Benjamin Williams, a Canadian by heart and soul who – still grieving after the loss of his wife – travelled to chernarus with his two young children for a holiday. The remoteness and mysteriousness of chernarus was exactly why Ben had chosen it as his destination… a place to clear his thoughts, perhaps start anew in life. However, no story linked to the asylum is ever that with a good ending. Just 10 minutes into his drive, the rolling fields of chernarus  stretched out like velvet blankets below a setting sky, Ben noticed a car in his rear view mirror, a flag on the bonnet. It seemed to want him to pull over and, suspecting government ties, Ben obliged.

Three men stepped out, balaclavas on head and AK47’s in hands. Alas, Ben did not recognise the flag, rebels who sought to take the land  for their own. Fearing for his life and knowing they would shoot if he began to drive, Ben remained in his car and waited for the men to approach it. Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding – perhaps another car like his was wanted. As two of the men flanked Ben’s car, they immediately opened the back doors, grabbing his two children and pulling them out by force. They screamed, Ben panicked, shouting at the men to stop as he quickly exited the car. With an AK pointed at him by the third man, Ben had no choice but to kneel and watch what happened next. His son, John, was executed immediately. Ben cried in grief as the men turned on his daughter, and was forced to watch as a far worse punishment was dealt to her. Weak and in shock, Ben knelt as two of the men returned to their vehicle. The other man stood behind him, AK pointed at his head.

Minutes away from death, Ben mustered all the strength and vengeance he felt surge within him and took his sole opportunity, stealing the rebel’s Makarov and knocking him off his feet before mercilessly executing him as the rebel did his son. The other two rebels instantly opened fire, a golden hail of 7.62 rained towards Ben, though miraculously he was hit only in the leg as he dove in pain behind his car. Somehow, Ben managed to defeat the other two men… though he was gravely injured and had taken multiple shots throughout the brief engagement. Crawling over to his son’s body, Benjamin collapsed, watching as the blood poured from his son’s ear, his eyes closed, a life taken for no reason other than for being an “intruder”. His vision faded, blurring into a red mess.

When local authorities discovered what had happened, the government quickly opted to cover up the story. The story was buried, local papers reported a small car crash with multiple deaths. Bodies were burnt and weapons seized – Benjamin Williams was treated for his injures and for 8 months, he lay bedbound in a hospital. Rage pulsed in his veins when he found out about the cover-up, and from within the hospital he was treated for his aggression. When he was well enough to function on his own, he was sent to Khasavyurt to ensure the story never saw the light of day.

3 years passed but Ben never lost sight of the truth. Doctors within the asylum tried to convince him that he was ill and delusional, that his mind had simply made up the story. He vehemently fought back against them, protesting his innocence and demanding justice for what had happened on that eventful day. He attempted to stage an uprising against the staff, uniting with inmates as they all chanted for Ben’s justice. Of course, this failed. Even the Doctors believed the story they had been told, and so Aksakov was provided with a new subject for his methods. In punishment for his dissention, Ben underwent bloodletting and hypnosis therapy in order to try and “cure” his afflictions.

Throughout it all, Ben promised himself one thing: if he ever escaped Khasavyurt, he would murder every single staff member within Khasavyurt as well as Aksakov… after this, he would find who had him locked away and forgotten… and he would murder them too.

And thus, we arrive at the day of Ben’s escape, the day the surviving inmates of Khasavyurt were finally allowed to begin their lives anew. As Khasavyurt erupted into chaos, Ben sat in his wheelchair, hugged tightly by his strait jacket whilst his vision blurred under his personal drug cocktail. Guards and staff ran throughout the halls, muffled screams behind closed doors sounded as gunshots rang out like alarm bells. Something was very wrong. Another patient burst through the doors screaming as an infected grabbed his clothes, biting deep into his neck as a cloud of blood sprayed the walls of the asylum… Ben turned his weary head and blinked a few times as an infected guard burst through another set of doors, eyes set on Ben. He fell, crawling as he began desperately gnawing at Ben’s arm… but alas, if an inmate could not bite through the jacket, neither could the undead. Fearing for his life, Ben screamed for help, his eyes filled with fear as he looked down at the deranged guard…

