Athenos awoke. But there was no pain. He tried to move his left arm. Nothing. He looked down; his arm was gone. This was not surprising. The place he had sojourned, and the pain, was far too vividly recalled.
But this place could hardly be.
There were great monoliths floating in the sky. It seemed a chaotic orchestra, how they drifted in so different of directions, but not once colliding. And no sun to be found, just an ubiquitous radiance, but not the heavens: in place of the sky laid a great white expanse, much like the mortal realm's night sky, inverted in color.
Now standing, he could feel a wind brush through his hair, as if he was gently flying. And there was a certain warm sensation in the air, like an ethereal magic. He had seen many strange places, but he did not remember a place such as this.
Before him was a great pedestal, made of white marble and obsidian accent. Gold inlay circled the edge, crafted exquisitely into runes he had never seen before. Perhaps a language even more ancient than the gods. However, its magnificence was scarred by a great fissure through the middle, splitting it in two. And the center cradled an aperture, crafted as if struck by a mighty force, just large enough for him to slide through.
He felt something. A presence, perhaps, emanating from the opening. He peered into it. The light inside was far dimmer, but it was still visible enough to see. He slid into the opening. There was a descending stone staircase, makeshift in appearance. With curiosity tempting him, he continued.
As he descended, the air thickened and the presence became more potent; even sinister. It was a kind of raw power that was becoming palpable in sheer intensity.
A few hundred steps, or perhaps more, he had not been counting. The bottom. The stone was still plain, but suspiciously smooth, and there were crimson sparks appearing and vanishing around him: manifestations of the surrounding energy. He could feel their heat, but was undeterred. A small door, made of solid silver, was before him. There was no handle or lock. He placed his hand on it. The metal gave way, as a liquid, to his form.
He walked through the door. Before him, the source of the power. Behind impressive metal bars was the demon, in its true form.
It glared at him, the air around him becoming even hotter than it had already been.
"So this is what they have done to you," Athenos mused, "and this place..."
"It is no realm of the gods,
Athenos" the demon's voice boomed, venomously emphasizing his name.
"And it is no realm of the mortals," Athenos continued, unaffected by the demon's attempt to intimidate, "It is a realm of spirit."
"Why not set me free, perhaps we could make a deal?" the demon offered with a tone of satisfaction, eying his missing arm.
"I will not be persuaded through bribe," Athenos stated defiantly, stepping closer, "you know what comes next, dark prince." He took another step forward, growing in confidence.
The demon stared.
Athenos reached for his knife, grabbed it by the blade, and squeezed. Warm blood trickled from his hand.
"That ritual is forbidden among the gods," the demon chuckled.
Athenos reached through the bars. His hand slipped into the demon's chest.
"I am no god."
Post has been edited 2 time(s), last time on Jun 1 2012, 3:06 am by Sacrieur.
None.