Embersteel: Legend of the Warrior BlackSmith

Chapter 34: Dark Ritual- High Priest Varilith

At the base of the Celestial Shadow Church, Phantom Valley stretched like a gaping maw into the unknown, shrouded in a thick white fog so dense it devoured sight and sound. Even one's outstretched hand vanished into the oppressive mist. Eerie wails threaded the air, muffled yet persistent, their haunting tones clinging to the skin like dampness, setting nerves on edge. The valley was perpetually dark, its gloom punctuated by the unpredictable flash of lightning and the rumble of distant thunder, as if the heavens themselves recoiled from the profane rituals carried out below.

But today, something far more sinister churned beneath the valley's murky surface. A palpable dread gripped the hearts of the cultivators within, even those who claimed allegiance to the shadows. The Celestial Shadow Church, known for its thousands of zealous followers, had long held dominion over those who practiced the dark arts. Though these shadow practitioners were not formally tied to the church, their alignment with the forbidden made them unofficial extensions of its reach.

The church itself was a bastion of control, its rigid hierarchy fortified by an unyielding demand for loyalty. Faith was its lifeblood, a force so potent it was said to sustain the church's power, even in the face of time's decay. Faith, after all, was one of the ten great concepts that governed the world, alongside titanic forces like space and time.

At the church's core were its leaders, four tiers of authority that embodied the essence of darkness. The lowest of these exalted ranks was the High Priest Varelith, an overseer of initiates and acolytes. Despite standing at the base of this sinister pyramid, Varelith wielded immense influence, charged with the sacred duty of recruiting and indoctrinating new members. They were both shepherd and enforcer, instilling unwavering devotion through fear, persuasion, and rituals that bound minds and souls alike to the church. It was whispered that Varelith's power of persuasion bordered on absolute, fueled by a cultivation base honed for manipulation.

And now, within the heart of Phantom Valley, a forbidden ceremony was reaching its climax.

Elder Xu and Elder Bia stood over a glass altar, their forms barely visible through the thickening fog. Their hands moved in frantic patterns, weaving intricate signs, while their lips spilled incomprehensible murmurs. On the altar lay a wooden infant, unnaturally still, its carved features lifeless. Encircling it was a complex diagram etched into the glass—a series of concentric circles, blood-red runic lines glowing faintly at their edges. Smaller circles branched outward, each filled with freshly drawn blood.

The murmurs rose into a chant, the words becoming sharp and guttural, each syllable vibrating with unnatural force. The runes flared to life, casting a macabre red glow that illuminated the ritual chamber. The very air seemed to tremble, and then, with a sharp crack, space itself began to splinter. A jagged fissure appeared above the altar, blacker than the deepest void, its edges crackling with raw, unstable energy.

The two elders shuddered, their faces pale as parchment, sweat dripping down their temples. Their breaths came in short gasps, yet they pressed on, their voices growing louder as the wooden infant suddenly opened its mouth. Blood from the surrounding circles surged toward it, pulled by an unseen force. The runes dimmed as the blood was devoured, forming pulsating lines across the infant's wooden form like living veins.

From the crack in space came a chilling sight: a blood-red soul, its ethereal form encased in an endless web of black chains. The fog outside the valley surged inward, sucked into the crack as though consumed by an insatiable beast. The fog, rich with spiritual energy, compressed at an alarming rate, folding in on itself until it solidified into a crystalline white core that floated, spinning, within the void.

"All hail the High Priest Varelith, may he descend upon the mortal plane!"

"All hail the High Priest Varelith, may he descend upon the mortal plane!"

"All hail the High Priest Varelith, may he descend upon the mortal plane!"

The chant erupted like thunder, rolling through Phantom Valley. Thousands of voices joined in, each believer pressing their foreheads to the cold earth, trembling with a mixture of reverence and terror. Invisible threads, born from their faith, formed above their bowed heads, stretching skyward like a luminous web, this was the power of their faith. The threads pierced the crack in space, latching onto the crystalline core and the chained soul.

"All hail the High Priest Varelith, may he descend upon the mortal plane!"

"All hail the High Priest Varelith, may he descend upon the mortal plane!"

Elder Xu and Elder Bia raised their voices, the strain evident as blood dripped from their noses. They coughed violently, expelling mouthfuls of blood essence that was immediately absorbed by the wooden infant. Two crimson threads shot forth, latching onto the blood-red soul's eyes. The soul convulsed, its chains rattling violently as if trying to resist, but more chains formed to replace those that broke.

The crystalline core trembled, its rotation accelerating before it shot into the blood-red soul with rumbling sounds following it. A deafening roar echoed as the soul's wails filled the valley, splitting the air like a dirge. Half of the soul was severed in a blinding flash, and millions of chains snapped, their broken ends whipping violently in the void, causing space to further cave in.

The wooden infant moved, its mouth gaping as it devoured the severed half of the soul. The remaining portion recoiled, bound again by new chains that solidified like iron, sealing and separating it from the mortal realm.

Bang!

Both elders collapsed, their bodies trembling, their robes soaked in sweat and blood. The crack in space began to close, its edges stitching themselves together with agonizing slowness. On the altar, the wooden infant began to transform. Blood vessels pulsed beneath its surface as flesh formed over its carved frame. Bones creaked into place, muscles coiled, and organs materialized with grotesque precision.

The ritual was far from over, but the valley was already alive with whispered awe and terror.

"All hail the High Priest Varelith, may he descend upon the mortal plane."

The words echoed again, though now they carried a deeper reverence, as if the very shadows themselves had taken notice.

The transformation continued, slow but inexorable, as if the infant's very existence defied the laws of nature. The blood-red lines carved into its body pulsed with an unsettling rhythm, syncing with the muffled wails of the severed soul trapped within. Flesh stretched taut over wooden bones, and its eyes, once hollow, began to fill with an unnatural light—a swirling amalgam of crimson and white that flickered like a dying flame.