✺ Dark Fantasy ✺
When you have an eternity of time, there is little room for surprises. But for Ahzrael, things are about to shake his everlasting life. In a universe filled with a multitude of planes, realms, and worlds, resides a group of powerful...
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Dormant. Immobile. Near lifeless. The Inusir laid, its enormous wings embracing its body in a protective obsidian cocoon.
Ahzrael was a short stretch away, his eyes narrowing while he approached the Inusir with pure attentiveness. As he extended his right hand outward, a bright flash pierced down from the sky in a thin cylinder of light. In his hand appeared a long, curved dagger, almost as thick as his forearm, that he gripped before it fell to the ground.
Oziren. The name he'd given the blessed dagger. The fierce blade, birthed from a silver-flamed orb, and sent from the high skies of Vae'lon. It was as long as his arm but smaller than their average swords, with a reputation of destruction slithering down its shaft.
Oziren scarcely left Ahzrael's side. They were one. And through Ahzrael, Oziren slew with no mercy, felling the forgotten lives of damned creatures, sending them into oblivion or the agonizing pits of the forsaken world. It was a blade meant to destroy, and it was one of the few weapons known that could potentially decimate an Inusir.
Ahzrael touched the hilt, feeling over the carved base of his sacred blade. A tame flare of vitality emanated from Oziren, gliding its way into Ahzrael's hand. A reunited bond.
He felt the presence of the other Diuxals surround the area in a developing circle. But his eyes remained on the winged power, not daring to risk a glance elsewhere.
Taking a vigilant step forward, the sounds of snow crunched beneath the ridges of his boot. Gradually, he crouched his body down, shoulders tensed, knees taking on his full weight.
Another step, followed by the same crunching sound, he could feel it again. A recognizable power he experienced at the park moments ago. Only this time it was drastically heightened. Waves of the Inusir's intense energy rippled the air like scorching heat in the middle of a desert.
The closer he moved, the more he felt the resistance. The Inusir's power was rebellious, fighting all of them as the Diuxals gradually broke in. It was Ahzrael's first time experiencing such a feeling, such an intensity.
Other encounters with Inusirs were similar, but their power did not resist nearly as much. He assumed it was because they were conscious and in control at the time. Or so he could remember, for it had been several hundred millennia since he last laid eyes upon one. Elusive beings they were, yet no strangers to chaos.
Ahzrael sustained his wary stalk, steadily pushing through the powerful barrier. For a moment, it surprised him that the pain was not as potent as before, though a similar pressure remained. This time, the feeling resembled a hurricane wind gusting towards him with full force. If he were human or any other simpler being, he would've been heaved over the mountainside by now.
