"Round and round the Spiral goes,
Darkness borne of sunken woes,
Sinking deeper into the Void,
Cackling while we are all destroyed."
- One of many scribbled poems found amongst the piles of scraps and parchments in the home of a Mr. Howard Phillips Lovecraft. Lovecraft was sent to Hell in the year 1937 of the Gregorian calendar for extreme racism and xenophobia. He only remained in Hell for a period of 6 years, however, before mysteriously vanishing. Demonic police forces investigated his abode, finding mountains of literature written in strange languages and statues whittled out of soap depicting horrible monstrosities. No traces of Lovecraft himself remained, save for two sets of claw marks leading to one corner of the room. Detectives initially suggested that a robbery took place, yet the case was eventually dropped due to inconclusive deductions. The assault idea was tossed aside: how could an assailant have dragged Lovecraft away straight through the corner of a room? How could he have disappeared there, where the twisted angles met, while he clawed to get away from the encroaching darkness?
The trio of demons remained deathly silent while the King awaited compliance. Only the crackle of the sickly fireplace illuminated Frederick von Eldtritch's face, contorted into a snarl of contempt at having been cornered. Eventually Ego spoke up, his tone hardened and his expression grim.
"I'm going to be frank with you, von Eldtritch. I'm not in the mood to play games. As we speak, tens of thousands of demons are being crushed and maimed by tendrils from some unnamable beast, and that's not even counting the millions that have already been dragged down to the Void all across the Seven Circles. Some cosmic horror using the Radio Demon as a puppet is destroying Hell, and unless it is stopped, it will breach Heaven's defenses and crack through the Pentagram into the living world." The Sanguine King paused, gauging the two family member's expressions. Helsa, for her part, hadn't moved from her standing position near the door. Rivulets of cold sweat ran down her face, smearing his meticulously applied make-up. Frederick remained stone-faced, though a keen eye could tell that anxiety was building within him. It was not guilt at the loss of so many lives; one did not maintain the various businesses under the von Eldrtich name and maintain compassion for one's fellow demons. No, the elder von Eldritch's anxiety was born purely of self interest. The King was a powerful man in many senses of the word. He could kill him where he stands, or worse yet, flex his political muscles and have the von Eldritch name buried. Ego sighed and continued.
"Now, Mr. von Eldritch. Frederick. If there is any information you can provide my associates and me, I can assure you a more lenient punishment, should you have had any involvement in this disaster." The fire continued to flicker before Frederick spoke again, his voice much more frail and withered than before.
"...What you wish to attempt will bring nothing but ruin to the family of life."
Ego raised an eyebrow.
"Plenty of ruin has already been brought. Try me."
The Father rose solemnly from his desk and moved towards the bookshelf. His posture and gait seemed more fitting for his age than his facade would lead on, and every move he made seemed painful. Yet even with the dim green lights of the fire illuminating his from a distance, the King could see the spark of unshakable will within his eyes as he spoke.
"I will show you what you want to see, but I cannot promise that you will remain unchanged when you are finished with your blasted crusade. You view the Void and the Old Ones as a trial to be passed, an obstacle to overcome. Naive, foolhardy ideas. Notions rooted in the hubris of mortality…" Upon reaching the bookshelf, Frederick extended his hand and pulled out a large, leather-clad tome and approached the King. Ego sat more upright as he approached, his eyes fixated on the book. For decades Ego had been able to see the souls of creatures around him. Demons, animals, angels. All had an aura of light around them, colors only he can see in all hues of the rainbow. Yet for reasons he could not yet explain, this book, despite being an inanimate object, had the tell-tale smoky aura of a soul within it. Perhaps more unnerving than the presence of the aura was it's hue; while demonic souls typically appeared in seven prismatic shades relating to the seven deadly sins, and angelic souls were a pure, blinding white, this book had an aura of pure darkness. A black, inky mist wrapped around the pages like roots of a tree, lapping up the von Eldritch patriarch's arms like waves of leeches. If Frederick could feel the aura that seemed to claw at his very being, he let on nothing about it as he delicately placed the tome on a small coffee table and sat opposite the King before transfixing him with an icy stare. "All the cursed knowledge you require is in this book."
In the glow of the fire Ego finally got a better look at the object. It was about as large as a typical phonebook, and about as thick as well. Its pages were old and yellowed, and the entire exterior was bound in a strange, greenish leather that seemed unlike any animal hide Ego had ever seen. There was no obvious title, at least none in a language the King recognized; instead, seemingly random runes and symbols were inscribed across the face. There was no visible organization to either the spacing or style of the characters: lines met at angles that seemed to defy 2-dimensional spacing rules, and angles no longer made sense. Ego's eyes were glued to the cover as he spoke in a whisper.
"Frederick… what the hell is this?"
The demon across from him responded listlessly, as if reciting from a passage.
"The closest approximation I could describe it as is an encyclopedia. This book has gone by many names throughout time. De Vermis Mysteriis. The King in Yellow. Necronomicon. Truth be told, I believe no name uttered by mortal tongue could do it justice. This book contains all the knowledge that can be understood of the Void and its occupants." Frederick leaned forward slightly, his eyes appearing sullen and black in his sockets. "The book changes to the reader. It shows them things that can only be read by those it deems appropriate. You must touch the book, Sanguine King, and pray to whatever deity you foolishly cling to that the pages see you worthy."
