"We showed you the power you could gain if you'll help restore us by feeding us more of the shroud of existence within you," the entity explained, its demand unsettling in its certainty. "Ever since you woke us, we knew only you could hold the greatness we so need. With it, both our people can live on." Uriel stated as before, smile haunting like a nightmarish dream.
"Do that, and the power is yours," Raguel urged, his voice tinged with urgency.
"Fine," Avel replied, his tone belying the unease gnawing at him. As Avel donned the crown, a black prison formed around him—a dark suit that burned into his flesh, inflicting searing pain with each passing moment. He winced, feeling the intensity of the agony increasing with every second. The demonic-like figure before him seemed to bounce with anticipation, ready to pounce at any sign of weakness, to take his essence.
Weakness repulsed them.
Avel held fast, knowing that he held the power, the essence they desired. If they could take it from him, they would discard him and his people without a second thought.
He wondered if such cruelty was inherent in their nature, but they needed him to link it to them so they could survive.
And he needed them.
Every minute, hour, day, or eon spent burning within this prison that appeared the form of a body suit would haunt him, a reminder of the promise he had just made—to his father, to his family, to himself. It was a heavy burden to bear, but Avel was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.
And this was the cost.
Avel stood at the centre of it all, surrounded by the ethereal beings known as the Amari. Their forms shimmered with otherworldly light, unsettling, formidable and haunting in their nature. Yet now, they bowed before him, their majestic wings folding in reverence, as though acknowledging him as their sovereign.
Avel's heart felt heavy as he beheld the sight before him. The burden of their expectations bore down upon him, a weight that threatened to crush his spirit. But he couldn't falter now. With a deep breath, he spoke softly, his voice carrying the weight of the world upon it.
"It's a deal," Avel said, his words resonating with a sense of determination born of necessity. His eyes, once vibrant with the hues of life, now clouded over with a milky white, reflecting the vast expanse of power that coursed through him.
In them, the haunting sight forever etched, threatening to shatter his mind.
A dark second skin, slick as obsidian, adorned his form, a manifestation of the pact he had forged with the Amari.
And just like that, it was done. Avel had bound himself to a position of sustaining an entire race, his essence now serving as the lifeblood upon which they fed. As their messianic king, he would no doubt enjoy the fruits of seemingly endless power, but the price he paid was dear—a perpetual cycle of sacrifice, chained to the needs of his subjects. There was a sorrowful resignation in Avel's heart as he surveyed the scene before him. He had accepted his role, but the weight of his duty lay heavy upon his shoulders. The Amari bowed in reverence, their forms shimmering with gratitude and expectation, yet Avel knew that their loyalty came at a steep cost—one that he would bear for eternity.
Avel's brow furrowed with concern as he sought to understand the intricacies of his newfound role. "What happened to make you lose your connection to this aspect of existence before?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
"Our existence was one with the firmament, before time and space, before light or darkness," Uriel began, his tone carrying the weight of ages past. "A void of existence that grew more pronounced with the maturation of existence."
Raguel nodded in agreement, his gaze distant as he delved into the annals of history. "But our emergence awoke things too unnatural to exist. The void walkers, the RaJari, beings that were one with the void, ones that have always been there, ones with no origin," he explained solemnly.
"Repulsive abominations." Uriel spat.
"Asham fed on our source of existence, he killed our creator, leaving us forever without that which fuelled our life essence. From then on, we fell into the death sleep, existing in the nothingness of the beyond." Raguel remarked, a hint of sorrow lacing his words. "A fate I pray to never befall you."
Avel's heart clenched at the thought of such a dire fate, his mind racing with the implications of their struggle. "And what happens if I didn't take your deal?" he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.
"We would need to find another willing host. Or We would all fall into the death-like sleep, and existence will fall into oblivion, where life will never form again, ever," Raguel stated bluntly, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
In the back of his mind he was convinced they would have killed him. No, he knew it.
And they would take his aspect of existence and feed it to someone else who would say yes.
So, did he really have a choice?
A sense of unease settled over Avel as he grappled with the magnitude of their mission. "So that's the fate you've sealed me to? To replace your power source and live on battling that thing; damning me to an eternity of madness?" he murmured, his voice tinged with resignation.
"Don't be afraid," Uriel interjected, his voice a comforting presence amidst the uncertainty. "The greatness in you, the speck of creation, of all existence, will strengthen the purity in you. The clarity of your mind. Your mind is unlike any, prideful, strong, pure in intent."
