The Basilisk

His mother had considered him destined for greatness since the moment she first laid eyes on him. A babe worthy of saving others; so virtuously pure she named him Pius.

By the age of 10, their Reverend had agreed to allow him to lead one sermon a month.

His mother beamed proudly from the front row each time.

“You are going to save so many souls my boy.” She’d say after.

To which he always replied. “No Mother, I am going to save the world!”

Upon graduating from tertiary education with the honors she knew he would get, she couldn’t help but brag about him to all her friend’s daughters. It wasn’t long before she had secured him the perfect wife; a quiet and thoughtful girl that wanted nothing more than to fan the flames of her husband’s ardent convictions. Arabella was indeed perfect, if a bit delicate; often needing to stay home due to some illness or another. Pius didn’t mind though; while he raised his flock, she raised his children.

His mother passed when he was 35. She had told him she was proud of him, of the virtuous, god-fearing man he had become. Her passing was a mighty blow to Pius, but it ultimately only steeled his resolve.

His final words to her were. “I won’t stop Mother; not till I have saved them all!” She passed smiling, knowing this was true.

Aged 40, he really did have it all; unwavering passion for his work, a loving family who could speak no ill of him, and a massive congregation so large they had to build yet another new church to house the 15,000 members, with room to spare. The collection plates were so full each week he was able to afford a large house and a new Mercedes, neither of which any of his congregate members begrudged him.

“You have brought so many to the light, Pius.” They protested when he considered returning the car. “And you aren’t afraid to get your hands dirty! Accept your blessings.”

They weren’t wrong. Most reverends would happily rest on their sermons to pay the bills, but Pius went where the sinners were; bars, dance halls, brothels, as well as other buildings of faith with wicked practices… he considered himself a missionary, and saving others from themselves was his personal Mission.

It was a rainy August afternoon when Arabella presented him with a new mission, one he couldn’t refuse. A small flier with bold black letters printed on yellow paper.

“The Fantastical Circus – where Monsters find peace.” He read out loud. He felt a shiver run down his spine. “What is this?” He asked, making firm eye contact with her.

She blinked and averted her gaze before answering. “It is like a dance hall for the lost, my love. But so much more… most of them are dressed in strange and monstrous costumes, and I only caught a few conversations… but they were all unsavory.”

That was all he needed to hear.

The next night, dressed in his best suit, he practiced his words of admonition as he drove. He was surprised to find the location in a field, but not at all surprised by the fact that it was housed in a circus tent. The doorman was comical, with his red coat and trousers over layers of fur. He spoke only to warn Pius to not approach the stage or the Emerald Minstrel...

Please! If I am to save anyone tonight, the first thing I must do is stop the music!

Stepping inside took his breath away. It was far larger within than outward appearances led him to believe. The dancefloor was vibing with people, both costumed and not. He scanned through the crowd till he saw his intended target, the very Minstrel he had been warned about; glowing a bright green in what appeared to be a zombie costume.

The compulsion to approach seemed overwhelming… he wanted to ascend that stage more than he had ever wanted anything. His convictions, already powerful, now felt almost cumbersome.

God wants me on that stage… He wants me to stop the music. This may be the most important thing I do with my life!

His feet moved before he had willed them to do so. The dancing crowd separated just enough to permit the flow of his march, and he took it as a sign that his mission was just.

It was as he rested his hand on the stage that he felt himself freeze, all around him did too. His entire body seemed to burn and writhe, the pain was so violent it felt as though he was being turned inside out. Nausea sent a wave of heat up his neck and his vision blurred. He vomited violently, then dropped as the world went black around him.

He woke with his face resting in the warmth of his vomit. The music was still playing, but the volume was much lower, and the crowd had dispersed. Only a handful of costumed patrons remained, many of them keeping a distance. A pale and well-dressed gentleman with dark eyes helped him up.

“What happened?” He asked groggily. He received no answer, just a twinkle from those dark eyes that momentarily appeared to flash red. He felt anger stir in the wells of his heart.

“Alrick, fetch one of the Djinn please.”

“I don’t drink.” Pius objected.

“Not Gin, a Djinn… a Genie.” The man replied calmly. “Normally I’d take you to a mirror, but in this instance, that would kill you. While we are on the subject, you may as well avoid roosters.”

“What are you talking about?!” Pius was shouting, but he didn’t care. His breathing was harsh and fast.

“I promise to answer everything I can. But let's wait for the Djinn… he will answer what I cannot.”

They stood quietly by a small table for a while, soft music filling the air. Pius recognized it as a hymn… his favorite hymn. It calmed him just enough to temporarily steady his breathing.

