"What my Lord commands, so it shall be."
A voice, resonating through a room filled with boulders and small stones alike. It was chanting some sort of prayer, his voice breaking the grim peace within the ruined room.
"Where the Lord goes, there I shall go."
It said again, praying to some deity.
"Whoever defies my Lord, then they shall die."
His voice was devoid of any emotion, it was as if he was unceremoniously stripped of it in just one day, possibly by this same deity that he was praying to.
"E ethdaly uai, tu Dalk."
Now the voice was chanting something in an unrecognizable language, but he seemed to be able to say it very fluently.
"Tony ty afy ab uail aqf."
This same voice chanted again with the same unrecognizable language, unfamiliar words of unknown origins.
"Tony ty efsa uail hlecyk hazzyzzeaf."
"E ot uail ifqalswu zyljofs, tu Dalk, uail Pwotheaf, ofk E xyr uai sa tony ty efsa uail hlecyk hazzyzzeaf."
"Tu Dalk, E ethdaly uai afpy taly."
"Silf ty efsa o wifsyl ef swy zwokaqz."
"Tony ty xyfk swy zwokaqz sa ail qeddz."
"Silf ty efsa uail qodnyl ab swy ferws."
"Uail qodnyl ab swy ferws, os uail zyljepy, Tu Dalk."
Now, he stopped speaking, and in the room he was in, a strange light began to glow, illuminating the once-dark room. It was a bright white color that looked like a big ball of energy, and it floated above the man, who was kneeling on the ground.
"Lord Merec, grant me this boon, so that I can do your will."
He whispered one final time, revealing the deity he was praying to, the Lord of Shadowy Death himself, Merec. The light looked as if it was corrupted by something dark, turning red in color as it began to encircle the kneeling man. He held a scroll in one hand, and on another, he held an opened book, and he was reading its contents, like a bookworm eager to start another adventure in his reads.
Good. Now, wait for it to dissipate, my loyal servant.
The man stood up, and as was ordered by this strange voice, he kept still as the red ball of light encircled him, growing faster with every passing second, until it was but a blur on the surroundings, where only this man's enhanced sight can hope to even see it.
Finally it stopped, and then it did something that was rather unexpected. It entered the man's body, tearing into his chest, the effects of which illuminated the man now in a ghastly light.
Behold now, my servant, the powers of Merec happen before your mortal eyes!
Normally, any man would've screamed in pain, clawing at his torso to rid himself of this agonizing ball of red, but to this man, pain meant nothing to him, in fact, the meaning of pain itself was lost within him.
He merely blinked as the ball of red light swam through the sea of blood in his body, traveling through his heart, his veins, everywhere, though he could not feel it.
Again, he did not see or feel anything about that coming changes being wrought to his body, so he did not see his own red-tinted eyes turning into darker shade, almost becoming the color of darkness, a testament to the demon lord's unholy bond with him.
My loyal servant, you are now complete.
Came the satisfied voice of the demon lord, whispering the words in his mind.
Thank you, milord, for granting me all these gifts.
You are welcome, now, do my will, and when the time comes, do what I have ordered you to.
As you wish.
His obedience was unmatched, very much unlike any other. He was going to follow his god until his days were numbered, and even then, he would walk the path his Lord instructed him to walk on.
He stood straight up, and hid the scroll in his pockets, same with that black stone from before, though he still held the book.
What shall I do with the book?
It was more of a statement than a question, but nonetheless, it was understood.
Destroy it. It has served its purpose.
Again, he followed Merec's orders, and at once, he said,"Eldrih."
An orb of flame burst to life in the palm of one of his hands, and he dropped the book on the floor, the object cluttering to the floor.
The insignia of the demon lord was what he last saw of the book, a skull stabbed by two swords, when he set fire to it, directing the flow of the fire towards the tome.
Good. Now leave this place. Rejoin with your other mortal friends out to the north.
Is that all, my Lord?
When he received no replies, the man stood up, dusting dirt and rock shards off his blood-stained white leather armor, the uniform of the Shadow Master, given to him by Fendrel to change from his other clothes.
He trudged off, killing the fire in his hands, and leaving the book in ashes, leaving the small fire on the stone ground to burn on, very much alive.
Unlike his dead soul.
Miasmador let out a deep growl as Althalos made a reappearance after he suddenly walked off, as the Nightwalker had told the dragon.
"Where have you been?" He asked, trying to adopt a less hostile tone than what he possessed at the moment. A plume of smoke escaped his nostrils, wafting through the air, carrying the smell of something burning.
"Searching." Was Althalos's only answer. He kept walking towards them, not stopping.
