Gods of the Abyss

Arvenius stood upon the precipice once again, many countless lifetimes of this same scene play before his divine eyes again and again, in an endless dance. He cannot help but feel revolted at the taste of blood that he remembers. He frowns, staring down upon the black void beyond.

The Abyss. For millennia he and his Golden Knights, the bravest of mortals, angels, and gods alike, had stood before this hellish blight. And each time, they had failed. Of course, that depends on what one defines as failure. Arvenius, as the Primea, the absolute strongest of the Gods of Good, could not accept such a personal failure. So many of his brave knights died on this black battlefield of the holy. And yet nothing changed. The armies of the Abyss still pressed forward, no matter how hard the Golden Knights fought.

In the end, nothing more than mere sacrifices.

Arvenius continues his vigil, staring down into the Abyss, his gaze alone the strength of ten thousand suns. The appearance of such a powerful deity such as himself always varied depending on the impression of the one beholding him, but it was not uncommon to see a man or an elvenkin with gold hair and fair, strong features with orbs of gold for eyes, adorned with the most regal yet strongest of armors. His long hair blows in the silent astral breeze stirred by the Abyss, creating faint echoes in the otherwise still space.

Finally, after waiting, Arvenius hears them. The maddening whispers that drive man and all mortals to deadly sin. The burning hatred of the fires of hell itself. It is an unforgettable experience, one akin to standing in the great bellows of the mightiest forge, or the depths of the belly of the greatest volcano. Yes, Arvenius remembers this aura well. The aura of evil, of demons, and their titanic overlords, the Devils. But not just any Devil. No...

Zero itself has arrived. The Primea of Evil. The Archdevil of the Abyss. Fiend of a Thousand Faces. And a being Arvenius once called, 'friend'.

From the endlessly spiraling depths of the Abyss, come the fires, burning at first dimly against the infinite stretches of the void. Then they grow, feeding on malice, anxiety, insecurity and regret. They swell like a great tide, twisting and groaning as they feed, turning into unspeakable horrors of filth and corruption, Zero's demons have arrived. They hunger for the weak of heart, so that they may empower themselves with false courage. They tear at the flesh, so that they may cover their shame.

Arvenius steels himself, even as he feels twinges of sorrow for the misshapen abominations Zero has brought into this world. They were once brave men of the Realms, fighting for their justice, for redemption, so many tales, and so many tragic ends. One way or another, they fell into the pits of despair, and into Zero's clutches, where it would torment them with twisted whispers and agonizing lies, until the goodness of men wilts, leaving only haunting shells and empty hearts in its wake.

He rallies his allies with a boisterous shout to the heavens, and he himself prays to the Lady Taka, a being higher than he. If he was the God of Good, then she herself would be Good incarnate, the physical will of all Good things. And he is her will incarnate, the fire of her justice, and the sword of redemption. And so, not for the first time, and never for the last, the great God of Fire and Good plunges with his hundred Golden Knights into the depths of the hellfires of the Abyss, against the endless Legion of nightmares and accursed atrocities.

Fear? Arvenius never feared. Even as the infinite surge presses his brave men, they do not falter. Even as the brave and the bold slowly dwindle, they press on, ever closer to the heart of the Abyss. Courage their shields, and faith their swords. However many they kill, cannot be certain, for the Demons Zero has forged are as numerous as the sands of the white shores. Even with this force, and even with the slow defeat of his army, Arvenius never falters, pressing ever onward, as he knows he must.

To those fighting alongside him, one could claim an eternity would pass, before the end finally claims the last of them. Yet, for Arvenius, as soon as it had begun, it came to its same conclusion as ever. Alone again.

Alone again, he stands before Zero, Lord of the Abyss.

Who can truly explain Zero, Fiend of a Thousand Faces? Even those who had always known it could not truly explain. Arvenius had been amongst the closest of the close of friends, and in this endless cycle, even he struggled to comprehend it.

Evil comes in many forms, some imagine the Archdevil of the Abyss itself to be a being of eldritch composition, beyond even abstract. Yet a mere woman, yet more stands before Arvenius. She appears comingly and beautiful, with soft raven hair and delicate features to rival the greatest of maidens. She sports only the fairest of garments, and mirrors of silver for eyes, delicate and perfect.

"Have you still not acknowledged me?" The woman speaks to him.

Arvenius has met the many endless guises Zero has worn, and this one is no different. A semblance of perfection, but what lies underneath is a black void, much like the realm she commands.

"I too see that you wear your glamour. When may we stand as equals in our hearts and minds? Do you perceive me inferior like vermin, that you would hide your true self from me? Were we not friends, comrades and unshakable companions? You have gone astray for so long, join me."

The cycle continues, with the same tired lines, like a broken record.

Arvenius engages not with word, but with sword. The time for words had passed many a Primeval Era ago. Millions on millions of ages have passed, since he began this holy war.

With an empty roar of rage, Zero defiles its image into great winged abomination whose claws of obsidian tear at the light like savage lions, its teeth tear like rapid wolves, and eyes venomously seeking its prey in blind fury. Upon the endless black depths the thunder and hellfire rage amongst another, as the fated duel continues, dragging on eternity. Zero rampages with playful desire and murderous fury, while Arvenius stays the course, dancing a dance of endurance and will.

While light and darkness rage, cycles repeat their same broken lines, without stopping, never revising themselves for a brighter future, playing out again and again unto the end of time. So shall the Gods of the Abyss forever more duel to the death, incapable of understanding one another.

Forgiveness for a betrayal long forgotten, and one unable to find purpose, bitter feuds without hope of recourse.

Unless one walks away from the path, the story will never be rewritten. So continues the cycle ad infinitum.

VUji