Dark Light
King Gel-ad gazed outside from his private quarters within the palace, his eyes locked onto the steadily reddening band of white light. Behind him stood Rygald, his green brow crinkled in worry. "Is something wrong, god of spirits?" Gel-ad asked, his tone only thinly veiling disdain for the god by his side. He resented Rygald for not reviving his son's spirit even after the King asked with many generous offerings attached. It wasn't that Rygald was unwilling, it was simply impossible. His spirit had been devoured by the Demon King, and there was no coming back. However, the king felt it was a deliberate snubbing on the part of the god of spirits and undead.
Rygald ignored the tone aimed his way, worry emanating from his pores, "This red light, it isn't natural... if the theory of the ritual was properly explained." the handsome, yet corpse-like god skeptically replied. "Something off expectations has happened." He raised his head looking for signs of the Most High or the Demon King. All he saw were the same clouds skirting the barrier and clear skies above. The only anomaly so far was the red light. "Perhaps it was Azazel's doing." Rygald mused.
"Azazel? That purported King of Fallen?" King Gel-ad spat in a huff, "Has he made his move then? Does he seek control of my Haskud Kingdom?" His paranoia and avarice evident by his line of questioning.
Rygald shook his head slowly, "He has certainly been making moves of late, but he would never covet something as petty as a kingdom like Haskud. You can rest assured." His words of comfort came across as patronizing. He really wasn't the best at communicating.
King Gel-ad silently sneered and turned his attention back to the red light. "What does he want then?"
"I don't know." Rygald answered simply, leaving Gel-ad frustrated. "I should go. I need to talk to Osk." Without another word the white-robed, green figure shot off into the skies.
"Bloody green bastard." grumbled Gel-ad as he stared at the diminishing silhouette of the one god of his city that he despised. "Sam-el!" The king called his captain of the guard, who came running into the room and stood at attention with clanking armor. "Has Urmu returned yet?"
"Not yet, My King." Sam-answered humbly, "His regiment is standing by outside, however." He briefly glanced in the direction where the palace gates lay, though they weren't visible from within these chambers.
King Gel-ad nodded, stroking his chin in thought. Eventually he commanded, "Have them move to surround the academy grounds. I want them in position should anything go awry. Urmu may meet up with them whenever he's finished with the gods." Originally, Gel-ad had little regard for this commander he'd used only to undercut Anak. However, since the advent of the Magus' Order and the descent of the gods, Urmu had become increasingly valuable. He was even rumored to be next in line for the open War Master position Edo had vacated after Anak was declared a traitor. Edo and Eva had disappeared from public view ever since, and it was rumored the king had them imprisoned. "Afterwards, command the remnants of my army to reinforced them as soon as they are able." King Gel-ad finished grandly.
"As you command, my liege." Sam-el left with a bow to carry out his orders.
After the door shut loudly in the wake of the determined captain, King Gel-ad looked once more up to the steadily escalating light building upon the academy tower. "Azazel, you who call yourself a king, do what you will. I am not a man who will bow easily." He made his declaration of royal pride to the illuminated skies.
...
High above Ischuros, a cylindrical beam of red light pierced the stratosphere, its whole comprised of many small, spiraling light beams converging into one. At this highest point of the beam, using distance as cover, flew the Demon King. He stretched out his reptilian tongue into the light, and lapped at it, licking the blood that has fused within. He licked his lips delightedly. "Mmm. Azazel, what a gift you've given. Such a nefarious ritual indeed. Did you hope the gods might even destroy themselves first?" Asmodeus chuckled to himself, "I do like this symphony of death you've thus-far conducted, my fellow fallen star, but allow me to jazz it up a little." A malicious grin stretched across his draconic snout, and his dark eyes gleamed.
Stretching forth a claw, The Demon King Asmodeus introduced a string of darkness into the red light. "For your services, Osk. As requested, the strengthening of your domain... and your binding to me." The Demon King indulged in a manic laugh for some time. "Maybe this will teach him not to link himself to a forbidden ritual with the mouths of others. God of magic? Hah!"
From within the light, the barely visible dark line stretched below, reaching down inside the tower to the grassy interior plain. Countless students within, the ones who'd survived, still chanted mindlessly. As the darkness stretched through the light that was connected to the spinning glyphs, it spread in thin, thread-like tendrils along the invisible paths to the glyphs where the unaware students sat. Seeing this, Armaros spidery bits scurried from the room to report to Azazel. Things had gone off course too much.
Deep within the red light, the spirit of Akal screamed soundlessly in agony, as his form was being twisted and stretched upwards. Beside him Shusa's spirit grit her teeth, resisting the pain of being spiritually mutilated. A cold but sweet voice entered Shusa's ears. 'The gods wanted to kill you. You were only a sacrifice.' A tear dripped from the girl's malformed eye; she already had similar thoughts, and didn't doubt this statement in the slightest.
She glanced over at the shrieking Akal. 'He didn't deserve this," she thought mournfully.