Ego could barely hear Frederick von Eldritch's words. It was as if he was speaking from the top of a deep well, and Ego could do nothing but fall deeper. All he could see was the book. Whispers began to creep into his mind while shadows danced around his vision. Slowly and deliberately his hand moved, perhaps without his control, towards the cover. His clawed digits moved ever close to the book of madness. The symbols shifted, then shifted again. An endless dance to unheard drums. The drums. The drums banging, on and on, beings dancing far above and far below, beyond the reach of thought. The dancers spinning and twirling, unfathomable being in a maddening dream. Spinning. Spinning. The Spiral. The Spiral. The Spiral…
Fingers grazed the cover.
The Spiral.
Darkness.
Ego slept in darkness.
No. That was wrong. He was awake. For the first time, he was awake. Hell was a dream. Heaven was a dream. Everything he had even known was simply a beautiful dream.
Ego was awake in darkness.
No. That was wrong. Ego didn't exist. His body was no more. Just a figment of the dream. Follies of the flesh and wisps of blood.
The Soul was awakened in darkness.
There, out in the darkness, the Soul began to understand. The dream was laid out before him. The cone of Hell rotated in the distance, its Seven Rings spinning like a top. Above that, the white sphere gazed down with contempt on their judgment. Above that, the mortal world. The universe. Life and death, countless stars and countless lives. Souls unaware of what awaited them.
And below the mortal world. Below Heaven. Below Hell.
Sat the Spiral of the Void.
It was perfect in its chaos. The Golden Ratio dictated its form: the farthest point of the Spiral touched the bottom of Hell. The Soul realized that was what he had observed in his laboratory. He had only seen the surface, only the smallest glimpse into the twisting Spiral. Much like Hell's own conical shape, the Spiral extended downwards through the nothingness. Dark things writhed in the curves of the Spiral as it descended, a whirlpool of tainted forms. Down, down it sank, and as it did, the darkness grew more dense. More corrupted.
Until the Center was reached. The Cradle of Reality. The Center of all things. It was there that the Soul knew he would find the true form of the being that had assaulted his dream.
The being. The Soul could see it there. Could see its name. The symbol of it, curved and wicked. The Yellow King's symbol. The King in Yellow had brought ruin to the dream.
Hastur had come for his children.
Ego gasped, retracting his hand as his entire body shook. His vision was hazy, the book in front of him spinning as he tried to regain his senses. Faint voices entered his mind as he tried to make reality stand still again.
"...should you really let him…"
"...no other choice…"
"...he cannot stop the Spiral…"
"...it doesn't matter, child…"
The King gasped for air and, with great effort, managed to break his gaze away from the cursed book. Instead he looked forward, bile in the back of his throat. Before he he saw Frederick von Eldritch and his daughter Helsa speaking in hushed tones, glancing at him occasionally. Evidently they noticed his return to consciousness and stopped their conversation. The father von Eldritch looked at Ego, his expression somewhat softened.
"Ah. So it has accepted you, Sanguine King. I'm unsure whether to offer congratulation or apologies."
Ego sharply took in breaths, swallowing saliva. Slowly his body was becoming more functional after his out-of-body experience, and he mentioned to speak a few slurred words.
"...The… Sp… Sphi… Sphirawl…"
Frederick simply nodded sadly.
"Yes. You have seen the true form of your quest. You have seen your fate at the Center of the Void's Spiral. And it has marked you…" Frederick pointed to Ego's left hand. Shakily, Ego looked at the hand that had touched the book to see his palm. There, emblazoned in a sickly yellow color, was the symbol of the Yellow King. The hook-like curves wrapped around his fingers. Ego nearly vomited at the sight as von Eldritch continued.
"You have been bound to that Old One. As I'm sure the Radio Demon has been. Your fate is theirs now…" Frederick took off his left glove and moved his hand under Ego's vision. "...You and I are brothers in curse, King of Blood."
Ego looked at the old demon's palm to see another sign: a black, crooked star, with a single eye that seemed to look right through Ego.
At that, Ego really did vomit right into Frederick's hand before blacking out.
Frederick von Eldritch's face contorted into a look of disgust. "Ugh! Revolting!" He quickly pulled back his hand and took out his handkerchief, wiping off the sickness and grumbling aloud. "I try to show him a form of unity in our fates and he vomits at the Elder Sign!"
Helsa just frowned at the entire situation. "In all fairness, Daddy, he did just receive his Sign. Wasn't it hard for you as well?"
Frederick grumbled some more before finally putting his glove back on. "Yes… yes, I suppose it was. It has been a long time since the book chose me…" He turned to his daughter, regaining his firm demeanor. "Helsa, have some of the help take the King and the book to a sleeping chamber. Let them know to tell me as soon as he awakes, and to treat our guests with proper dignity this time around." Helsa nodded and quickly sashayed away to do the task.
"Oh, and do get someone to mop up this vomit!" Her father shouted down the hall after her, eyeing the bile with disgust.