Illuminating the Dark Prince

The Winds of War

~Valarendrik~

The glowering obsidian skies violently swirled above, causing powerful gales to chaotically crash and clash, creating roaring cyclones of unfathomable force. Biting bitter winds whipped through my long ebon hair, as we stood upon the pinnacle of the same great pestiskae tree I'd shoved Lucilia down now seemingly ages ago. The hour of the blood moon was drawing near, creating a deep sense of urgency within me. The orb rested within my unsteady hands, concealed by the enchanted cloth wrapped around it. I had been relieved to find it still hidden deep within a crevice on a distant seaside cliff, too high up for anyone without shadows to reach or notice. 

Yet despite still having the orb, apprehension coursed through my deathly veins, mingling with the whirling paroxysm of grief, rage, and despair stirring within my heart more violent than the skies. Venom unwittingly leaked from my fangs, as I solemnly gazed out over the darkened sea of withered and rotten trees and the sharp and gnarled mountain range looming behind them. Every gloaming shade of the shadows lurked within the far-off gulches of screaming souls, while the long swooshing tail and tattered leather wings of a varetpa gracefully glided out from within one of the shapeless voids.

I wonder if that is the same varetpa Lucilia saw when she first arrived here...

William was crouched down and peeking over the slippery edge, his blue eyes glued to the mighty intertwined roots and intricately-woven gaunt branches making up the twisted tree. He dragged his pointer finger along the ebon bark, coating it with slime from the algea-like red moss. "Gross..." He softly murmured with a frown while observing his stained fingertip.

"I wouldn't linger too close to the edge if I were you." Azathoth warned while slicing open his palm with a hellish dagger, letting the thick crimson blood drip down his clawed hand as he worked to smear it in a large circle upon the uneven platform of tangled branches and bark. "These trees are very slippery and it's easy to fall off." 

"Hmm, I don't know." Darrell hummed while peering over the edge himself. "It looks like it might be kinda fun."

"Oh, it's loads of fun... Until you're impaled on a rouge branch and left to be slowly devoured by the birds." The blade glinted as he re-sliced his palm, his flesh having already stitched itself back together.

Darrell shrugged as though he hadn't a care in the world and stepped away from the edge. "That might be fun too. Who knows?" He chuckled with morbid amusement.

I wanted to assure them that it was indeed very fun as long as you knew the right routes... or roots, I should say... Yet I could only seem to focus on the importance of our task. I needed my beloved Lucy back. With every passing moment, my soul became more and more sickened by our suffocating separation. The poison claws of consternation continued to mercilessly drag my thoughts down to the darkest trenches of my miserable mind, drowning them with my festering fears and looming loneliness. It was in her absence that I truly became aware of how my soul had by some unknown means bonded to her, and the emptiness I now felt was scathing.

My eyes fell to the orb in my hands with a look of doubt while I reflected on what had happened to Sagacor. Tears threatened to spill as I tightened my grip on it, determined not to let my mother take my wife and unborn child away from me as well. I was going to fight with everything I had to get them back. "Are you sure the circle will work?" I asked Azathoth just as he connected the red ring of demonic blood. 

"It should. If not, I'll have to teleport us the fuck out of here real quick." He pulled a large sack of dried herbs and salt out of his enchanted pocket, then he began sprinkling it over the blood while murmuring some sort of hellish incantation.