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[Halister Marner]

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“And from ebonies socket, the great black gate of rock akin, spewed forth shrieks of torment, a commotion of awe, a hail of welcoming befitting of a new age.” - The Book of Beleth



“Aamon.”

“From what existence do these words stem, from which moment do sounds cascade, the flowing water of immaterial speech?”

“I exist within all that you survey, you know this. Even through the veil of madness, I know my words resonate with clarity. I have a task, a rather inconsequential calling that requires your… unhinged perspective.”

“Sickly being of time, woven around the whole of its fabric… your baiting prose, a mere echo of your torn reality, your benighted existence destined to be scorched in Abyss’s fires!”

“Do not threaten me daemon. Ether has ripped your sanity asunder; it would take but a thought to unwind your essence into nothingness. You will comply, or you will be unmade.”

“Then what does the tree wish of its root? Shall I grow outward, or fetch incessant nutriment from noxious soils? Speak your malediction, fatuous celestial!”

“Within the plane of Sosaria, a single existence of a multitude of shards, a leader of your race steps onto the fertile grounds of the material. His actions reek of Abyss’s obfuscation, as a child of the Prime, you are to act as my sight. I will not let the clash of powers alter my course.”

“…Of Abyss? You may exist as time flows, but my eyes see beyond the futility of action. As a tendril of his infinite fires, I feel his shadowed presence not as clandestine, but as manifest. I must follow my deity, if machinations of time indulge my passions in mirrored purpose, then let it be so. Show me the path to his majesty.”

“It is a shame Ether did not tear apart your haughtiness as it did your sanity. Go now then; I have woven a strand for you to follow. The gate awaits your arrival.”

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Perched atop a temple of fiery veneration, the majestic flow of ruptured reality rippled throughout the sulphurous air. Raw waves of sickly heat strewed forth from the infused blackrock, distorting vision, both magic and material, assaulting the inhabitants of the abyss in nauseating succession.

Encasing the rift, the uninhabited remains of a once ornate temple to the god Abyss lay in disarray, the intricate murals depicting the acts of universal and racial creationism defiled and stained, a disquieting symbol of the priesthoods spiritual and material failings.

Shattering the chaotic rhythm of the rift, a figure draped in priestly robes strode forth with confident gait, a deluge of ash flowing from its form, carpeting its ascension in shadowy filament.

As the daemon ascended to the temples apex, visions of permutable figures wavered incandescently beyond ethers open wound, hymns of malignant progeny escaped with varied elevation, forming a chaotic cacophony of ritualistic melody, a call of summoning that pulled unassailably at the daemons essence. Striding indomitably into the torrents heart, the daemon submitted to the rifts embrace, his decaying vocals piercing the melodious void as its form passed effortlessly through ethers womb.

“Though light may oppose me, and life may deject me, I remain obstinate to their petition. When the luminance of day culminates, I am its destiny, its final resting place, when the vehemence of life reaches its end; I am its killer, the extinction of totality.”