A new image tumbled through, distorting the previous one, making young Solomon’s face appear fractured - tortured even.
Long white robes pooled at his sandaled feet as he stood tall, a podium overlooking all of his people as he took his place as King. A beard peppered his face, making him look older somehow. The crowd roared in approval of their new leader - his bloodline handpicked by God himself. Three women stood behind him to his left. All dressed in different shades of copper and brown, their hair pulled away from their faces, highlighting their sharp cheekbones, lush lips, and natural beauty. One looked pregnant with child, but I couldn’t be certain. A few freckles splattered across the bridge of another’s nose, making her green eyes jump out further.
He revelled in his new power, cocking his head to the side slightly as the crowd chanted his name.
“Solomon the saviour” The crowd roared.
“Solomon the great!” Someone else yelled, his words swallowed up in a new chant.
“Solomon our King,” A small crowd yelled.
“Our King. Our King. Our King,” the crowd chanted out, creating a beat all their own.
The women behind him smiled, never once moving from their designated positions.
I shivered at the crowds chant, the feel of power and adoration rolling through the entire scene. A new image ushered in, replacing the previous.
A brothel of sorts, a set of women in a series of different positions as men pummelled themselves into them, over and over again. A red head pressed against a stone column, a bearded man’s hand wrapped around her throat as he found his release. A dark haired woman on all fours as another male took her from behind. The sound of moaning and panting filling the open aired chamber as male after male found his pleasure. Solomon walked through the naked bodies in the throws of passion, his white robes billowing behind him as he scanned the room, until he found the plain looking woman that he had come here for. Her dark hair hung loosely to her waist as a man prodded her with a staff, bidding her to step forward before the King. She did not seem ashamed by her nakedness, her breasts pert, nipples pebbling beneath the breeze. The smell of sex and sweat was mingled with the whispers in the chamber of ‘another one’. The whispers were never in reprimand or criticism, but were always in awe. Solomon had become notorious for not just the amount of women he bedded, but also for the amount he kept - both as wives, and concubines.
The girl dragged her naked feet against the stone floor as she stood before the King. Solomon grunted, holding both of her wrists as he forced her onto a raised dias - a place especially reserved for the King, and buried himself deep within her. Her gaze was filled with anger as she turned her head, staring directly at me.
I exhaled as another vision erased the chamber.
Sara - for that was her name - stood still in the dead of night, whispering incantations over a fire pit, promising her husband - the King - unrivalled power. The sand of the dunes whipping against her bare arms as the wind beat against her with each word she uttered. I knew the words she spoke. I knew what she was summoning, and I had the distinct impression that the way this played out was not at all what the ancient texts that we consumed had led us to believe.
The wind blew away Sara, Solomon looking on, greed reflected upon his face. A new scene presented itself.
Solomon in another open aired chamber, bags and bags of salt. The knowledge of the cost of those bags pressed against me. Wealth such as we have never seen in this lifetime. Solomon was meticulous as he ran thick tubes of salt on the ground, creating three large circles within the chamber - each circle only slightly smaller than the previous one, sitting inside it, as if it were a Russian doll. He was creating safe-guards, should the Demons breach the first line of defence, or even the second. Sara stood behind him, encouraging him to speak the words that so many couldn’t, and watched him summon three shadowy forms. They were grotesque to look at, scales, teeth, claws, and horns covered them in a variety of different ways, but it was their violet coloured eyes that spoke of cunning and intelligence. They were not fully corporeal, flickering and fading in and out of existence. Nevertheless, Solomon commanded them, and I watched them fade out entirely, leaving to do his bidding.
The scene left me cold, and I was vaguely aware that I was shivering. But I couldn’t pry myself from the trainwreck that I knew was coming as the next scene rolled in.
Solomon walking through the street, crowds of people pressed against either side, allowing him a sliver of space to move as they yelled out in reverence, “King Solomon, Demon Summoner!” He waved his hand in greeting as he strode by, Sara always a few feet behind, eyes downcast as was custom for wives and women of the time.
As the next scene rolled in, I knew that this was what it had all been building up to. Ice set in my veins, the cold almost unbearable now.
The same chamber came into view, only this time, it seemed that Solomon had grown in confidence, ringing the chamber with only one, albeit very thick, line of salt. Sara stood quiet, pensive next to a pillar. Solomon threw a smirk over his shoulder at her. She gestured with her hands as if to tell him to ‘hurry it along.’ And if I had not seen any of their scenes before this one, I would have assumed that it was a typical husband-wife gesture, but Solomon’s gaze shuttered at her insolence - at her disregard for him and his time. He turned back, locking his jaw. Sara’s small smile was not lost on me, angering him had been a deliberate play on her part.
This time, Solom cut the palm of his hand, grimacing as blood dribbled down into the salt. To summon a higher level Demon, you did not need a lot of blood, but blood was often a requirement - and an easy offering, as it were. Because it wasn’t simply a summoning - it was always a give and take, an offer and an acceptance. Watching Solomon work, I wasn’t sure he understood that.
What materialised in the circle before him had my stomach pooling with dread. A large, fully corporeal figure that was coated entirely in black stood upright, glaring down at Solomon. The King looked miniscule in comparison to the horned god. Because that was who he had summoned - not a Demon, but Cernunnos himself. Solomon, the fool, was unaware of his misstep and seemed delighted at the sight of who stood before him.
“I thank you for my call,” he spoke boisterously - a showman with only the audience of death itself. Still Cernunnos was silent as Solomon pushed on, “I command you to aid in -”
Solomon’s speech was cut off as a quiet rumble shook through the chamber. He looked back at Sara questioningly, the first sign of worry in his eyes.
“Closer,” she called towards him, “you have to get closer to him.”
Solomon took a step closer, and began again, “I command you -”
The entire chamber shook, sending one of the stone pillars crashing to the ground. Sara remained on the outskirts, and even I could tell that she was preparing to flee. Solomon furrowed his brow in fury, taking another step towards the deity. And that was when his foot breached the salted line. It was only a slight breach, but that was all Cernunnos needed. He dragged Solomon into the circle, shredding him with unseen talons, devouring him with darkness. The chamber rumbled, collapsing in on itself, and Sara fled. She had saved herself.
Coming out of the vision, the chill in the room was far worse than what I had imagined, and before I could move to warm up my limbs, Solomon whispered in my ear, “If you tell my story, I will do your bidding - I will come to your aid in this war. Tell them,” his voice faded, “tell the world.”
I felt the room’s energy lighten as Solomon left me to my own thoughts, alone once again, staring down at the two cards that pushed me towards Dimitri - The King of Coins and The Ace of Swords.
I shivered in understanding how alike Sara and I actually were - at her ability to lead a man so powerful to a death that was essentially issued by his own hand. And how fitting was it that even in death, Solomon was not surrounded by the angelic, but by the Demons he once tried to control. I shut my eyes at everything I had seen - at the knowledge that had been imparted. Solomon had not been a good man - not even a kind one. He had been greedy and power-hungry, choosing Magick for the betterment of only himself.