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Warning
The following novel contains material that may be harmful or traumatic to some readers.It contains graphic descriptions of murder, violence, and other unpleasant text.
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* images in "Characters" section are AI Generated Images and serve as inspiration and may not fully represent the author's vision. *
For a better experience, I recommend opening the Characters section so you can visualize the character as accurately as possible. The descriptions here will not be very detailed.
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Forgotten Woods, A few dozen minutes later
Celestis Calendar: Day 11, Month of Raphaelis (3/9)
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After realizing that Tira left me behind like a dying dog, there was no longer anything keeping me tied to that cursed place.
I still don't fully trust Ereboreth—he remains a mystery, a shadow wrapped in even darker shadows. But because of him, I've come to a realization...
The greatest evil is the Heavens.
He dragged me through hell, but in doing so, he also freed me from something far worse.
Fear.
That disgusting, rotting fear.
The fear of death.
I faced it. I walked through it. And I survived.
Now, I do not fear it.
Because darkness is still far more merciful than the life I have lived.
Now, I walk beside Ereboreth, through a forest swallowed in the blackness of night.
A forest even darker than the night itself.
The trees are ashen, lifeless. Like my heart.
The air stinks.
But even that is preferable to the stench of betrayal.
Even this place is more welcoming than those streets.
In its own way, it feels more alive than the Ghetto ever did.
Inside me, something is taking shape.
A pattern. A sequence.
The exact formula of my hatred.
Before, it was driven by two things—
The Ghetto.
The Heavens.
And now...
Her.
If only she had kept her mouth shut at the end...
I glance at Ereboreth.
Questions are already forming in my mind.
But I don't ask them.
Because I know he can hear my thoughts.
Ereboreth's head twitches.
Then, slowly, he turns his gaze to me, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
"Before we arrive, you may ask your questions."
His voice breaks the silence that has lingered ever since my outburst.
And honestly, I have many.
"That outburst... What the hell was that?" I ask, curiosity laced in my voice.
I've had many fits of rage before.
But never one where my voice alone could shatter cliffs, shake the earth, and tear through trees.
"You awakened Ethyrion."
Ereboreth answers simply.
"I didn't wish to burden you with this knowledge before... Even though I was certain you would eventually join me."
His tone is neutral.
Detached.
Like he isn't even human.
"Ethyrion?" I narrow my eyes. "What is that? Some kind of magic trick?"
Ereboreth lets out a short breath.
"Something like that..."
Then, he elaborates.
"Ethyrion—formed from the words 'Ethereal,' meaning beyond this world, and 'ion'—an energized particle."
"It is raw, natural energy."
"A rare, ethereal force—born from the heart, flowing through the soul."
"Only a handful of beings are able to wield it."
His voice is steady. Matter-of-fact.
And yet, I feel the weight of his words.
"Where you lived... you knew nothing of this.
"You knew nothing of the world's vastness. Of its kings. Of anything beyond your miserable streets."
Ereboreth suddenly stops.
His expression shifts—just slightly.
"I must say, your awakening of Ethyrion was... peculiar. Unexpected."
For a moment, he seems lost in thought.
Analyzing something.
Something about me.
A new feeling grips my gut.
Danger.
Something about him feels... dangerous.
"Peculiar? How?" I ask, my voice firmer now.
Ereboreth exhales.
"Very."
His blue, glowing eyes pierce into mine.
"I have witnessed many awakenings."
"But your rage..."
He tilts his head slightly.
"It exceeded the limits."
"We should consider ourselves fortunate... that it didn't tear you apart."
His words hang in the air.
I remain silent.
I felt powerful. Unstoppable.
But never did I feel like I was on the verge of being ripped to shreds.
"You see... Ethyrion is divided into two branches."
"The Seraphic branch... The Angelic Ethyrion."
"It is often harmonious, purely restorative, and draws from positive emotions and sacrifices."
"It harnesses power from love, peace, happiness, joy, and similar emotions."
Ereboreth speaks evenly, his words measured.
"I, however, walk the other path."
His tone darkens slightly.
"The Abyssal branch... Demonic Ethyrion."
"This one surfaces through chaotic emotions. It is often far more destructive... and infinitely more dangerous."
"Hatred, greed, wrath... and more."
His explanation sinks into me, laying the groundwork for something greater.
Then I remember—he mentioned something before. Aquare... Aqua...?
"You mean Aquarethyr?"
He smirks. That bastard read my mind again.
I smirk back.
"That's the fun part."
"These two branches—the Demonic and the Angelic—each have their own subtypes. Sub-branches."
"Imagine it like this..."
