Sol Inferos
Wordcount: 2050
In the darkness of night, all was still for leagues in every direction. All, that was, save for the tireless preparations near the highest prominence of Krevati Evimerias. No flames or artificial lights guided the work; the dim light of the stars served their needs. Aestus waxed gibbous, though Lacunar was lost in shadow and the fleeting Tus was a mere sliver making its way across the sky.
For weeks already, the robed figures had been at work, carving symbols into ancient stonework, shaping metal, forming incantations in an otherworldly language once familiar and forbidden, but now archaic, lost to entropy. Through the night, the last night, they worked in silence, and all of the ancient city beneath them was similarly hushed. Even the beasts and birds had fled or fell mute.
The air was heavy with a sense of purpose, of dominion.
Day arrived, the sun cresting slowly over the horizon. Light rushed across the ground, soaring over the emerald waves of the Chlorae and sweeping over the expansive grasslands that led up to the ancient, terraced city. Krevati Evimerias seemed, at first, to be part of the natural landscape, with walls of off-white sandstone covered in greenery. Only its straight edges and uniformity betrayed its man-made origins until one had gotten close.
A single road led to the city, one which had once been paved in sandstone. Over centuries the road had been worn down into the ground, leaving only a path empty of grass, with occasional stones peeking out to the surface.
Long expanses of bright green grass surrounded the city, with sparse copses of trees scattered about. At a certain point, the grass suddenly stopped. Sandstone walls soared straight up, sharply perpendicular to the ground. It was not a wall that surrounded the city, however: the wall was part of the city. The walls climbed almost fifty meters before suddenly turning perpendicular again, revealing the first terrace of the city, overrun with more grass and bushes. A second wall climbed half again as high to the next terrace. Here, though it too was overrun with foliage, the true shape of the city could be seen. Ancient crumbling pillars and archways stood where buildings had long since fallen. Some buildings still stood, though cracks covered the walls, and no rooftop was truly complete. A pond of crystal blue water had formed far back, near the wall of the next terrace. The city continued climbing higher, each higher tier growing in importance and opulence, though also fallen into greater disrepair.
Back down at the road leading to the city, there was one gateway, a massive portal forty meters high and a mere fifteen broad. The doors had long since come loose from their hinges and fallen inward, each three meters thick. Inside, there was another city, one of dark shadows and winding hallways. Sconces sat outside every doorway, braziers lined the roads, but none had been lit in centuries. The inner city climbed higher with the outer city, but free from the wear of the elements, much more of the inner city had remained intact.
So it was that people filled many of the buildings inside, unbothered by the darkness.
The people of Krevati Evimerias were emaciated, shriveled in appearance. Young and old, they had weathered, wrinkled skin, and deep, sunken eyes. Oily, black hair was most prevalent, though shades of silver, white, and grey were also in attendance. Unless it had been dyed for ritualistic purposes, no other hair colors existed in the city. The ghastly denizens of the city were garbed in tattered clothing, most of them, completely unlike the robed acolytes that continued preparing above.
At the greatest heights of the city, the final terrace had once been a celestial observatory. It was in the shape of a pentagon, no more than one hundred meters across. Pillars lined the outer edges, some still bearing the frame of a roof that had long since crumbled away. The stone in the ground here was sturdier, hauled in from different parts of the kingdom. Granite, obsidian, marble, and basalt were the most common. A circle of square granite tiles had been formed in the center of the former observatory, a disc of solid obsidian inside it. Surrounding the circle was a large pentagon, matching the edges of the terrace itself. The lines of the pentagon had been made in marble. The points became wide circles, also surrounding in marble but filled with basalt, and with another disc of obsidian in the very center.
Every stone had been engraved, every groove filled with glimmering pulveris.
Thirteen stood atop the observatory. Seven had comparably simple robes, and though each had grey hair with long, wispy beards, these were the youngest of the gathered. They were spread around the outer edges of the observatory, filling in the final details of a massive ritual array. Five others stood at the points of the inner pentagon, upon the circles of obsidian. Their ornate robes, black and crimson cloth sewn with silver and violet sigils showed them to be archmagi. They were gaunt, nearly skeletal, long outliving the lifespan of average mortals.
The last, though not an archmagi commanded the respect of all present and all within the city. He was clad in robes of deep crimson, lined in gold. He stood in the very center of the array, his cracked voice calling out incantations to empower the array that surrounded them. This man had no hair atop his wrinkled skull, but his beard fell all the way to his knees. He bore a spiked crown of black iron, set with a single red ruby the size of a fist.
He was the king of Krevati Evimerias, and it was he who led the preparations of the ritual, it was he who commanded the archmagi of his city to devote their considerable prowess to his designs. The sun rose higher into the sky, drawing ever closer to the ordained moment, a moment when the sun would be blotted from the sky, a moment when the watchful eyes of Castus would not see them.
A moment where the barriers between worlds would be weakened.
"Skotosei ton ilio!" the king shouted, echoed by the five archmagis. "Tyflosei to Viskar!"
