The twinkling nobles of night’s shady court traversed the heavens in regal wander. They paraded and sang for the lunar queen who sat upon her throne on the night when her astral palace shone the brightest. Her throne’s moonbeams passed the firmament and made way through the atmosphere, radiating the halls in glistening splendor.
The constellations watched the halls in anticipation for what was to come, and what must happen. They heard roaring voices in the halls shift and change throughout night’s courtly session, but through every intonation, there was no lacking in extremity. The first voices were cheers of great jubilation and festivities when Siegfried and Kriemhild came to King Gunther’s castle. The doughty King brought gold and wonders of uncountable value, and his lovely Queen brought the finest of christian warriors loyal to only her. Then, there was a deafening silence of apprehension as the two royal Queens berated each other at the riverbed; followed by shrieks of aghast as Hagen betrayed Siegfreid, stabbing him through shoulder blade with a mighty spear. Cries of mourning and a solemn dirge echoed throughout the halls in terrible lamentation, for what greater hero lived than King Siegfried Fafnir’s Bane? But then there were gasps of astonishment when Siegfried, barely escaping the throes of true death, rose from the bier, and struck Hagen in front of all the people. Last came shouts of fear.
The halls of King Gunther’s Castle raged in an tumultuous inferno. As dishonorable Hagen barely escaped Gunther’s castle with his life, the misbegotten noble limped away and lit the hall ablaze in a desperate plight to finally kill the vengeful hero. The man laughed in victory, unaware of the future strife he had caused by the vengeance of Siegfried’s winsome Queen.
Bloodied Siegfried fought against Hagen’s treacherous men like a devil returning for a sinner’s damned soul after a finished contract. Siegfried picked up Gram for a final bout and the blade’s edge bit, chewed and spat the life blood of once-living men. The warrior tore corselets asunder, fostering new widows after every strike, all while holy men and fair maidens shrieked and prayed to God to smite the evil spirit possessing poor Siegfried’s decaying corpse. He warred against the powers that tried to pull his soul from his flesh; unfit to live, but too determined to die, he slowly dragged his failing body until he reached the entrance of Queen Brunhild’s apartment.
When Raphael faced Katharina, the two stared at each other with no hint of spoken word, for what more could be said between the two? All that can be said has been said, and the only words of possible redemption have met its expiration. The audience joined the silence as they stared to the stars above contemplating on the choices they’d made to reach this very moment in their life. Who were they, what were they watching; was this simply a theater play, or were they reliving the memories of a wretched spirit?
This contemplation lasted until a hooded figure pushed a rack of flaming torches onto the theater stage, igniting the hall ablaze. The kindled flames followed a trail of kerosene throughout the stage, engulfing everything it came across. The audience stared dazed at the spreading inferno and its majesty, like a roving dancer, as the fire draped the theater in a curtain of flames. The flames grew higher and more intense, until a rush of flashover ignited the entire theater, crumbling the support beams and causing them to fall on top of the audience. As the audience felt the scalding heat, the intrinsic fear of their own mortal fragility finally kicked in; they began to truly know terror.
They pushed and shoved each other; stampeding and stepping over those that collapsed onto the ground. The fallen raised their weary arms into the air and screamed “Help me! Help me! Oh Mother, Father, someone, please help me!” When the fading light behind their eyes was about the be extinguished underneath the wreckage, quivering hands grabbed them by the wrists and pulled the damned lot from the sea of fire. Eventually, the hall remained completely deserted, not a soul in sight, but that of Brunhild and Siegfried.
Slowly, Siegfried walked towards Brunhild and dropped his sanguine brand. In fury and in agony, Katharina grabbed her silver sword and plunged it through Raphael’s collar bone. The hero’s blood drained from his veins and tears from his eyes. No malice escaped his face, and his voice was struck dumb from any cry of pain. As his body was about to give in, the dying warrior slumped onto his knees, embraced the virago and softly spoke:
“Brunhild, Katharina, I’m sorry. Did I not promise to fight the Fates with you? You, who already spurred the great God once and would have faced a greater punishment at my expense? You, who remained quiet and wore your suffering for so long at my expense? You, who remained loyal to our oath until my betrayal? Even then, is this not your fealty to our vows? This sacred truth, my life, I bestow. Yes, only you are worthy of taking my life. In my entire existence, I only had one regret. I promised you kingdoms, treasures, vassals, my loyalty and life, but never have said I loved you. But now it’s too late; before the morning sun enlightens the world and blesses the budding flowers, we’ll be gone, separated, and departed, never to see each other again. I will not ask for your forgiveness, for I deserve none of it, but before my final breath fades, I want you to know that I truly love you. And will love you. Forever.”
The virago hugged the dying warrior as the halls of King Gunther’s Castle and Moneta Theater burned to the ground, until all that remained of their forbidden bond was but a trace of cinder.
End of Act I