A man dressed in a long robe, his face covered by a veil, entered a large chamber with a throne at the far end. A person was tied to the throne, a large dark bag over their head, cuts running down their arms. The man's footsteps were loud as he approached, his boots slamming hard against the loose steel floor beneath him.
Then, the door behind him slammed open as a group of over forty people, all dressed in long black robes and veils, entered and knelt down. The first man continued walking toward the person, extending his arm outward.
He unfurled his fist before reaching for the bag and gripping it tightly.
The man's voice was dirty and raspy, like nails on a chalkboard. "Ahh... It's so close..." he said before bending down and inhaling the scent of the person's neck, moaning in satisfaction.
"Our lord... has chosen you to be his vessel... out of everyone we've broken. He chose you."
The man ripped the bag off of the person's head. Scars ran across her face, her long, dirty red hair matted from what seemed like months without a shower. Fresh blood ran down her face, her skin pale as she had lost her voice from screaming.
"S-stop..." she whispered faintly, her voice barely audible.
"YOU SHOULD BE HONORED, BITCH!" the man roared, slapping her face so hard her jaw dislocated. He then placed his other hand on her jaw and shoved it back into place.
"Our lord has chosen you... to become his new vessel, yes... but he also said to do whatever to you if you disobeyed. So SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he yelled, pulling a dagger from his sleeve and stabbing it through her hand. Her eyes shot open in pain, but her scream was barely a whisper.
The man undid the straps that bound her before grabbing her hair with his hand and forcing her to stand up. Black aura swirled around his hand as he used his knife to slice through her purple dress and slash off her bra. The aura coiled around his arm as he slammed her back into the chair. Her head jerked backward and she instantly lost consciousness from the force of her head slamming against the back of the throne. The man tied her back to the throne, then grabbed the dagger and wiped her own blood off its blade with her bare skin before placing it back into his sleeve with a loud sigh.
"In just a few days is the night of the Sapphire Moon. That is our only chance to see our lord... revived. WE WILL NOT FAIL!" he shouted, his bloodshot red eyes glowing under the veil. He laughed darkly, his laugh turning into a choking fit before he coughed out some hair and began laughing again.
"All hail, Lord Serrathis. The lord of all that is evil. May he free us from these shackles of life and plunge our souls into darkness." All forty members shouted in unison.
It's been four days since Zay and Renzo entered Caelondis, and they've managed to secure a free place to stay.
As the two brothers sat on the couch of their temporary home, Zay placed a newspaper down after noticing the date—today's issue.
"Well, would you look at that? Tonight will be the Sapphire Night."
"Seriously? Is it already time again?" Renzo asked, glancing at the date before chuckling. "Well, damn. Once every five years, the moon turns blue, but I've never understood why it turns blue, honestly."
Suddenly, light footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Shira, the elf from a few days ago, appeared, smiling. "Sapphire Night? It happens because of the gods and goddesses who have blessed the earth. Once every five years, they all gather together to create a blue moon, and on that night, we all pray, since on these nights, they can hear us the loudest. Or at least that's what my great-great-great-great-grandmother says every time I see her."
Renzo nodded, his interest piqued as though he had learned something new. "I see. Well, thanks for explaining that..." His voice lingered before returning to the newspaper, where he saw that Caelondis Academy was holding an open application month.
"This academy seems to be taking applications. Should we see if we can get in?"
Zay scoffed and rolled his eyes. "The last damn thing we need is to be in some school, academy, cult, or anything else. We've got enough to think about."
Shira walked into the kitchen, beginning to cook food.
"I still can't believe you got some employee from a clothing store to let us stay for free... though, that conversation you had took, like, two hours of convincing her," Renzo laughed, nudging Zay with his elbow in a joking manner. Zay moved his hand to his forehead and nervously laughed along.
"Yeah... it took two hours of me convincing her with words," Zay added, nodding his head and continuing to laugh. Shira, who was in the kitchen, smiled to herself, a small giggle escaping from her lips as she continued cooking.
Hours had passed, and the three of them ate beef from cows and fruits that Shira had grown herself in her backyard before all of them walked outside as the sun vanished and the moon began to rise into the sky.
"I think this calls for a party," Zay said before walking inside the house and grabbing a bag filled with different bottles of alcohol. He returned to the small yard, and the three of them sat around in the enclosed front yard, with a gate running across her property. Renzo reached into the bag, took a bottle, opened it, and took a few sips.