The voice in her ear spoke once more, 'You can get revenge. You can bring the gods to their knees.'
Realizing this wasn't her own mind, Shusa strained her jaw, wanting to speak, to ask, but unable to. 'How can I?' she thought to herself.
'Inscribe this verse on your heart, unfortunate one.' The voice spoke in response to her thought, making her stretched-out eyes widen further in shock, 'With it you will bind the gods to this world, in chains that painfully warp and torment.'
Shusa thought about the gods in torturous chains, and felt a thrill in her twisted soul. She listened attentively as the sweet voice directed her on the new verse.
All throughout the light, with each student that perished and now fueled the ascension process, similar conversations were occurring. Thick streaks of black now ran through the blood-stained pillar of light.
"What is this?!" Horchal bellowed from his floating position that now sat below the winding glyphs. He shot a pure red flame at the darkness, but it was repelled by the light itself, which could not be interfered with by fire that didn't at least reach yellow star level. The flame that reflected off bounced towards Horchal himself, carrying with it a tinge of darkness.
Horchal dodged his own flame easily, but he was filled with consternation. What was this darkness and what was it doing? Then, he noticed a secondary ritual chant flowing from the pillar itself; specifically, the blackened portions. It carried the same rhythm, but had a haunting melody that only intensified with the ghostly wails that were it's medium. He wasn't exactly the best of the six to be interpreting these mystical languages, but he could tell something was off.
"Shora!" He called desperately for the goddess outside. He needed someone good with words to figure out the issue.
Shora, who had entered lazily and a bit haughtily at first, rushed towards Horchal when she saw the state of the light-pillar. "What happened?" She cried out in horror. She, more than maybe even Osk, envied the post of Most High and couldn't even imagine an ending to their ritual that wasn't success.
"Listen," Horchal directed Shora's attention to the wailing melody echoing from within the darkness. "Something is wrong." Both fell silent as they strained their ears.
"Vilu, Vilu,
Mak'nam villai virvaka;
Murrku, alakai, kattitai parkal,
Itail cirrpu timaiyana."
The first verse reverberated within Shora's mind and she slapped Horchal on the crown. "Not just something, you fool! It's the vengeance of the dead! Someone has interfered." She berated the fire god, before the chorus sang the second stanza.
"Tallu, tallu,
Irulti nunpantayam;
Maj Nunvekmati Panayam,
Porrtu nampal vankum."
These words were tinged with wrath and sadistic joy. The spirits had been given a perfect understanding of their meaning, and rejoiced in the fate of the gods under this curse. Shora and Horchal shuddered as they felt an inexplicable chill. Horchal's flaming eyes seemed to dim, and Shora reflexively changed to frog form for better protection from the cold; it didn't help.
"Do you think it's that bastard, Rygald?" Horchal accused through chattering teeth.
Shora shook her toady head vigorously, partially in denial and partially to warm herself. "Th-this isn't within h-his domain," She shot down the accusation, her usually verbose self stricken by the tightness of piercing cold. "I-it would be reasonable t-to assume, with this d-dark power... it's the D-Demon King." Shora demonstrated through her reasoning why she had chosen her first domain as sanity.
Horchal flared up with a wreath of multi-colored flame, as he roared, "What the hell is that bastard doing? Didn't Osk-!" Horchal slapped his palm over his mouth as he realized who he was talking to. Shora hadn't yet heard about the deal with the Demon King. Osk had told Horchal almost immediately, because he knew, in spite of their rivalry as siblings, that the god of flame would understand.
Shora narrowed crinkled her froggy brow around her unblinking, statuesque eyes, and a wide grin spread around her floppy tongue. "You made a deal with him? For what?" Horchal briefly explained the details, and Shora nodded, her froggy throat crinkling. "Then silence the students. Let this verse take control."
"What?!" Horchal roared.
"The deal is done; we now ride the back of the Demon King." Shora rapidly explained, trying to finish her explanation concisely. She didn't have time to make a speech. "We must follow his intent now to the end. It will still raise us high, as high as the light can take us." She raised her amphibious head to look at the ever-blackening light.
Back at the source of the darkness, the Demon King, Asmodeus cackled with glee. "The spirits listen well." A crooked smile overtook his features as his brows twisted madly, "They love me. They really love me!" Asmodeus jested with a manic tone of sadistic delight.
"Nobody loves you more than you love yourself, King of Nothing." From the air below, Azazel walked upwards as if on an invisible staircase to where the Demon King flew.
"King of Fallen," Asmodeus sneered, "Come to stop me?"
Azazel smiled, "I might. What are your intentions?"
The Demon King narrowed his eyes and grinned maliciously, "Do I detect the intent to negotiate?"
Azazel merely chuckled as he replied, "I do not make deals, not anymore. I just wish to talk. Then I will make a decision."
Demon King Asmodeus put two winged arms below his furry rear, and mimed sitting, even as his four remaining arms remained held upright to fly. "Alright, King Azazel. Let's talk. Fallen to fallen." The Demon King's malevolent grin never left his draconic maw.