Shadow of the Abyss

As Keres Umbel approached, a dreadful abnormality hounded the air, wrenching at the young lord's torn tunic like a vicious cloud of daggers. Laceration tore at the flesh, muscles, and bones. So dreadful was the presence Altair felt. Simply breathing in the air, he felt like he'd swallowed dozens of needles.

'What is this?' he thought, the earth now a painting of red. From his pores and eyes, a vibrant red shone through his clothing.

Bitterly, bearing the force one could not defend against but rather had to resist, more and more Vale Qi began to protrude from the Prince's body. His once black hair slowly withered to an ashen configuration, nearly reminiscent of his bloodline lineage.

'Fear clouds the mind. It rots the soul, taints the will, and weakens the heart.' he thought, through gritted his teeth. So hard he clenched the gums of his mouth bled.

And suddenly, the sensation of emptiness stirred his greater purpose. It shook his bones and unraveled his mind as a memory returned to him: A memory of the Vale.

Keres sucked in a deep breath, noticed the seemingly emptiness of the boy's lifeless eyes, and readied his stance. "There are only two types of people who carry those eyes. Those that are dead and those that are within the depths of enlightenment. Which are you."

Suddenly, the entire Vale Cloak of Qi around Altair began to dwindle. The ooze of essence slid down towards his sword arm onto the Sword of the Vale.

'You are the Vale,' the distant voice of Raven exclaimed through his mind.

Keres opened his palm, and as if the void heard his Will, lightly bent and shattered, torn from the Heaven's Binds, a seething Spear Intent parted the clouds piercing through the vale of eternal night, as it appeared: A glaive glistering silver so radiant everything within a hundred meters was atomized, turned to vaper that dissipated into nothingness.

The void shook, seeking to tear, and yet, beneath his control, space began to stabilize. The domineering force the Silvery Glaive exerted slowly being focused around its edge.

In the distance, Tasha, who was controlling the forces of the elements from destroying the city, frowned.

"Keres Umbel… First Commander within the Imperium of the Astral Plane… I've heard about him. He was felled by the Night Mother when Lord Zariel rode through Myriad Heavens, seeking to kill the Night. So dreadful his strength, it was said that his control of the spear had been second to the God of Weapons, Lord Azazel. So Lord Beelzebub was the one who took his soul."

Tasha found her throat dry and her palms sweaty. She had the advantage due to her race, but she did not dare to combat Keres in a head-on confrontation if they were in the same circle.

'I need to kill him before he can—'

'Do not interfere,' came the cold Soul Whisper of Lord Beelzebub within her mind.

She turned to meet the Monarch's chilling eyes and bowed with a heart of anxiety.

'If he dies… then death is the last thing I've got to worry about… Lord Astaroth will—Hells, I'll be lucky if my mind can still exist after what he'll do to me.' she moaned, her heart pounding against her chest. She turned to Altair, unsure how such a serene expression could be portrayed on such a young boy.

"Save him!" A voice suddenly howled.

Charging forward with a heart full of dread, Ragnar, beneath the laws of time, was propelled through space and time. His body blurred, and like a shrieking beam of light, he pierced forward when the embers of ash came carving through his perception. He kicked back in a panic, nearly sensing he'd lost his head.

"Get back, kid," Zagreus cut in, his sword upon his shoulder. "You're about to see the birth of an Aspect. A dreadful one."

"Are you bloody mad! Aren't you a part of his group? He'll die! That bloody monster is a CHAOS LORD!!!!"

'I know,' Zagreus thought, unsure how long it had been since he last saw Keres. His fist clenched into a ball as he kept his presence hidden lest he distract the two. He smiled, awaiting the finale.

With his final breath of the acrid air, a dull, almost obscure sense of understanding came over the Prince's mind. He had been dancing with the idea of the Spirit Domain but never quite understood it. Yet such a path of comprehension had not been what the Prince sought but another power, one that came from the blood, from the deepest depths of his soul.

The Vale

BOOOOOOOOOM! Kicking off his feet, cratering the earth in a sea of devastation, the thrashing skies, moons, and stars hummed across the energy being exerted by Keres. His glaive carried forth an incandescent flame so profound. It carried with it authority.

"Astral Infringement!" Keres shouted, thrusting his glaive towards the Prince.

Altair was poised. His mind was absent of thought, absent of life and death. It carried but a single truth that demanded it be spoken. A truth that stirred the void.

"I am the Vale"

Time and Space cracked the focal point of sword and glaive meeting; it stretched across the world, bore through the earth's crust, cutting through the planet's core. The night vanished; the sun that had barely shed its light parted like a broken mirror.

