Blood Father: Volume 1; The Dark Chalice

Chapter Z: Upper Nether

In the darkest reaches of existence, the Nether lies as a realm forsaken by all light, a place where the very essence of despair seeps into the soul like poison. The air is thick with the scent of decay, and the shadows are not mere absences of light but living entities that twist and coil like serpents, eager to devour the unwary. Here, despair drips from the jagged walls like blood, thick and clotted, leaving a foul stench that clings to the skin. This is a domain ruled by the elder gods, beings twisted in their cruelty, who wield unyielding power to torment the lesser creatures that dare to exist within their reach.

Among these wretched souls was Sariel Drakus, a demon elf from a lineage long forgotten. His people, his family- all had been enslaved by the Necro god, who reveled in his sadistic pleasure. The god had twisted Sariel's soul, transforming him into a wretched undead being, a mere puppet in the god's ever-expanding collection of tormented souls.

Sariel found himself trapped in the pits of Necrowa, a place where darkness reigned supreme, and the very ground seemed to pulse with malevolence. The air was heavy with the cries of the damned, their screams a constant, maddening symphony that gnawed at the edges of sanity. Shadows moved with purpose here, whispering secrets of torment and feeding on the despair that hung in the air like a suffocating fog. Sariel's family, their once-vibrant souls now twisted by agony, shared his prison, their forms barely recognizable in the dim light cast by ghost lanterns-faint, flickering orbs that hovered in the black fog like dying stars.

Despite the torment that clawed at his soul, Sariel's spirit refused to be broken. Visions of freeing his family from their eternal suffering haunted his every waking moment, driving him to seek a power that could rival even the elder gods. Once noble, his purpose had been reduced to ashes by the relentless cruelty of the necromancer god. The ruins of his village, once his only source of peace and laughter, now lay obliterated in a single, malevolent act. He knew that his only chance lay in the Season of Showl, a time when the realm was cast into near-total darkness, its shadows so deep that no creature, not even the gods, could peer through them.

As Showl began to rise, Sariel prepared, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. The warden of Necrowa, a being of unimaginable horror, had never allowed him to escape before, and the memory of his previous failed attempts gnawed at his resolve. The aerial creatures that patrolled the skies, their eyes connected to the warden's, were relentless, and the last time he had tried to slip away, they had spotted him, dragging him back to the deepest pit where the foulest, most bloodthirsty creatures resided.

But now, as the ghost lanterns flickered and the jet-black fog thickened, leaving only pockets of faint light, Sariel knew this was his final chance. He moved through the darkness with a predator's grace, his every sense heightened by desperation. The creatures of the pit stirred, their unholy eyes glinting in the shadows as they caught his scent. The air was filled with their low growls, the sound vibrating through the ground like an impending earthquake.

As he approached the final gate, the terror that had lurked in the back of his mind surged forward, threatening to consume him. The gate loomed before him, a massive structure of twisted metal and bone, slick with the blood of countless failed escapees. The sight of it made his stomach churn, but he pushed forward, driven by the thought of his family's salvation.

But then, from the shadows, they emerged-the warden's aerial minions, their shrieks piercing the heavy silence like blades. Their eyes glowed with the warden's malevolent intelligence, and as they descended upon him, Sariel knew he had been discovered. Despair, cold and all-encompassing, flooded his veins as the creatures circled him, driving him back toward the edge of the abyss.

With a cruel efficiency, the minions seized him, their talons digging into his flesh as they lifted him into the air. He struggled, but his strength was no match for their combined power. They carried him high above the cursed landscape, past the pit he had narrowly escaped, to a place even darker, even more forsaken-the Forgotten Pit.