The Darkest Light: The Dark of Hell

Drveth- the Realm of Chaos. It is here that the ones we would call Demons reside, waiting for an opportunity to rise up and claim the world for chaos- and it has arrived in the form of a young boy.

                Sǽveth strode briskly through the dimly lit, winding halls of Drveth, the hard heels of his knee-high boots clicking on the smooth obsidian stones beneath him. His long dark coat, made of some sort of black leather, seemed to whip about his legs as if it had a life of its own, and his white hair, which was black at the tips, jutted out in every direction. A look of mingled excitement and determination tinged his pale features, his red eyes full of glee. His large, bat-like wings were folded behind him, and his hands, which bore a multitude of garish rings, were clasped tightly behind his back. This was it. By all of Drveth, by the entire F’när, this was it.

                A second figure materialized in a sudden rush of shadows behind the first, and he walked alongside him, keeping pace. A thin smile danced upon Sǽveth’s lips. “So have the stories truly spread this quickly, Ira?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

                The one called Ira nodded sharply. “Such news has always has a speed about it within this realm,” he said, his voice sharp and dangerous. He was dressed much less extravagantly than his companion- a simple black leather shirt, pants belted at the waist, heavy boots. He wore a scowl on his face and an evil-looking curved blade of blood-red steel against his hip. “Colthäs is no doubt keeping the whole thing as quiet as he can.” The passageway through which the two made their way rose up and down like a roller-coaster, fluctuating in width and curving around in loops and twirls like some made, stone funhouse. They passed many stone archways, each one branching off into another zigzagging, crooked path that dissolved into unfathomable darkness. Candles were set at random intervals along the walls, burning with alien purple flames.

                “No doubt,” agreed Sǽveth. “The adversaries are both quick-witted and well versed in strategy. We will have to make our moves boldly and intelligently in order to gain the upper hand and ensure our long sought victory. This boy, Niri, is the spark we need to light the fire.” They spoke in a harsh, grating guttural language incomprehensible by anyone on the realm of Vëla-n, called Earth by its inhabitants. “And as you well know, the flame of chaos is a bright fire indeed.” Smirking, he unlaced his hands, and, by rubbing together two of his fingers, produced a glaring orange flame, which flicked across the gaudy opals and emeralds and rubies which decorated his fingers as it danced through them before petering out.

                Ira ignored Sǽveth’s little display, instead continuing on as if nothing had happened to interrupt their conversation. “What is so important about the child? He is a resident of Vëla-n- a human if you prefer. What makes him any different from the billions of others?”

“Never before have we come across a soul such as his,” Sǽveth said, and an odd sort of hunger entered his smooth voice. “He is the crux from which we will build our resistance- and then, finally, after all this time- it will be over. Absolute chaos will reign.”

They walked in a shroud of silence down the seemingly infinite corridor, deeper and deeper into the bowels of Drveth, until Ira spoke once again, his voice underlined with a thin layer of danger that had previously been lacking.

                “Rumors amongst certain circles seem to suggest that your position may be in… jeopardy, my friend,” Ira warned, his voice low.

                “Invidia has always yearned for my position, hence his name and station within the F’när. I have managed to stay alive this long,” he said, turning along with the seemingly endless hallway. “I have grown quite adept at watching my back these last few millennia. I see no danger in that fool- nor anyone else, for that matter.”

                “Is that so, my lord?” Ira asked, and Sǽveth saw the crimson glint out of the corner of his eye just in time. He stopped dead in his tracks, whipped deftly around, and caught Ira’s wrist as it descended towards him, clutching the hook-shaped sword tightly in its strong fingers. Ira’s eyes widened in shock and fear, his hard features shattering as Sǽveth’s cool eyes met his frantic own. Gasping, the blade dropped the stones below, clattering as it hit the floor. The smile had disappeared from Sǽveth’s lips, replaced by s look of mild disappointment. “Case in point,” he said. “What a shame, Ira. What meaning do you have? Envy does not become you. It truly is a shame to have to lose the best military commander I’ve had in centuries.”

