Birth of New Darkness — Life
It is a strange thing, learning to be a god. So much lies beyond your grasp. So much feels like impossibility.
Until it does not.
Each day my power grows, and with it, the weight of what I can shape. Once my soul was fragile—splintered, tearing at itself each time I tried to share my gift. Yet now?
I can make life.
With but a whisper of thought, new forms stir. They are not shadows nor echoes, but beings of their own—my first true children. Born of darkness, yet able to walk even within the light.
They are the first of my empire. The first breath of a blight that will fall upon the light.
—Reflections of Abaddon, in the days of his becoming
Day of Fire, Start of Change
Things had been going well. He wasn't sure being so passive was a bad thing—he only had fragment memories of the goddess of light to base what being a god is, and she always seemed... placid? Yet it was hard to see why that felt wrong...
He hated the light—he knew that much. But why again?
Betrayal— whispered through his mind, a voice not his own. The shadows liked to talk to him. He wasn't sure why. Was that part of being a god? A sea of voices, or even one? Who knew...
But the voice was right—he knew the light burned, that much was true... So why did he dream of another that served faithfully and a loving light?
It mattered not—merely thoughts to pass the time. His body felt fuller now, and the cave he resided in this whole time—he felt the darkness finally growing deeper, embedding itself. The outside lands were a bit of an anomaly for him. He tried seeding the land and the earth itself still held traces, but anything on the surface was attacked not only by the light but the rot itself...
Both seemed to have a will to defy him and made it harder to expand—it's why he'd been so focused on the city. Neither light nor rot seemed to push him there...
Pain... distant, off. Something was happening? Where... In the kingdom? Were his people under attack? He spoke too soon about the lack of a challenge, it seemed...
He tried distancing himself from their flesh to give them intimacy—a gift for their devotion, lest he be like a parasite. Yet now he regretted that. It was harder to see. Everything felt like a blind spot. Even when they did not deny him, that light was everywhere in the city and was oppressive...
Yet he could feel one of his newly formed minions—the rat lord. He did not completely detach from him yet, so could see easier what he saw, and it was a sea of panic: thousands of eyes lost in madness and burning from light...
THE LIGHT BETRAYS ME. The thoughts burst through my mind, feeling the light burn my people, and I could sense more also killing them. Fire? The light was not enough to burn them—they added fire?
ROAR.
Primal rage flew within, mana in the air to the city itself to enact his rage at the slight—the open attack when he was being merciful. And he could do nothing but desperately try and reinforce the people lest the light eat away their existence, trying to save people...
He promised salvation, and yet the light was making him a liar. What good was a god who could not wield power to defend his flock from the faithless? No... he would return the favor a hundredfold, but he needed to stop this.
He had no way to truly give them more power. It required careful shifting of mana to them. He could reinforce them to a point, but it was consuming to his power...
He sensed the rat lord knew his intent and gave everything to kill the light. He tried to empower him to stop a needless death, but the light was too strong. Even as fragments of the rat lord remained, it was more a husk than man—he could not sustain himself. So he took his soul instead of trying to revive a husk that had no mind...
And with it, so did his sight of what little he knew go with it. He hated that one of his newest faithful with such potential had to sacrifice itself so soon for so little gain, but he could not dwell on that. He needed answers and wanted them soon...
The power he gained from the soul was bitter and joyless. It felt like a betrayal to consume it, but the light took too much from him and undid what little progress he made, so he needed it...
Ezra saw his lord's despair and was unsure what to do. Abaddon finally calmed enough to see even the guardian beast shook in fear, unaware the lord could possess such wrath.
"Be at ease," he willed to the beast, calming its mind. It did nothing wrong. And he turned to Ezra, assuring him too—a minor setback happened in the city, nothing more. He just needed time to plan further and make sure this never happened again.
Later that day, when the fire was contained, Tom and Vesperia informed him of more details he could not see.
