Betrayed by Heaven, I Became The Demon Lord
Chapter 16: The Whispering Veil
The fragment pulsed irregularly in my palm, reminiscent of a dying heart clinging to life. Its soft golden light twinkled with each beat, flickering as if it were both a reflection of my own heart's cadence and an attempt to usurp my very essence. Within its fragile core resided a voice, now reduced to nothing more than a feeble whisper, stripped of its former grandeur and power; it quivered like delicate glass on the brink of shattering.
Heir of Ash... the eye has turned. You have been seen.
The words penetrated my mind like roots burrowing through stone, persistent and unyielding. I felt an involuntary tightening in my grip around the shard, and with it came a series of audible cracks that resonated in the stillness of the air we occupied. Tiny tendrils of light began to escape and spiral into my skin, a sinuous invasion that promised immediate agony, but not in the way one might expect. This pain was not merely physical; it was a profound, visceral torment that scratched at the very essence of my being, chipping away at the fabric of who I was.
Lyris, her face taut with worry, took a cautious step forward, the tension palpable in the air between us. "It's still alive?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"No," I murmured, my eyes glued to the fragment as the faint luminous wisps began to dissipate into nothingness. "It's remembering."
The frown deepened on her brow, framing her features with an unmistakable worry. "That doesn't sound any better," she replied, a hint of frustration seeping through her resolve.
Turning my gaze toward the horizon, I could see the Crimson Dominion stirring once more, like a sleeping beast awakening from a restless slumber. The once-grand black monoliths that had stood impervious to time began to tremble under an unseen force, their surfaces now alive with veins of molten gold, shimmering like the divine hue that flowed from the mask I had once worn. The realm itself seemed to shudder as if it had sensed a foreign presence, an invasive force encroaching upon its sanctity.
It was learning.
Even though the Dominion's will was intricately tied to my own, I could feel the alien pulse threading its way through it. A vast and ancient intelligence was probing us through the shard, searching for something beyond mere comprehension.
With a sudden resolve, I placed the fragment carefully upon the ashen ground, and the earth hissed in response. The soil around the shard buckled as it sank slowly, its light radiating outward in complex patterns, weaving an intricate tapestry of energy that formed an immense circle pulsating with an alien precision, casting shadows that played tricks on the eye.
A sigil. A portal.
Lyris's wings flared wide, a vivid display of her own alarm. "You're not seriously, "
"I'm merely seeing where this leads," I interrupted, attempting to soothe her apprehension.
Her hand shot out, gripping my wrist with an urgency that could not be ignored. "That's exactly how we die, remember? We can't afford to be reckless."
Her concern was palpable, sharp and grounding me like a solid anchor in a stormy sea, yet the magnetic pull of the mask's resonance was a force I couldn't defy. Deep inside its energy lay a thread that tugged at my very being, a name I once knew, a flicker of something lost.
"I need to grasp the nature of our enemy," I said softly, conviction lacing my tone. "We cannot hope to fight what remains shrouded in mystery."
Her grip wavered slightly, yet her piercing gaze remained resolute, unwavering. "Then I'm coming with you. There will be no arguments on this," she declared firmly, a knight standing vigil for her king.
Before I could respond, the ground quaked violently as the sigil ignited, an eruption of light flooding our senses. The air fractured into innumerable shards of sound and color, bending and twisting around us until it felt as if reality itself was folding in on itself. The sky of the Dominion darkened like a stormy ocean, bleeding into an endless void, and then, without warning, everything was enveloped in an overwhelming light.
When my vision returned, we found ourselves in a realm that was decidedly not the Dominion.
The atmosphere was thin, almost intangible, as if we had crossed the threshold between moments instead of mere physical spaces. All around us stretched an infinite canvas of fractured light, its colors cascading like waterfalls, refracting endless versions of ourselves. Each reflection shimmered and shifted, embodying possibilities that echoed the very essence of who we could have become had fate taken a different turn.
"This…" Lyris breathed softly, awe painted across her features. "This isn't real."
"It's memory," I replied slowly, letting each word hang in the air with deliberate weight. "But not ours."
Before us loomed a remarkable structure suspended in this surreal void, a colossal cathedral of glass and flame, twisting upon itself like a Möbius strip, defying the fundamental laws of gravity and space. Symbols etched along its walls pulsed faintly, echoing the language of the True Ones, ancient beings whose knowledge eluded comprehension. Each line carried significant weight beyond mere mortal logic, a resonance that vibrated with an almost tangible intensity.
At the entrance of this awe-inspiring cathedral stood a lone figure, starkly different from Elyon. Unlike the faceless mask I had grown accustomed to, this entity bore no mask whatsoever. Instead, its form appeared incomplete, dissolving into ethereal ribbons of light that danced around it. When it spoke, the voice cascaded through the void, resonating with a deep, thunderous timbre shrouded in the gentleness of silk.
