Pitch Black Fire
Prologue: Pages of Truth
A flurry of snow blankets a large, golden city. Gathered masses of men and woman all formed crowds of amassed noise as they watched a large envoy of soldiers adorned in golden armor walk through them. The people cheered and cried, voices of unbridled joy heard clear as they witnessed a long-awaited promise fulfilled, a war had finally shifted in their favor for in that marching squad of armored hulking brutes laid their leader in the center.
A woman with hair of gold and sheathed blade of silver was standing side by side a man bound with chains etched in holy power. His face was withered and yet somehow young and a predominant black barbed scar marked his left arm that drew everyone’s eye.
The crowd recognized his face, a terrible man from terrible stories, his gaze distinct and unforgettable. The chained man looked upon every cheering denizen that chanted and sang with praise, striking them with a gaze of blood-red sight. His angry glare was met only with prideful bellows of victory. The snow and foreign stares pelted the man with the red gaze. The harsh unforgiving snow storms so common of the northern mountains were practically alien to him as he trudged ever forward.
The golden-haired leader smiled as her escort walked with her in a surrounding mass of steel and brass. The chains of the captured prize were on display for every wanting eye, the leader welcoming all curiosity. The faces of hardship and desire, of order, of piety, everyone within the populated streets of the newly birthed city built from blood and given life through wealth rejoiced that day. The dream was finally seen, their enemy was in chains and his power once feared by all now lied within the grasp of the woman they all trusted.
She was the Protector, God given human flesh and she now held in her grip the Devil himself for all to see. His weakness and frailty was shown, the bindings of gold holding what man could never before, fire with a voice now silenced. The people smiled with smug reassurance that they were now the ones to be feared.
The leader walked through the city-streets in the winter cold, eventually making her way towards the grand royal palace. It was the seat of the fallen despots and soon to be the prison of the enemy that started the grand war of order and chaos. The guards escorted her through the wealthy courts, leaders of dead nations gazing on in disbelief, expressions of fear and new-found certainty taking hold of them.
She walked down the amassed hallways with her guards escorting her, stopping momentarily as she approached a large foreboding gateway. The door was massive and adorned with jewels and brass with two similarly dressed guardsmen standing in front of it. She walked over to one of them, her grip leaving the captured Demon and trading hands with a nearby trusted Paladin. The small army soon dispersed slightly to give their master room.
“The Indulger is finally ours” she stated. “Bring me my children so that I may show them the fruits of our victory”. “My heir must see this day” she ordered, a voice haughty and posh but nonetheless imposing and clear. The two guards nodded. One opened the brass doors while the other walked away towards a distant unseen room, his orders clear in his mind.
The woman gestured for the rest to follow her as she gazed upon a large ever-expanding pattern of stone stairs. It was a deep roadway of manmade hardship, the earth itself bent unnaturally to a powerful will. The steps led further and further underground, natural sunlight peering from the stain-glass windows behind them soon losing strength and giving way to only billowing fire for illumination. The woman grabbed one of the several torches lined along the walls and proceeded to light the way personally into the vast darkness in front of her. The guards followed without hesitation, bringing the prisoner along.
The room was large and vast, underground ceiling stretching high, so tall as to block away any semblance of clear vision, a second sky born from complete blackness. She marched with her escort and the prisoner, his chains clanging loudly, echoing with every sound of metal scratching stone. His bloodied expressions of pathetic struggle were left ignored.
After a long walk the woman and her escort finally reached the natural center of the featureless underground, the very center of the man-made cave and the darkest possible spot. The light from the fire seemed to dim slightly as it fought against the influence of the complete absence of light surrounding it. The smoke and flames billowed unnaturally. Their heated winds were migrating towards the prisoner like magic though none feared this pathetic display. The woman turned to the prisoner and smiled, noticing the phenomena. She felt a soul waiting in pain and couldn’t be happier.
