With slow steps a figure cladded in a magnificent golden robe walked through the great expanse of a dark hall. The hall bore no ornaments, yet its obsidian composition gifted it a sense of sinister beauty. Not many could claim to admire that beauty thanks to the deep shadows that engulfed its every corner. The golden figure was one of the few who could. His expression did not betray any interest in the grand structure’s desolate beauty, long since tired by its sight. 

He merely walked forth, until he reached before two vast doors. They towered over him like onyx walls, their foundations inexorable. The golden figure did not attempt to push open such mountains, instead he simply stood, waiting. Before long the obsidian castle trembled and the sound of two doors parting, their weight that of mountains, reverberated. 

RUMBLE

Even now the golden figure appeared uncaring. When the parting was complete, he stepped forth into an even greater hall. Here the darkness ran so thick that every step felt like walking on the surface of an unfathomably deep lake.  

The calm steps continued until the figure arrived right upon the hall’s center. Their golden eyes stared straight ahead, into the area where the darkness laid most condensed. He bowed. 

“Your grace.”

The golden figure said. 

For a few seconds, no response came, however two scarlet gems suddenly ignited within the dark. With their gaze came a powerful gush of inexorable presence. Many armies would crumble upon such a sight alone, but the golden figure did not. He rose from his bow, golden eyes meeting with that of the crimson ones. 

Then a deep voice came. 

“Setheran, to what do I owe this presence?” 

The void beneath the darkness asked. The golden figure, Setheran, adopted a sinister smile. 

“To a simple matter, your grace. I hear whispers that you intend to travel to Merabeth and meet with its sovereign, the recently risen Desolation God.” 

The crimson eye’s slit pupils sharpened, like a viper readying itself to strike. However that intensity did not last. The figure shrouded in darkness snapped their fingers and upon eight mighty pillars, eight fires ignited. They burned with a thirsty vigor, their crimson deeper than blood. 

At last the hall’s darkness was pushed back, revealing its magnificence. Setheran’s pupils shrunk, despite the might he wielded, his eyes had never been able to penetrate this hall alone. The obsidian hall was bathed within a red hue before long, laying bare a figure which sat upon a massive throne. 

That figure sat with incomparable grace. His skin was like that of snow, and long silky black hair cascaded down upon him, serving as dazzling ornaments to his unmatched fairness. His features were just as perfect, matched perfectly by the crimson eyes which he bore. Covering his body was long black robes, their design elegant, exuding the presence no lesser than that of any king. 

An amused smile rested upon his lips, his eyes still set upon Setheran. 

“It appears that many can not keep from chirping. In any case, It is not a secret. Tell me Setheran, what might this matter interest you in?” 

Setheran’s smile grew. 

“I ask that I be taken along.” 

The figure adorned in black only grew more amused. 

“Setheran, I do not travel through normal means. My body need not go personally, should I expect your other sibling to tag along with you? Or shall I need to wait until you journey past the desert? What shall all that effort yield for me? A fight between Emperor and God? A pointless thing that would be.”  

Setheran grew excited. 

“You are not opposed to it entirely I see… Well, let me correct one fact, your grace. I know better than to intervene within your discussions, however I hear the people of Merabeth are strong. They thirst for bloodshed, so would it not be wrong to deny them that? And besides, two Emperors shall prove a sufficient might, one even a Divine Power shall not ignore lightly.”

The figure chuckled upon his throne. 

“True enough, very we—” 

It was as the figure spoke that his words halted abruptly. His gaze then turned upon a great wall of obsidian. It appeared like his sights fell upon nothing, but Setheran knew that his eyes pierced far beyond this castle. Far beyond the dreaded miasma which surrounded it, until it encompassed the world. 

The dark lord’s eyes remained fixated for a long moment after. His lips moved, turning into a smile which overflowed with jubilation. 

“Your grace…?” 

“It seems our plans for the Desolation God can be placed on hold. One of the Truths has awakened.”

Setheran’s golden eyes widened. 

“Are you certain?” 

“You doubt me?” 

Setheran shook his head, his expression that of utter delirium. The crimson stare returned upon him shortly after. 

“Call back the Apostles, we must make preparations for the war to come. From today forth, unless spoken from my breath, none of you shall be allowed to roam as you please.”

Setheran nodded. 

“By your will.” 

He bowed, then left like how he came. 

Situated on the grand throne the dark figure began to chuckle, his voice sinister. Eventually that low laughter ceased. 

“The tides of fate roar upon us all…” 

He whispered. The crimson fires all extinguish themselves, leaving behind sharp, ferocious, scarlet eyes. With the gleam of a sinister predator, they remained drenched in an ocean of darkness before they too disappeared.