I soar earthward, toward the hellish vista of my once adopted home. It was torn asunder in the devastating wake of flames, which seemed to reach out from the service and even beyond the stratosphere; it appeared that not even the cold vacuum of the void could seem to cease the eternal blaze.

“Oh . . . gods no . . .” I remember hushing, hearing the screams of the people that once I had dared call family and friend, I could feel my grasp over my somewhat volatile emotional state escaping from control, slipping away from me. “Who . . . who dares taint paradise in such a hellish way?” I asked to myself, more so than to any one else. Power crackled, violently in my eyes, and the power that my master, Galactus, had bestowed ‘pon me all those years ago, urged me onward, to action once more. Without a second thought, I hurtled myself earthward, a streak of already dimming silver white light, the only scene that I was ever there at all.

And it was that loss of control over my emotions, my all-consuming lust for vengeance on behalf of all that lived on this world, that would ultimately prove my under doing, for it masked and dimmed my perceptions of the universe around me. Yet, at the current moment I was unaware of this factor. For to me, it mattered not in the slightest. I could . . . sense the cries of pain and death issuing from those poor souls that found themselves entrapped in this hellish situation.

The skies possessed no longer that tint of sea green that whispered verses on life in utter and complete silence. Rather the tranquility of the sea green skies were replaced with hues of crimson red and orange, which only enhanced, ten-fold, the sense of devastation that this world was being placed through. And no longer could I sense the world’s life source . . . no longer could feel I its touch ‘pon my torrid soul, breathing life anew into my chest . . . For it no longer existed! My eyes widened once I came to this, somewhat startling and perverse concept.

What was going on here? What madness was this? I wondered in silence, continuing to make my descent through the thick layers of ash and smoke that plagued the air. And I took note that as my distance from the earth and ground grew progressively smaller, the layers of ash and death grew progressive thicker, and even more treacherous to navigate than before.

When I managed to penetrate the dense layer of smoke that filled the atmosphere, my vision was clear . . . and I remember wishing that it was not . . .

For what I saw was . . . barbarism . . . in its finest . . .

A massive crowd of people slowly were descending ‘pon one individual, a lust for blood, his blood was clearly present within both their eyes and their disposition. They bore simple farming tools, tools that had been sharpened to tear asunder the very earth they called home . . . I still remembering cringing at the notion of what these tools could do to the flesh of that one soul.

Once more I felt a burning urge to act, and so, not fighting my instincts in the slightest, rather embracing him, I moved my way through the torrid air and closer to the aid of the one. Power cosmic now fills my veins with life anew, faint streaks of power escape via the corner of my eyes. My hands clench into fists and swirls of mystical green energy take hold.

I soar in closer, only to see a crucifixion take place before my eyes.

“My . . . god . . .” I hush in utter disbelief, for my great-godson, Dant, from my brief tenure as one of the residents of this once Eden-like world, is the one who was hammered onto the cross, blood rolling from every wound that scarred his body. “No . . . this cannot be . . .” My mind races, a billion parsecs a moment it seems, as I attempt, in vain, to grasp the events displayed before me.

When I was exiled on earth, a punishment from my master, Galactus, for siding with humanity against his whims, I learned that there was once a time, not far in the distance, when mankind performed such grotesque and appalling acts of execution.

Yet how could they do so here? I remember musing to myself. Everything was the same! To the last detail! I soared in closer, the thick whisk of smoke clearing ‘pon my reproach, as if moved to one side by some unseen presence. By this time I was several yards away from the hideous appearance of my grandson, the boy who years earlier I had revealed my true self to my extended family and was therefore, in turn, scorned. Tears welled up in my eyes, I had known the family, known them well in fact. They took me in as if I was one of their own flesh and blood, in a time when my sole companion was hatred and sorrow, Dant’s family showed me kindness and love.

And here he was . . . dead . . . his life’s blood rushing freely from massive wounds that tore away from his person in hideous designs. Those responsible were gathered round the mounted cross that, if memory had served, had been the base-nailing forum for a hay-straw scarecrow. Collectively, they suddenly turned to face me, and I was totally unprepared for what I saw. For those who had slaughtered an innocent ‘pon a cross were blood soaked, dripping from head to toe, in what I presumed to be Dant’s blood, streams rolling over their visages and their persons into a massive pool. Yet that is not what had startled me the most, it was their appearance.

For they bore the clothing of simple farmers and yet they were demons in appearance. Long sharp talons adorned their fingertips, their eyes crimson red in coloration. They screamed horridly as the distance separating myself from their lot decreased by leaps and bounds.

I raised my hand, power cosmic once more swirling about it in pools of emerald green. The demons screamed and scattered to the distance, never to be seen from again.

“Dant,” I cried ‘pon standing before his cross, and it was quite evident in his posture that his spirit has crossed the threshold between the living and the dead. With only the most minute out pouring of cosmic power that I could muster in my raging agony, I released him from his bonds and lowered his body toward the soil that he had tilled after my passing. His body lied there in a heap of twisted flesh and churned muscles.

“Is something the matter?” a voice from the past calls out to me.

I turned.

Only to find my old companion Bahrnul standing there before me a few yards away, standing firm on an out cropping of rocks that jutted forth from the fertile plains, looking much the way he had the last time I saw, on the night of his death. Raging fires swirled around his crimson robes, ash danced around his thin frame seductively.

“Bahrnul! Old friend!”

I remember calling his name once and there was no response.

I repeat the action several times, the response was always the same.

Finally he did speak. “My name, friend Norrin Radd, is not the question that was posed, now was it?” He chuckled at this slightly.

“Question?” I mused to myself, then I remembered the words that drew me to his presence and I nodded, giving my answer in the affirmative. I said, “Yes.” And with more forcefulness I repeated, “Yes, friend Bahrnul, there is something that is the matter. You are dead, for one, yet I see you, and converse with you as if you were among the living’s number. How is this?”

“Ahh, Surfer, I have duped you for the last time, have I not?”

“What is the meaning of all this?” I questioned.

“He doesn’t understand!” My confidant roared in laughter. “I have only myself to blame I suppose. Do you not have your eyes, Norrin Radd, herald to the Devourer of Worlds? Or better yet, do you not have cosmic sense? Can you not sense that this is merely an illusion - that your Eden is of my creation!”

“Who are you?!”

“You do not yet know?” The being laughed once more. “My, my, my, you have grown something feeble in your waning years, haven’t you? I am the one who now holds your lover’s soul. If this does not give you a clue as to who I am, then you deserve your . . . blinding ignorance.”

“No . . .” I could not believe this. Would not! “You cannot be!”

“Oh I am, Norrin Radd, I am.”

Then suddenly my old friend’s entire form started to churn into that of my greatest demon.

“Mephisto!” I cried forth, ‘pon seeing the Beast’s true form, charging forward, pillars of energy lashing outward from my fingertips. The demon merely raised his hand, palm facing me, and I was stopped in mid-flight, the power draining forth from my form, seeping out quicker than anything I had ever experienced in all my long years since I became herald to Galactus. He rose another hand and all I could do was watch, the fires burning around me increased in fury as if knowing that the end was near, and that their death throws would end in time.

Mephisto, with his other raised hand, snapped his fingers.

And Elysia . . . Eden, as it were . . . simply vanished . . . as if it had never existed . . .  

Continued in Tainting Eden Chapter 4