"Picture two enormous trees. The central trunk represents the primary branch—the Seraphic trunk, the Abyssal trunk."
"Through this trunk, your main emotions flow."
"And from it, thousands of branches stretch outward, each symbolizing different aspects of nature or supernatural forces."
"My Aquarethyr is an oceanic branch. It is my primary force—the power through which I fight."
I immediately recall that moment with Saul.
The cold. The air that felt wet.
"Exactly... A great deal of my strength is tied to the seas. Specifically, the Sea of Black Wrath..."
"The very waters you stood over, back at the cliff."
His words hold weight. And they shock me.
"Is that how you got inside my head?"
I ask, my interest finally genuine.
This—this is something I want to know.
Ereboreth raises an eyebrow.
"What makes you think that?"
I smirk.
In the Ghetto, many of the water sources we drink from are connected to the northern sea.
The only stable source of survival. Water.
Then, for the first time...
Ereboreth laughs.
It stops me cold.
"You're sharp, Timothee."
"It's astonishing that a mind like yours remained stuck in a place like that."
His words hit me.
For years, I thought most of what I knew was useless.
But now—
Now, I realize something else.
I hold far more information than I ever acknowledged.
Especially about my mother... and her world.
If I had recognized it sooner, I could have used it far better than just wallowing in self-pity.
Because that's all I've ever done.
Whined.
And whined.
And whined.
Nothing more.
With fear gone, my mind feels clearer.
Sharper.
For the first time, I truly see.
Ereboreth shifts the conversation.
"Let's return to the original topic."
"My branch of Ethyrion can be combined with others."
"For example, if I wanted to control both water and fire, it would form the branch of Aquafirentisthyr."
"Or if I combined water and wind, it would create Aquaventrion... which I also wield."
That's... fucking insane.
My mind instantly starts racing.
What if I mixed fire and poison? What would that be called?
"Pyretoxithyr."
Ereboreth answers my unspoken thought without hesitation.
I stare at him, stunned.
"That's possible too?" I ask, excitement creeping into my voice.
Ereboreth gives a slow nod.
"Ethyrion is an art. There is a use for everything within it."
Then, suddenly—
He stops.
With a sharp motion of his hand, he signals me to halt immediately.
He turns to face me.
"We're here."
I follow his gaze, scanning the area beyond him—
Dead trees.
The hollow sound of dying leaves, falling and rotting into the earth.
Nothing else.
No signs of life.
Only the scent of decay.
Ereboreth smiles.
Then, with a single sweep of his hand, the air around us twists.
A violent, spiraling gust of wind erupts, forming a temporary cyclone—
And then, just as suddenly as it appeared—
It vanishes.
The storm shoots upward, dissolving into the night sky.
And beneath it—
A crypt.
An untouched stone structure, ancient yet unbroken.
But its very foundation...
Reeks of something foul.
Something far worse than death.
Before I can step forward, Ereboreth grips my shoulder.
His voice lowers, his words heavier than before.
"The figure you saw in your vision before entering the forest... That massive, dark being with red eyes..."
A pause.
Then, with deep reverence—
"That is my master... Timothee."
I freeze.
It's not the words themselves that shake me—
But the way he says them.
I can hear the respect.
I can feel the fear.
A name creeps to the tip of my tongue.
"Diabo—"
Ereboreth's hand snaps over my mouth.
His eyes widen in shock.
He knows exactly how I know that name.
That woman.
The one who screamed it before she died.
A beat passes.
Then, carefully, I ask—
"Who... Who is he?"
I watch Ereboreth closely.
Because for the first time, he is careful.
Cautious.
Like even speaking of this being carries consequences.
Then, he releases my shoulder.
"You don't need to know that yet."
His voice is firm. Absolute.
I narrow my eyes, but before I can push further, he continues—
"Regardless, the fact that I have chosen you, Timothee... means nothing."
His next words make my stomach twist.
"You must still be chosen... by him."
Ereboreth lifts a finger—pointing directly at the crypt.
I inhale sharply.
So this Dia—
Unknown entity... He is the one who truly decides.
A thought strikes me—
What if he doesn't want me?
Ereboreth smirks.
He leans in—his breath unnervingly close to my ear—
And whispers.
"If that's the case, Timothee..."
"It will be quick."
"That, I promise you."
A chill rips through me.
For the first time in a long while...
I feel a flicker of fear.
Not of death.
But of being rejected.
I want him to choose me.
But...
Am I worthy?
I exhale.
I nod.
I face the crypt.
And all at once—
Every terrible thing a human can feel—
Rage. Despair. Hatred. Suffering.
