Evander felt the pull of the void from beyond the bloody rune on the basin’s tiles. Come to me, he repeated over and over. “Come to me,” this time aloud. “Open the veil, let me pass. I am yours.” A rune formed in the bright light over Ness’ body.
His face went slack as he felt Ness’ presence from the depths of the void. It was pure ecstasy, pure unbridled pleasure. A soul free from the pain of Life, awakened by the freedom of Death. It filled him with desire, filled with want. O he felt it. Life gave way unto the void, it was there, waiting for him. He reached for it, took hold of the soul. The veil between worlds parted in a laceration of light and nothingness, all and naught. Souls of the dead rushed toward him from the Void Form rune, wailing and begging for his lifeforce. Evander opened his arms to them, feeling their empty cold pass through him as the mist clawed over Ness’ body.
Then, Solanine was in the Meadows, the void of the underworld. Evander followed. A quick learner, he.
A kiss of the softest contact pressed against the skin of his clavicle, trailing down the front of his body. Solanine. Intense pleasure tingled within him as the cold specter of lust rushed down his abdomen into his manhood, sending passionate flares soaring throughout. There was something tingling under Solanine’s skin, something that wasn’t normal. A hardness, almost like scales. Odd it was.
But just as quickly as it had started, the radiance faded and disappeared completely. His desire withered away into nothingness. Bitter resentment followed.
Out of the Meadows both he and Solanine went.
“Ignis,” Solanine said, the flameless aethecite lights within the room roared into life. Fingers lifted Ness’ head; his chest did not rise. “He’s gone. Wasn’t strong enough to hold the link.”
Evander leaned over the corpse, panting. “I was there.”
“The stronger the connection to the void, the stronger the link. Time it will take you. Soon, my child. Your transmutation is at hand.” Solanine grabbed his hand with a delicate touch that sent more ecstasy throughout his body. It was the rapture of Life and Death. “But first we dance the dance of the void. I will show you what the curse of flesh does.”
Later, while he lay upon the bed, Solanine’s head rested against the cool stone rim of the basin, arms spread, fluttering back and forth as if treading the water of a bath.
Yet it wasn’t water. It was blood. Ness’ blood.
Warmed by Ignis runes drawn in the aetheurgist’s blood upon the sunken stone, it lapped as Solanine moved in slow kicks, arms churning the syrupy cruor. Solanine’s hair was crusted with it, pale skin claret. Sitting upright, Solanine gathered a pool within cupped hands, bringing the sanguine fluid to pink lips, swallowing the crimson. Solanine then stood, red sluiced down the womanly body, leaving trails along the porcelain skin while the aetheurgist walked to the bed. His sticky seed from their dance of the void still crusted upon their belly, white against the red. His chest rose with each peaceful breath as he watched, one arm propped behind his head.
“Now?”
“YES. THE TIME IS NIGH,” his Divine said from deep within the Pit.
“Yes,” Solanine confirmed. “It is time for this boy to transmute himself. The girl will soon cross the threshold. Life and Death will become hers. Now is the time. We must be ready for when she reaches her full potential.”
“YOU’VE SERVED WELL THUS FAR, EVANDER. OPEN YOURSELF TO THE VOID AND MORE WILL BE GIFTED UPON YOU. YOU CAN BE MY GREATEST WARRIOR IF ONLY YOU SHOULD OBEY.”
He was giddy. O yes, he was.
The aetheurgist moved toward a small jewelry box sitting closed upon the vanity, the low fire cast soft silhouettes on the floor. The room began to grow cold as the witching hour approached. Solanine pulled forth a thin-bladed dagger wrapped in worn leather. Evander scooted to the end of the bed in full attention. With the tip of the knife, Solanine pressed it between breasts, drawing a pinprick of blood from one Void Form runic scar.
Kneeling, Solanine stuck a thumb against the bubble of red and began to draw a triangle upon the smooth wooden floor, chanting. “Five Gods in the world of the living. Five worshipped as the Pentax.” Next, Solanine inverted a second triangle over the first, creating a six-pointed star. “But there are six Gods. Six for the Crystals. Eminence, the Four Shards, and Noctis. Six to bring the world into balance. Six to break the scales. Never forget the sixth, Evander, for He is the most important of Them. Immortality does not come from the proliferation of Life, but upon the wave of Death.”
