Black Magus

Etan Za'Darmondiel.

25th of Trescia, 1492.

Rhar Kingdoms, Rharian Mountains. Altitude: 2,605 m.

06:30.

***

Snowboarding. Skiing. Two more incredulous things from Amun's world of psychopathic magicless Gods; because only they would strap a waxed board to a pair of boots and then place their already booted feet inside them to slide down a snowy mountain at great speed. Only they would then make things more dangerous and difficult by sliding on fallen trees or screaming while performing flips after the ground disappeared beneath them.

Only they would think of such things, for why would anyone in these realms do so with magic as our aid? Why, when an accomplished wizard established teleportation circles long ago? Why, when mounted beasts could fly or maneuver across the ground with ease? Why. Indeed, that was my question.

The answer I received? "For fun."

Indeed, however, it was. The skill and technique involved was more than met the eye. It was as much a mental task as it was a physical one. One had to continuously look ahead to seek the best route while maintaining the proper stance and balance. Hazards had to be accounted for; everything from low-hanging branches to loose snow. And like all things Amun brought into this world, magic only made things more interesting. Magic made us go faster and launch ourselves higher, and when the snow turned to grass, magic made our boards produce snow for themselves.

Within an hour and a half, we traveled some 45 kilometers to the west and descended from the temple near the peak of the Rharian mountains to the sprawling forests at its base. And yet, that had been the least interesting aspect of the morning thus far. The woven world, Mani, in its domain high above even the White Wall, was poised directly above Crater Lake like the eye of a leviathan studying the lives of the mortals below. Throughout our journey, the worlds raised by the Legions maneuvered themselves into a line above the first world so as to pour their collective light down on the peninsula and its inhabitants. Save for one place.

{"Alright."} Amun's voice echoed in my mind and I saw little illusions of the other's faces denoting their connection to our communications. {"We're going to meet someone soon. Make sure you're on your best behavior. She's… volatile. But she won't hurt you."}

I exchanged incredulous looks with everyone else as we approached a forest of darkness. Not conjured by some spell, I learned shortly after landing, but by crackling bones in a black brazier acting as fuel for an azure flame that poured the smoky darkness around a hidden cove—a darkness I could see through, only because of my blessings.

Many creatures called that darkness home, I learned as we wandered. Draconic creatures of shadow and felines, rodents, or owls of twilight. And things of different natures entirely. Colossal, faceless beasts with fiendish horns. Amorphous blobs with uncountable eyes for skin. Countless humans, tainted by death and darkness. Dozens of vampires, and their Vampyr Lord.

"Iris. Etan..." the well-mannered undead approached, greeting us by name before offering an elegant bow. "I welcome you to the Willowden."

An ear-splitting crash rippled through the darkness before my eyes could take a proper look around. Me and everyone present turned to the source. Albeit for different reasons; the denizens to cower and flee; Elijah to flair and bow; Amun to groan and roll his eyes; and the rest of us to stare in awe at a beautiful but unsettling woman striding out of the gloom. Unsettling, firstly due to her sheer mass. She stood no less than two meters tall. Her body was compact with toned muscle that bulged and writhed in ways that belied the grace of her stride. I assumed her to be the stereotypical Amazonian, well endowed in both body like a human and in the face like an elf. It was such a stark contrast that I was stunned to see something so soft and elegant be so domineering and strong.

And malicious.

She was hauntingly pale, and her bulbous, almost doll-like eyes held irises so dark they were indistinguishable from her pupils. Her nails were long, black, and sharp and her feet were bare, walking with no mind to anything other than Amun as she slowly closed the distance, her long curly black hair leaving smoky trails lingering over a silken gown of black and gold.

Amun maintained a dumb smile, even as her arm snapped to grasp his collar, pulling his face centimeters away from her wrathful orbs. Then she screamed.

"YOU DARE MAKE ME A COLLAR?!"

Her scream held enough ferocity to make the Mortal Plane itself cower. The shadows around us rippled and quaked, yet Amun met her wrath with that same dumb smile and an amiable tone. "It's a choker. Not a collar."

"A choker." She growled. "And yet, you placed your mark on it, as if I am your pet."

"I would never!" Amun scoffed in a way that made me believe he was truly disrespected. In truth, I would have believed it were it not for his next words. "That's merely a sign that wordlessly announces your greatness to any foolish mortal who dares to oppose you. And." He paused, gesturing up and down her frame. "It allows you to look as regal as you do now."

"Change it." She clenched his collar tighter and pulled him closer, then seethed. "Right. Now."

Amun causally reached into his coat sleeve, presenting an onyx hairpin with a black star sapphire cradled in gold.

Smiling cruelly, the beastly woman took the hairpin in one hand. And with a casual thrust of the other, Amun was sent rocketing towards the walls of the cove. Rather than slam into it, however, a simple flip saw him land on the wall with the utmost grace, wherein he proceeded to walk calmly to the ground, uncaring of the cold hiss that crept into the air.

"And what are you?"

