Shadow of the Abyss

At that moment, Syris hopped down like a little cat onto the balcony. "The Age of Mist is how we once categorized the Source between Heaven and Earth. Back then, we didn\'t have phrases like mana, Ether, or Qi. Rather, we had Mist. It was around that time that Soloman created the System of Arcane Arts we use today. One can say the Age of Mist was the Origin of all magic."

Tasha tsked, "Seems someone is knowledgeable." she\'d hoped to at least gain a favor or two.

Syris glided to the bed, propping herself down at the far end. "From Mist came Fire. The era of life. Or so I\'ve heard. I did read that the Fallen began creating new races around that time. Angels did the same in the hopes of combating them.

Thus, the Fire of Creation was born. And with it, Creation Magic."

She studied the boy who seemed so defenseless, where he lay. He\'d never seemed so weak, yet there was an undeniable sense of confidence in his stare.

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She liked that.

But more than that. Syris wondered how he could still smile.

"Syris. You have my eternal thanks. I\'m sure your time would have been better spent preparing for the coming battle." he said softly. "I will remember that."

"You\'d better! I want a good dual when you\'re all better."

"A dual?" he smiled a wicked smile. "Alright. Deal. Though you better prepare yourself to lose."

Syris glared, her cheeks puffing out, when she noticed Altair\'s head slid to the side, falling limp. He\'d fainted, leaving a few of his Pale Knights in a panic. They all called for him, running various medical tests to ensure his life.

"A little under seven hours left," Tasha informed everyone. "What are the odds he recovers in that window?"

Jorm glanced over at her. "Physically, he\'s fine. But for some reason… "he shook his head, unsure why his Master felt so fragile.

"I–"

"It might be soul damage," said Syris. "Either way, we need to prepare for failure. In groups, the Soul Kings can handle a Ninth Circle. So we mustn\'t stray too far from the main group."

In this, they could agree. There was power in numbers. But so was there danger.

A dagger that bore the Runes from the Age of Mist did not sit well in anyone\'s gut.

***

Throughout the council table, they stood clad long in large fur-lined cloaks. Hooded, they gathered in a circle of seven. On their backs, the crest of the Tainted Lilies.

"Did you receive the dagger?" asked Trivor, boldly. His voice was hard, and his eyes were like two-tempered blades.

The youngest among the seven slid the hunting dagger from out his side and stabbed it down onto the oak table. The blade rung, still wet with blood."

"That his blood?" Trivor pressed.

"The scanners say there are two bloodlines on it," said Fre.

"And the fool we hired? Is he dead?"

"no way to confirm. But we suspect he\'s alive. There was a pool of blood but no body." another said. A woman with a hard, somber voice.

Trivor frowned, finding his eyes swaying towards a particular man. Beneath his hood, the outline of a vicious scar stitched upwards in the shape of a cruel smile.

And as if sensing that stare, the man raised an eye, the crest of the crimson spear president in the blacks of his ashen eyes.

A nasty laugh escaped him when the dagger appeared in his hands. No one saw how he\'d done it or how fast one needed to be, but as the blade touched his gnarled fingers, it lit up. No longer bleeding a golden radiance but a tainted red.

Naked fear awakened through the six cloaked figures as they drew back.

Trivor chewed his lip. "Defiled One, is that enough?"

The scarred man lifted his ashen eyes to meet Trivor\'s, taken in the way his body shook, the way perspiration gathered at the brow and neck. And he crackled a laugh that shook the hearts of mortal man.

He drew in on Trivor, his movements like a flash that never shone but merely appeared. His fingers, so crusted with callous\'s and blackish cis ready to pop at the slightest touch, traced the cheeks of the man, drawing blood with the tips of his black stained nails, sharper than any blade. He sniffed his neck, tasted his blood with his tainted black tongue, and moaned sensuously.

The Defiled One eyes rolled to the back of his eyes. "So sweet, so tender," he moaned, writhing where he stood. "How does \'it\' taste, I wonder?"

***

Reina was drowning where she stood. From the tips of her ankles, it stood, rippling with the warmth of lifeblood. From the corner of her cheeks, blood slithered down her neck, treading down her arms and feet like smooth silk.

As far as her eyes could take her, she watched, enthralled by the bloodscape of meshed flesh, floating limbs, and bones sprawled about. She took it all in with indifference flowing through those red eyes of hers, bearing an occasional smile at the slaughter being delivered.

It had all felt so wrong, so unjust, yet no one hesitated.

\'Greed,\' she thought. \'What a wonderful Sin.\'

Scatters of battles ran through the observatory, slowly spreading throughout the castle before it all faded to silence. They screamed, cursing all seven generations, and they begged one by one as those without power were felled, their remains left to pool aimlessly. A few managed to resist, though most did not.

Reina sighed, weary, mounting a small pile of torn bodies. She\'d lost count of the number she\'d felled, leaving behind a numbing sensation.

"What a waste," Yalivor Sadu intoned. He shook his head, a tinge of regret in his eyes.

Reina didn\'t understand it. How long had they hunted her prince? How many of them sought to strike them down, to take her as a trophy of their conquest? The thought of it all made her smile.

\'Mercy was a luxury for the strong,\' she thought, feeling the eyes of the Monarch of Hell upon her. He was watching her, amused by something she couldn\'t quite place.

"Had to be done," Zaros replied, licking his blood-stained lips. "Though I\'d agree. Wish we could preserve some of this. Good meat, gone to waste."

Ragnar winced in disgust, "You… Do you eat them? I thought you\'d just suck the blood out?"

"Of course not. It\'s called variety. Sure, every blood is different. But so is the flesh of those I consume. And don\'t give me that face. Genesis could have outlawed such practices but didn\'t." Said Zaros mildly.

"None of the major powers did. You eat various other subspecies, some of which can turn into humanoids. Dragons, for example. Is that fair? How many dragons have you consumed?"

Reina propped her head to the side. "Is that a political issue on Genisis?"

Both Zaros and Ragnar nodded.

"No one wants to admit it, but it\'s true. Many nonhumanoid creatures gain human-like bodies as a means to communicate or exist in cohabitation with one another on a larger scale. However, they have their diets, and many of the times, that includes meat. And agree or disagree, we are all meat in a sense. What it comes down to is morality. And what\'s legal and what isn\'t legal," said Zaros calmly.

"Enough of the gibberish," Ser Glynn Vardoo scowled. "Let us begin the sacrifice. Lady Ariane, when can we begin?"

In the skies with a golden orb in her palms used to trap the souls needed for the sacrifice, Ariane looked down at the Knight of Bahamut. Hearing the wretched wails of those felled, she nodded with an ashen complexion.

"I\'ll make the offering now," she said, untouched by the tarnished below. Her palms rose into a prayer, and her head bowed as the orb of light rose above her head, much like a crown. Rings of transcendent light molted into sight woven by an intangible authority. Nine Arcane Rings formed, creating a luminous nexus point before all could see at its center.

"We offer thee the souls of the tainted for the blessing of the light, oh Serphim of War, Aidios."

Reina rosed then, sensing a formless energy begin to tug at the golden orb that housed well over twenty thousand souls. There, within the nexus point where all power gathered, she saw it. A golden flame, brighter than dawn itself, coiled around the orb.

A sense of salvation swelled from the flame as she said, "That\'s a Sacred Flame."

Mystified as the Sacred Flame consumed the tainted souls, she backed away as the flames began to surge with such might it felt incomprehensible to mortal minds. Blinding light tore through the ceiling connecting Heaven to the Earth, releasing a Sacred Divinity upon the Realm.