Among certain tribes of Nephilim, the practice of sacrificing human children became popular. It is speculated that this was both a means of controlling the growing human population-which was a threat to Nephilistic society-and an appeal to God to forgive the sins of the Watchers, still imprisoned deep below the earth.
Although this is not the first appearance of the term “master race” in discussion of the Nephilim, as there are numerous instances of Nephilistic creatures labeled as belonging to a “master race” or “super race,” it was certainly the most famous and oft-quoted source. Ironically, Clematis’ notion of a super race or superman-held by angelologists to be the mark of Nephilistic self-mythology-was appropriated and reinvented in more modern times by scholars such as Count Arthur de Gobineau, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Arthur Schopenhauer as a component of human philosophical thought, which in turn was used in Nephilistic circles to support the racial theory of die Herrenrasse, a notion that has grown in popularity in contemporary Europe.
It is at this juncture that Clematis’ handwriting gives way to a faltering scribble. This corruption is due, no doubt, to the extreme pressure of the mission at hand, but also, perhaps, to a growing fatigue. The Venerable Father was nearly sixty years old in the year A.D. 925, and his strength must surely have been compromised by the journey up the mountain. The translator has taken great care in his attempt to decipher the text and render it accessible to the modern reader.
Here Clematis refers to the famous line of TheConsolation of Philosophy, 3.55, associated with the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice: For he who overcomes should turn back his gaze toward the Tartarean cave, Whatever excellence he takes with him he loses when he looks below.
Hereafter, the remaining sections of Clematis’ account are written in the hand of a monk, Father Deopus, who was assigned to care for Clematis in the immediate aftermath of the expedition. At Clematis’ request, Deopus sat at his side for the purpose of dictation. According to Deopus’ personal account of the days he spent at Clematis’ deathbed, when he was not occupied as a scribe, he made tinctures and compresses he placed over Clematis’ body, to ease the pain of his charred skin. That Deopus was able to capture so thorough an account of the disastrous First Angelological Expedition under such conditions, when the Venerable Father’s injuries surely prevented communication, is a great benefit to scholars. The discovery of Father Deopus’ transcription in 1919 opened the door to further scholarly inquiry into the First Angelological Expedition.
According to an account by Father Deopus, Clematis spent a number of agonized hours raving these words before, in a fit of madness, he tore at his burned flesh, ripping the bandages and compresses from his charred skin. Clematis’ act of self-mutilation left flecks of blood upon the pages of the notebook, stains that are clearly visible even now, at the time of translation.
The narrative leap one encounters in this section may be the result of a gap in Father Deopus’ transcription but is more likely an accurate reflection of Clematis’ incoherent state of mind. One must remember that the Venerable Father was in no condition to relate his experiences in the cavern with clarity. That Father Deopus went to such lengths to fashion a narrative from Clematis’ desperate ranting is a testament to his resourcefulness.
The reference to the Archangel Gabriel’s golden lyre is the most tantalizing and frustrating passage to be found in the Venerable Clematis’ account of his journey to Hades. According to a communication written by Father Deopus, the Venerable Father had a small metal disk in his possession upon escaping the cavern which, after Clematis’ death, was sent to Paris for examination. Under the scrutiny of ethereal musicologists, it was discovered that Clematis had discovered a plectrum-a metal pick used to play stringed instruments, most commonly the lyre. As a plectrum is traditionally fastened to the instrument by a silk cord, one can infer that Clematis did, in fact, have contact with the lyre, or an instrument that employs a similar plectrum. This leaves the whereabouts of the lyre itself open to speculation. If Clematis had brought the instrument from the gorge, he might have dropped it at the mouth of the pit or perhaps lost hold of it as he fled the mountain. The plectrum rules out the possibility that the lyre was a figment of Clematis’ delusional state, a mythological creation of his beleaguered mind.
It is generally believed that Deopus, at the bequest of the Venerable Clematis, transcribed the melody of the angels’ heavenly chorus. Although the score has never been located, there is great hope a full score of this harmonic progression exists.
After careful examination of Clematis’ account of Brother Francis’ death, and the wounds that led to Clematis’ own death, the general conclusion of angelological scholars has been that Brother Francis died from the effects of extreme exposure to radiation. Studies on the radioactive properties of angels were initiated after a generous donation from the family of Marie Curie and are currently being undertaken by a group of angelological scholars in Hungary.
The physical properties of angelic wing structure have been shown most definitively in the influential 1907 study Physiology of Angelic Flight, a work whose superiority in mapping the skeletal and pulmonary properties of wings has become a touchstone in all discussions of the Watchers. Whereas it was once believed that wing appendages were exterior attachments to the body, held in place entirely via musculature, it is now believed that the wings of angels are themselves an outgrowth of the lungs, each wing serving a dual purpose as a means of flight and an external organ of great delicacy. From further modeling, it has been determined that the wing appendages originate in the capillaries of the lung tissue, gaining mass and strength as they blossom forth from the muscles of the back. A mature wing acts as an anatomically complex system of external aspiration in which oxygen is absorbed and carbon dioxide is released through minuscule alveoli-like sacs on the wing shafts. It is estimated that only 10 percent of all respiratory function occurs via the mouth and windpipe, making the wing essential for respiratory function. This is perhaps the single physical flaw in the angelic structure, an Achilles’ heel in an otherwise perfect organism, a weakness Clematis hit upon to great effect.
According to notes left by Deopus, Clematis died before finishing his tale, cutting his narrative to an abrupt end.