She chuckled softly, handing the torch to one of her trusted guards and leaning down with her arms folded behind her back. The prisoner looked up with an angry glare and a silent tongue. “You still want to fight?” she spoke, her silver gaze turning briefly to the torch flames moving and swaying seemingly at the man’s bound will. “Don’t bother, the chains that hold you will drain every inch of your foolish pride”. “You have no power here, Indulger, no fires… only my own” she continued, her sight turned upwards as she looked towards the dark horizon. She noticed another mass of soldiers walking towards her guided by torchlight.
The woman looked upon the approaching escort, seeing two children protected in the near front. There stood a boy with shaved short blonde hair no older than thirteen years of age and a girl, long silver hair defiant in the blackness, no older than six years of age. The two children approached the woman with uneasy eyes of fear. The woman smiled at them as she bent down with her arms rested casually on her armored knee. She reached the level of the young ones before her, the girl in front and the boy keeping himself away slightly.
Only a single guard stayed with a dagger gently clutched in his hand to step beside the woman and the children in front of her. “Today is a wonderful day, my daughter” she said with a gentle expression, rubbing her hand against the cheek of the girl and seemingly ignoring the boy. He looked upon the prisoner with horrified realization, images flashing in his head as the blood-red stare turned to him momentarily.
“Look…” the woman said, pausing briefly in silence as she held her daughter’s hand and brought her closer towards the prisoner. The silver-haired girl tugged slightly with fear. “It’s alright, he won’t hurt you, he can’t, mommy made sure of that” she smiled upon noticing her daughter’s fear.
The man before her would not cease his silent red stare and it continued to unnerve her. “Remember when I promised you a perfect world, a grand kingdom to be yours when the war ended?” she asked. The silver-haired daughter quietly nodded.
“ …Well now that day has finally come, your throne is being built as we speak, the world is at last ready” she continued. “It can finally be as perfect as you deserve”. “For now though…” the silver-haired girl simply continued staring at the prisoner, never saying a word. “Do you remember the tales of Aderes, the book of righteousness and good hearts?” she asked, the daughter responding only with further fearful silence.
“In those stories there was always a monster, remember?” she asked only this time turning to her daughter directly, her son still keeping his distance all the while. “Well, that’s him right there; the Devil, bringer of suffering and deceit”. “His terrifying power can now be used for something good…” she continued, the guard at her side extending his arm afterwards with a shining dagger in his hands. The woman grabbed the blade, feeling the weight of the finely-tempered steel in her grip. Her grin was pleasant and harmonious as she handed her daughter the weapon much to her continued shock. “The world is finally ready to be saved” she elaborated.
“Now, do you remember the verse of the Aderes text, the very first opening proverb?” she asked. The daughter finally alleviated herself of her quiet fear slightly as she turned her gaze towards her brother and then back to her mother. “’In darkness he waits, under madness he’s born’” the daughter said. “’He is the enemy of good, he is blood spilt from chaos and skin bred from heathens’”. “’He is the disease of soil and the destructor of humanity…” the daughter stopped briefly, the prisoner staring at her all the while with a once angry and defiant brow now faltering.
“Yes, go on” the mother insisted, pushing her daughter gently towards the man. The girl held the dagger all the while and gazed into its steel, the blade reflecting her face with the light of the torch flames behind and in front of her. “’He has many names; chaos, pestilence, mistake’”. “’He is the embodiment of everything that is evil, he brought the filth of dirt to the spotless lands we step upon, he is arrogance and fire bound in flesh’” the girl continued, the woman bending down as she approached the chained prisoner.
“Yes, very good, and do you remember the last part of that parable?” she asked to which the daughter responded “I do, mother”. “Very good, now I want you to do something special for me”. “I want you to say aloud the final verse and then…” she stopped, her voice audibly exited as her daughter looked up at her. Her eyes, deep blue reflected in steely silver, cold winter winds dancing subtly around the two all the while.
The boy felt the cold wind and shuttered slightly. He looked upon his mother and sister, one with fear and the other with pity. He hugged himself, the cold stinging his arms, ice and darkness.
“…I want you to do what the hero did at the end, do what she did, my daughter” she explained, whispering coarsely into her daughter’s ears. “I know you remember, just like in church”. “Do what an Angel would do, do what God would do”.