The sun was bright overhead, and not a cloud was in sight. Shadows stretched like fingers from the standing pillars, reaching out for the king and his followers. "Gia to skotadi pou onomazoume! Sto skotadi, sas kaloume!"
Every word was echoed by the archmagi, then by the seven acolytes. Power began to coalesce, intangible but palpable. Overhead, there was a hitch, almost unnoticeable if one hadn't been looking for it. Though the sun seemed to shine brightly overhead, the sky around it had grown dimmer, just by the faintest amounts.
"Gia to skotadi pou onomazoume!" the king shouted again. "Sto skotadi, sas kaloume!" It was repeated thrice more, growing in volume each time, and each time met with the faintest dimming of the light.
Then, suddenly, the king barked out, "Exafanisou ilio!" He spoke alone this time, but his words echoed with terrible promise. The ruby upon his crown seemed to glimmer brighter then. That's when it finally began.
A darkness appeared at one edge of the sun, a visible shadow blocking its light. A black doppelganger of Caesar, blotting the great star from the sky. A roar of elation sang from the gathered arcanists, but they did not have time to revel. Each of the seven acolytes began a new incantation, separate from the others. The five archmagis repeated the previous chant, their voices working in unison and growing in power and volume.
Winds began to gust through the soaring observatory, carrying dark promises with them. More of the black disc appeared, slowly sliding in front of the sun.
"Sas deleazoun," the king intoned, clasping both hands together and closing his sunken eyes. "Sas panischyri ypiretes tou Eversor!"
"O dromos einai safis," the five archmagi began to chant. The eclipse had nearly fully taken hold overhead. Blackness had taken over the skies.
"Trypisei to peplo," the king roared, throwing his hands wide right at the moment that the eclipse engulfed the sun fully. A great black disc smothered Caesar, a ring of fire surrounding it to show the great star's dogged defiance. The world below was cast in darkness, as was the sky above. In every direction, a ring of light remained at the horizon, a final beacon of resistance.
It was not enough.
The air brimmed with power, funneling into the array at their feet. The king let out a shuddering laugh of triumph, and then calmly intoned the final words, "Anoixte to mavro pyli."
The black sun overhead darkened somehow, no longer just blocking light but sucking it in. It was no longer the absence of light, but an abhorrence of it. Far overhead, the black disc slowly continued its path across the sky as Caesar fought to regain its dominance of the daytime skies. The light of Caesar spread out across the world, banishing the darkness that had taken hold.
However, atop Krevati Evimerias, the blackness remained, opened in the moment when the Viskar's watchful eyes had fallen blind. The king began to laugh again, sensing what was coming. From the void, a great malevolence erupted forth, heralding the coming of a denizen of Infernalis: a daemon.
A great clawed hand reached from the blackness to clasp the edge of the portal. The skin was dark grey, with lines of pulsing red. With an unearthly roar that shook the city below it, the beast wasted no further time, bursting into the mortal plane. It was massive, an enormous creature of flames and shadow. Though the eclipse waned behind it, darkness seemed to follow the daemon. Its form was that of a man, impossibly tall and covered in muscle. Great, draconic wings spread out, covered in scales and hide. The feathers of an enlil adorned its waist and shoulders, while the fins of a velen protruded from its arms and legs. Three eyes adorned its head, each gleaming with red light, and a fiery glow escaped its toothy maw. Great horns curved to either side of the beast, and a flame floated above it, growing brighter and hotter as the three eyes narrowed. Its snake-like tail whipped around behind it as the great beast floated down to the king.
"Why have you summoned me? For what purpose have you created this gateway, Januin?" the beast demanded, its voice sending the seven acolytes to their knees. The king and his archmagis remained standing, though barely.
"Se antallagma gia tin eleftheria sas," the king said, dipping into a deep bow, "zito mono omonoia."
If it was possible, the infernal beast seemed to smile. "It is so?" The daemon dropped to the ground, folding its great wings in around itself. It stood easily five times the height of the king. "It would seem we have an accord, Januin King Mavros."
The king rose from his bow, a smile finding its way onto his decrepit face. With the daemon's declaration, he was no longer just a king.
Now Vasilias Mavros was an archmagi, as well as king.
The daemon spread its wings and soared skyward, hovering in front of the black portal that remained above the city.
"Still your quivering, worthless worms," the daemon bellowed, this time throwing even the archmagis, save for their king, to their knees. "I, Malphas, command you to step through! Enter onto this mortal plane!
"Sate not your wrath upon the pitiable Januins, or face my own wrath!" A sinister smile curled at the corners of the monster's toothy maw. "Remember that, and you may do as you please." The wrathful beast shouted one last time, "Come!"
Slowly, and then faster, claws began to appear at the edges of the portal, daemons of all shapes and sizes heeding the call of the first, crawling through the rift in the planes and entering the plane of Mortalis, there free to act as they wished, visiting destruction upon a world unprepared for their presence.
Together, and for very different reasons, the Januin king and the daemon general began laughing, each with visions of conquest ahead.
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