Avel stands tall atop a steep platform, his silhouette stark against the backdrop of the moon's desolate landscape. Below him, a sea of dark angels lay deceased, their wings casting eerie shadows over the crumbling surface. With a flicker of unease in his violet eyes, Avel addresses Uriel, who hovers above like a silent sentinel. "I don't feel it," he states, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.
Uriel's response is a reassuring echo in the vast emptiness of space. "He is buried deep, close to the centre of the moon's dying core," the celestial being affirms, their words a comforting anchor amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Avel nods, his gaze lingering on the swirling mass of dark angels below, their presence a constant reminder of the danger that lurks within.
As Avel recalls the battles that have brought him to this precipice, he runs a hand through the tangled strands of his long, curly hair. His eyes narrow in determination as he watches the deceased dark angels piled together; it would prove a slight challenge find an entrance into the moon amidst all the mangled corpses. "Open a crevasse," he commands, his voice steady despite the roiling turmoil in his chest.
With a nod from Avel, Uriel unleashes a devastating blast that tears through the surface of the moon, the force of it shaking the very foundation of the crumbling platform beneath their feet. Waves of gust howl furiously as they rush past them, whipping Avel's hair into a frenzy as he stands resolute amidst the chaos. With a single glance, he signals to Uriel, and together they leap into the abyss below.
As they descend deeper into the moon's core, Avel is confronted by a landscape that defies all logic and reason. Unnatural energies crackle through the air like static, sending shivers down his spine and casting strange, shifting shadows that dance across the fractured surface. The very fabric of reality seems to warp and twist around them, distorting their senses and leaving them feeling disoriented and vulnerable in this twisted labyrinth of darkness.
The air is thick with an oppressive chill, each breath feeling like shards of ice slicing through Avel's lungs. Strange, unnatural fungi cling to the walls, their pallid, luminescent glow casting an eerie light that flickers and fades as they pass. The ground beneath their feet is uneven and treacherous, shifting and crumbling with each step as if the very earth itself is alive and restless.
As he presses on, the oppressive atmosphere weighs heavy upon him, pressing down on his shoulders like a burden too great to bear. His senses reel as he struggles to make sense of the swirling chaos around him, the boundaries between reality and illusion blurring into a nightmarish tapestry of shadow and light. And then, just as he begins to fear he may be lost forever in this twisted maze of darkness, he hears it. The chant, soft and distant at first, like the whisper of a long-forgotten memory echoing through the depths of his mind. But as they draw closer to the source, it grows louder, more insistent, until it fills the very air around them with its sweet, seductive melody.
The clicking, too, becomes more pronounced, a rhythmic pulse that seems to reverberate through the very fabric of Avel's being. It is a sound both familiar and alien, like the beating of a heart from a world long lost to time, and yet it draws him in with its hypnotic allure, beckoning him ever closer to the source of its otherworldly song.
"Not too far now," Uriel's voice breaks through the haze of Avel's thoughts, a reassuring anchor in the sea of madness that threatens to consume him. Avel nods, his determination steeling his resolve as they press onward through the shifting shadows. But as they approach what appears to be a door carved of ancient stone, a suffocating feeling grips Avel's chest, squeezing the very breath from his lungs. The air grows thick and heavy around him, pressing in on all sides with a relentless force that threatens to crush him where he stands.
"I feel it," Avel responds, his voice strained with effort as he struggles to push through the suffocating pressure. With a final surge of strength, he reaches out to grasp the cold, unyielding surface of the stone door, his fingers trembling with anticipation as he prepares to face whatever lies beyond.
As the doors yield open, a blinding burst of radiant light spills forth from the chamber, momentarily dazzling Avel as he steps into its midst. Shielding his eyes against the brilliance, he slowly adjusts to the luminous glow, allowing his gaze to sweep across the chamber before him.
There, bathed in the ethereal glow of the boundless light, floats a figure of awe-inspiring majesty and power. Bound by chains of pure, incandescent light that seem to pulse and shimmer with a life of their own, the being is held captive in a prison of radiant energy, every inch of its magnificent form etched with intricate patterns of luminous script that writhe and twist like living tendrils.
