✺ Dark Fantasy ✺
When you have an eternity of time, there is little room for surprises. But for Ahzrael, things are about to shake his everlasting life. In a universe filled with a multitude of planes, realms, and worlds, resides a group of powerful...
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Transitioning into his physical form, Ahzrael stood upon polished sterling floors that were devised of a glass-like element not found anywhere else in the universe. His chiseled abdomen appeared refined above the reflecting floors, highlighting the deep ivory markings beneath his skin that shined in the light.
Before him stood the great acropolis- the wondrous tower of Vae'lon. Two, towering alabaster walls, gold engraved along the borders, reached for the heavens, curving into a sharp edge at the top. It was so high that usually the peak could only be seen from afar, but when one stood before the structure on the ground, the tower's top disappeared into the clouds.
Ahzrael sauntered towards the grand entrance, surveying the mighty beings before him. A minor distance away, a few hundred of his brethren stood, their faces unmoving and expressions sharp. It was evident that most of them were still troubled about the turn of events, but they trusted and respected Ahzrael nonetheless.
While he advanced, power in each stride, Sirone began to meet him halfway. Her intense, crimson hair swayed behind her while she approached Ahzrael with regarding eyes.
"You're alright," she breathed. Her tenor was full of relief.
His mouth curved into the faintest smile. "Should I not be?" he teased.
Sirone chuckled, quiet, but the placid moment was lost as he rested his eyes on the other Diuxals behind her. Sirone may have given him a delicate moment, but it was gone before it even started.
His brows curved inward, readying himself to speak. Ahzrael was a beacon of power. He held a place among a great council of Diuxals who declared themselves as The Prymes. Ahzrael, however, spent more of his time alongside his soldiers, his clan, his people, leading them in battle, and even growing close with a few.
He was always meant to lead but took no pride in doing so behind the powerful barrier of Vae'lon, in the high seats of the Great Spire where The Prymes usually resided. He wanted to lead from the very core of Vae'lon, with his people, not far from it.
"Family," he began, his deep manner pulsating across the floors. "The spell of the Augura has worked." He cut to the chase, sating their curiosity.
Low murmurs traveled across the plane. Some Diuxals furrowed their faces, filled with sheer discontent, while others had a gleam of light in their eyes, and others had no expression at all. The reception was unequal.
Ahzrael took a few moments to allow them more time to register the information before proceeding. "This is an opportunity that could change the tide of our eternal war. It begins by treating the Inusir as our own. As an ally."
"Blasphemous!" a Diuxal shouted, his rigid voice shattered the air around them. His murky blue eyes exuded a dim light behind the sweltering revulsion.