"You should not have followed the light of a dead herald."
With renewed determination, I took a step forward, disregarding the trepidation that hung in the air like a thick fog. "Then stop me," I urged defiantly.
The figure tilted its head slightly, a motion that seemed weighted with both curiosity and caution. "Were I permitted to act, there would be nothing left to stop," it responded enigmatically.
Lyris's spear crackled with energy as it hovered beside me, her gaze sharp and resolute. "If you can't act, then what are you?" she asked, her voice laced with an underlying tension.
"A Witness," it replied solemnly. "I record what must be remembered, so that when the Ninth stirs, the order can be restored."
An ominous chill snaked down my spine at its words, a premonition of the chaos and upheaval to come. In this moment, the unknown loomed larger than ever, and I understood that our confrontation with destiny was only just beginning.
"The Ninth," I echoed, the name lingering in the air, heavy with portent. "The one that the Herald mentioned." The significance of the title resonated deeply, as if the very sound carried both weight and consequence.
"The Silent Architect," the Witness intoned, its voice reverberating with an ancient gravity. "This is the being who conceived the intricate pattern from which all others have emerged. He resides beyond the veil, lost in a slumber where he dreams not just of dreams, but the very structure of all that you perceive as reality."
Lyris's brow furrowed in concern, a shadow passing across her features. "And what happens when he awakens?" she asked, her voice a mix of anxiety and anticipation.
The Witness appeared to flicker, its form trembling, as if the very fabric of its being was fraying at the edges. "When he awakens," it warned, "reality collapses into chaos. To rouse him is to unravel the dream itself, to obliterate the tapestry of existence that binds you all."
A chilling realization seeped through my thoughts, creeping down my spine like icy fingers. The fragments we had collected, the mask piece, the sigil, all of it was intertwined within the same ominous chain. Our reckless actions had drawn attention to our fragile world. We had disturbed the slumber of the dream.
With a measured gesture, the Witness extended its hand, directing my gaze towards an endless horizon. There, a rift of pale gold stretched infinitely, rippling like water disturbed by some unseen force. Beyond the rift, indistinct outlines loomed in the void, monumental forms, incomprehensible and ancient, reminiscent of titanic gods, their shapes concealed by the dark fabric of night.
"They have begun to stir," the Witness murmured, its voice barely above a whisper yet echoing with profound urgency. "The Ninth is aware of your Dominion blossoming. The intricate pattern is beginning to unravel in your wake."
The atmosphere crackled with energy, charged with a palpable tension. Fragments of light shattered and fell away, revealing deep shadows below, and in the distance, an unimaginable multitude of eyes began to flicker open, all fixated upon us with an intensity that was both unnerving and awe-inspiring.
Lyris instinctively took a step back, her expression draining of color. "We need to get out of here. Now," she urged, her voice tight with fear.
But before I could muster a response, one of the immense eyes, resplendent and luminous, blinked. The sheer magnitude of it sent shivers through me, and then, a voice unlike anything I had ever encountered resonated deep within my being.
"You were not meant to awaken, child of the fracture… yet, here you stand."
The void around us writhing like a creature in agony, the Witness emitted a scream of pure terror, its form fracturing as though it were a fragile sheet of paper set ablaze from within. Light surged through the space, folding in upon itself until only an expanse of darkness remained, cold and oppressive.
With a violent jolt, I gasped as we were hurled back into the Dominion, slamming down onto the obsidian floor. The sigil we had fought so hard to obtain was now erased, the mask fragment nothing more than vapor, lost to the void.
Lyris struggled to regain her footing, her wings trembling with residual energy and fear. "What, what was that?" she stammered, her eyes wide with disbelief.
I hesitated, my mind still reeling from the intensity of that celestial voice, a voice that seemed to have the power to conjure worlds with mere utterance. A voice that had woven the very fabric of my existence.
Finally, I whispered, "The Ninth spoke to me."
Her eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and awe. "You mean,?"
"Yes," I affirmed, the weight of my words hanging in the air. "The Architect. The being that dreams everything into existence."
She stepped closer, seeking clarity in my expression, desperation flooding her features. "What did it say?"
I cast my gaze downward, watching as the faint trace of gold shimmered beneath my skin, pulsing gently like veins filled with radiant light. My power felt different now, deeper, heavier, as if another rhythm had intertwined with my own essence.
"It said…" I faltered, the words feeling like ash lodged in my throat. "It said I wasn't meant to exist. But now that I do, the dream is changing."
Lyris's breath came out slowly, each exhale laced with the gravity of the revelation. "So what happens when the dream changes?"
I turned my gaze towards the horizon of my Dominion, where the once-unblemished crimson sky began to splinter, revealing ominous slivers of unfathomable constellations beyond our comprehension.
A smile crept onto my face, not a smile of joy, but one of fierce defiance and determination. "Then we rewrite it."
To be continued…