                Deep red eyes darting from side to side, arm shaking in Sǽveth’s iron grip as he ground the bone tightly, he sputtered, grimacing in immense pain. “The war- weak- don’t need the boy- strong enough now- thought- no need to wait.” He sputtered out each labored word in an agony-filled gasp, trying in vain to break Sǽveth’s clutch.

                “You damn dumbass,” Sǽveth said, shaking his head and laughing. With a quick flick of his hand,, Ira’s wrist snapped, and the sharp, dry snap, like breaking twigs, echoed in the hall. “With you as our leader, we’d be screwed. Your wrath had blinded you. There is no use for such idiocy in Drveth. These are delicate times- your rashness will cost you dearly, my friend.”

                His eyes burned and narrowed narrowed, and he squeezed Ira’s broken wrist even harder, glaring at him with a mixture of anger, amusement, and severity. “You screwed it up. See ya.”

                “No…” Ira gasped, and his skin began to take on a barely noticeable slackness as his eyes protruded from their sockets, and a black ichor that was apparently the creature’s blood began to ooze out from beneath them. “No… please… no…” he begged.

                “Goodbye,” Sǽveth remarked casually, smiling once again, and Ira literally imploded, his skin splitting in an instant as slick, oily blood burst forth through it like a popping water balloon, his skeleton shattering and his skull cracking into dozens of pieces as it flew across the hall. Sǽveth was left holding only Ira’s remaining hand, lying limp and bleeding in his fist like an old glove. He dropped it casually to the ground before leaning down and picking up Ira’s blade.

                He stood, admiring the craftsmanship of the weapon, running it along his palm and watching as a thin black line was drawn across it as he began to bleed. Nodding, his slid the sword through the loop in his own belt before continuing along the path.

                The news of Ira’s demise would spread quickly, he was sure- and then the masses would squabble amongst themselves until a successor arose to assume Ira’s mantle and take his place among the F’när.

                Finally, after what seemed like miles of endless stone hallway, the passage came to an abrupt stop, and Sǽveth was greeted with a pair of high double doors made of a dark stone, intricate carvings flowing across the surface. A dead body lay before the entrance, black blood in the white hair, eyes empty. No doubt the result of a fight to gain entrance after stories of the boy had spread.

                Approaching the door, Sǽveth ran his palm along it, whispering arcane words. He stepped back quickly as the doors began to open, letting bright light shine into the room. A smile on his face once again, he stepped through the portal and found himself in a small hospital room.

                Neither the woman cradling the child in the bed across from him nor the fat-yet-kindly-looking nurse seemed to notice the sudden appearance of the dark figure, though the child in her arms seemed to turn and look at him with questioning blue eyes. He was truly beautiful- those eyes were sapphires, the hair fine spun gold. Sunlight filtered in through a large window, casting its warm glow across the scene, the mother and her boy.

                “So,” Sǽveth said quietly to himself, nodding in approval at the boy. “You are the one. The one who’s name is Niri. The one whose name means war.”

                He had seen enough. He turned, casting one final glance at the child before disappearing back through the doors and into his own realm- but as they closed behind him, he was sure of one thing- he and the boy would meet again, and in person. Someday. In time. In time.

Author's Note

This story is a sort of companion piece to my story Heaven's Light- they are both set in the world of the video game my friend Reid and I are currently designing, and the world and character of Niri were conceived by him. Just giving credit where credit's due.

Reviews

[Pauline Ramsey]

You're quickly becoming one of my favorite writers to keep up with. I love the depth of your imagination and the language you are so adapt with. I wish that you had more of these stories so that I may continue reading them!

[Larry Dyson]

wonderful story ..I had to laugh at your humor again in the one named "IRA"...all those mouth and tongue twisting names and then the one called IRA...too sly