The Onyx Prince

Prologue

Far from the Sun on the forsaken white comet Epson, a malevolent darkness radiated like a beacon into the void of space.

Shrike floated through the void, witnessing the evil presence from a distance. Any demon would feel drawn to the scene, not because they were necessarily evil, but because they were necessarily curious.

The comet had reached its aphelion, the furthest point from the sun. At any other point along Epson's orbit, someone, or something, may have noticed sooner. Alas, the gods were dead. Who was left to observe the horrors on Epson?

Shrike was.

Succumbing to its own overwhelming curiosity, Shrike drifted closer. With no atmosphere of its own, reaching Epson's surface was no challenge. Soon, Shrike's feet touched the rock of Epson. Then, it began to walk.

It was cold on Epson. It was as cold as the furthest planets of the outer ring. Any moisture that clung to the rocky surface did so as ice. Shrike walked onwards through the barren scape, feeling itself drawn to the center. Something unholy was happening there.

"Go no further."

Shrike stopped when the shedim spoke to him. It was a corrupted spirit of evil, a servant of a disgraced god, and a remnant of a secret history. The history of the war that nearly claimed all of creation.

The shedim drifted forward.

"Why have you come here, Demon of Acheron?" it rasped.

"I go where I want," Shrike replied. Its face was twisted between bird and man, its black feathers patchy and incomplete, oily and grotesque. Even the terrifying face of the shedim was nothing compared to the demon's face.

"Leave," it groaned. "You have no home here. Leave..."

Shrike grinned.

"You've been dead so long, perhaps you have forgotten what pain feels like?"

The demon outstretched its hand and drew the shedim forward into its grasp. The spirit's ghastly face convulsed as it began to howl.

"Where is he?" Shrike asked calmly. "What is he doing here?"

"He... ah... will... destroy... you."

"Where is he?" Shrike repeated. Its grip around the spirit's throat tightened.

"You know... where... he is... go... find him."

Shrike spat in the spirit's face, but it was pointless.

"What is he doing here?"

"You... already... know."

Shrike's fist clenched around the spirit's throat until it ruptured. Shrike watched calmly as the shedim passed on to whatever afterlife it was owed. If the universe was fair, it was an afterlife of eternal torment.

Shrike only wished that it itself could be its personal tormentor.

What Shrike had already witnessed was disturbing; however, it craved to know the truth. The whole truth. If it had been right about everything so far, what had it not even conceived of? What was the true horror hidden on Epson?

This was a dangerous game to play. Shrike looked out across the desolate surface of the comet, a thin smile growing across its own horrible face.

Why the White Comet? Why not another of the six? Did it even matter? It seemed that he chose Epson purposefully, to make a mockery of its purity. It was... delightfully disgusting.

Shrike shivered in anticipation. Turning its disfigured head one way and then the other, it was satisfied and kept walking. During the journey, it encountered more shedim, which it strangled each in more horrible ways than the last. It may have been days, perhaps hours, but eventually, it saw a spire on the horizon.