I turned and that vile cold sank into my heart, freezing me to stare into a pair of eyes like mine- golden irises around pupils so dark they were like the night itself. Only hers were more cruel than any Matron's could be. And yet, like a Matron, her skin was dark gray with hints of blue violet, and her hair was now white like spider silk. But her hair... Her hair was pulled around a gilded tree-shaped headdress and held in place by that hairpin; giving the impression of an ancient and leafless tree covered in moss. A style told of in legends. The style of the Nox.

Looking at only that and subduing the parts of her I hated, I took heed to Amun's words and offered a respectful bow. "Etan Za'Darmondiel."

A cold finger hooked under my chin the moment my lips went still. Gently, but with immense power, my head was lifted to meet her eye to eye. "The eldest Drow house in all the realms." She smirked, releasing her finger. "The Ones with Spider Blood. Blood that lies dormant. Just like their Queen Demon Spider."

"Y- yes." I nodded, not knowing what else to do as she passed her eyes over the others, who were just as awe-struck as I was. Except, of course, one.

"You look scary. But you seem nice."

"I am scary, little one. And I am nice." She knelt to the inhuman girl with a cruel smile. "Only to those who stand beneath your father's wing, however. I am especially nice to you, Iris. The child that has taken the name of Cole. We are mirrors, you and I. Or, we will be in time."

A snicker rippled through the dark as she rose to her full height and turned to Amun. "Your bite is now strong enough to draw blood. But a Tiny Devil, you are still." Her eyes flicked up and down his frame as he stopped beside her. And with another snicker, she pulled the choker off with a quick tug and tossed it aside carelessly. "Perhaps the time I grace you with my presence is soon upon us."

"I'll be getting a little bigger soon, but I agree; especially with that form," Amun smirked and gestured for the Troupe to follow him and the massive woman to a large pit.

Given our journey thus far, there was no hesitation from any of us. We simply walked off the edge, expecting to descend into some type of madness. But instead, we stepped onto what seemed to be a plate of solid darkness until Amun produced a flash of twilight.

Pulled from its slumber by that golden light was a floral chamber of black wood with gilded grains that reminded me of the interior of a hollow tree. One with a door that promptly swung shut and many windows that gave us one final glimpse of the cove before we fell.

"I've always been curious." A graceful voice rippled behind me and I turned to see Elijah, leaning uncomfortably close to my ear. "How far do the most infamous denizens of the Darkworld delve into this domain?"

I should have known that to be the spark of madness. But alas, I answered with the mind of an archivist. "There are depths that even we do not dare go. As such, the tales vary as to how deep it truly is."

Elijah, the beast disguised as a drow, and Amun alike huffed, snickered, and snorted at my reply. But again, I thought nothing of it. Not out of some particular state of mind but by the movement of our chamber and the activation of the VoidNet projecting a map around my body with a golden dot depicting our location. Upon catching my bearings, I thought our rate of descent to be the madness itself. We sank through the Underground and arrived in the Darkworld within minutes. Then continued to descend deeper than any drow had ever been. I watched in amazement as the little dots that represented our position fell deeper and deeper into the Mortal Plane, bringing us to a most amazing place. The True Darkworld. A realm as large as the Peninsula above. A world of mycelium fields and mushroom forests; mountains of adamantine and mithral; 'soil' of tarnished copper and rusted iron; deserts of dust; rivers and seas of oils or slime; all illuminated by an astral sea of stars spread across the ceiling.

It was that Twilight that gave new life to the realm. Forests of vibrantly colored flowers and trees stretched infinitely into the land, providing homes for a multitude of creatures in a constant state of predation and competition. The stars littering the ceiling were regularly occluded by the hollowed rocks drifting lazily above. Estates and manors and ritual halls adorned with gilded buttresses, terraces, and wide bridges or walkways that formed gaping avenues within the clusters of hulking structures. Cable cars and snaking carriages mounted to rails carried hundreds of humans, goblins, orcs, and other creatures between the clusters at various elevations while suspended rails brought passengers across the districts and as far down to the surface, where a magnificent cathedral sat at the center of the forest. A place I thought to be our destination. But still, we descended.

Past a county-sized lair of draconic creatures of shadow and ritual halls galore, we descended to arrive at a chamber 1.41 million kilometers beneath the borders of the Darkworld I was familiar with.

In the Deep Dark, we were. As far as one could go and as close as one could get to the Underworld, we were pointedly told. Even then, however, It was akin to the Darkworld above. Stars littered the ceiling. Abodes floated freely above the Duskwoods. Cable cars and railways transported people where they needed to be. And yet, it was unlike anything that existed above; for here, a divine tree of twilight grew from the center of a relatively small chamber. And not one, but three cathedrals were built into the far wall.

Amun and the large woman were praised with zeal as they paraded the streets. So too were we, but not with such fervor. Still, it was a strange sensation. To be revered by so many strangers. And for nothing other than being cast out of my home. For nothing other than following Amun to those cathedrals, where he stopped beneath a massive statue of an owl perched atop a floating sphere of black opal.

The woman, on the other hand, walked past it to step onto a wide dais of gold and onyx and lay down on a comparatively tiny bench at the front rim. Soon after, two more women walked from the adjacent structures of gothic design to stand next to the statue and wait for several more to arrange themselves accordingly.

