SAVIORS [OLD]

Chapter I

  "Why," the Son of the Goddess of Truth said as he knelt down on the floor in a form of worshipping a sacred deity filled with full credence. His long curly and messy hair covered his desperate face. "Have ye sent me here, Mother? I wanted to set foot on the battleground with thine battalion and ye sent me here in the world of our creations. Was I ever prepared for war, to shed and sacrifice the life of my own with dignity, and yet ye deceived me?"
   
   Instead of hearing an eldritched voice as a response, the candles of the small, yet marvelous fane blew out, smoke slowly disappeared into thin air.
   The seemingly youthful demigod raised his head up, a half-lidded eye drawn on his neck could now be seen, symbolizing his role shall be fulfilled.
  He shall now.

  His hazel eyes that he had inherited from his Mother faded into a tinge of light blue eyes of sadness, river of tears running down his tan cheeks.

  The holy effigy of Peryxia's deity was cracking.

  "No . . ." the dignified youth panicked. "No, no, no, no, no . . ."
  He clenched his hands on his head, filled with distress whilst he rocked his body back and forth.

  The Demigod of Emotions screamed a mournful cry. His lips quivered with rage and anger as his now eyes of sorrow soon turned a shade of dark red of pure fury.

  Control thy emotions, my dearest Son, a glimpse of memory flashed through his mind.
  He could not handle such lost of his beloved—

And beloved ones.

  The enraged youth picked up his dagger and threw it at the sigil of the Xylnnoth occult image in sheer momentum. "Ye slay my allies," he rasped, "and ye shall pay for the price."

• • •

  Tall pillars surrounded the crowd of bodies in formal presence of the ceremony of a new member.
  "I shall worship deities o' thine," vowed he. "And serve my brethren as superiors of inferiors." The hood covered the mark on his neck, the members oblivious what awaits them next—
  Death.
 
The man taller than him, who wore a longer cloak than them all, raised his hand in cue.

  In the wake of his gesture, a lad handed him a necklace with a pendant of their sigil in a formal manner and bowed down his head reverantly.
  The youth lowered his head for the leader of the occult to wear him the necklace, as symbol of everlasting service of worship.

   As the necklace has been worn, his thin lips turned into a sinister grin. "Nay," he chuckled, "I shan't worship thy deities whom has slain my beloved ones."
  His outstretched arms formed purple-hued mists of death. His bare feet inches away from the ground. The demigod's eyes were filled with thirst for revenge.

  But, revenge has come. Or so he thought.

  The members of the cult fell to the ground; their faces turned into pale-white skin. Red strings surged toward him. And darkness was met upon him.

• • •

  "Pathetic," the voice rung through his ears, in a mocking tone of the one bound down to their metallic sacrificial bed. The moonlight beamed down the trees amidst the crowd with torches in hands afire. "Look what I found," the tall man threw the youth's bodkin upward in mid-air and caught it in between his fingers strategically. "Such beautiful thing taketh away from you. Why hadn't ye used it upon thy humble-self? Should've been a fair fight."

  "Let me go . . . " the youth stifled a hoarse whisper. The tall man ignored his plead and questioned, "Perhaps, we could use this dagger o' thee for thy sacrifice, mage?"
  The youth cringed at the word 'mage' for he wasn't one. They thought he was.

  Now, the leader's face came into
view—he didn't have a face—no, he was wearing a mask. A mask that only had holes for the eyes and small holes to breathe. That was why his voice always sounded muffled under his breath.

  "I unwillingly accept my sacri—"
The tall man chuckled as he threw the dagger away to his side, "Ye do not have a choice, young lad. Thy treacherous intent shan't be forgiven."

  The youth snarled as he tried to break free from the bounds that held him down.

  The crowd only laughed at his attempt. "Using thy shining dagger is such a disrespectful thing to do for the gods, is not it?" he asked rhetorically to the crowd of hooded members. They gave a brief nod.

  The tall man pulled out his dagger and deeped it in a bowl of black substances. "Shall the sacrifice commence," he announced. The demigod's eyes turned green. Green of pure fear, that even his executor hadn't noticed, distracted by his hunger. A hunger of what? A hunger of purity or . . .
  'Tis ironic that his role as a demigod—guide of creations—was filled with terror by his own creation. A creation that them gods including him created such kind to turn their backs at their creators.

  They began to chant unaudible words until the sacred tree began to glow darkly. The tall unknown man raised his hand to regain momentum for his following action.

Or perhaps he was afraid for his own demise—

  The helpless youth let out a blood-curldling scream as the blade cut through him. His skin turned pure black as he began to lose control of himself, falling into the deep dark void of what seemed of endlessness. An endless void desire of freedom and desire of escape of death.

[Thank you for editing this chapter, eores_thene. I really appreciate it :)]