The chains, though seemingly made of solid light, possess a solidity and weight that defies comprehension. Each link is a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship, gleaming with an otherworldly luminescence that seems to radiate from within, casting dazzling patterns of refracted light across the chamber's walls.
As Avel draws nearer, the true nature of the being becomes apparent. Resplendent in its glory, the figure exudes an aura of sublime power and authority, its features reminiscent of Uriel's own but imbued with its own otherworldly grace and majesty that set it apart.
Wings of purest fading silver stretch forth from its back, their feathers shimmering with an iridescent sheen that seems to shift and change with every movement. And as Avel gazes upon its radiant form, he feels a profound sense of reverence and awe wash over him, mingled with a primal fear born of the knowledge that once again he stands in the presence of something far beyond mortal comprehension.
This being, bound by chains of light and etched with the sacred script of ages long past, is a manifestation of divine power and authority, a being of purest light and unfathomable wisdom. And as Avel beholds its majestic form, he knows that he stands on the threshold of a revelation that will forever alter the course of his destiny.
"Let's get this over with," Avel states impatiently, his voice cutting through the stillness of the chamber like a blade. Stretching forth his right hand, he channels the raw power coursing through his veins, a soft hymn of power resonating through the very fabric of the surface beneath his feet. His eyes, vibrant and filled with a brilliance that seems to pierce the very depths of the cosmos, fixate on the bound figure before him.
With a swift gesture, Avel unleashes his destructive power, the chains that bind the great being shattering into brilliant sparks that scatter like constellations across the expanse of the chamber. Both he and Uriel watch in silent awe as the great being slowly descends to the ground, its form kneeling yet seemingly unconscious beneath the weight of Avel's overwhelming might. "He sleeps still," Avel states, his tone laced with bemusement as he surveys the scene before him.
"Call forth his being into his body," Uriel instructs the young prince, his voice carrying a sweet, far-removed tone that seems to echo with the wisdom of ages past. "There is a greatness in you, father. I assure you, it will attract him."
Avel gazes down at the being before him, his eyes ablaze with power and brilliance as he senses the surge of energy coursing through his being like an electric current, rendering him capable of any feat of mind or body.
"Awaken," the prince commands, his voice resonating with a divine authority that sends shivers down the spine of all who hear it.
And in response to his command, the great being stirs, its form bathed in a radiant light as it slowly begins to rise from its kneeling position. With each movement, it seems to exude an aura of ancientness, its very presence commanding reverence and awe.
Uriel, sensing the awakening of his brethren, descends from his celestial perch to lend his aid, his wings shimmering with an otherworldly light as he helps to compose the great being, guiding its form back to its rightful state with the gentle touch of a guardian helper.
"Behold brother," Uriel states, his voice carrying the weight of ages as he urges his brethren to look upon the prince.
"His reverence, the great Lord Avel Valinski. Your Awakener."
His otherworldly tone captivates all who hear it, resonating with a power that transcends mortal comprehension. The being, bound by chains of light, lifts its gaze to meet the piercing eyes of the young prince, its expression a mix of curiosity and reverence. "What is your name?" Avel inquires, his voice echoing with a divine authority that sends ripples through the very fabric of the contained existence.
His voice, shrouded from the depths of the abyss itself, carries an otherworldly quality that defies. It resonates with an eerie, unnatural resonance, as if it emanates from the darkest corners of the universe. Each word drips with a subtle but unmistakable raspiness, like the whisper of shadows or the hiss of a serpent. It shifts seamlessly between tones, from smooth and seductive to chillingly menacing, leaving those who hear it transfixed by its power and malice.
The being, bound by chains of light, trembles slightly as it meets Avel's gaze, its form bathed in the radiant aura of the prince's presence. Slowly, it opens its mouth to speak, the sound of its voice a soft echo in the cavernous chamber.
"I am," it begins, its voice a melodic blend of ancient wisdom and divine power, "Called Remiel, Bringer of Illumination and clarity."