“Yes, master.”
The bloodied star began to pulse fumes as the blood began to boil. Solanine’s body went rigid, holding a hand out to him. “Come.” He sat across while the aetheurgist regarded him, then leaned over the bloodied star, recreating it upon his forehead. “Our master’s guile upon us. Our only god.”
He glanced into the domed room where Ness’ slack body dangled from a series of hooks, pallid and sallow due to the blood let from his corpse. “Yes. Praise be.”
A faint red-white smoke rose through the blackened mist. “The gateway has been opened. Seek it.”
The cold snapped within Evander’s body, his naked flesh prickling. Evander’s head wavered side-to-side, curls swaying. A tingle in his groin grew, the power of the void within his loins. It ached to be released, begged for freedom. Death released from the seed of Life. The pathway to the void surged forth, the veil shattered like broken glass around them. It pulled. Death of a thousand souls and more wailing, driving, pawing. His shoulders strained, the veins in his neck protruded as he soundlessly wailed at the pain suddenly wracking his body.
Within the red-white smoke glowed a crystal of obsidian that hung in an odd non-light. Sharp fractures gleaming black glass. Noctis.
“Touch it,” Solanine told him. Calm as ever. “Evander, take it. Take it within you. All this hurt, all this pain. Draw it into your soul.”
He reached for the non-light of Noctis that now wafted above the blood. The mist quirked around the obsidian Crystal of Death, fuming. It snaked, black power, across the floor, diving into the boiling blood of the star between them.
“TAKE THY SOUL BEFORE YOU. TAKE THY GRIP OF THE ETERNAL DAMNED.”
Tenderly, Evander sought the fiery black power of the void as he reached toward the glass jet. Thin tendrils of the power swam forth, circling around his body. Airy and weak, but then it turned darker, nearly ebony. Faster around him. Solanine smiled as the power of the void claimed him. Void Form aetheurgy challenging him.
Evander let out a scream, a piercing howl. His arms wide, fingers splayed as the mist borne of Noctis raged about his body, clawing at him. It ran up his torso, the haze funneling into his mouth, choking him, muffling the scream barking against the intrusion. His mind felt like it was being ripped in twain. His soul rent. Everything he could have possibly imagined paled in comparison to the onslaught of pain. Everything hurt. He could feel the edges of his sanity being torn asunder. Soon, he knew it would consume him.
If not for the voice of his Divine. “DEATH IS THE TRUE PATH TO IMMORTALITY. DEATH OF YOU AS YOU WERE. DEATH OF YOU AS YOU ARE. DEATH OF YOU WHO MIGHT BE. A NEW YOU WILL BE REBORN. QUELL THE FIRE. OWN THE FIRE. THE FIRE IS FOR YOU AND YOU ALONE.”
AHHHHHHHH!
“TAKE IT, MY DISICPLE. TAKE IT AND BECOME MY WARRIOR.”
YESSSSSSSSSS!
There was a loud crack, the sound of bones exploding, breaking and reforming. Popping, bulging under flesh. Tormenting and burning.
This was Noctis at work on those alive.
Evander’s body convulsed as he fell onto his back, an empty wail fighting through. The muscles in his chest deflated, then doubled in size. His arms, already well-defined, shook but grew in diameter, flesh expanding. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow as he cried, the curls of his hair fell from his scalp. His eyes bled with the onyx luster. His body contorted once, and then he went limp, crumpling headfirst into the aetheurgist’s lap, panting as the mist-power went absent, back into the void.
Raising the bloody dagger, Solanine carved a Void Form rune into his breastbone. The mist reappeared now, funneling into the carved rune like a pitcher of red-black wine being poured into a goblet. Evander, barely conscious, screamed as the flesh puckered and blistered before the mist burned it raw. “He is yours, master. May your guile guide him. Your blood is now His blood. And blood rules all.”
Evander pushed himself to his feet, his legs wobbly. Hands to his head, once covered with a mat of silky curls was now bald and slick with sweat. Muscles rippled in valleys of taut skin across his body, new and stronger. He stood a foot taller, if not more. His eyes found hers, foreign to him, his own were. Touching them, they felt like fire, his eyes. Black, no doubt, from sclera to pupil. He no longer was the waif of a street dreg, but instead a man shaped, bent, molded into a warrior of his Divine.