At this moment, Ben’s saviour appeared. Another patient known as Albert passed through the same doors the guard did, Ben’s screaming attracting some attention he desperately needed. Carrying the remnants of a broken broom, Albert stabbed the infected through its head, its mouth pouring with blood as Ben’s screaming halted, relieved. Albert smiled innocently, a man of 31 with black hair and green eyes giggled to himself at the sight of the guard’s corpse.

“Hello, my name is Albert. Can I be your guardian princess?”

Swooping down, Albert picked up the guard’s keys and freed Ben, blood pouring from his nose as he realised that for the first time in many years, he was finally free. Newly found hope filled the pair as they fought through the zombies, picking up some weapons on the way to the cell blocks. A few hours later, the halls were empty… guards, inmates and doctors lay dead as Albert and Ben strolled the corridors attempting to find some remaining friendly survivors. Eventually, the pair reached their destination – a secure wing where all cell doors were thick, locked and windowless.

One by one, Benjamin opened each cell door. Screaming resonated throughout the asylum, bodies lay bleeding and mangled from the attack as the inmates who had been brutally tortured for years stumbled from their cells. Still weak from bloodletting, many of them could barely muster the energy to raise their arm to the glaring sun, the now broken windows revealing the bright green fields and forests the shutters had covered for over two decades. Reaching the end of the block, Albert turned to Ben.

“So, Benjamin, what are you going to do now?”

Ben wiped the remaining blood from his nose, turning to face the surviving inmates as he addressed Albert.

“I was once a father… I shall be a father again…”

Present day...

 

For thousands of years the creator looked down on earth. As he surveyed all that he had created, he felt great sorrow. He mourned that a great multitude of his children had strayed so far from the blessed Path of Ascension. He felt grieved that the good and beneficial resources he had so bountifully bestowed upon his children had been squandered, abused, and taken for granted. Destruction was rampant among men and women alike. There were few that could truly be called righteous or good. Down through history the creator had always given man the free will to carve and weave his own path in the world, only asking that he continue to honor the creator and not forget his ways or statutes. Sadly, the longer the earth turned, so turned man into a darker and darker state of being. Even those labeled as prophets were nothing more than paper mache caricatures of piety, hidden beneath thinly designed veils of deceit. People followed their distorted schemes and twisted teachings simply because they had lost the sanctified ways of the creator, and now, knew of nothing else to believe in.

The creator’s voice began to descend upon the earth in whispers, like the white feathers of incandescent doves, floating down from the sacred Mountain of the Ascended, high in the heavens. The creator knew that those who had not strayed, or were still able to be redeemed would hear his still soft voice, and once more believe. He would again be their consecrated compass when all other means of navigation had failed them. Benjamin Williams felt the caked earth crunch beneath his weary feet. His hair hung in damp strands, despondently framing his face. He walked with a slight limp, his back bowed as though he carried the very weight of the world upon his shoulders. He sighed while shifting his arms to elevate the strap of the rucksack he carried. His burden seemed to encompass so much more than the bag of burlap draped upon his aching back. It was the burden of a single desolate moment suspended in time; it was the burden of a thousand struggling souls scavenging among carrion too putrid to provide nourishment.

Benjamin had not forgotten the goodness of the creator and often pondered why the creator’s grace had become hidden in a time when he and his children needed it most. As tiny raindrops dusted his forlorn countenance he walked ever forward, head down, rucksack shouldered. He seemed to have been walking for hours by the time he lifted his face to the sky and the falling rain. If only he could find that former feeling of love in even one drop of rain, he reasoned goodness and mercy could perhaps be restored in this world. As if in supernatural answer to his unspoken prayers he realized that he was standing before a graveyard and yonder, a small chapel shined through the drizzle. An old stone bench sat near a stagnated water fountain. He immediately recognized this as a place of peace and a place where his weary body might find rest, even if temporarily. He sat down slowly watching the rain dissipate suddenly. He remembered the words to a song he had heard once long ago..