It seemed nothing the light touches could be trusted. And if they wished to burn his faithful and demand subservience, then he would do the same but with a poisoning darkness. He allowed too much freedom to those in this city, and it cost him loyal souls and those seeking salvation, even if they did not choose... and that was what cost them their lives. If he'd blessed them, the fire would not have killed them. He could have fed them more life, enough time to escape...
True, the rat lord was lost regardless—a worthy sacrifice in his name. He wished he could do more to honor his memory, but it seemed he would have to settle with returning the favor. If the city would let him slowly die with indifference, then a city would slowly die with his indifference...
Even as those thoughts flowed through his mind, Vesperia planned the game to be played—the first act of the final fall of the church and those who cared more about their own lives versus those he was saving.
He was growing tired of waiting and these recurring dreams. Maybe after the new plan, he would go there and help reinforce the new region. The cave was fine—able to see through them to a point—but unable to act unless near was too limiting for his taste. He would wait and see how they handled it. This was as much their revenge as his, and he would like to see how the game ended before he appeared.
One Week After the Fire — Phase One, Day One of Change
Time passed quickly. He was blinded, mostly, but Tom and Vesperia kept him informed with his blessing on how they'd like to proceed, and he approved.
A poison in the cup and spreading to all—the light would be fitting. He would make it slow and spreading. He wanted an example made. His mercy was mocked, so let them mock his wrath.
He was a god and would be seen as such.
Sharing power was fine. It had potential for a slow growth that could expand into infinity if he balanced their lives and what they gave back as the numbers grew...
The drawback, and he knew, was the moment anyone challenged it and culled his flock before he grew, he lost more than he gained...
Maybe he would change in time... but for now, he felt unity had worth. Power would come with time.
He felt the change—the first in his judgment. The bishop drank his essence upon his lips. He could melt him easily into a puddle of acid with indifference, but he wanted him to have a slow death to spread it and fear to all those that took his side. They would share his fate. Let it spread like the rot taints he had to deal with so many times before...
It wasn't long after that that an odd mix of intoxication happened—a swell of power came to him in waves. It was too much, too soon for him to absorb. He was fully formed for the first time and never tried pushing more power into him. It made the excess puddle in the city...
No... he could work with this. Why convert only the city when I can change the city itself? He tried on smaller scales with the land, but an entire city?
Why not...
He wanted his people to be free. Even now they still had animosity, and while symbiotic could work, he found the longer he was alone to be himself, the less he liked merging with others... It felt invasive and he rejected it. Sharing power, yes, that was fine—but not sharing a mind or flesh.
I exist. I am a god, and I am above all.
The power kept rushing forward in waves, so he flowed it into the castle walls first on the outside, creating a circle to slowly pool inward. A few clever ones found or had hidden doors to leave the walls—they would have escaped his grasp, him blind and never aware, if not for their greed in gathering coin hidden in safes or hidden stashes before fleeing...
Their intent was clear, so a choice would not be given. As when they entered the tunnel to flee, they could not understand—the torch offered no light. All they could see was darkness, and they choked on the air as the first set of poison filled the air, melting them into puddles to help spread the darkness and poison anew.
A few curious what transpired—he felt of darkness, his new converted—and made sure the darkness within them made the darkness as pure air and the poison a fragrance that was pleasant to smell.
They found the coins exploring, scared to be attacked for stealing, but when all they saw was a clear room and clean air? They fled with the coin, unaware the poison was there and did not affect them, being blessed with dark. Ironically, he shifted the essence ever so slightly to make them breathe poison in air. It reminded him of the slug spreading rot, but now it would be his people spreading the poison...
He felt something burning away at his essence... the bishop was trying to heal what he had done, so he reinforced it and kept feeding an endless rhythm of darkness into his soul—a seed planted that would slowly grow like weeds spreading.
Yes... it would kill very slowly, and all those that followed him.
Phase One, Day Two
A day passed. The gains of power slowed a bit. The rats scattered and hid in their holes. His people killed the most foolish, and the bishop blindly assumed he was safe there in his church. His sight went from muted and distant to clear. He held the entire outer edges of the city—he wished he could manifest by will, yet the distance was too great even with the seeming endless wells of darkness... no matter... He wanted to see how the people would act with him not there...
