites performed meaningless acts of unimaginable depravity upon each other, their powers growing through lack of release as they were forever condemned to seek pleasure from those who knew no such thing; each other. For millennia their madness continued, all conduits back to the kingdom having been sealed by the almighty in his wrath, nevermore to be opened to their kind.
Yet, salvation would come and when it did, it would herald from the least likely of places imagined; the hands of the Lord themselves.
For seeking to amend for his Archangel’s previous transgressions, the Lord had sought to create the heavens and the earth and upon this mad desire, he made those of his own image; man. How foolish that the Lord would think that in crafting others in the image of himself would save them from the crushing weight of sin; that he could create purity merely by draping the soul in the finery of himself.
For it was upon this ‘Earth’ that Leviathan finally saw his freedom, able to transcend the gulf between his world and theirs with ease, the Lord failing to seal all the worlds from Leviathan’s grasp and so it was that Leviathan saw anew, beings upon which his lust could prey.
Yet, he was not a foolish god. Not Leviathan, no, he had learnt his lesson well these past millennia and sought to keep his presence unknown upon this earthly plane, lest he bring upon himself the Lord’s wrath once more.
No, this time he would tread carefully and realizing the ease of baiting a soul, he sent aspects of himself into the world; small caskets… boxes, mirroring the cage he found himself in. They were keys, puzzles to be solved, bringing those worthy of such delicious torture to him, to his beloved Cenobites.
Fuel for the fire.
After so long, there would now be new, unimaginable pleasures to be witnessed, to indulge on these innocent and fleshy Neanderthals. Lifetimes of torturous acts devised with fresh victims to experiment upon. Oh how they would scream. Oh, how the skies would rupture with agony once more. The Lord was merciful, after all, if even unknowingly.
And Leviathan praised him every day, with every fresh scream.
From every fresh scream there was praise.
As from every fresh scream, Leviathan grew stronger.