It radiates from that place.
Like an endless well of human atrocity.
Or perhaps...
Something far older.
Something far greater.
But is it truly evil?
More than the beings above us?
That, I will soon discover.
Together, we step forward—
Into the crypt.
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Crypt of Eternal Evil
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We stand before the stone gate—a massive black skull carved into its surface.
Beneath it, an unknown glowing orange text.
Maybe... Angelic script?
Ereboreth raises his hand, placing it gently against the doors—
And with no effort at all...
They split apart.
A deafening crack.
And then—
They come.
From within the crypt, a swarm of grotesquely deformed bats erupts, screeching as they lunge toward us.
Before I can react, Ereboreth's hand snaps upward.
A gust of wind surges forth—violently slamming them against the walls.
Their bodies hit the stone with sickening crunches.
One by one, they drop to the ground, twitching.
Ereboreth steps forward.
And with one swift stomp, he crushes their skulls beneath his heel.
Their heads splatter like overripe fruit—black, oily stains mixing with chunks of decayed brain matter.
The stench...
Rotting flesh, rancid and sour—
Like the stench of human corpses left to fester.
Disgusting.
But... necessary.
Their deaths serve a purpose.
The crypt must remain hidden.
Any disturbance in the forest could draw unwanted attention.
I understand this.
Ereboreth strides forward, unfazed, and I follow close behind.
But my curiosity lingers.
I've never seen creatures like that before.
There are many animals I've never seen—only heard about through stories, old books, faded sketches.
But these bats...
They were different.
Twisted. Corrupted.
Their deformities felt... unnatural.
We move deeper into the crypt.
As we descend, the torches lining the walls ignite on their own—
Their flames flickering to life, illuminating a long, wide staircase leading further underground.
I hesitate.
There's something wrong about this place.
I can feel it.
Something invisible.
Something powerful.
Overwhelmingly powerful.
It feels like... shadows.
The same shadows that hunted me through the city.
The ones that left behind the mark of their evil.
I can feel them now.
Trying to get inside my head.
But more than that—
They want to tear me apart.
Rip me to shreds.
The only reason I'm not already dead is because of Ereboreth's Ethyrion.
I can feel it.
Like a barrier—a veil of emotions shielding me from them.
Yet...
Despite the danger, despite the writhing darkness pressing in from all sides...
I find it...
Fascinating.
I've been using that word a lot lately.
Maybe I should hold back a little.
I smirk to myself.
Then—
Something lunges at me.
A shadowed hand—
Straight for my mouth.
I freeze.
My eyes widen in shock.
I don't even have time to process what's happening—
Because before it can reach me—
A violent gust of wind slams into it, shattering it instantly.
Ereboreth's wind.
He saved me.
I turn to him.
And for the first time...
His gaze is deadly serious.
He leans in—
And whispers.
"Do not... show... any... emotion."
My smirk.
Was that...
A trigger?
A death sentence?
...
Fuck.
This place is insanely dangerous.
What the hell is this entity?
Is it supposed to be... Lucifer?
Or something worse?
I think I should just shut the fuck up and be patient.
But it's so damn hard.
This world...
A completely new world has been revealed to me.
I want to understand it.
To know everything.
I just hope...
Curiosity isn't an emotion.
Otherwise—
I'm fucked.
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After a few Minutes
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We've finally reached the bottom.
A short corridor stretches before me—
At its end, a sealed gate.
The floor is littered with bones, skulls.
But they're sticky, slick.
As if the flesh had only just melted away.
It didn't rot.
It dissolved.
Seeped into the black stone, rough and unpolished—
Like this place was excavated, but never finished.
Halfway down the corridor, Ereboreth stops.
He exhales.
Then, turning to face me, he speaks—
"From here on... you go alone."
That stops me cold.
"But—"
"Hope, Timothee. That's the only advice I'll give you."
"Accept the power... and do not resist."
With that, he steps behind me.
A silent confirmation.
This is my trial.
This gate will either be my death...
Or my rebirth.
As a new person.
Or something else entirely.
Hmm...
Just a few more steps.
I move forward.
And despite my resolve...
My heart is swarming with uncertainty.
Massive uncertainty.
Should I hold onto it?
...
Absolutely not.
I stand before the gate.
Its surface is plastered with long, white parchments,
Each one inscribed with glowing, auric text.
Angelic script?
A seal?
Would this seal be dangerous to Ereboreth?
...But what about me?
I'm just a human.
Right?
But fuck it—
There's no turning back now.
I touch the seal.
And... nothing happens.
The parchments—
They're so...