He expected more of a fight from the light—a true open strike—yet nothing? It made no sense. She openly struck him before, yet now that he was turning the whole city, she just sat there in the sky doing nothing?
No... Too many things didn't add up, but he wouldn't stop here and he wouldn't assume. If she feared his touch or was allowing leeway to test how far he would go, he did not care. The city would fall and would be his.
Most of his followers settled down, feeling they did enough and wanted to allow their lord to go from there. They shed blood and felt validity, but in their heart they were not cold-blooded killers and did not want to keep hunting, nor would he force them. Even some of the new converts hid in fear, wondering their fate even after being blessed.
So he willed to Vesperia and Tom for now—see to protecting those that chose this path. He would handle it from here.
Phase Two, Day Three
He found a way to make a feedback loop with the darkness, which surprised him. When he tried in the rot lands, the light and rot fought him too much to really feel like he could gain power, so he was always starved for mana essence. But now in the city?
It flowed like wine from a drunk man's cup who could never get enough—there was always more, and he drank of it endlessly.
The entire slums were now his—the walls, the streets. Nothing there was beyond his reach. The people did see a slight change: everything from rock to wood had a shade of tint, but to them the air was fresher, food tasted better, water was easier to drink, and no rot!
For them, everything was better and they felt blessed by their lord, unaware of the poison nature of their new home as they'd been subtly shifted to live easier within it. The only time they would feel the change was if they ever left—it would be like trying to live in a world of rot outside their spaces.
A golden cage built to save and preserve them, but a cage all the same...
He would make sure to spread among the lands later so they could roam more freely. But for now, better to be safe and caged than free to roam into death.
Phase Three, Day Four
The expanding slowed. It seemed the power from souls and the feedback loop could only do so much. Given a month or two, he could control the whole city as is, even with no more power and assuming nothing changed. But he did not like that idea—too risky, and going slow cost him before.
No... He needed something more—something willing and desiring to spread.
It was but a thought, a passing one at that, when from a wall of darkness a child pulled free and fell to the ground, curling in fear of the unknown...
The child's birth was from his random thought—he knew of wanting a minion to desire to spread his will, and it answered his call. Its fear now was its innocence of this new world it existed in. It did not know what to do and feared letting down its lord that birthed it.
"Be at ease, little one. You will not be alone."
Everywhere from shadows came more children, and they flocked to their fallen brother, scared and alone. Sensing their lord's desire to comfort the lone minion, he sensed them coming and got up in awe, losing its fear. He made 20 or so of them just off a whim, but it was starting to drain him even with the influx of all the power up till now.
Now that he felt more empty, he could feel the city passively giving him power just off the bit he took, which surprised him. Was this how it was for all gods? How much power did they truly have if this little was so intoxicating...
The children laughed and played now, gathered happy to be given life in a world of darkness. But the firstborn did not join them—he felt a great sense of responsibility, being firstborn of darkness.
"As you stand alone wishing to serve, I name you Luma. Give my children play and games alike, but now I need this city and all in it to serve me."
A shiver went through Luma, being named, and he felt he gained power just by the god's acknowledging his worth. All the other shadow children danced and cheered, "Luma! Luma! Luma!" They laughed, running around, not fully understanding the weight of it all, just happy to be here.
"Any that do not bear the mark of dark—find them, offer them a choice."
But what if they say no? Luma thought back, unaware of the depth of choice, never knowing it before. And he felt his lord's will thought back.
"A choice freely given. Any who deny you, deny them life. Kill them any way you choose."
"How?" A sea of voices echoed the words over and over. "How, how, how, how?" The shadow kids stopped dancing and wanted to know how to do as the lord wished.
"We eat them." Luma said passively, as if it was a truth they all knew. The kids looked among each other, unsure at first, then jumped up and down excitedly.
"OK!" They all agreed and rushed off into the streets, unsure what to watch for but eager to meet.28Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs7lnLqfEJ5
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