The Abysmal Records

Malik's Journey

The air was brisk high in the air as Malik held out the golden orb his Lord had given him.

The orb held gems of different colors lined up across the surface, each gemstone representing one of the four elements, the fifth gem signifying someone touched by the abyss. The arrow in the middle of the orb pointed toward the southeast. As he flew over the cities and roadways of the Seen, he frowned deeply.

He watched as the humans walked around in groups and had their miniature gatherings, stopping by a deli and a bodega on the way for food. He knew how to handle himself as he had been in the Seen world before, usually dragging the souls he whispers to from the abyss. Hiding his wings took a little illusion work, usually not having to hide it when he was terrorizing his Book holders.

Malik gave the power to kill anyone they wanted for a while with a book, and when the time comes, they have killed half their population, so he would go collecting the reaped souls. Sometimes Malik sent Pyne, but that's only when a specific trigger-happy individual was granted his book of death

But Malik had pulled all his books from the shelves, as they say. He had to make sure he was at full power for when His Lord's power reached its full. He was pleased to help the Lord in any way that he could, even if that meant going low on his soul count to the abyss.

His heart lay with his master; he thought as he traveled the earth searching for a powerful enough magical source. The orb flared three of the colors as he flew around the North Atlantic,  red, purple, and green, but that wasn't a strong enough power source for the orb to tell me to stop.

As Malik flew through the mountains of Europe, the orb flared a bunch of times, usually one color at a time or multiple colors shining in different directions.

Once Malik got to the icy mountain scopes of Russian, the orb started to guide the way to the energy source it was designed to find. Malik falls into view an old monastery, built of a grainy white brick and surrounded by a rusted wire fence.

Malik flies up to the door and lands, looking up as snow gently falls from the sky.

"It's going to be a bloody night," Malik says as the orb beckons him inside. So he enters the monastery the only way he knows how... claws brazen.

The first person he saw when he walked into the building, he impaled, a sick laugh ringing throughout the building. The second person saw this, and started to scream for help right before Malik dashed over to her and slashed her throat out.

The other monks all started to pour into the main chamber just as Malik walked in.

"Perfect timing," Malik says as blue flames start to fly from his wings onto the walls of the room, crafting a sword from the fire. He slashed at the first group of monks, most being cut straight in half, the other being set aflame by the internal fire.

The monks began to scream and pray as Malik savagely waded through the room with sword and claws alike.

"Where is the God?" Malik screams as he bites the head off of the nearest monk.

The Head monk stood stoically in a circle of praying monks, holding a staff made of redwood. As the monks prayed, the head monk waved the staff toward Malik, pure red energy flaring out against him.

It sends Malik flying back through the entrance. That kind of magical force could only have come from a God-level Diety, Malik thinks as he walks back in with a sear mark on his chest.

"Where did you get the staff, old man?" Malik said through a snarl. He flared his wings, spreading his flames to which still devoured the structural integrity of the monastery.

"Leave this place, foul demon," the head monk yells from over the monks praying. The staff was gathering their prayer and preparing an automated spell. Malik had seen it before, but this one was bound to be a much more powerful source.

He condenses his blue flames into a spear-like shape and throws it right through the heart of the head monk's heart with perfect precision.

From the corner, a teenage boy with brown hair wearing street clothes, a pair of jeans, and a shirt with a hockey team picture comes running out. Malik as immediately emerged in an overwhelming aura of warmth and kindness, his cold flames dying down.

"Nooooo," he screamed as he broke the prayer circle to get to the head monk.

"Grandpa, why?" the boy says as tears roll down his face.

"You must protect the other kids, my child," the head monk says as he pushes the staff in the boy's hand.

As the boy touched the staff, the sigils glow a pure white light, raw energy flowing into its magic.

The boy stood and faced Malik, slamming the staff down on the ground beside him. His eyes flaring a deep red like the staff, but there was no malice in his energy, just overwhelming amounts of his aura batting against Malik.

"Leave this place at once, you wretched demon of hell," the boy says, the blue flames destroying the building dying out.

"Sure, kid," Malik says with an evil smirk, "but first... Catch."

Malik tosses the golden orb His Lord had given him, and as the boy touched the ball, the spell activated. Slick black abysmal energy surrounded him, forming a perfect sphere entrapping the boy. The few monks around him banged and beat against the orb.

Then a gold circle surrounded the orb, blasting the monks away from the ball. It hummed with the energy of his Lord Malik nodded knowingly.

Then it disappeared, the boy along with it.

"Now, what were we up to, friends?" Malik says as he licks the blood off of his lips as the monks backed away slowly, "I can hear the whimpering of kids in the other room."