"And have you found it, ail Pwotheaf?" The Nightwalker that was Astarte asked the man in white, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," He replied bluntly. "We shall be off, and we shall join the others as they travel through the north."
Miasmador growled, capturing the Shadow Master's attention for a brief moment. He was about to explain to Althalos what's exactly happening outside, but nature herself beat him to it with a loud boom crashing through the skies.
"I presume you've heard that, Althalos?" Miasmador asked, growling again. He had wanted to fly again, but due to this awful storm, he could not.
"I did." He kept silent, mulling things over.
"Dragon, can you fly under this torrent?" The Nightwalker asked Miasmador, and the disappointment that colored her tone meant she already knew what the answer was.
Another thunder, and Miasmador answered,"No. I wouldn't even be able to take off with a storm this powerful."
"We walk."
That one word sent one certain demon into a spiralling land of confusion, and another one to a burning world of rage.
"Are you mad? The rain alone could kill us, and then there's the storm. I won't even mention the creatures who like to come out when there's a storm?"
The dragon immediately rejected the offer, bringing up many arguments, but the one that only caught both their faces were these "creatures" who like to come out when there's a storm.
"Creatures?" Astarte asked, crossing her arms. "I know of no such beasts like that."
"Of course you don't. You're a Nightwalker who lives in Merec's little world, you don't know anything about this land."
The demon growled, she actually growled. And narrowing her eyes, she replied to the dragon in a cold manner, "I'd watch your tongue, snake. I've been summoned to this land for centuries. I know what this land is, and it's Lord Merec."
An even more intimidating growl emanated out of the dragon's throat, as a small line of fire tore out of his maw. "You say such things, and yet you do not know of these beasts. And I don't care if your precious god is the giver of life itself, I do not believe in any, and I only believe in myself, follow myself, and take action for myself, not some entity whose title is so very much debatable."
The two traded venomous glances back and forth, both growling out challenges, until the Shadow Master interrupted their little debacle.
"Enough. Now, what are these beasts you speak of?"
It sounded more like he cared for nothing even if they tore each other to pieces.
"They are the imbuivila, as you humans call it, and much as I don't know their true forms, they only seek meat of any kind, including yours, demon."
"If you do not know how they look, then how can you prove their existence."
"Even if you call Merec your god, how can you be sure he deserves such a title?" Miasamador retorted, on the verge of unleashing his wrath on this irritable demon.
"Watch your tongue." Was the demon's only reply, not backing down to the ruler of the skies, and the terror of the seas. "I'd very much advise you, because you're on thin ice."
"So are you, demon."
Shut those two up.
Althalos heeded the demon lords words, and at once, ordered them,"Silence, you fools!"
He was now enraged, what with his Lord being called a false god by a prideful dragon, and it was exacerbated by the argument these two were having.
They stopped their intense staring contest, turning to glare at him instead, but one look at his blackened red eyes that barely held the intensity of his anger, and both of them immediately looked away.
"Explain these imbuivila, dragon, and I expect you to hold your tongue-lashing until after it is done," He commanded, addressing both the dragon and the demon. He narrowed his eyes, but his ire cooled off after that, and again, he was back to the Althalos who couldn't give a single care even if his life depended on it.
"These beasts hunger for blood, much like your dresueramia, demon. Water makes them impervious to anything for whatever reason, but they also need to bathe in liquid for evey second, or they die."
He knows nothing of my minions. The demon lord's echoes resonated in his mind, probably pertaining to the 'dresueramia' that Miasmador had said.
"Their greatest asset is their greatest weakness, I presume," Althalos said, looking away as he still mulled what their next course of action will be.
"Yes," Miasmador replied, before going back to the demon Astarte, assuming their conversation is complete. "Wouldn't you like to try to get out?"
"Shut it." Was the only reply of the demon.
"What say you, talsod? Shall we brave the storm and these so called "imbuivila?" Or shall we stay here for the duration of the storm.
Stay, you fool. I can feel that wanting in your little head. It will be good for you.
Go..
Do not question me. Do it, or I will crush you.
"We stay," He ordered, his tone as dead as you can imagine, but still, an order from him, him being Althalos who is a direct conduit to Merec, better be followed.
"Of course." Was their reply, being silent, but even then, the dragon's golden-eyed stare of acridity was still focused on the demon's own venomous stare.
Two prideful beings, unwilling to back down to the other.
They shivered and shivered, and shivered some more, trying to stifle this stinging cold, while at the same time seeking the warmth of the nearby fireplace. An old man drenched to the skin held a sleeping girl of maybe four close to him, as if she was his daughter.
A demon of unknown origins was standing next to a young woman. It donned a black and red armor that was filled to the brim with spikes of all sizes, and to the others, he just looked like any other patron, but looks can be deceiving.