"That's why the aspect chose you, father. Your unwillingness be corrupted," Uriel continued, his words infused with conviction. "Everything, every test we've given you proves that." Raguel's gaze softened with a hint of remorse as he spoke. "If we thought you would corrupt the essence we require, we would have ended you and passed it on," he warned solemnly.
"Why didn't any of you just become one with the aspect?" Avel found himself asking, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.
"It has a will of its own. It binds to whomever it shall choose. The decision cannot be forced, just as you were to bond with us of your own volition. Besides, our nature could not permit it," Raphael explained patiently, his words carrying the weight of truth.
"We've tried.' Uriel explains.
As Avel stood amidst the weight of his destiny, he felt the surge of power coursing through his trembling hand. It was a potent reminder of the game of gods in which he had become an unwitting player, thrust into the role of a false messiah ruling over the Amari, even as they used him for their own ends. In the face of survival, alliances were forged with the most unexpected allies, he mused, staring off into the distant horizon, his fist clenched in determination.
"Who in their right mind would take on such a deal?" Avel questioned aloud, his laughter echoing across the desolate landscape, perplexing the two great beings before him.
"Am I strong enough to defeat it?" he asked, his voice tinged with honesty.
"Not remotely," Raguel replied solemnly, his gaze unwavering. "How do I get stronger?" Avel pressed on, his resolve unyielding. "By feeding the aspect of existence within you to the void, allowing it to expand," Raphael explained plainly, his words carrying the weight of inevitability. "Which is why Asham overtook our sustainer, it served as a threat to him because it was the only thing capable of devouring it."
"So, I have to feed on demons?" Avel sought clarification, his tone tinged with resignation.
"Their essence, yes," Raguel confirmed, his expression unreadable.
"Very well," the young prince conceded, his voice filled with repressed dread as he marched forward, showing no hesitation. The exchange between the two great beings was laden with silent contemplation as they marvelled at the mortal's seemingly unexpected resolve. Avel halted after a time, his gaze turning back the way they had come.
"What will I become?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.
"Something greater than you could possibly imagine," Raguel whispered, his voice a seductive lure, beckoning Avel to embrace the power within him. "Greater than even the great god," he assured. "The prophesied saviour who would come and restore the glory of existence once more by overcoming the forces of the abyss."
"You will stand atop everything and all manners of existence will bow before your eternal glory."
Avel offered no response, his mind racing with the implications of his fate. Uriel spoke after a moment of silence, his words carrying a note of paternal pride. "What your father wanted for you," Uriel stated, his gaze meeting Avel's with understanding.
The boy offered a hesitant head nod, internally struggling with the decision he had made. By placing the crown on his head, he had sworn a dark devotion. One much more frightening than he initially realised.
"Then we leave. Start now. You'll feast your fill of demons," Raguel interjected impatiently, eager to set their plans in motion. "No," Avel declared firmly, his gaze unwavering. "After. First, we go back home. Deal with the problems there," he added, leaving no room for argument.
They all had different agendas and priorities, but Avel's would always come first. "I hold the essence. I say what we do first," he declared with unwavering resolve. Whether they would come to admit it or not, they would forever serve him, for the price he was paying for them was too great for anything less.
Avel stands tall, his silhouette etched against the backdrop of a sky ablaze with swirling colours, a testament to the power now coursing through his veins. His eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now burn with a fierce determination as he surveys the gathering of Amari behind him. Each of them, once mighty beings in their own right, now bow before him, their reverence a silent acknowledgment of his newfound sovereignty.
As he looks over his shoulder, Avel can't help but feel a surge of doubt creeping into his mind. How much of the Amari's loyalty can truly be trusted? They may have appointed him their king of sorts, but would they really follow him? Are they truly allies? All thoughts falling behind the memory of his fathers face flashing behind his eyes. Whatever the price that power demanded he was to pay it. He called his fathers words, 'There are no rules in this game of survival. There is no morality that governs the pursuit and maintenance of power.'
And as he feels the raw power coursing through his veins, Avel pushes aside his doubts. False king or not, he now holds the power of gods at his fingertips, and with it, he feels invincible. With a commanding voice that echoes across the celestial expanse, he issues the order to move forward.
In this game of survival, Avel knows that victory is his for the taking. With the might of the Amari at his command, he strides forward, his resolve unshakable, his destiny written in the stars above.