See It In The Flesh

“CREATION”

The stars of the night danced above us, a silent audience watching our show. It was a beautiful night.

In all fairness, there wasn’t a single night in the Proxima that wasn’t picturesque. 

While the lands of Proxima flourished and remained in an everlasting golden age, the remaining thirds of Nysencia’s land had succumbed to the rotten plague of transgression. It wasn’t the generals who sent their officers who in turn sent their soldiers that razed kingdoms outside of the Proxima to dust. It was the influence of pure, unadulterated sin. Not only that, but the smirking otherworldly fiends behind the scenes - demons dominating the lesser-minded and sowing chaos as if it were as easy as moving a chess piece across a board.

Our faith in the Ethereans stand tall, and with it - our camaraderie. Our harmony.

“A Devourer’s Lament”

The land here is kind. Tranquil, even. But there is no light without darkness. Even in a land as perfect as the Proxima.

The reclusive population of Wilmarch are death incarnate. They are predators. Vultures. Killers.

Beneath their façade, a sacrilegious sect of sinners who deny the sanctity of the Divine seeds that sowed our soil.

Cannibalistic, flesh-sacrificing slayers that scourge the realm of Nysencia and the Proxima with their rotten stench.

I can’t stand them. And yet… I belong to them.

I am haunted by the effects of their repulsive practices. With a single bite, whether that may be human or beast - I can see the world in new eyes. I can feel what they feel. Understand how they think. The last I dined, I consumed the flesh of a kind, ambitious man who was haunted by an unholy, vehement hunger. He tasted of intoxicating, insatiable fury and a sickly sweet relish of dominion. 

I despised it. Frivolous feasts. Scarlet chalices.

So the Divine Trinity gave me purpose. Become bigger than mortal.

I fled the next day. 

I set out to right the wrongs I had inflicted. 

To return the dreams and nightmares I had stolen. 

The love and hatred that I had subsumed.

And it begins with that cursed, hollowed man.

“SOUL”

“What is it, Cavalentia?” Divello asked.

“To be Empyrean,” I recited in a whisper as I ran my fingertips along the runic stone tablet. Carved in its face, three lines extending out from a centre point. A calligraphic letter was etched within each third. Going clockwise from the top it read: E, R and V. The Divine Trinity. The Ethereans that presided over our lands.

Ethos, the Etherean of Creation. The basis of Nysencia’s light and shadow.

Rosarthia, The Etheress of the Soul. The composer of our creed, good and evil.

Vespasius, the Etherean of Ambition. The artist of our motivation. Our dreams and desires.

Suddenly, the rune shifted. The stars in the sky aligned in a perfect constellation resembling the Trinity’s symbol.

From its tail, a single beam of crackling force struck the webbed throne, basking it in divine light. 

It whispered, “Sit. Become our Empyrean. Protector of Proxima's peace. The guardian of Nysencia.”

I gasped in awe and turned to my companion, but he was not smiling.

My excitement became bewildered terror as he throttled me with plated gloves, slammed my skull into the cobbles beneath our feet and walked towards the light.

“A Hollowed Tragedy”

The horizon started aflame. A feminine voice dominated my thoughts. 

Spectral flames and fireflies swirled around me, forming patterns and assemblages of predestinations and scenes beyond my comprehension.

“Rise quickly my chosen, for there are many like you.

The Ethereal Plane and its guardians bring mandate, with haste. 

The torches of tranquility burn freely in this realm. Ensure the prosperity of Nysencia and its people.

Know this, Gideon Divello, hollowed champion of Kesserfaire.

Become the Empyrean. The light must not go out.”

I opened my eye, and a familiar reality stood before me once again - watching me wither away in silence. The midday sun blazed down on my plate armour, sweat trickling down my malformed cheek and along my scarred jaw. There were no remnants of the vision. Only a command. A holy decree.

But suddenly, I fell to my knees, whimpering and writhing like a sick dog. 

The ocean tides grew with the gust of angry, distant clouds. 

Another voice wrenched the soul from my body but it was louder, intonation dripping with venom. 

From within my accursed being, an urge called. The personification of lust manifested. 

My inseparable partner, the devil Lucetta gently caressed my ear.

“Divinity? 

My dear Gideon, you gamble more than you can afford.

Or perhaps your sweet, innocent mind is finally seeing sense.

I’m sure that rumbling stomach you call a soul is finally thirsty for some power. Some control.

How much of your body can you expect to live without?

The wretched flesheaters that feasted on your limbs, your honour - they could bend to your will.

Become the Empyrean. We can do great things together…”

“AMBITION”

“Divello! Stop!” she shrieked.

Cavalentia’s lean yet muscular frame tensed as her body arched, balanced on the balls of her feet. The silver dagger that had sunk its razor edge into hundreds, maybe thousands, was finally pointed at its next victim. Even her ornate robes and helm seemed poised to end him in a heartbeat if it so desired. Writhing serpents wrapped around her towering, slender shape as they skittered across the rubbled floor and knotted around the golden skewers that protruded around the circumference of her mask.

One could glance over her form and see a predator, ready to drain the blood from your source.

But I was never her enemy. 

Until now.

I stood guard before the Lightspring, a pylon of energy that seemed to stretch up into the cosmos. 

The gate to divinity, lying in wait amidst the ruins of a royal’s abandoned domain. 

The brushed-bronze eyes of her false visage were silently pleading, the tarnished shimmer of her irises reaching out to me to cup my twitching hands. The corners of her lips can’t decide whether they want to morph into her familiar venomous scowl or a contorted, trembling frown that was equal parts anger, terror and sorrow. And worst of all…

She’s crying. I’ve never seen her cry. 

“After all we’ve been through? Is it the power? The control?”

“I’m sorry,” I replied shakily. “But I cannot let you ascend.”

Knives still drawn, she wiped the snot and tears from her face. 

Some part of me yearned to lower my stance, to reach out to her and hold her close.

But my jaw clenched, knuckles white. It ripped the words out of my mouth. And it felt good.

And it would feel better to bring her to her knees. 

To rend the flesh from her bones. 

To take back what was mine.

“The Divine cannot protect our realm. Look past our lands, and what do you see? 

The cost of unfulfilled prayers is too great.  

I will not stand by this, Cavalentia.  I must shoulder the burdens Ethereans could not bear.

But first, you will return what is mine.”

An ear-piercing howl echoed within the decrepit throne room as my arms mangled and crunched to become sharpened obsidian masses. I cried in pain as my femur burst through my thigh, the bones of my arms and legs breaking free from their cage. 

The dark urge within demanded me to flay and graft myself anew.

The mournful countenance playing on her lips was gone. 

No more hoping that I would see reason.

Only horror.