“Open my eyes wide as I can, blind as I am, blind as am…” “Open my eyes wide as I can, blind as I am, blind as I am…” Benjamin found himself looking out towards the horizon, the sun painting swatches of orange and crimson across the sky as it set. He thought back of his his accomplishments and rewards. The love of the creator was spread in Chernarus. New Eden was build and his childeren where picking the labor of their fate. He also thought back to his lost children, With more pain than any mortal man should have to bear. Even amidst the beauty of the little worn chapel, the peaceful graveyard, and the glorious sunset, he still felt the sting of shame and disappointment. He had not only let down the creator, but also his childeren. Each of them had depended upon him to provide encouragement and guidance. Yet, in the end he had miserably failed them all. So many lost in the process of sinners and the tainted. Benjamin unstrapped the old, sawed off shotgun from his backpack and hefted it into both hands. He slowly walked towards the chapel’s massive door. With each tortured step he saw the events of his life that had led up to this moment; the attack and the horrors. The loss of so many of his friends and family.

With great effort, he pushed against the old oak wood of the door leading to the interior of the chapel. He could tell by the groaning hinges of the door and the resistance it gave, that it hadn’t been opened for a very long time. He moved quietly inside, as leaves eddied and danced in the wind flowing in from the crack in the chapel door. He stood there a moment, surveying the aged chapel, before stepping to the half melted wax candles that sat like wary sentinels at either side of the small altar. He lit each one carefully with the last of his matches. A man truly engulfed in the throes of defeat, he collapsed to his knees with a thud. A sob shuddered and echoed throughout the empty room as he raised the firing end of the gun to his face and pressed it into the soft underside of his chin. After a reverential moment of silence, he simply said- "Goodbye. I failed you all….as a father, a teacher and a man." His fingers danced momentarily over the trigger, before pulling it back harshly. While the gun should have engaged and fired, the only response was a soft, clicking sound.

He pressed the trigger again, this time more forcefully. His fingers deftly pulled again, more forcefully still, to make sure there was no error on his part. Each time he was met with the same soft “click.” Benjamin looked confused for a moment, then looked down at his shotgun only to observe that, miraculously, the shells were intact, with no damage to them or to the gun. "Benjamin…"a leaf blowing across his path in the empty chapel. "Benjamin..."a gentle murmuring of wind caressing his face. “Benjamin…”moonlight tapping on all of the stained glass windows around him. Benjamin looked around, but there was nobody there, only the sibilant sounds of the night coming to rest. He opened the door of the chapel wider, feeling the cool wind flow through his fingers. Not even a shadow moved outside. "Benjamin..."he thought he heard the small voice again, as his hair was gently pushed away from his flushed face by unseen fingers. “WHO ARE YOU, WHAT DO YOU WANT?”he shouted, feeling frightened and angry all at the same time. The voice began to take form, like a spirit evolving into a shape born of a shimmering tide of mist. The voice was still so very, very quiet. Benjamin had to be still and focused himself just to hear it. Did he hear it? Or maybe this was all a foggy dream brought on by his overwhelming despair and fatigue.