In this case, it was meant to be taken literally.
They were at an inn, and much to their surprise, noboy was around except the innkeeper, and even he went in his own quarters to rest. They had expected at least a couple of men to have been there, drinking and making merry, ignoring the deluge of rain outside.
But they had chosen to ignore it for the time being. The cold banished such thoughts from their mind.
"You're lucky there was a nearby village with an inn!" A young woman hissed out, drawing out the words as she shivered in every syllable produced. She cursed some more, and then whispered some more words in an obscure language.
Moments later, a sigh resonated through the silent inn, and the young woman with a hair of gold stood up, releasing another sigh, possibly of relief because of the expression etched on her fair face.
"Why don't you.."
"If you're too ignorant to know. The cold can stifle our magic, as well as our energy, and it's rather distracting," The old man holding the sleeping little girl grumbled out, too annoyed at this stinging cold to care if the woman got angry or not.
The yellow-haired woman glared at the man, whispering some curses under her breath, but like before, the man just couldn't find a reason to care.
"Varinme actrin tres." With a wave of her hands, warmth immediately flooded the old man's veins, and a boy beside him also felt the same sensation, sighing in relief like the young woman did.
"Thank you, Katelyn," The young boy remarked, smiling innocently.
"Yes, woman, I thank you." Came the old man's words whispering through the air. He was still breathing deeply, his face hidden in a cloak made from wool that did nothing to abate the cold earlier.
"You are welcome then," The woman responded, a slightly boastful tone coloring her tone. She let loose a sweet grin, then approached the demon from before who had remained silent and stone-faced.
"Uai oly kezriezyk, uyz?" She then told the demon in the same obscure language she spoke earlier, though it was not the same with the spell she uttered out.
"Yes, Kytaf Hlefpyzz, I am disguised," The demon replied, his deep voice recognizable from the start.
"What did I tell you," The woman whispered in a deadly silent tone, a tone so silent that only the Nightwalker heard it. The woman's form suddenly twisted in form, and the Nightwalker flinched, apologizing in a small tone also.
"What now, woman?" The voice of the old man broke the young woman and the demon's gaze, and she turned to the man who held the sleeping child. She then gazed at the young boy who was quite obviously staring at her.
Something below the neck, even.
She chuckled, her soft tone echoing in the inn. "I had thought you were the leader, dear Fendrel?"
She winked at the young boy, and almost laughed with amusement as the boy's face turned red in color, looking away in embarrassment.
"Resebid baadz," She whispered, and once more, it was unheard by the others.
The man, Fendrel was his name, sighed, looking around, as if observing the dim inn with a barely clean floor.
"I have no idea, to be honest," He said, sounding defeated, in a sense. 'We can press on, but as far as I know, the nearest village or town is miles away, and we wouldn't survive in this storm for a day."
"There's also the matter of those... things," The young boy interjected, slightly quivering from the sight of these "things" that could've terrorized him.
"Do you know anything about them, Justin?" Katelyn asked, raising an eyebrow.
Justin stuttered for a second, still remembering the memory of nearly being devoured by that monster. "Only thing I know is they are the closest things we have to demons in this world."
"Did you see what it looked like?" Fendrel asked, an overlying concern being hinted in all the curiosity he exhibited.
Justin scratched his short hair, shaking his head afterwards. "I don't know. The only thing I saw was a huge black mass with white orbs on what I think is its head."
He trailed off for a second, still quivering in fear of this entity that left this boy a mess.
"I tried to stab it with my dagger, but it did nothing, and it only angered the beast. That's why I ran away."
"What did it do? Did it bite you?" Katelyn asked now.
"No, I managed to get away before it did, but the last thing I saw was it opening its mouth, and same as the rest of its body, its teeth were all black. Black everywhere."
He kept silent afterwards, looking away, tears stinging the boy's eyes as the memory haunted him again. The two older beings new something was amiss, that there was something the boy was not telling him, but of course, they dared not question him further.
"What are these things..." Fendrel trailed off. First, he encounters a man-eating plant the half the size of a mountain, then next one of his companions nearly got killed by a shadow figure with white circles as eyes.
The forest. It's evil. It strives to devour unwanted visitors, no matter who.
Or what.
Fendrel knew what was terrifying every single human that approached the borders of the forest. He always suspected it was because of their superstitious beliefs, and their paranoia that was getting to them.
But these carnivorous plants? These shadow figures? And then some more he's encountered in his years in living with the Silent Ones. They were all terrifying creatures who really wouldn't hesitate to tear him to pieces, gorging on his eviscerated remains like it was their very last one.
He now learned not to be so dismissive of such things again.
Especially when it could cost him his life.