In a dark dimension, far from the reach of the human world, an ancient entity sat upon a throne of shadow and darkness. Its form was incomprehensible to the human eye, its body floating like smoke that was constantly changing shape. It was known by many names, but to Joculor Tenebris, it was simply the Lord of Darkness, the one who had given him his power in the first place.
The entity laughed softly, its dark voice echoing like distant thunder. "My Joculor," it whispered softly, though its tone was filled with menace. "Do you think your death can end this game? No, our laughter will never cease. I am the ruler of the night, and I will continue to revive you, again and again."
He waved his hand, and before him the image of Joculor Tenebris disintegrating under the light of the sacred book took shape. Slowly, the image began to solidify, forming a body in the familiar bell-robed robe. Joculor opened his eyes, his wide smile instantly etched back onto his face.
"My lord," Joculor said in a low, reverent voice. "I have failed in my task. They... they used that light. The light that even my last laugh faded."
The Dark Lord laughed loudly. "That light was just a little game, Joculor. You will return, and this time, I will grant you unmatched power. The world of men will be your stage, and you will dance upon their fears."
Joculor stared at the entity curiously. "What power do you speak of, my lord?"
The entity waved its hand, and the darkness around it began to swirl, creating a vortex that radiated unimaginable energy. "You will gain the power to subdue this world. With telekinesis, you can move anything, without even touching it. You will instill fear so deep, that your enemies will die from their mere thoughts. Anyone who thinks they can stand against me will die without a fight."
He paused, then continued, "You will also have the ability to nullify the power of your enemies. No being, no matter how powerful, can stand against you if I do not allow it. And if you encounter any obstacle, no matter how large a wall, you will destroy it without difficulty."
Joculor laughed, the sound of his bells starting to sound again, more ominous than before. "What a perfect power, my lord. And what of my speed?"
The Dark Lord nodded. "Your speed will surpass the blink of a human eye. They will not even see you coming before you strike. You will become a shadow that moves between time and space."
Joculor stood tall, his body filled with new energy. He bowed respectfully to the entity. "I will not disappoint you this time. The human world will be ours."
The entity smiled, his shadow growing darker. "Go, Joculor. Spread darkness, and make this world bow down for our last laugh."
Joculor disappeared into the shadows, returning to the human world with power far beyond what he had ever possessed. Little did anyone know that the true terror had only just begun. Meanwhile, in the church where it all began, the chimes are ringing again, louder, more ominous. Harris, Hawthorne, and everyone else still alive feel a chill, as if the darkness has returned with a deeper vengeance.
The world now lies in the shadow of deadly laughter, for Joculor Tenebris is not only back he is now an unstoppable force.
In the church that was now almost in ruins, silence enveloped the large room. The dim lamps cast a dim light, casting long shadows on the cold stone walls. Dried blood still stained the floor in several corners, bearing silent witness to the horrific events that had just occurred.
Hawthorne stood in the middle of the altar, looking at Agatha's lifeless body. His calm yet blank face seemed to speak of a futile struggle. Harris, who had previously looked strong, now sat on one of the pews, his hands holding his head, trying to comprehend everything that had happened.
"This is all... for nothing," Harris said finally, his voice sounding desperate. "We lost Agatha, Father, and now... I'm not even sure we can really fight him."
Hawthorne sighed heavily. "Joculor may not be here now, but he's not gone forever. That bell... that voice... I'm sure he's still around us, just waiting for the right time to return."
A cold wind suddenly blew through the church, making the candles flicker. Harris stood up, pointing his flashlight at the slightly ajar front door, but there was nothing there.
"He's gone," Hawthorne said firmly, though he wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying. "At least for now. But the darkness he brought is still here. Can you feel it?"
Harris didn't answer, just stared blankly at the floor. He remembered how Father's body had been found so badly injured, how Agatha had died with her heart somehow ripped out of her body. It was all too much for common sense to comprehend.
