Demonic Revelations

1 - Simulacrum Sky

243,157 people died in 3509 and only one of them deserved it. New holes dug into frozen grounds, bodies places among others, with the markers being destroyed by the ice that always returned. Yet, the corpses keep coming and piling upwards as if to build a stairway to heaven out of the dead. The cemeteries and graveyards couldn't hold the volume, and soon no one was even sure who was buried where. The places of the dead were among the only place in the Under that was nonverbally agreed upon was sacred ground. All because the dead did not have to deal with the pain any longer. The dead could say in the safety of the ground, wrapped in a blanket of cold.

The cold was nothing new to the Under, a place that the sun avoided like the plague and the moon decided to never grace with its presence. The only source of light and warmth was a form of processed sunlight through the simulacra sky above. A view of what the sky looks like, or at least what they said those panels would do. All those pieces show is a grey sky with nothing but clouds or at least the ones that still work do. The light they gave was never much better than that, a by-product threw away by the Upper City, light with no true warmth. Nearly all of the lights died back in 3012, and the rest flicker from time to time on their last legs. The cold became a constant companion in the Under and became a weapon in the hands of the winds.

The wind holds the most malice, being funneled down from the Upper to protect them. The winds bulldoze their ways through this dilapidated canyon without remorse, with a death-touch. They come without warning and claim anyone whose weak or stupid. Yet, that wasn't the could for those 243,157 souls.

Dust, ice, ash, and rust among the surface of this world, that is what the Under is. Sections of a world squashed underneath another, struggling to survive. All the while, the Upper City dances, and parties on the corpses of those they decide are "getting in the way". The Upper City is said to have towers that have surpassed the height of old Mount Everest and climb towards the stars. The Upper City, a beacon of progress, an achievement of the human race. Only for the human race. The Council of Progression was the main facilitator for making the Upper City what it is, a glorious race of killers, and the Elixs Magica Proclamation was their tool. In simple terms, it says any non-human will be killed. Yet, where does one stay if not wanting to see their head on the Humanin chopping block?

Down among the ruins of the world, the Under, that's where. Concrete buildings that have begun to crumble back into dirt, the misshaped street lamps that have become playthings for the wind, the skyscrapers that try to hold out, the shattered roads, stripped malls, and benches coated in ice like a world that was left behind and forgotten. Snowflakes of dirt and grime powder the air as the float through walls and twisted metal fixtures.

A small fox-eared child clambers out from a hiding hole and sniffs at the air. The child gives a high yip and slowly others begin to leave their hiding spots. Kitsunes and Werewolves all move towards the holes in buildings and venture out by a single step. An ear twitches and nostrils flare, while tails beat against the covered sidewalks. A low howl rises from one and it moves from wolf to wolf. Several other creatures shoot out from their holes and move through the ruins, an unspoken law among them all, do what you need and quick before the next wind. Jinns and Phoenixes move to melt the ice left from the last wind.

Yet, among the unspoken vow, no creature headed towards the graveyard near the edge of the community. The fence, that once upon a time was bright silver, was now a sickly green and contorted. Inside the crooked arch and broken gates was a frozen paradise. The ground painted grey from the layers of snow and ice, with footprints from the last burial encased among it. The gravestones not exempt from the blanket of white, as the coverings at least told their age. Some gravestones had only around ten covering, leaving their inscription still somewhat visible. Others had over fifty coverings, leaving them as brown-grey-black blocks.