The Djinn arrived. Pius had to avert his eyes, but he’d seen enough to know the image would never leave his mind; a midnight blue muscular physique adorned in gold and a loincloth, and nothing else, approached as though he was floating.

“Ayaan.” The pale man greeted him. “Thank you for coming. Would you mind showing our new friend what he has become?”

Before Pius could protest, the man waved his hands in a slow circular motion. They filled with smoke, which solidified into something Pius didn’t recognize.

“How are you doing that?” Pius looked around the man, hoping to see a technical origin for the smoke. Finding nothing, he steadied his gaze to the creature in the man’s hands. It had a cockerel’s head, feet, and large feathery wings, with a scaly serpentine body.

“Ayaan is a Djinn, he is capable of great magic, and is one of the few living beings that can meet your gaze without dying.” He replied. Pius felt his heart rate spike. The music that had calmed him earlier was the only thing keeping his mind from derailing entirely. “I am Evo by the way.” The man continued. “And what you are looking at is a Cockatrice… or a Basilisk if you prefer.”

“What!” Pius yelled. He wanted to say more, but words failed him. Instead, he looked down. The wiry body he had known all his life was gone; all he could see were scales, claws, and talons. He had no arms or hands; he craned his neck to try and look over his shoulder. To his surprise, his gaze kept going till he could see his spine and…

Wings! Angels have wings!

They were a combination of scales and feathers, not the most angelic representation, but still wings. His mind found them oddly comforting, which was a complete paradox for the terror waging a war in his heart.

“How?” Was all he could manage. Waves of awe, fear, and rage vied with one another to consume his mind.

“Only 2 types of people are drawn to the Minstrel the way you were this evening.” Evo started. “The truly good, and the truly evil. Getting too close to him, or the stage that absorbs most of his energy can have a transformative effect.”

Pius first laughed, tears rolling down his cheeks, then went deathly quiet.

“So you lure people here to create monsters?” he whispered, his indignation now providing him fresh clarity. “That is the most sinful act against God I’ve ever heard of!”

“No,” Ayaan replied. His voice was deep and sonorous, with an ethereal distortion that made him sound almost menacing. Pius was entranced, now incapable of looking away. “Only the epitomes of both good and evil are drawn to him. Both qualities are incredibly rare in humanity, and most humans instinctively give the Minstrel the space he deserves. Good people leave here with blessings of good fortune… Evil people are exposed for the Monsters they truly are.”

Pius’ mouth fell open in shock, which then turned into hysterical laughter.

When the fit abated, he started moving towards the exit. “You’ve made a mistake! I am a respected, trusted, and revered man of faith.” The music seemed to follow him, making his words sound hollow in comparison. He smashed face-first into what felt like a brick wall, the pain of it radiated through the top of his skull. There was nothing there; the light was beckoning him, yet he couldn’t cross the threshold.

“What is this sorcery!” he yelled, not looking back at both men.

It was Evo’s drawl tones that offered a reply. “You cannot leave. You are a danger to the outside world, and you must stay till that is no longer the case. The music is not only the cause of your transformation, but also the bars of your prison.”

“No, I am a good person!” He shouted vigorously as he turned to face them. “You are making a mistake! My family and congregation will rip this tent to shreds to save me!”

Evo looked at Ayaan. “Have you seen his heart? Will you show us?”

 Ayaan wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything, then nodded. He moved forward and gently rested the palm of his hand over Pius’ heart. For a second time that evening, he felt his entire being freeze.

Snippets of his life flashed before his eyes:

  Arabella - cowering under his rage, her eye blackening from the blow he had delivered for daring to question him.

  His sons - quivering in terror as he battered their sister for discussing her period with their mother.

  Sermons dedicated to increasing weekly donations - “Give freely and without concern. The more you donate, the more God will bless you!”

  Letters - written to children who had prayed for healing and received none, admonishing them for their lack of faith. Signing them off with; “If you send another donation, I will pray for you. And if God deems you worthy, he will bless you.”

  The contents of the collection plates - spent on the whores he’d “ministered” to.

His mind raged against the exposition of his secrets.

“You don’t understand!” he wailed. “Some sinners need a firm hand…” he sounded frantic. “Others I can only reach if I gain their trust!

Ayaan removed his hand. He was staring at Pius with an unfathomable look in his eyes.

Evo spoke softly. “Your deeds act as a mockery of something that should be a comfort to those in need.” His face bore the same look as Ayaan’s.

It took Pius a moment to realize that it was disgust.

5 years had passed since that fateful day, and he found no escape. The Minstrel rarely left the stage and never stopped playing. Music and Monsters were his only companions. He’d grown accustomed to his new form, but not his situation. Anger simmered beneath the surface, eclipsed only by his resentment for what was clearly a colossal violation against his person. The fact that he had to remain hidden, even at the Fantastical Circus, made the injustice of it all so much more unbearable. To make things worse, no one ever came looking for him.