Suddenly, the sound of a door creaking could be heard from the back of the church. Hawthorne and Harris were immediately on guard, preparing themselves for the worst. However, when they turned around, only a small girl appeared. She looked to be about eight years old, with messy blonde hair and a dirty white dress. Her pale blue eyes stared at them curiously.
"Who are you?" Hawthorne asked, trying to sound calm even as his heart raced.
"I'm... just looking for my mother," the girl answered in a soft but clear voice. "Have you seen her?"
Hawthorne and Harris exchanged glances. There was no one else in the church, and the girl's presence seemed out of place.
"What are you doing here all by yourself?" Harris asked, approaching cautiously.
The girl only smiled slightly. "I heard the bells. Mother always said that if I heard the bells, I should follow them. Because that meant she was there."
Hawthorne felt a chill run down his spine. "The bells? You heard the bells?"
The girl nodded innocently. "Yes. But they're gone now. Did you hear the bells too?"
Before Hawthorne could answer, Harris pulled him aside. "Something's wrong. This girl can't just be here," he whispered in a serious tone. "What if she…"
Hawthorne nodded, though his heart felt heavy. "We can't ignore that possibility."
But before they could do anything else, the girl began to walk toward the center of the church, toward the altar. Her gaze turned serious, and her previously sweet smile turned cold.
"You thought he was gone, didn't you?" the girl said suddenly, her voice growing deeper and more menacing. "You thought he wouldn't come back? You were wrong."
Hawthorne and Harris were rooted to the spot, unable to move. The girl stepped closer to the altar, then turned, staring at them with an inhuman blankness.
"This darkness is not hers alone," she said in a low, menacing tone. "It belongs to all of us."
The candlelight suddenly went out, leaving them in utter darkness. In the eerie silence, the chimes rang again not loudly, but enough to send shivers down the spine.
In the darkness of the now-eerie church, the sound of the bells stopped, replaced by the sound of the girl's soft laughter. The laughter did not sound like a child's, but more like the sound of something ancient and evil.
She approached the statue of Jesus that stood majestically in front of the altar. With one sudden movement, the girl struck the statue with a force that was unreasonable for her small body. The statue cracked instantly, shattering into pieces that scattered across the floor. The loud sound echoed throughout the church.
Hawthorne and Harris could only watch in horror, their bodies frozen as if controlled by an invisible force.
"This? Is this what you worship?" the girl taunted, her voice turning deeper and rougher. "This empty statue? A symbol of something that can't even save you from us?"
She stared at the shattered statue on the floor, then laughed again—a laugh that was more sinister than before. "See how fragile your faith is! Just like this statue, your faith can be easily destroyed."
The girl then turned to Hawthorne and Harris, her eyes glowing red like embers. "You want to know who really rules here? I'll tell you."
He raised his hands in the air, and the shadows around him began to move as if alive, wrapping themselves around his body. In a strange, incomprehensible language, he uttered a name that sent a chill down his spine:
"Y'xerath-Molokh, Lord of the Void, Laughing in the Darkness!"
Hawthorne held his breath, the name like a sharp knife stabbing into his mind. He felt an excruciating pain in his head, like the voices of a million whispers screaming inside his brain. Harris, on the other hand, began to shake violently, his eyes wide with overwhelming fear.
The girl smiled widely, her mouth almost reaching her ears. "He is everything you fear. He is the shadow that lurks in the light. And I? I am merely his messenger."
Hawthorne fought back the fear that paralyzed his body. "Who... who are you?"
The girl laughed again. "I am but a small instrument, like Joculor Tenebris. We are the voice and hands of Y'xerath-Molokh, and you... you are but pawns in this great game."
Suddenly, a cracking sound could be heard throughout the church. Not just the floor or the walls, but the air itself seemed to crack into tiny cracks that radiated pitch-black darkness. The girl stepped back, disappearing into the shadows, but before she left, she left a final message:
"He will come. No prayer or light can stop his coming. Prepare, mortals. The eternal night is near."