As Avel offers his hand down to Remiel, a sense of awe and reverence fills the chamber, bathing the scene in an ethereal light. Remiel gazes up at the young prince with eyes that shimmer with brilliance, reflecting the pure and potent essence of his being.
As his hand meets Avel's, a strange sensation washes over the prince, like touching something holy yet forbidden. It's a feeling that defies explanation, unsettling yet undeniable, as if his very soul is stirred from its slumber, yearning to break free from the confines of his mortal form. Reality itself seems to shudder at the touch of such purity, recoiling from the sheer magnitude of Remiel's divine presence.
Remiel's eyes, filled with radiant brilliance, convey a sense of gratitude as he lifts Avel's hand and places a reverent kiss upon it. "I am forevermore beholden to you," he declares in a voice that resonates with the wisdom of the ages. Though they had just met, Avel felt a strange sense of love emanating from the being.
"Do you remember why you were bound within this moon?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by the enigmatic being before him. Remiel falls into a state of contemplation, his celestial features etched with a sense of distant recollection. "Strange," he murmurs in his far-removed otherworldly tone. "I recall many things, but my memories of myself seem beyond me."
"It will take time, Father," Uriel reassures Avel, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of uncertainty. "Greater knowledge shall be granted to you. All it asks is for your patience."
Avel nods, his restlessness easing as he embraces the wisdom of his celestial companion.
"If it is knowledge you seek, I have much to teach," Remiel reveals, his eyes alight with the prospect of sharing his vast understanding of the cosmos.
As Avel presents a small text given to him by his father, Remiel's gaze lingers upon the intricate script, a sense of recognition flickering behind his radiant eyes.
"I wrote this," Remiel reveals, his voice echoing with the weight of ancient knowledge. "It is my Hagiographa, a recount of my world and all of my brethren. Each text details the uniqueness of my brother-sisters."
Avel's heart quickens with excitement at the prospect of learning from such a wise and ancient being. "I can teach you the tongue," Remiel offers, his words a promise of enlightenment and understanding.
"That's good," Avel acknowledges, his eagerness matched only by Remiel's delight.
"I am happy to serve you, Father," Remiel declares with utmost grace, bowing his head in reverence.
As Avel gazes upon Remiel and Uriel, a sense of belonging washes over him, he had strangely grown to his title of 'father' because he understood that to them – the term referred to the 'giver of life.'
'Let's go home,' he declares as he relaxes himself, satisfied with his progress of the day. Top of Form
As Avel strides forward, his steps echoing with purpose against the surreal landscape, Rumiel seizes the opportunity to delve deeper into the enigma that is the young prince. Falling into step beside him, Rumiel's voice carries a tone of genuine curiosity as he seeks to unravel the mysteries that shroud Avel's intentions. "Tell me, brother," Rumiel begins, his luminous gaze fixed upon Avel's form ahead. "How did such a being gain the shroud of greatness? What does he seek to achieve by awakening us?"
Uriel, observing the exchange with a solemn gaze, listens intently as Rumiel poses his inquiries. With a heavy heart, he begins to elucidate the intricacies of Avel's grand design, each word weighted with the burden of truth.
"Well," Uriel begins, his voice carrying the weight of eons of wisdom and sorrow, "I believe his greatness is one born of necessity and sacrifice. He embarks upon this path not sorely out of desire for power, but out of an unyielding determination to confront the source of the corruption that festers within this realm."
"His quest is twofold," Uriel continues, his words measured and deliberate. "While he tirelessly hones his strength to face the looming threat that jeopardizes his peoples existence, he extends a fleeting chance of redemption to the misguided Lumerians who are partially the cause of his peoples misery. Avel allows them to persist in their folly, hoping against hope that they will awaken to the truth and alter their course."
The gravity of Avel's plight hangs heavy in the air as Uriel elaborates further. "Avel's hunger for power is not born of arrogance or ambition, but of a primal fear. He has glimpsed the horrors that lie beyond the veil of corruption, and he knows that only by ascending to greater heights of strength can he hope to shield everyone from impending doom."