“You don’t understand!” He accused Evo again. “I have a mission out in the real world. Instead, I must hide away underground?”

“Yes, you keep saying this.” The pale man drawled with a bored tone. “You want to rid the world of sin.” It felt like mockery. “But one look into your eyes, or just a touch, kills anything that lives… you are one of the most powerful and dangerous transformations that’s ever stepped foot in the Circus. Even the werewolves are terrified of you.”

“But you can look at me.” He sulked. They’d had this conversation many times before. “So can the Banshee and the Minstrel and just about every other ghost or zombie!”

“Well, we’re all dead already.” Evo shrugged.

“Please!” Pius begged. “Just let me go. I know that leaving this prison will restore me.”

“No, it won’t.” Evo countered calmly. “The moment you step outside, your natural Basilisk instincts will kick in… you will kill, and you will like it.”

“I don’t believe you!” Pius rejected Evo’s statement with conviction. “You said I could go when I wasn’t a danger to the outside world, and I am ready… I’m exactly what the outside world needs! All I need is for the music to stop!”

“We’ve discussed this Pius. The music doesn’t have to stop. The day you accept, master, and redeem the monster you truly are, you can walk out that door.”

“Is that why you can come and go as you please?”

“Yes.”

Pius tried something new. “Weren’t you mad when the Minstrel turned you into a Vampire?”

Evo laughed. It was a rare thing. Pius was surprised at how beautiful its melody was.

“He didn’t turn me. Truth be told, I am much older than he is.”

“Then why do you come here?” Pius was shocked. He'd always assumed they all had been tricked as he had been.

“It is a relief to not have to try so hard.” He replied honestly. “I’ve not hunted humans for a long time, and I have it under control. However, when I am here, I don’t have to control anything. I feel as I did when I was mortal.”

“Oh.” Was all Pius could muster in reply.

“Wait.” Evo ventured curiously. “Did you think we were all transformations like you?”

“Yes,” Pius replied honestly. “Since it happened to me and others, I thought it was how monsters were made.”

“Well, I guess it’s how we’ve made some. So, you aren’t entirely wrong. But it remains a very rare thing.”

Pius nodded, there had only been 2 others since his arrival. A young girl who’d been turned into a Cyclops, and a man slightly older than himself who’d been transformed into a Cerberus.

“I still think it is wrong!” He said conclusively. He rose, talking over his shoulder as he left. “I am not evil! That title belongs to your precious Minstrel!”

It was 6 months before he figured out the means of his escape. It was the Cerberus, Michael, that provided the solution.

“Before I was trapped here, I worked as a sound engineer.” He whispered through Pius’ screen door. “If we get a copy of one of his tunes, I can guide someone on how to invert the sound profile through an amp; when played at exactly the same time, the two waves should cancel each other out, creating a window of silence.”

“Are you sure?” Pius’ heart was racing.

“Yes. The best part is that we only have to match the Minstrel, so with a bit of luck he won’t notice immediately.”

Scarlet, the Cyclops, was listening; she brought up a video clip to demonstrate the effect.

Michael Continued. “The window won’t be very large, so we will need to set it all up by the door.”

Pius nodded. “He always plays my favorite hymn upon request.” It was fortunate that the band that accompanied the Minstrel still relied on technology. 

The night was long, but anticipation had a habit of doing this to time. It was midnight when the first notes of How Great Thou Art, started to play. He looked to find Scarlet and Michael already waiting by the entrance. At the perfect time, she turned on their amplifier, raised the volume, and pressed play. The area grew silent; anything audible seemed very far away.

He felt his hatred spike to a height he never considered possible. As powerful as it was, it wasn’t enough to deter him from his objective. He moved at lightning speed towards the exit. Evo, with a mirror in hand, tried to stop him but was interrupted by several monsters who felt themselves succumbing to their instincts. The vampire was fast, but not fast enough. With a lucky flick of his colossal tail, Pius sent him flying to the back of the room. He didn’t look back to check if he’d killed him.

As he ran outside, breathing the open air for the first time in years, he looked for his co-conspirators. Scarlet was crushing the life out of the werewolf doorman while Michael savagely chased and mauled terrified humans; both had been overpowered by the nature of the monsters they had become. He looked at the terrified bystanders scattered and hiding from his friends. Those who dared to look directly at him dropped dead in an instant. He kept running, calling for Scarlet and Michael to follow him. It took all of his willpower not to kill them as well.

Evo had been right; killing felt good.

As they ran through unfamiliar territory, he considered his mission, and how the only way to save the world was to rid it of the Emerald Minstrel.

I will stop the Music!