The Society of the Griffon

The Society of the Griffon was a very prestigious fraternity when I was in seminary. England was such a different place then; so much has happened as a result of my actions, or lack thereof, that I hardly recognize the place. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

 The Society kept the charge of the most ancient and rare volumes in the basement of the university library, and they were the only ones allowed to view them whenever they wanted. All others had to schedule an appointment, and that depended entirely on whether the Society felt generous that day and which volumes one wished to read. Certain books were forbidden to all but the inner circle of the Society. 

One had to prove one’s worth before joining the Society of the Griffon, and the standards were rigorous. I’d been rather keen on becoming a member, as were most of my peers, and we all submitted to the application process. One by one, all others were disqualified, leaving only me. 

I stepped into an old musty room of the library, where the society had their meetings. All the members were gathered there, in their black academic robes. Each held a lit candle; the only lights in the room. The Grand Chancellor, as he was called, sat on a great oaken chair. He rose from his seat and approached me.

“The Society of the Griffon is not simply a fraternity,” he began, “we are a sacred order, dedicated to the protection of knowledge to pass onto future generations, and to guard it against those who would abuse it. Do you, Reginald Powys, by your own free will accept this burden?”

“I do,” I said.

“Do you promise before Almighty God that you will only use the knowledge gained here for the good of man?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to guard this knowledge against the wicked, and to only reveal that which is beneficial?”

“I do.”

They laid a red sash about my neck and placed a candle in my hand. The Grand Chancellor then lit the candle.

“Welcome to the Society of the Griffon.”

The next day one of the members, a man by the name of Roberts, gave me a tour of the Society’s library. I was exhilarated by the books and artifacts held therein; I wanted to read it all! Then we came to the end of a corridor where there was a large door, with great iron hinges. I thought my guide would open it to reveal some even older hidden archive, but instead, he stopped.

“That concludes the tour,” he said.

“What about that door?” I queried.

He paused.

“That room is not for new members.”

He spoke no more on the subject, and I thought it best not to press him, however, the possibilities of what might lay beyond that portal were tantalizing in ways that I can only begin to describe.

My free time between my classes was spent cataloging artifacts and reading the most fantastic volumes. The knowledge contained in that library was simply staggering. They even had a Doom Book in their collection. I was most interested in this tome in particular, but Roberts informed me that this was only for advanced members.

All through those weeks (I don’t know exactly how much time elapsed) I was constantly drawn back to that door. What lay beyond? What secret could possibly be greater than those at my fingertips? The possibilities whirling in my mind became so tangible that one day I resolved to ask the Grand Chancellor directly. I was a foolish, cocky, upstart seminarian, and had no idea what I was dealing with, but my curiosity was insatiable. 

I knocked on the huge mahogany door of the Grand Chancellor’s study. He bade me enter. The study smelled of candle wax, old books, and pipe smoke. The chancellor sat in his leathern chair, puffing on his pipe and reading an antique scroll in a language I did not recognize. He peered up at me over horn-rim spectacles.

“Sir,” I began, shakily, “I hope you will not think me too presumptuous, but I have been an official member of this society for these past months; do you not trust me yet?”

The chancellor puffed on his pipe a few more times.

“You wish to know about the door?” he said in a questioning tone.

“It has driven me nearly to madness,” I replied. “What lies beyond it?”

The Grand Chancellor sighed deeply.

“I suppose you’ll need to learn about it eventually, Powys,” he said. “Follow me.”

The Grand Chancellor led me down to the bottom-most level of the library. He solemnly produced a key that unlocked the mysterious door. We descended a flight of stairs into an even lower chamber. It was cold and silent as the tomb. The only light came from the oil lamps ensconced about the room. I saw Roberts sitting in an old wooden chair propped up against the wall. At the center of the chamber was a large, perfectly round hole. 

Roberts stood up in surprise and befuddlement.

“This is our most guarded secret,” said the Grand Chancellor, gravely. “In that hole is a being of incredible power and evil. A being so evil that as little as saying its name is said to bring about calamity.”

I stood there in silent shock and disbelief at what the Grand Chancellor just told me. 

“But,” I stammered, “Where did it come from? How did it get in here? How do you keep it from escaping?”

“How it came to be here is a mystery,” the Grand Chancellor replied. “Perhaps it was trapped here when this school was a monastery. You’ve read about the Black Death, I’m sure. We believe this creature was the cause.”

“As to how we keep it contained,” continued the Grand Chancellor, “the creature hates light. We keep it here by use of these lamps,” said the Grand Chancellor, gesturing. “If they ever went out, the thing could escape. It is especially dangerous on moonless nights, like tonight. That is what we need you to do tonight; you must stay and keep watch until dawn tomorrow.”

I swallowed hard. All of this was difficult to believe, but the gravity of the Grand Chancellor’s tone was enough to convince me.

“This will be the final test of your loyalty,” said the Grand Chancellor. “Return promptly at 20:00 tonight to begin your vigil.”

It was a moonless night. The library door opened with a loud creaking, and Roberts ushered me in. He took me down to the basement of the library where we met the Grand Chancellor. He silently handed me a bottle of oil for the lamps and a book of matches. 

“I trust, by the power of the Almighty that you shall not fail,” he said.

“I shall do my best, sir,” I said.

The Grand Chancellor departed up the stairs, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of the chamber. I sat on the ancient chair that stood against the wall. Thank goodness I had brought a book to occupy my time.

The utter silence of the chamber was intolerable! Such quiet as I have only rarely experienced. I took out my prayer book and said my prayers if nothing else than to break the monotony. I was aware of a sense of heaviness overshadowing the place, as though I were near the gate of Hell itself. 

The silence was broken by the faintest sound from the hole, like mice in the walls of an old house. Against my better judgment, I looked down the hole. The Grand Chancellor had told me not to, but my curiosity got the better of me. Had I seen movement down there? I glanced again to be certain. I saw nothing. Had I merely imagined it?

Hours went by. I glanced at my pocket watch to see if it were anytime near dawn; it was about 2:00. I read a few more pages of my book before fading into a deep slumber. I curse myself to this day that I dozed off. In my sleep, I had the most vivid of dreams, such dreams as I have never had before or since. I saw the thing in the hole, an indescribable abomination, it was. All full of eyes, and limbs thrusting out in all directions in a mad fury. Such a vision was not meant for mortal senses.

I awoke to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. I was in complete darkness until the flickering flame of the Grand Chancellor’s candle met my eyes. Shock, dismay, horror, and rage displayed themselves on his candlelit features. 

Naturally, I was expelled from the Society of the Griffon that morning. I feared that the Grand Chancellor would bring me up before the Dean, but the Society felt that what occurred would be better left unspoken. 

The thing, whatever it is, had escaped under cover of darkness, and the world has not been right since.