Soft.
Softer than anything I've ever felt before.
But the moment I feel that softness—
I also feel something else.
A presence.
A holy presence.
An ANGELIC presence.
Fuck!
I violently tear the seals downward, from top to bottom.
The ground trembles.
I did it.
Now I just need to open—
(BOOM!)
The gate blasts open on its own.
A furious wind surges outward, slamming into me with overwhelming force.
And within that wind—
I hear screams.
Children.
Women.
Men.
All of them, begging for their lives.
The wind howls for only a few seconds—
Then—
Silence.
The storm dies.
And I see it.
What was hidden behind the gate.
Torches ignite along the walls, but this time—
Their flames burn blood red.
The entire chamber is bathed in a crimson glow.
It's a massive, oval room.
And above me—
The ceiling...
No.
Not a ceiling.
A skull.
A colossal skull, its mouth gaping open.
And from its throat, a skeletal arm emerges.
Its bony fingers curled inward.
Only one finger extends downward—
Its sharp tip bent—
And resting upon it...
A black book.
And from that book...
I feel it.
Pure evil.
Absolute evil.
A darkness darker than darkness itself.
The black aura around it pulsates, suffocating the air itself.
And then—
It whispers.
Not to my ears.
Not to my mind.
To my entire body.
Words, deep and reverberating, crawl through my veins, sinking into my very bones.
And yet...
I am curious.
My feet move forward.
I feel nothing else.
Only the book.
And my desire to reach it.
With each step—
The whispers grow stronger.
Each word becomes clearer.
But their meaning...
I don't understand.
This language...
It's similar to what I heard at the gate.
But this...
This is older.
Deeper.
And I want to know.
I stand before the book.
The whispering repeats.
"ZI-TRA! ZI-TRA!?"
Or... something like that?
I don't know.
I stare at the book.
It's surprisingly pristine.
No scratches.
No damage.
Not even a speck of dirt.
I raise my hand over it.
For a moment, I just look at it.
Like I'm... hesitating.
But...
Do I even have a choice?
And honestly—
I want this.
Slowly—
I lower my hand toward the book's surface.
And—
...
...
Nothing happens.
I swallow hard.
Then, cautiously, I move my hand to the edge of the cover.
To open it.
And—
I JUST—
(FLAP—FLAP—FLAP—FLAP—FLAP!)
A swarm of black insects erupts from the book—
Flies. Mosquitoes.
They explode outward, flooding the room within seconds.
They consume me.
I can't breathe.
They bite. Sting.
Their buzzing drills into my skull—
I CAN'T THINK!
I CAN'T—
(CRACK!)
Suddenly—
The swarm dissolves.
And I—
I am somewhere else.
Not in the crypt.
Not in the city.
Not in the world I know.
I am in darkness.
A black void.
Like I was pulled into another dimension.
Or into darkness itself.
There is nothing.
Nothing but...
Me.
Even the book is gone.
I can see my own body clearly.
But nothing else.
And for the first time since my death...
I feel fear.
Not fear of pain.
Not fear of death.
Fear of the unknown.
It feels like I am alone in this darkness.
But that is a lie.
It wants me to think that.
My mind can sense it—
Something lurking behind the shadows.
Or perhaps—
The darkness itself.
If this being...
If this is Diabolus—
"Do not take my name in vain..."
"You worthless human worm."
A voice.
A voice so deep, resonant, and twisted...
It shakes my very soul.
My knees collapse beneath me.
I kneel, as if my body is no longer my own.
My heart pounds violently.
And with each beat—
The very air around me trembles.
My head bows downward, staring into the emptiness below.
I cannot look up.
It will not allow me to.
It wants to establish dominance.
I try, with every ounce of strength, to lift my head—
I can't.
"Resistance was forgotten the moment... you stepped into my domain."
The voice speaks again.
It knows.
It knows my thoughts.
I cannot even speak aloud.
It permits me nothing but my own mind.
My will.
So be it.
I blink.
MY—
Before I can even think further—
The darkness is gone.
Instantly replaced by a space of blinding white.
Still empty.
Still nothing.
But now—
I can move.
I look around, disoriented.
Slowly, I rise to my feet.
Nothing.
No walls.
No shadows.
Nothing but this endless, white abyss.
I stomp my foot—
No sound.
I move my hand—
No wind.
I breathe in—
It is not air.
It is something else entirely.
My head aches, but the pain is not overwhelming.
I turn.
And—
Right in front of my face—
A cascade of brown, curly hair.
A scent.
Neutral.
Familiar.
And instantly—
I know.
It is Tira.
To be continued...
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