The Crypt of Uriel
Deyanira
The Dark Gods whispered.
They insisted. They screamed. Their voices never stopped resounding within his skull. They pushed, the pulled, they did everything they could to bring him to the stone steps he now stood upon. It was the first taste of silence that he had in weeks, or close enough to it. Even now their insidious voices wavered within the back of his mind.
If he focused he could pick out their words even now.
Their words, as they always tended to be, were an utter mystery to Kol. He did not know who they spoke of, why they spoke it of it. The Dark Gods did not speak truths. They did not whisper the future. They spoke only of their own desires, of what they wanted and what they thought was best for themselves. Kol knew this, and yet he still listened.
Still found himself on the steps of a Crypt.
Saint Uriel of Astren was a name that even those in the most distant of lands had once known. He was a man, or a god, depending on who one might have asked. In a time when the world had broken, splintered, Uriel alone had stood against the tide. His power had sundered the earth, and wrought a fire which even the greatest of demons feared.
So the story went anyway.
The Dark Gods told him it was a lie.
A story wrought by a man of paranoia and fear. A great and powerful Sorcerer who had bound himself to a thousand souls, and used them for his own ends. A strength which still lingered on this plane, but not the reason that he was here. No. Uriels crypt was a beacon, a light house, and nothing more.
Slowly Kol walked up the steps to the shambled ruin, ancient doors having long fallen from their stone hinges. A great and once wondrous tomb now stood as less than a devastated monument to times long past. "What am I to find?"
The Sorcerer demanded, a twisted answer coming only seconds later.
Deyanira
The Dark Gods whispered.
They insisted. They screamed. Their voices never stopped resounding within his skull. They pushed, the pulled, they did everything they could to bring him to the stone steps he now stood upon. It was the first taste of silence that he had in weeks, or close enough to it. Even now their insidious voices wavered within the back of his mind.
If he focused he could pick out their words even now.
"Find her."
"Take her power."
"Set her free."
"Bind her to his world and it's chains."
"Take her power."
"Set her free."
"Bind her to his world and it's chains."
Their words, as they always tended to be, were an utter mystery to Kol. He did not know who they spoke of, why they spoke it of it. The Dark Gods did not speak truths. They did not whisper the future. They spoke only of their own desires, of what they wanted and what they thought was best for themselves. Kol knew this, and yet he still listened.
Still found himself on the steps of a Crypt.
Saint Uriel of Astren was a name that even those in the most distant of lands had once known. He was a man, or a god, depending on who one might have asked. In a time when the world had broken, splintered, Uriel alone had stood against the tide. His power had sundered the earth, and wrought a fire which even the greatest of demons feared.
So the story went anyway.
The Dark Gods told him it was a lie.
A story wrought by a man of paranoia and fear. A great and powerful Sorcerer who had bound himself to a thousand souls, and used them for his own ends. A strength which still lingered on this plane, but not the reason that he was here. No. Uriels crypt was a beacon, a light house, and nothing more.
Slowly Kol walked up the steps to the shambled ruin, ancient doors having long fallen from their stone hinges. A great and once wondrous tomb now stood as less than a devastated monument to times long past. "What am I to find?"
The Sorcerer demanded, a twisted answer coming only seconds later.
"Wait...."
"Waaait...."
"She will come."
Their whispers rung within his skull."Waaait...."
"She will come."