12000 BCE

Smyrna, Levant

People moved quickly in the city of Smyrna.

A merchant named Uhur moved swiftly through the crowd, navigating his way. The coins in his pocket jingled monotonously. He looked at sooq ahead, putting his fingers in his pocket, flipping the golden guineas between his fingers. He prided himself to be a proficient bargainer.

He strode forward towards the Sooq until he reached the newly setup shop. He stopped in front of it and looked at the stranger behind the shop. His face, cleanly shaved, stood out unceremoniously between the bearded individuals.

"Strangers are not welcome to trade in Smyrna. Only Levantians can trade."

The clean-shaved man looked at Uhur, unimpressed.

"I shall trade wherever I want, who are you to stop me?"

"I am Uhur, the trading legend, favored by the King Myrhh himself. I shall report this to my king lest I incur upon myself his wrath." Uhur said, scathingly.

"Trading legend? Never heard of ya or your king," the foreigner said, with blatant disregard to the fury building up on Uhur's face. "Besides the Old Ones are the true rulers of this world. You'll only bring Death upon yourself to believe in foolish gods."

"How dare you? I shall call upon the king's guards." Uhur said, and true to his word he did what he said. Steel-clad sentries came, spears in their hands, the plume of their helmets indicated them to be the king's guards.

"Stop this man, he has committed blasphemy against Myrhh," Uhur said cynically. "Seize him, bind him and sacrifice him to the god-king."

The sentries moved quickly and forced the trader to the ground.

"Burn him," someone roared from the accruing crowd. One guard struck him hard with the hilt of his sword. The trader fell to the ground, his eye a nasty purple. The crowd roared in feral delight. Another guard picked him up by his hair and bound him to the shrine of Myrhh. The heartless mass echoed their thoughts:

Burn him, hit him, behead him, pelt him.

On the last shout, the mob picked up rocks and started throwing it at the trader, callously not caring if the rocks were hitting the shrine as well. Uhur beamed in pure sadistic glee. He produced two splints from his pocket and stepped out of the crowd. He raised his hands high, showing that he had the means to burn the trader. The crowd cheered as he bowed. He stepped forward and scraped the rocks over a piece of wood, where a flame blossomed from a tiny spark. He picked the wood up and through it at the trader, who shrieked in fear and tried to move unsuccessfully. Flame devoured the trader whose screams of suffering was lost in the gleeful voice of the crowd.

Suddenly, the Shrine burst like a volcano, shards of black rock flew from it, hitting the crowd, maiming some of them. Fear and panic, spread amongst the mob. The sky turned red and the heat from the fire became shudderingly icy cold. People stopped, rooted to the spot as they saw a tall figure emerge from the cold, blue flames.

With the Scythe in his hand he gleamed powerfully. His hood fell away and his robes dropped off as he spread his wings, leaving him only a sleeveless black tunic belted at the waist. The women in the crowd sighed with wonder, ignoring the waves of fear and power that rolled off of him. He was the most beautiful man they'd ever seen. His skin the color of a rich gold. He was lean and muscular, with a regal face and black hair flowing down his shoulders. His wings scintillated in shades of blue, black and purple.

His eyes, however, were strikingly sea-green and vibrant, with a red tinted sclera. They were full of life, but when he moved, shadows bent to his will and whispers of the screams of the dead filled the atmosphere. He was beautiful, yet petrifying. He was like an angel – timeless, perfect, remote. An angel of death.

Fearful whispers spread amongst the crowd.

Who is he? What is he?

The Angel stepped forward and the Earth moved tremendously fissures erupting in the surface. It levelled the town to the ground, yet the people remained at their place as they felt unfathomable power holding them together.

"I am your Death." He voice was alluring as he was – deep and melodious. "I shall be your end."

Screams erupted from the crowd. Some people crumbled into ashes and were sucked into his body. Some keeled over on the spot, their soul obeying to that beautiful voice, and those kind eyes.

He moved, with immeasurable speed, devouring the souls of the sadistic horde of people. He felt a mammoth amount of pleasure, as power coursed into his veins, his ichor and their souls mixing into one. He finally looked at Uhur, the merchant, who had closed his eyes and was whispering under his breath

Muzhe bachola Myrhh

Save me Myrhh

"There is no one to save you," said Perseus.

Uhur whimpered as Perseus green eyes burned poisonously. When Uhur hid himself from Death's enthralling gaze, Perseus stepped forward. He grabbed his throat, the skin burning underneath his hand

"LOOK at me," He hissed caustically. Tears dropped from Uhur's eyelid from the unimaginable agony he felt. "I am not only the Leveller, but also the Slayer of the Wicked. You have met your end"

With that he squeezed his hand tightly and a sickening crunch could be heard as blood splattered onto the ground.

In a burst of spasmadic light the Earth darkened until nothing could be seen. But, from darkness came light and the whole city of Smyrna was illuminated with a raging fire.

"Erebus!"

The dark chasm of oblivion was deafeningly silent until a loud and powerful voice pierced it like a mellifluous whistle.

A very soft sound was heard until it became noiseless again.

"Erebus"

The soft murmurs gradually got louder as a dark figure materialized out of the void, the cocooned with the shadows it was hard to make him out.

"Ah, Milord, what a lovely surprise," A raspy voice whispered shudderingly. "What do I owe for this pleasure?"

"Keep the mockery out of your voice you impudent fool!" said the dark voice, with malice.

The endless hissed as he the mood darkened drastically

"Remember where you are, milord," He added bitterly. "You are in MY territory!"

"Fool, I created you out of the obscurity of the darkness."

"No one created me, I was born from my own element. I am a sentient being; no one controls me. Especially you." Erebus raged, vehemently.

Chaos whispered a language that existed before time itself. The words glowed with a dark intensity and a lurch caused Erebus to fall to the ground. A visceral pull tore into his gut and he convulsed until no word coming from his mouth could be heard; he was a spluttering heap of undignified primordial.

"Forgive me, Chaos"

Suddenly the clenching stopped and Erebus eased up.

"Now listen up."

To be continued…

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