With a screech from an owl perched atop Amun's shoulder, a crimson-eyed woman in a winged suit of gilded armor began. "Humbled by the presence of our God and his chosen, we of the Black Plume become whole with darkness on this blessed dawn. At its head, the Remex, Syele." She gestured to the robed woman who came out with her. "Supporting her, the Retrices: Perry and Rita. Supporting them, the Tectrices of the Body, Daniella, and Newton."

With her words spent, the Vampyr Lady, Opal sank her fangs into Syele with one swift motion. Gasps of ecstasy rang from the apparent victim's lips until her body was left slumped at the brink of death and the vampire withdrew, allowing a robed skeleton to catch the falling victim and carry her to rest in an elaborate coffin filled with the dirt on which she just stood.

She remained in that blissful state as the undead placed a chalice at the head of her coffin and filled it halfway with the silvery blood of a unicorn. Her eyes fluttered as Opal procured a small blade from seemingly nowhere and made an incision on her neck to withdraw an impossibly large sphere of blood. She began shuddering into stillness as Opal began praying and pouring her blood into the chalice, then sent the rest to flow into the coffin.

She did not thrash. She did not choke. With a few unceremonious bubbles, she passed. Moments later, the stilled blood began to ripple and drain. Slowly at first, then in larger and larger gulps that progressed into an open drain straight down her gullet. within a few seconds, her silhouette breached the surface and the horrendous suction of her lips morphed into a whistle that tapered into a droning silence. Then the blood began to glow rust-red, then brighter to that of blood, and then moved to that of crimson before shifting, rippling, and drying into a pile of steaming black powder. As it dissipated or cascaded into her, it was hard to tell, Elijah explained the process granted her the same station as his and simultaneously prevented her from rising into a feral beast obsessed with hunger.

She arose moments later, appearing hardly any different, other than the crimson eyes squinting in pure joy as she rose her chalice to the crescendo of ominous humming and screamed her pledge to uphold her position to the best of her abilities before she upturned the chalice into her mouth.

The hums rang louder when Syele repeated the ritual with those named Perry and Rita. And louder ever more when they rose to sink their fangs into so-called Tetrices of the Body, Daniella, and Newton. But they were only a fraction of those present. The newborn Vampyr stood and watched an orc named Grotto and a human named Mika, Tectrices of the Talon, plead- beg for Amun to make them more so they could gather wicked souls in the name of the Owl through ritual sacrifice.

He obliged in that strange nightmarish tongue of his. I know not what he said, but wicked darkness poured from him and entered their bodies all the same. Killing them and disappearing them to be summoned as horned, tailed, and winged figures dressed in umbral clothes.

Devils.

Chanting, a human and a goblin then entered a temporal domain to lay atop the altar, below a familiar bell. Like those who came before, Limy and Grooshk gave praise to the Owl, declaring they'd use this gift of undeath to perform unceasing rituals for his glory. Then they stripped nude to sing and chant while they were cut hundreds of times most articulately. Elaborate marks that archaically matched their holy symbol of an owl looming above a radiant sphere of darkness were carved into their chests and backs. On their arms and hands were markings that resembled feathers. On their legs and feet, markings that resembled talons. Their necks were wrapped in metal bands that constricted and elongated them. Their heads were put into presses, crushing them into heart shapes like that of an owl. They took the punishment stoically. Not moving, crying, or dying until the last mark was carved and they received their blessing- their permission from their God to die; and report.

When they returned as undying shadows, the crowd erupted in ceremonious cheer, then fell silent as a sphere of darkness appeared from atop that cruel woman's dais. From it, emerged a pair of beings who were just behind me. Elijah and his companions.

Again, we watched the same ritual as before unfold. Minus the coffin and the drowning, as the ones named Art and Kele were already spawns who became more by melding with darkness to gain ties to the Shadow Realm. Post-ritual, their pale, tattooed skin returned to the yellowish luster they had in life while their hair transitioned to a deep black with gilded highlights. Reborn, they declared themselves as a denomination of the Black Plume, serving the Exalted Gloom in the name of the Owl. Kele, the short-haired deep gnome with the large hammer, declared herself the Exalted Gloom's Inquisitor, and the male, Art, declared himself the Gloom Stalker, purposed with finding new lairs for her woman. Then all but demanded Amun bless them.

To no surprise, Amun obliged. Nay, the surprise came from her pouring some strange arcane power into them as well. And yet, there was no apparent change other than the subtle aura of twilight surrounding them. Rather, the burst came from Amun. A flash of lights, blue, silver, gold, and green filled the cavern the moment Amun retracted his hand, seemingly for no reason at all and with no input from him. Regardless, it flowed into almost everything. Me, Iris, Blude and the others. The beast disguised as a drow, the two Vampryic Legionaries, the esteemed priestess, the beasts around us, and much more that I could feel beyond.

When I turned to face Amun's equally shocked expression, I swore I saw, felt- knew there was something different about him; only to have my thoughts interrupted by a deep rumbling converging on our position. Rallied, it seemed, by a distant scream growing by the second.