Chapter 2: The Awakening
The night was **Ishar's domain**—the hour when the world seemed to slow, and the shadows whispered. In the dead of night, he stood before an ancient, forgotten altar deep within the forest, the **Altar of Black Blood**, rumored to be a place of forbidden rituals.
Here, he would finally unlock the power that would give him dominion over the weak and the mightiest alike.
He had heard the whispers—the ancient powers, long hidden, that could turn the tides of war and raise the dead. Ishar had learned everything he could, pouring over grimoires of dark sorcery, ancient rituals that had driven men mad, and stories of those who had dared to seek this forbidden knowledge.
But he wasn't afraid. Fear was for the unworthy. Fear was for the fools who stayed obedient and meek. Ishar was destined for something greater.
With a dark chant that trembled in his throat, he began the ritual. The ground beneath his feet trembled, and the sky above cracked open, unleashing a torrential storm. As blood-red lightning illuminated the altar, Ishar's body convulsed, his mind unraveling as **ancient powers** surged through his veins.
The pain was unbearable, but Ishar gritted his teeth. This was his moment. His ascension.
When the ritual ended, and the world was silent again, Ishar stood taller, his eyes glowing with an unearthly light. **The pact was sealed.**