Zay took a few sips from the bottle already in his hand before they saw several other people walking around at night, waiting for the moon to reach its peak and begin praying.
"So, which god or goddess will you two be praying to?" Shira asked, looking up at the sky, her eyes glimmering slightly.
"Vaelisir, the God of Rain and Healing. It's the only one I know," Renzo said, closing his eyes slightly.
Zay took a moment of silence as he gulped another sip of alcohol down before replying, "There's only one I'll ever pray to... that's Nira, Goddess of Dreams and Eternal Slumbering." He said it coldly, as if wanting to avoid that subject, as a star in the sky shined brighter for a second before fading to match the rest of the stars around it.
"I see... I don't have faith in any. I just had a bad experience," Shira said, closing her eyes after a soft sigh.
The three of them stayed quiet for hours, watching as everyone gathered on the streets in front of Shira's house. The chatter of the crowd, the laughter of children playing tag and several other games, filled the air as they passed the time.
The sapphire moon reached its peak and everyone closed their eyes and started to pray to whatever god or goddess they believed in, to whichever one they held faith in.
Forty cloaked figures stormed into the grand chamber, their black robes sweeping the loose steel floors. At their helm walked the leader—calm, deliberate—as the others fanned out, lining the crimson carpet that stretched toward the throne.
"Tonight... at long last, the hour is upon us," he muttered coldly, drawing a dagger from beneath his sleeve.
One of the robed men followed closely behind, cradling a small leather-bound tome. Together, they approached the throne where a girl lay bound and unconscious.
"With the power that now courses through my veins—gifted by the great Lord Serrathis—my name shall be cast into oblivion, so that yours may ascend in its stead. Once, I was Rayson Miltrone."
He shrugged off his robe. Blood clung to his short, silver hair, and streaks of crimson ran down his face. With solemn steps, he approached the girl and unstrapped her restraints. Then, without hesitation, he plunged the dagger into his abdomen with a painful grunt. His breath came shallow, but steady, as he drew the blade free, letting the blood spill freely upon the floor.
He lifted his eyes and began to chant from the book:
"Wills of the fallen, forged below,Souls of the forsaken, in shadows grown.Nights of torment, suffering sown—Bind unto me the path unknown.That our dark lord may rise anew,From mortal shell to godhood true.In sacrifice, let soul be blessed—That he may wake and never rest!"
Suddenly, the wind howled through the chamber. The dagger was torn from his grasp by an unseen force, clattering across the floor. Heavy footsteps echoed from the far corridor.
A single man appeared—dressed in a black suit, a crimson tie around his neck, and a cane in hand. He halted at the threshold and sighed as his gaze swept the chamber.
"Truly... what a foul tableau of swine. Cease this blasphemous display. The girl hath suffered more than any soul should bear."
The robed men responded not with words, but with weapons—charging as one toward the man.
He exhaled, slow and calm. A radiant pink aura surged from his body, enveloping the entire chamber like a tide of light. He lifted his cane and began to walk forward, unhurried. As he passed, the aura pulsed. One by one, those who stood before him collapsed, their bodies left bleeding on the red carpet. By the time he reached the girl, silence reigned.
He knelt, placing a hand upon the middle of her chest. The aura rippled into her wounds, knitting flesh and restoring breath faster than nature allowed. Then, he rose.
"My name is Sevrin," he said plainly, his voice echoing like steel in the stillness.
At the sound, the leader's weapon slipped from his trembling hands. He stepped back in terror.
Before he could utter a single word, Sevrin lifted his cane. In a flash too swift for the eye to follow, the man's head fell to the floor, his body crumpling behind it—Sevrin had not taken even a single step.
"Now then... is there any among thee who still possess the gall to challenge me?" he asked softly, blinking with a quiet curiosity.
None replied. The survivors shook their heads in frantic denial.
Sevrin's gaze drifted away from them, disinterested. "Ah... then your opinions matter not. I care not for the babble of gnats."
He cracked his neck with a satisfying pop as the pink aura coiled around him once more. The chamber blazed with ethereal light—walls painted with the blood of the fallen, windows fractured by the sheer force of his presence.
In one minute, death had passed through the throne room... and his name was Sevrin Vale.
Sevrin crouched down beside the girl and lifted her gently, placing her over his shoulder. He walked past the bodies of the dead, his footsteps echoing through the halls until they gradually faded into the distance.