"Benjamin,” the voice crooned gently, “don’t you remember who I am? Don’t you recognize my voice. I am the creator, your creator; the creator of all that has been, all that there is, and all that is to come.” Benjamin fell to his knees once more, tears streaming down his weary face. He was afraid to open his eyes. “Cre….ator, is that YOU?”he asked incredulously. “It is I Benjamin, now rise and put away all fear, for I have much to tell you, and you have much to do.” Benjamin's eyes opened, his heart pounding. He rose slowly. One single beam of moonlight seemed to cascade over his face, giving him the appearance of radiance. Despite his trepidation, he had to ask, he had to know. Through his tear splashed lips he sobbed- "Creator! Creator! Why have you done this to me, why did my children perish?" ‘’My child...‘’the creator spoke tenderly. "The people that perished, were weak, impure, and had become tainted with sin and doubt. This was a test, a far reaching test of faith.. And the people that died.. they had irrevocably lost their way, they failed... There was no longer redemption for them. But you my child, you were still able to hear my voice though it was as quiet as the moonbeam that glorifies your face. In you I see hope, I see growth and rebuilding. I have a mission for you Benjamin, return and build. You can carry the weight of the past on your shoulders. Continue to build your flock. Then it will be, that if you listen to all that I command you and my followers walk in My ways, encourage one another and build up one another..

Even now followers have been called by my still, soft voice carried upon every puff of wind and in every drop of rain. They have amassed from all four corners of the earth and are merely waiting for their leader to arrive. I have chosen you to be that leader my son. Don’t be afraid of the things to come, have faith though the way will be fraught with danger, resistance, and strife, know that I am ever with you, watching, strengthening and guiding you. This horrific infection, this catastrophe was created by man and man alone. It is sin incarnate and must be put right. While it may look like the end to many, my followers and lost lambs will know that this great tragedy has been the catalyst for a new beginning of The Faith. A catalyst to bring all men to the glory of the creator. You Benjamin, you shall be my voice. Under my supervision and through my statutes, you shall be called, The Father, and you my son, will do my bidding.” Benjamin looked upon the undulating mist in awe. He had often envisioned hearing the creator’s voice, but he was now seeing AND hearing him in all of his glory and grace. "You Benjamin, you are my first.” the creator continued. "You will guide my followers towards Ascension. You are one of The Seven. There are six more like you and they will join you. Together you will follow the Seven Steps Of Ascension as decreed in the sacred Book of Ascension. You and the six will guide my followers.” Benjamin was overcome with emotion and again he cried. This time his joy could hardly be contained. He exclaimed with zeal-

“Oh Harbringer, in you alone I trust without question. Guide me away from this darkness and into your grace! Oh creator, direct me for all my hope for salvation is vested in you! There is nothing holier than the creator, and no truer teaching than what you have given to your servant whom you have named as the Voice and the Father. Praised be the creator, the creator of the world, the creator of all that has been, all that there is, and all that is to come.” Bless me the Father, the creator’s humble servant." Benjamin took a pen and paper out his rucksack and started to write down the words the creator spoke to him. After the creator had given him specific instructions he fell again to his knees in reverence and prayer. "I surrender myself to the creator. The source of all that is Good, the creator of all that has been, all that there is, and all that is to come.” Benjamin hesitated after his prayer opening his eyes to take a look around the chapel. It was still quiet, it was still empty of living beings. He then noticed an ancient text lying in front of him. In archaic script the title proclaimed- "The Book of Ascension." In it, Benjamin knew he would find each of the creator’s directives and statutes. He would not fail , he would make sure his followers adhered to the decrees without hesitation or mistrust.

He understood now what he had to do. Once broken in body and spirit, he had had so much to strip away, so much holding him down. But piece by piece he felt his soul’s restoration burgeoning. He was quickly letting go of his weakened inhibitions and his soul burned with passion anew. His faith was eager to grow and thrive once more. He took the book and placed it into his rucksack. He was astounded to see that the moonbeam on his face had been replaced by a bright pool of sunlight warming his bones and his heart. Opening the doors of the chapel he savored the fresh clean air while the sun continued to shine upon him. And so it was that the Father left the chapel returning the way he came, in a vision of shimmering light and soft spoken words of comfort and hope. "So it shall be for high and low alike." He thought to himself as he walked out of the cemetery, leaving the feelings of hopelessness, death and despair behind him. “Praise the creator, all of you that would follow, develop your faith and let go of your sin so that we may rebuild and you may live again…”