"It has taken him years—nay, and my knowledge gained from centuries—of contemplation and planning to devise a strategy," Uriel reveals, his voice tinged with admiration for the prince's unwavering resolve. "He bears the weight of his people's survival upon his shoulders, a burden that few could comprehend, let alone endure."
"And yet," Uriel adds softly, "he shields his people from the truth, sparing them the despair of knowing that both demons and gods conspire against them. He sacrifices his own peace of mind to preserve theirs, for he understands that their hope is the only thing that sustains them in the face of such overwhelming darkness."
"I feel sorry for him," Uriel confesses, his gaze turning towards Avel with a mixture of compassion and reverence. "He shoulders a burden that no mortal man should know, and yet he carries it with grace and determination."
A sudden unnatural forces Remiel to halt.
"Sire," Remiel's voice cuts through the charged air like a blade, freezing Avel in his tracks as he whirls around, crystal sword gleaming in hand. Dread coils in his gut as he beholds the sight before him, a grotesque figure from his nightmares standing in ghastly reality.
There it looms, a demon he had prayed never to face again, its presence casting a sickly pall over the land. Its hide, thick and decomposing, clings to its form like a shroud of death, pale and putrid. Hooves like twisted roots root it to the ground, while horns curl from its skull like cursed tendrils. Bones jut from its elbows, honed to razor sharpness, and an open wound splits its torso, revealing a grotesque interior of meat and sinew.
Eyes devoid of life glare from sunken sockets, while lips as dark as the void curl into a grin, revealing rows of grey, sharp teeth and a serpent's tongue. The visage that meets Avel's gaze is a portrait of vile malevolence, enough to chill the bravest heart to its core.
In a flash, Avel raises his sword, a streak of violet lightning slicing through the air with lethal precision. The blade meets its mark, cleaving through the apparition with swift and decisive force. But as quickly as it came, the demon vanishes, leaving behind only the lingering stench of decay and the wailing of despair.
Uriel and Rumiel stand witness to the exchange, their expressions a mix of concern and awe as they behold the prince's prowess. In the blink of an eye, Avel has dispatched a foe that would send lesser beings fleeing in terror.
"Don't be fooled," Avel's voice cuts through the tense silence like a blade, his gaze fixed upon the empty space where the demon had stood moments before. "It was just toying with us," he declares, his tone tinged with a mixture of caution and grim determination. As he speaks, his eyes scan the heavens above, searching for any sign of impending danger.
The sight of the demon had stirred a primal fear within him, triggering a reflexive response honed through years of rigorous training under Araikus Hunter and General Darxon. Despite his efforts to maintain composure, Avel's inner being churns with turmoil at the memory of the vile creature's presence. It wasn't merely malevolent; it embodied malevolence itself.
Suddenly, the very fabric of space cracks with a deafening roar, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Avel's breath catches in his throat as he beholds the harrowing sight—a jagged tear in reality, oozing with pulsating tendrils of blood-red energy. The crack, a rupture in the very essence of existence itself.
A sense of dread washes over Avel as he realizes the true extent of the demon's power. The crack serves as a chilling reminder that it can breach the boundaries of space and time at will, a constant threat lurking on the periphery of his consciousness. The abyss gazes back at him, its malevolent presence looming like a spectre over everything he holds dear.
With a mixture of terror and resolve, Avel knows that his plans must adapt to the escalating threat. "Change of plans," he announces to Uriel and Rumiel, his voice firm with determination. "I need more power," he declares, clenching his fist with a steely resolve. With measured steps, he strides toward his crystal sword embedded in the moon's surface, knowing that even his newfound strength may not be enough to confront the looming darkness that threatens to engulf them all.
Whatever that thing was, he knew it was behind the corruption. Was it waiting? Watching?
Bidding its time until it could fully enter into his reality?
There seemed to be no link between the corruption and the breaches that brought forth the demonic dark angels but thinking the creature was the cause of both was not that much of a leap. The only thing tying the Lumerians to the breaches of the dark angels was the divine residue left behind at the other breach sites but he did not know if the Lumerians were linked to the demon behind the corruption.
So many questions and so little time to solve them and find their answers.