A serene silence menaced the distorted area. Craters of destroyed ground specked all over as Moik Drav stood still.
Finally, he slowly turned his head and locked eyes with Behedet, who was solemnly clasping his hands, uttering thanks to the Phantom.
"Lord Behedet..." Moik choked out, stepping down on one knee and lowering his head. His ruffled hair fell before his eyes, soiled and torn. Behedet exhaled before slowly getting up, brushing his robe from any dirt that collected while prostrating earlier.
Focusing his black, lifeless eyes on Moik, Behedet ordered, "Follow 'its' instructions carefully." This was a short, simple command. He then turned and began walking toward Emory, who was lying motionless on the floor.
Moik's eyes widened before a wicked smile spread maliciously across his face. He looked down at his hands, which flickered between visibility. A portion of his hand was invisible, while the other remained untouched.
Chuckling, he remarked, "I can feel it..." He raised both his hands into the air. The fabric of his soiled suit tore slightly at the underarm. "It's surging through my veins... My body is shifting!" He covered his face with his hand and cackled, "Heh. Heheh. Heheheheh. I'm no longer weak!"
His lips curled upwards venomously. Speaking in a dark, cruel tone, he muttered, "I'm coming for you, Elsa." His body twitched and spiraled before gradually disappearing.
Moik Drav had turned completely invisible.
. . .
After surveying Moik and watching him disappear, Behedet the Mourner began walking towards the baby that lay on the ground. His footsteps crushed the ground beneath him; the air shook and convulsed viciously.
Towering over the child, he conjured the dark magic once more, and it began to coil around his arms. Then, he aimed his wrist toward Emory, for which the magic surged into the baby's chest cavity.
"Hm..." Behedet closed his eyes and stood silent. After one minute, he parted his eyelids, which revealed his ethereal eyes, and spoke in a solemn tone. " --------------------------------------------------------------"
Like with Moik, the words he uttered were too complex and incomprehensible for the average person to understand.
Then, he motioned the wisps of ink that formed the previous paragraph to come and float directly above Emory, which they did immediately.
Many of the purple or black flickers surrounded the baby's body and rapidly spun, lifting him off the ground.
"Recite." The calm order left Behedet's lips monotonously.
Emory's eyes glowed with a certain, colorless hue. A voice surfaced from his little mouth, one unfit for his body and demeanor as a baby.
"Anguish. I shall succumb to the anguish that has been woven by the Phantom's ethereal hand. I raise my continuous plea to 'Them,' and in the shadows of cruelty, I seek both power and curse. I vow to reclaim all Authority that has been stolen by the Descendants of that wretched being. My life, will, and mind have all been sacrificed to the Phantom, and I await the day I can return the benevolence bestowed and granted to my being."
The purple and black flickers slowly descended, along with Emory, on the ground. Crimson finally returned to his eyes while he reached his hand out, looking for the fallen fish. Noticing this, Behedet snapped his fingers, and the fish returned to Emory's grasp instantly.
Then, after gazing at the still expression before him, Behedet announced, "Once you are 17 years of age, you will come to understand the terms of your recitation. For now, no recollection of this incident will remain."
The baby did not nod nor show any confirmation of understanding. Instead, Emory stayed silent, his maroon eyes focused on Behedet's bow and arrow.
The fog that shrouded them in darkness began churning. Looking up at the sky, Behedet calmly thought, It's time to leave. But before he left, he walked over to the unconscious body of Darian Vaughan.
He surveyed it in silence, analyzing every part of Darian. Interesting. That was all he had to say.
Lifting his hand, he grasped the intangible sky and motioned violently, causing the area to tremble and quake.
A tear in the air surfaced as the skies cried out via thunder and lightning. A portal, dark purple and black, was forming rapidly.
The sound of faint mourns scattered throughout the vicinity. It was the sound of someone in denial, a timid, "Please don't go." That reverberated in Behedet's ear. It wasn't one voice, though; it was multiple. Millions.
They were soft, pleading cries, ones that subconsciously made you want to help them. Grimacing, Behedet squinted his eyelids shut, trying to drown out the ethereal pleas that showered his ears.
Then, the voices began calling out: "Please don't leave me here" and "Please take me back."
Stomping his foot on the ground, Behedet, whose voice was seething with rage and annoyance, declared, "You can never go back!"
The voices ceased.
After exhaling, Behedet stepped forward and approached the torn sky hole that oozed malice. Inside the oval was black, and a purple tint outlined the edges.
With one foot in the portal, Behedet turned only his head and exhaled; he eyed the little boy on the ground with a stern expression.
Emory Vaughan.
He then walked through the portal, which shook vigorously before collapsing. The purple and black fog that previously sucked the light and life out of the area had finally diminished.
. . .
Struggling to open his eyelids, Darian groaned as he finally gained consciousness.
"What... happened?" He uttered, rubbing his eyes to wake them up. His hair was ruffled, and bruises covered his body. His pants were soiled and torn, while his shirt was stained with blood.
He turned his head left and right, grimacing at the unknown soreness of his neck. He then looked up, then down, and was met with his son, Emory, silently sucking the fish in his lap.
"Emory…?" He squinted his eyes, "Why are we on the floor?" Confusion spread throughout Darian's injured face. "What is going on…?"
All he could recall was that they were heading for his wife Elara's funeral. On the way there, they stopped at a military base for inspection.
He never remembered leaving the carriage, nor did he remember getting into a fight. So why was he on the floor, and why was his body covered in injuries?
Surveying the area, his mouth involuntarily dropped. The scene before him was something Darian never thought he would ever see in person. The ground! He gazed at the multiple craters that filled the area.
Thinking to himself, he furrowed his brows. My head feels dizzy. He massaged his temples, which left Darian feeling sharp pains across his skull. Ah! My head hurts.
He looked down at the gut-wrenching gash on his palm, which finally began processing the pain. What the...! Did I hurt myself?
His pupils constricted as he had the sudden thought, Did I hurt Emory?! After gently turning the baby over and checking for any wounds and bruises, Darian sighed with relief once he knew Emory was not hurt at all. "L-Let's get to the funeral…" Checking his cheap pocket watch, there were 25 minutes before it ended.
How are we so late? Scratching his head in confusion, he slowly got up and began walking. "Wait… where is the carriage driver?" The space ahead of him where a carriage was supposed to be parked was vacant.
He began walking around, trying to find any person. As of now, he was in the middle of nowhere.
After a couple of minutes of aimless wandering, a voice called out to them.
"Hey!"