As the girl disappeared, the darkness began to recede, leaving the church in silence. Hawthorne fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath, while Harris collapsed on the spot.
However, they both knew one thing: this threat was far greater than Joculor Tenebris. The entity known as Y'xerath-Molokh was an enemy that even prayer might not be able to defeat.
The next day, warm sunlight shone on the old church where the horrific event had taken place. Although it was a bright day, the atmosphere around the church was still tense. Police and forensic investigators arrived at the scene to investigate the unexplained mystery.
The lead detective, a man in his forties named Daniel Hartwell, led the team. Dressed in a neat black suit and sharp eyes full of experience, he stood in front of the church's large doors. With him was a historian named Margaret Ellison, who had been asked to attend after the name "Y'xerath-Molokh" was mentioned in witness reports.
"What do we have here?" Daniel asked one of the officers.
The officer reported with a confused face. "Sir, the church is empty except for a few traces of violence. But... we found something strange on the altar. There seems to be a strange symbol or writing that appears on the floor."
Daniel nodded and walked inside, followed by Margaret. On the floor near the altar, a circular symbol was carved, as if burned into the stone. Margaret crouched down to take a closer look, while Daniel examined the remains of the broken statue of Jesus.
Margaret ran her hand over the symbol carefully, her eyes widening as she recognized something. "This… this is a symbol that is rarely seen. It is associated with an entity mentioned in ancient texts," she said.
Daniel turned. "An entity? You mean a supernatural being?"
Margaret nodded slowly, her face tense. "The name Y'xerath-Molokh that you mentioned… I once found it in apocryphal texts stored in the underground library of a monastery in Europe. It is the name of an ancient entity, often associated with destruction, fear, and the mastery of darkness."
Daniel frowned. "Tell me more."
Margaret stood up, pulling a small notebook from her bag. She leafed through the pages filled with handwritten notes and drawings. "According to ancient records, Y'xerath-Molokh is known as the 'Lord of the Void.' He is an entity that is neither fully alive nor fully dead, but exists somewhere in between realities. In ancient texts, he is described as having the ability to manipulate minds, create deep fear, and destroy the will of any who oppose him."
Daniel took a deep breath. "So, we're talking about some kind of supernatural being? Like in folklore?"
Margaret shook her head. "Not just folklore. The name appears in many texts from many cultures, though with variations. It's always associated with great destruction. And there's something interesting…"
She pointed to a symbol on the floor. "This symbol is a summoning rune. It means that someone may have tried to summon Y'xerath-Molokh into this world, or at least some of his power."
Daniel walked over, looking at the symbol thoughtfully. "If this is true, is it possible that the Joculor Tenebris we've heard about was a tool?"
Margaret paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Quite possible. In most cases, these entities don't work directly. They use intermediaries—humans, or other beings—to carry out their will."
Meanwhile, another officer came in with a report. "Mr. Hartwell, we also found a strange note in the church vault. Most of the text is damaged, but one page mentions the name Y'xerath-Molokh and… something about a 'Dark Day.'"
Margaret picked up the report and skimmed through it. Her face paled. "This is bad. Very bad. The 'Day of Darkness' is a prophecy of Y'xerath-Molokh's full arrival in the world of men. If this text is true, then his full presence has not yet occurred only a portion of his power has been unleashed. But if the full ritual is performed, the world as we know it will be destroyed."
Daniel looked at Margaret sternly. "How can we stop him?"
Margaret closed her notebook with a soft thud, her gaze filled with fear and determination. "We must find this ritual and destroy every trace that could have possibly summoned it. And we must stop Joculor Tenebris, for he is clearly the mastermind behind this game."
Daniel nodded. "Okay. We'll start here. We're not just catching the killer—we're saving the world from a darkness that shouldn't exist."