A shadowy, lone figure, a true Creature of the Twilight, slithers through                                             the tormented landscape of  the Levant.

His name is known but to few, and that known to those,  is not always True.

Some call him Kingmaker, for his ubiquitous yet  unaccountable presence wherever the contending factions  gather to plot their  schemes and intrigues. He answers to no man, and no man dare  petition him for any favor, or for any Thing.    

Some say he is not one man, but many, others say he is not at all, only the bloodless shade of an ancient, chthonic Canaanite wraith, who haunts  souls  of the children of that desperate land to this very day.

From storied Phoenicia to Damascus, throughout the plains of anguished Mesopotamia, and therefrom to ethereal Jerusalem, grown men, potentates, fall   silent and make way as his spectre passes among them, awaiting   his by-your-leave, perhaps a nod,  and only then resuming their plotting, and subtle designs.

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