Chapter 124
A whole series of monsters and avatars
Swarmed in the shadows, coming to life
Amid draughts of sulphur and phosphorus
Like an animated fresco
Painted on the moving wall of sleep.
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― Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas
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HE-WHO'S-NOT-MIKHAIL
Each second passes by with excruciating slowness. It swirls around me, as though time itself has become encapsulated in a single moment. I wait impatiently for Mama to finish getting dressed. Papa and I have been dressed for hours, while Gabriel resents the fact we can't go outside and play.
The wind howls as we size each other up across the chess board. In my hand, I carry a sword smeared with blood.
A sword? Never. The Seraphim don't believe in violence.
"Why don't you teach your brother to play?" Mama smiles benevolently.
To p
