The city of Nahgharash burned.
Its towers hissed and crackled as the acid rain fell upon them. It's "people" screamed as they sank into the rivers of fire which served as Nahgharash's streets, only to emerge seconds later as skeletons of blackened rock, with the red eyes of Daeva. In their claws they grasped long shards of volcanic glass. In voices that no sane mortal was meant to hear, they sang. Sang hymns of vile praise to the Lord of Night and blasphemies against the false gods, Deiwos and Dweia, entreating them to perform vile, debased acts before their God.
The Man with the Burning Eyes cared not.
He was dressed as ususal in ash-colored ropes. Chain links and armor plating hung from the folds of his cloak. Inscribed on each were lines of scripture from the Book, allowing their profane inscriptions to empower his clothing and protect him from arcane harm. He was standing on a cooled bank of molten stone. His sandals were fashioned from dragon hides, allowing him to traverse the burning streets without harm.
In his hands he held the Book itself.
His lips parted. His lungs filled with the smog which served as air and he spoke one word. Instantly, a stairway of rock emerged from the lava flow and floated above into the eternal night above. He gathered his robes about him and ascended the steps.
His journey lasted several hours, but he was far beyond the fragile states of fatigue which mortals experience. Did he even live? He did not breathe except to speak. Food and drink held nothing for him. He only slept and his dreams held only designs for the future by corrupting the past, or omens from his master. Power, wealth, immortality was no longer the weighty goal of his youth.
Hatred.
He certainly hated his former peers. They were long dead, but that did not reduce the burden of his heart. Man and woman were mockeries of nonexistence as long as warm blood stilled flowed though their veins. Life continued to thrive on the surface. Objects continued to occupy space as their function in a physical universe.
He would destroy them all.
Deiwos for creating.
Dweia for loving.
Love and Creation, blasphemes that will be burned, drowned, crushed and violated, changed to suit Daeva's will.
Than he would have peace.
Were those his thoughts or his Master's? A being who would use him and devour him in entropy along with all other things in the end. It did not matter.
His last step reached the top of the stairs, the Court of Daeva. It was a desert of grey ash, stretching into infinity. Rising in view nine pillars of onyx formed a ring, all inscribed with the words of the Book, over and over again.
In the center rose the primal manifestation of Daeva. A perfect sphere of darkness surrounded by six smaller spheres, feeding energy into the larger one. The whole scene gave off a pulsating sound like a heart beat. Within the central sphere, a presence dwelt. Some would call it a man, to others an animal, still others an abstract shape which has no name.
This was Daeva.
The Man with the Burning Eyes fell upon his knees heaping ash upon with head and back.
"Oh hear my humble praise Daeva, Lord of Eternal Night, the blackness behind the stars of the Universe, Thou Who is The Dark, The Beast at the End of all things. Thou who are the one and true God and rightful ruler of all that is, was, or will be!"
Something stirred within the sphere.
"Thy devotion sickens Me, Ghend. On thy feet before thou rot."
The words seemed to be more real than any ordinary sounds, almost threatening to take physical form.
Ghend stood up and held before him the Book.
"Oh Lord. What are thou holy commands toward thou lowly disciples, whom exist to serve only thee, the pure and true God? We are weary of our travels though Time and we doubt their importance."
The sphere shuddered and Daeva spoke "A pointless effort. I allowed thee use of Mine doors only to show thy weakness. Tis' no matter, only conjures dreams to bemuse mortal kind. Mine true design involves the other book. The Book of Deiwos."
Ghend knew the Book well, the source of Deiwos' power. He held the counterpoint of the Book in his own hands.
"I shall take it, even from the hallowed hallways of the house of the thrice-accursed false god." Ghend exalted.
A laughter was felt from within the sphere "Thou cannot take it. Thou would be turned to cinders the very instant thine fingers would touch its surface."
"How might this great task be accomplished, oh Lord?"
"A pawn. A mere mortal. Some fool whose sins are not as great as thou. He shall take it up and bring it here. And the foolish man shall hold My Book in his right hand and Deiwos' book in his left, and in that instant shall I reach out Mine essence and take his form as Mine own. And in that instant, the Book of Deiwos' shall be no more."
"Thy will be done, Lord." Ghend left his Demon-God to His unearthly ponderings and descended the staircase which fell to
earth after each step dwelt. His thoughts elsewhere. Floating above the molten rock were the other minions of the Lord of Night.
Gelta, Argan, Khnom, and Pekhal. All immortal in their own right. Their souls soaked in the blood of the innocent. Their
every thought directed toward bringing about the end of days.
"Our time hath come, my siblings. Again shall we taste the salty taste of innocent blood of our lips and the souls of Man shall be devoured! "
Their cries of triumph resounded throughout all the infernos and the kingdoms of Man beyond.