Silence enveloped the land, quieting gods and mortals alike. Life seemed to flash through mortal minds as the coming night approached, seeking to pull them into the eternal void. They bore witness to a clash, not of power but rather understanding.

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Ragnar, who stood frozen by the unknown, staggered back to understand it wasn't his Mana that made him powerful but the knowledge his blood carried. The same was true now before the clash he was witness, too.

Neither Altair nor Keres had the power to turn the elements to shatter the void to twist space and time, yet as he stood upon some unknown world. Ragnar couldn't help but finally grasp the concept that said, 'Knowledge was power.'

In the coming flash of iridescent light spiraling in a pillar of the empyrean gods of old, silvery light danced over the horizon, swallowing all life a brilliance beyond the dawn. So radiant it became those who bore witness to the fruit of knowledge were blinded. Their eyes singed from out of their skulls.

When the light faded and space and time mended back together, Keres stood, poised above the young Prince, the right arm that once held his glaive missing, appearing as though it had been singed off. At the same time, Altair appeared no more damaged than he previously had been.

"A fine strike, boy," Keres muttered, clutching the charred remains of his stub. "What a ridiculous aspect. Finest since I've seen since Lord Zariel used his to defeat me. What a battle." he looked down at the half-unconscious boy, futtering through the unconscious. "You're like him, you know. Such a shame you are not a Snow.

I'd have aided you with my undying breath. Listen well, child. A Spirit Domain has Nine Levels. Find a way to incorporate your Aspect into your domain, and perhaps you might live to reach the peak. Let this be your reward for injuring me."

Keres turned to Ren, measured her with a particular eye, and said, "You may take him now. And my word still stands. No harm shall come to the boy or his comrades. Use that time well." he turned. And beneath Reina and Syris's incredulous eyes, they watched his body restore itself to normal in the blink of an eye.

As if he had never been injured, Keres was whole once more.

The two did not hesitate to lift Altair into their arms; they bolted away, whisking through city streets toward the palace.

Zagreus watched but did not follow but rather stepped out from the shadows and approached with a half smile.

"Did you hold back?"

The voice alone sent Keres into a state of panic as he whirled to meet the face he'd not seen since his ascension from the Lower Realms. His lips grew ajar. "Zag—"

"Shhhh," said Zag smilingly. "The Gods are listening." He glanced up towards the skies, to Beelzebub, and back down to Keres. "Let's speak at the Palace. Thaan is there."

***

Astral Prism, Astera

Upon the silver throne of his Father, a silver-haired man with eyes so gold they appeared as newly spun gold, clouded by a silver mist, sat. The young man appeared barely sixteen, yet there was an aura of supremacy about him, alongside a sense of whimsy.

"Your Grace, your lesson with Lord Hellmaster is starting in a few minutes. He's awaiting you within the atrium like always," said a masked woman clad in all white and silver. She wore the royal attire of the Astral Imperium with pride.

"Already?" The Young Master muttered, twirling strains of his silvery hair. He sighed, his golden silver eyes narrowing. "Has there been any word from Mother or Father?"

Sabine, his royal aid and personal Knight, shook her head. "No word yet. Do they still visit you in your dreams, Sire?"

He nodded, though reluctantly. "Yes. They tell me much about my little brother. And much of my cousins." he grinned. "I'd like to meet him. Uncle Lucifer has invited me for dinner tonight.

Perhaps I might try to convince him to escort me to Arcadia."

"You're much too weak," Said Sabine sharply.

"I'm stronger than you," The boy fired back.

"A mild flook." Said Sabine plaintively. "I—" her Glavie flew from out of th void into her calloused fingers poised upon the throat of the one who saw to teleport in without being ushered in by the heralds.

"A messenger?" The Young Man said. "Lower your weapon, Sabine."

"Is that before or after I cut out his tongue? Who are you to enter the court of the Imperium without an escort?" Sabine demanded.

"Enough," The young man said, his voice carrying weight. "He can be punished later. Let's hear what he has to say."

Sabine lowered her glaive a mere inch from his throat. "Speak."

The Messenger gulped."Its… It's Sir Keres Umbers Soul Lamp. It burns. Lord Jin, it burns! He's alive."

Jin stood up, his eyes like two orbs of silvery gold flames. "Are you sure?"

"Ser Tav confirmed it himself. It's true."

With a sudden laugh, Jin floated down from the Empyrean Throne. "Sabine, ready the First Fleet."

"Sire, that's—"

"My Lord,' The messenger began again. "Ser Keres is within Babels Tower that could lead too—"

"Since when does a Snow need permission to do as he pleases? The Powers of Babel's tower are of no importance to our kingdom. If they try to stop us, we'll burn them all to the ground. Simple as that."