“Yes…mother…” the daughter responded quietly before breathing deep. Her brother knew the proverb as well but he turned away as his mother struck a silent gaze into his line of sight. A quiet stillness of dying wind swam in the black smoke rising to the endless ceiling of darkness above.
“’One night the Indulger’s inborn arrogance took hold of him, he spoiled every land with his stench, every tree with his flames, every animal with his chaotic wild senses’”. “’He corrupted the natural grounds he stood upon with ash and soot, destroying everything with frightful power’”. “’He gathered barbaric followers so that they may dance to his perverted song and drank with them, laid with them… and eventually killed with them’”.
“’He smiled while the world died…’” the girl continued, gripping the dagger in her hand tightly. “’But one day a great hero was born from the crying world, a hero of enlightenment, a powerful god who was said to have brought order to an unruly world’”. “’She fell from the sky itself, the silver clouds and wind letting her body remain unbroken as she touched the earth with great force’”. “’The monsters and Demons stared at her as she arrived, all in wondering awe of this great immortal woman’”.
“’She spoke with a language unbecoming of the filthy masses, words elegant and vast’”. “’She spoke of civility and order, safety and reason, she begged for the barbarians to accept her light’”. “’She offered them peace if they would only turn their false leader away and accept the truth…’” the girl paused for a moment before continuing.
“’The barbarians rejected her however, they looked upon the Indulger as if he were a god’”. “’A false lord of power, they were bewitched by his spell, hopelessly lost in lustful want for fire and flesh’”. “’They would not renounce their hateful leader…’” she stopped once more, the ending drawing near in her mind. The gleaming sting of the dagger was felt invisibly on her own skin.
“Go on…” the mother insisted. The daughter refused to continue; instead she simply stood in silence, the prisoner staring at her all the while. “We’ve talked about this; if you wish to be an Angel one day remember that you must never hesitate…”
“I know you know the ending to this story, do your mother proud, do your God proud…” she demanded, wrapping her gloved fingers around her daughter’s closed hand, her nerves failing to calm. “…He’s not really the Devil, is he…?” the daughter meekly asked.
“Don’t be so foolish, I know he may look like one but believe me my dear, he is not human” she explained in a tender voice. “Here, we’ll finish it together…” the mother spoke after a brief silent pause, the daughter nodding with falling tears reflecting fire upon her cheeks.
“’So in the end their blinded eyes were forced opened…’” the mother spoke prompting the daughter to reluctantly continue. “’The Indulger was struck down by the god, bruised and broken…’” the two of them continued in unison.
“’…And their false lord bled just as they did!’” she said before pushing her daughter’s hand forward, the grip tight and inescapable. The dagger sliced through the prisoner’s flesh, his battered rags open and rapidly staining red with blood.
“’The Devil was a weak god…’” the mother continued, seeing the flames of the torches billow unnaturally. The fires grew violently as the man screamed, his will and energy soon broken by the holy chains that binded him, growing quiet and cold.
The man writhed in pain, his eyes growing in distinct crimson color. The skin on his back stretched and tore before revealing a large pair of Demonic, black-leathery wings and a set of sharp animalistic teeth rested in his jaw. His black barbed scar practically glowed with realized power as the blood ran down his bruised and cut flesh. The son backed away in slight fear but the woman did not. She stood tall and proud as she gazed upon her prize and finished the proverb.
“’The Protector slew the Indulger right there before all of his ignorant followers, she burned the false book of Onwha and showed everyone the price of their hedonism!’”. “’She showed them what it meant to truly respect the rule of god!’” “’Once scarred and forever condemned, the Indulger fell and the cycle of conflict began anew!’”. Her voice finally calmed itself as she fell to quieted satisfaction.
“’Born from black fire and golden brand, the victories of the holy written within the Book of Aderes’”. “’The instructions to which all Angels follow and the symbol of our true glory and power; find them all for their leader rests under the Holy’s mercy’”. “’Gather them in packs and show them the frightful light and the sacred Pages of Truth’”.