122 Within The Confines.
Inside the desolate confines of a cold chamber, isolated from the outside world, a boy huddled, shivering from the biting cold. His body trembled as he anxiously awaited an uncertain fate, his figure curled up in an attempt to preserve warmth amidst the chilling atmosphere.
In stark contrast to humans, this young boy possessed distinctive features that set him apart. His nails had grown long and sharp, hinting at a primal nature within him. Tattered wings, once vibrant and majestic, now lay in tatters, a testament to past struggles. Two small horns sprouted from his forehead, a subtle reminder of his otherworldly origin.
As he sat there, his eyes filled with an unknown emotion, muttering words that seemed to echo with a dark intent.
A dark trail of smoke arose from the corner of the chamber, slithering its way towards the young man, as if waiting for him to reach his breaking point. The smoke slowly enveloped the floor, unnoticed by the distraught boy. One stream of smoke snaked its way to the boy's ear, and the voice of the Abyss spoke.
[Oh dear, who could be so cruel as to tear these beautiful wings?] The guttural voice spoke, its comfort laced with an otherworldly presence.
"Huh? Wh-what!! Don't... don't come close." The boy flinched as he saw the hazy smoke approaching, a sense of fear washing over him.
[Oh dear, don't be frightened of me. I am nothing but a... well-wisher,] the tendrils of smoke crept up the boy's left foot, leaving a numbing sensation in their wake.
"Well-wisher...?" The boy's voice trembled, now under the influence of the calming effect of the smoke.
[Yes! A well-wisher indeed. I have witnessed your suffering... how they took everything from you, how they destroyed your loved ones,] the ethereal voice echoed in his mind as his eyes turned pitch black.
"You have?" The boy's voice held a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
[Yes... Riksar, I have. And I am here to... help you,] the voice declared.
"Help? You can't... there's nothing left, not for me," Riksar denied, his eyes returning to normal, but not for long as the tendrils of smoke encircled him once again.
[There is... There is one thing remaining for you,] the ethereal voice proclaimed.
"What?" Riksar asked, almost entranced by the voice.
[Revenge,] a single word uttered by the ethereal voice held a profound weight, as if it meant the world to him.
[I've seen how they raped your elder sister... I've heard her cries, witnessed the laughter of those monsters who took amusement in her suffering, in your suffering, Riksar,] the ethereal voice began, recounting the heinous acts inflicted upon his sister.
If not for his escape from the village, he was certain those monsters would have killed him too. His sister was the only person he cared about, the only one who filled the void left by their unknown parents. And now, she had been taken away from him, subjected to unspeakable cruelty for their perverse pleasure.
[Yes! That's the anger I want. Tell me, do you seek power?] the ethereal voice inquired as the tendrils of smoke slithered up his neck, then across Riksar's face. The boy offered no resistance.
"I do," Riksar agreed.
"But you will have to do one thing for me," the smoke tendrils retreated swiftly with a single motion.[You will have to conquer... the world for me...you have to bring me back to this world.]
[Can you do it?] the voice of the Abyss asked, its demand hanging heavily in the air.
Riksar's mind swirled with a tumultuous mix of emotions—grief, anger, and a newfound sense of purpose. The weight of his sister's suffering and the promise of revenge fueled a fire within him. He pondered the voice's proposition, considering the power it promised in exchange for conquering the world.
As the smoke tendrils receded, Riksar straightened his posture, determining glimmering in his eyes. He had endured enough pain and loss. This was an opportunity to channel his rage, to make those responsible pay for their heinous deeds.
"Yes," Riksar replied, his voice unwavering. "I will conquer the world for you."
The ethereal voice emitted a deep, haunting chuckle. [Excellent, Riksar. Together, we shall reshape the world in darkness, and all who have wronged you shall tremble before your might.]
Riksar's heart is pounded with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. He had chosen a path fueled by vengeance, but the path ahead was uncertain. He would need to harness the powers bestowed upon him, navigate treacherous waters, and forge alliances with other dark entities who awaited his call.
"What must I do to attain this power?" Riksar asked, his voice steady despite the underlying uncertainty.
[You must seek out the fragments of ancient artifacts known as the Shadow Shards,] the ethereal voice explained. [These shards hold immense power, and by collecting them, you will unlock abilities beyond mortal comprehension.]
Riksar listened intently, absorbing every word. He knew that this quest would require strength, cunning, and unwavering resolve. The journey would be perilous, and sacrifices would have to be made.
"Where do I begin?"Riksar asked, his voice laced with determination.
[In the northern reaches of the Black Frost Mountains lies a hidden shrine,] the voice revealed. [There, you will find your first Shadow Shard. It will guide you on your path.]
Riksar nodded, committing the information to memory. The path before him would be arduous, but he would stop at nothing to attain the power needed to exact his revenge.
As he stepped out of the cold chamber, Riksar could feel a surge of dark energy coursing through his veins. He knew that he was no longer alone, that the voice of the Abyss would guide him and empower him on his dark journey.
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Inside the chamber, as Riksar departed, two celestial beings stepped forward from the shadows. Their presence emanated power and wisdom, their voices carrying an air of authority.
"Is this truly the path you wish to pursue, Azra? We possess knowledge that could alter the course of the future. Why choose the losing side?" one of the beings questioned his friend.
Azra, with a resolute expression, responded, [I am not placing a bet, my friend. I am placing the king on the chessboard.]
The essence of smoke gathered, forming the silhouette of a colossal head with no discernible features, signifying a godly presence.
"You have indeed set the stage, Azra. But what do you plan to do with it? All the gods are maneuvering, attempting to confine you within that realm. What is your strategy?" the other being inquired.
Azra remained silent, dissipating the smoky face before him. He approached the chessboard that had materialized beneath their feet, each black and white box holding a figure representing different beings, be they human, mermaid, elf, or even dragon.
[These are the chosen ones,] Azra stated.
"The board is set, Azra. The question remains, how do you intend to navigate it? Every move made by the gods seeks to manipulate you, but do you possess a plan?" his companion pressed.
Azra, determined and unwavering, disintegrated the face of the chessboard and moved among the chosen figures, peering into their souls.
[Where is the candidate chosen by Svarog?] Azra inquired.
"Svarog... he keeps a watchful eye on the potential candidate for now. A human boy, weak and seemingly fated to perish, much like Riksar," his companion responded.
[Like Riksar? You know nothing about him, my friend. That boy is a unique specimen. Just wait, for this time, I have bestowed my insignia upon his mind. He will defy his destiny,] Azra confidently declared.
"If that is your wish, then I shall depart. Unless you have something else to discuss," his companion attempted to retreat into the shadows.
[Stop,] Azra commanded, halting his companion. [And what of you? Who have you chosen?] he inquired.
"I have not made my selection," his companion replied. With those words, the being slipped back into the shadows, vanishing from sight. As the chamber grew empty, Azra too was drawn back into his own realm, contemplating the grand game that lay before them.
