The Songs of Samisa

You died.
But in your final moments you saw something that could not be unseen.
The senseless heartbreak of the five kingdom’s endless war became apparent.
The violent oppression of the royal cults and their relic magick became obvious.
The haunted tragedy of a dreamless land filled with hungry demons became clear.
Into the grave you went.
Into the underworld your soul went wandering.
But there on the bridge between life and death you heard a still small voice.
It was the voice of a god you have been raised to hate, to fear, and to mock.
But its words rang clear in your dead soul.

 “I have looked down upon the world and I have seen something that cannot be unseen.
I have seen your senseless heartbreak.
I have born witness to your violent oppression.
I have mourned your haunted tragedy.
Serve me and I will give you new life.
Serve me and I will give you new power and new purpose.

Become one of my vaishineph.
Become one of my returned souls.
Serve me and together we will unmake the despair of the world.”

You lifted your dead face to the darkness high above and whispered your first Whisper.
“I will serve.”

Your soul fashioned a new body from the dust of the earth.
You were given fire for blood and magick for breath.
You were given a hunger for justice and a thirst for redemption.
You were given the force of will to break a broken world and fashion peace from pieces.

You are vaishineph.
You are a prophet and a rebel and a breaker of chains.
You are a killer of murderers and a judge of lawmakers.
You are a walking heresy and divine in your own right.
What will you do with your second life?

The Songs of Samisa 2:2-31


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I will sing to Tiyeh, for she has come down from the heavens to stand beside me.
She has scattered the cult of Reus.
Priest and relic she has burned with fire.
Tiyeh is my sword and my shield.
She is my path to atonement.
She is my aihalan and I will praise her.
She is my second life’s love and I will adore her.

Tiyeh is a warrior.
Tiyeh is her name.
Kaph’s chariots and its armies she has bathed in fire.
The most elite of their soldiers she has drowned in flame.
The blue fire has covered them.
The red flame has devoured them.
Your right hand Tiyeh is justice.
Your left hand Tiyeh is judgement.

In your greatness you crusade against the dalaihal.
In your mercy you have chosen me to serve you.
You unleashed your wrath through me.
Your burning anger was on my lips.
By your blood I became your instrument.
By my Whispers an empire was laid low.
The surging fire stood like towers.
 At my voice they came crashing down.

Kaph was full of pride.
“We will chase them” They said. “We will take them” They said.
“Two women for each man.” They said. “Two sheaths for each spear.” They said.
But you gave me the words.
You gave me the breath.
I spoke and fire came down like rain.
I Whispered and a storm of cinders took them, spears and all.

Who is like you among the gods, Tiyeh?
Who is like you, with your heart for the oppressed?
Who is like you, awesome in the power you share?
Who is like you, that gives life and purpose to the dead?

The Songs of Samisa 3:1-30


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Eight.
Eight is my holy number.
Eight is the number of peasants it takes to feed one noble.
Eight lives of backbreaking labor to feed and clothe one life of plenty.
Eight taxed bodies buys one rich body.
Eight taxed souls buy one noble soul.
Eight peasants for one scribe.
Eight peasants for one courtier.
Eight peasants for one soldier.
Eight peasants for books.
Eight peasants for silks.
Eight peasants for chariots.

When I killed for the first time I mourned for years.
I did not mean for the man to die.
My first blow was in anger.
I could not bear to watch him whip the slaves anymore.
My second blow was for justice.
I thought I could make him feel the pain he inflicted.
My third blow was where I began to lose myself in the violence.
My tenth was where I finally stopped.
I fled my home and my life of plenty.
I fled my books and my silks and my chariots.
I fled in tears and for decades I was lost.
Then I began to see that no matter where you go, eight is the number that rules.

Eight is king in all the lands.
Eight is the cost all people pay.
Eight is the way of the earth.
Now when I kill I remember my holy number.
For every ruthless governor I kill eight peasants have their stomachs filled.
For every raping general I kill eight peasants sleep more soundly.
For every corrupt priest I kill eight peasants have their souls returned.
Eight is what my aihalan whispers to me.
Eight is what fills me with righteous fire.
Eight is the name of the injustice in the world.
Eight is the machine of oppression I will destroy.

The Songs of Samisa 8:1-24


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I refuse to be the most powerful person in the world.
I could be, if I desired it.
All of the pieces are there.
I will live forever.
My blood is fire and my breath is magick.
Blood is my food. Dreams my water.
Divinity my wine of choice.

Thunder obeys my lips.
Darkness dances to my words.
When I say stop, the mortal and the demon alike cease to move.
When I say this far and no farther, the mortal and the demon alike mind my borders.
With a gesture I am in your dreams.
With a flex of my muscles I am your nightmare.
I see with a thousand eyes.
The future is my sword.
Without a weapon I can fell legions.
With a weapon I can fell gods.
I offer life with my right hand.
I take life with my left.

But I refuse.
I refuse to let power be measured in terms of lives and commands.
I refuse to let the title of most powerful go to the greatest killer or the richest king.
The royal cults say that they are powerful because of their magicks.
The nobles say that they are powerful because of their coin.
The generals say that they were powerful because of their chariots.
By my will, power will come to mean something else.
By the time my immortal life has finished its course power will be known as something else.
It will mean service.
This I swear.

By my word, the most powerful is the one who serves the most.
The one who serves the bodies and souls of the common people will be known as the greatest.
The one who sacrifices the most.
The one who listens the most.
The one who humbles themselves the most.
The one who loves recklessly the most.
The one who forgives debts the most.
The one who bows before justice the most.
The one who fights the hardest to make this meaning of power true, they are my heir.

Inherit my life of service and become the powerful low.

The Songs of Samisa 23: 19-46


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Ten commands I leave you with.
Ten commands for all generations of vaishineph, from the first to the last.

One. You shall have no other gods before your aihalan. They came down from heaven for you. Aspire to the high heavens for them.

Two. You shall not support the royal cults. Not in word. Not in deed. Not with coin, sweat, tears, or smiles.

Three. You shall speak honestly to your aihalan, of your aihalan, and about your aihalan. If you swear by your aihalan, make it so or die trying.

Four. You shall remember the day of your death and keep the memory holy. Do not forget the brokenness of the world, even in your moments of joy. Do not forget the joy of the world, even in your moments of brokenness.

Five. You shall honor all those who raise or mentor children with a better world in mind.

Six. You shall not take life, unless taking the life spares innocent lives from being taken.

Seven. You shall not destroy earnest love, no matter the gain to be had.

Eight. You shall not steal, unless it is from the rich and for the poor.

Nine. You shall not lie to yourself.

Ten. You shall not covet the divinity of the dalaihal, the influence of the royal cults, the wealth of the nobility, the power of the army, or the ignorance of those silently complicit in their own oppression.

The Songs of Samisa 33:1-11