This fun little chapter includes fun things like body horror, gore, and death in some less than great detail. Proceed wth caution.

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The legend of the Old Kingdom was simple yet terrible. Their ancestors ruled from their capitol city in a great castle shrouded in the jungle. It was a castle so big, that practically all the residents of the city lived within its wall. First was the marketplace, then the homes of the common folk, moving on to homes of the richer folk, and so on and so forth until the main castle remained where the royal family ruled. It was crowded, yes, but people made their living in relative peace and harmony.

And then the disaster happened. How it happened was still hotly debated centuries later. Interlopers, one with the ways of black magic unleashed a terrible curse unto the city. They opened up gates to otherworldly plains that allowed demons to enter the mortal world, and they slaughtered people by the hundreds. It was so bad, that the demons had practically overtaken the city, that was, until the ancestors of the royal family used the Pieces of the Divine to seal them away.

However by then, it had been too late. Only a small portion of the city had been spared. Only a handful of citizens had survived unharmed. Many had been dragged into the other realms, never to return. Others had been meals to the demons. And some had even been turned and corrupted into demons themselves. The survivors were left with no choice but to abandon the capitol. They traveled for days on end until they left the jungles and re-built the capitol in more spacious plains.

Using the Pieces of the Divines, they were able to rebuild successfully. Living out in such open spaces, they took to farming and raising livestock, and the economy of the city flourished, the same said for the rest of the kingdom. The Pieces of the Divines were eventually sealed away in a vault within the new castle, for their powers were great, but the rulers who wielded them were slowly going mad from their usage. As such, they set them away to preserve what was left of their sanity and ensure the kingdom would continue to prosper long after their deaths.

And while no one speaks of it openly, there is the occasional scribe who pours over the history of the kingdom, and still wonders just who exactly was the interloper that started the demonic plague in the first place. The villain had never been caught and tried, and as far as they knew, could easily still remain at large to this day.

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It was in the original courtyard where the chaos began those centuries ago. As such, the courtyard was said to be a place of strong, spiritual magic. For some, it was a great place of pilgrimage, for those wanting to connect their souls to the Divines, or whatever grand being they so worshipped.

This was the scene Desmond arrived upon on the night of the full moon. His fingers tingled and pricked with heat as he held the Apple in his hand, looking out over the courtyard of the old castle. His doves were down below, mingling with the pilgrims, offering them wine and food that they had…politely liberated from the current castle's storage. Desmond waited patiently, as the moon was not yet at its fullest, and he had some time to prepare for the summoning.

He hadn't exactly expected these people to be here. But when he came days prior to scout out the place, here they had been, setting up camp for their own special kind of lunar festival. They said on the night of the full moon, the spirits were stronger, and they could feel the power of their goddess better than ever before. They even invited him to return on that night, partake in the festivities even!

Desmond could only thank the Divines for this perfect coincidence, and he accepted the offer, promising to bring friends and drink when he did. And how he had delivered. The caskets of wine were opened, and the first round of pilgrims began to partake. It was the finest wine in the New Kingdom, perfectly refined for the sweetest and most bitter taste. And from what Desmond had observed in the past, it was a very quick way to get people drunk.

And for what Desmond was planning, he needed everyone very drunk, very lucid. and very susceptible to control. The Apple still burned hotly in his hand, and Desmond knew he was really pushing his luck with it. He had never used it this much to this degree before, the effects certainly starting to make themselves known. But with any luck, he wouldn't need the Apple much any more after this night.

For now, he watched, and waited, taking in the courtyard as a whole and began to plan how he wanted to organize this.

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In the center of the courtyard, there was what looked like the remains of a fountain, but now all that was left was a big, empty bowl in the ground. Desmond concluded he would use this as his summoing centerpiece. While the pilgrims and his doves partied around him in a drunken stupor. Around the fountain, he laid out the pieces of his grand plan that took him a painful long time to gather. The symbols of the wizard and magician he arranged between two candles each. The scrolls had the straw of brooms and the eyelashes of black cats folded together.

The full moon's highest point drew extremely near. It was time. Desmond looked around the courtyard at the dozens of people he was fully prepared to condemn. It was here in this spot, centuries ago, the demon plague began here. Here centuries ago, scores of mortals were slaughtered, their souls taken and kept out of reach from the Divines. Was he truly, surely ready do to the same? Just for one mere demon?

Really at this point, pretty much absolutely yes. A part of him felt like he had already come too far and he could not turn back now. Even if he did, it was too late for him. He had already dabbled in black magic, and he was forever marked. The only way to erase such a mark was to confess to a Priestess and have her unseal him. And since thaaaat wasn't ever going to happen without him ending up in a prison cell, Desmond decided it was in his best interests to just keep on going.

But the time was now, and Desmond pulled the Apple free of its satchel. He clutched at it tightly, and it glowed bright before it casted a shimmering aura over the yard. The festivities came to a sudden halt as one by one, the partiers slowed in their movements until they all stood like statues, eyes glazed over in golden hues.

Desmond climbed atop a pile of broken pillars, and from memory, he began to loudly instruct them all in the Old Tongue.

His three doves, his brides to be, names he never bothered to remember walked into the fountain and sat down in the center with their backs to one another. The pilgrims moved in a calm yet organized frenzy, oils found and already raging spits of fire brought to the fountain. His doves made no sound as they were doused with the oil, and moments later, set on fire.

Desmond switched from instructions to incantations, the summonings of Her Child, calling out his archaic name through the beyond realms. The scrolls with the symbols suddenly caught ablaze with a dark fury, the flames black as the night with red streaks arching through them. In the fountain, the fire turned just as black with the same red streaks, and the shimmering aura around the yard suddenly began to swirl.

Faster and faster it went, gathering together like a twister as it closed it on the fountain. What seemed like lightning lanced across the twister's surface as it lapped up the black flames. The flames did not extinguish, but rather were sucked up into the twister and spun with it. At last, his doves suddenly screamed, and moments later, blood and gore joined in on the spinning disaster.

Desmond fell to a knee, wobbling dangerously atop the pile. His right hand that held the Apple tightly ached more furiously than a storm, and it felt as if the fires in the yard had caught up to him. The tips of his fingers blackened first, and he muttered through the process of watching it travel to his knuckles, then his palm, and make it ways to his wrist.

But he could not stop now. It was too late for that.

The twister in the fountain shrunk down until the bowl of it sat in the center, a raging hole of darkness and fire.

And then, from the very deep recesses, an otherworldly creature shrieked from within.

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He had not heard his name in a very long time.

So long that he almost forgot what it sounded like when another being, not his Mother, called it.

In a realm of pulsating, breathing vines, and ungodly structures, he awoke from his slumber. His eyes creaked open at first, then snapped wide as his whole body was suddenly jerked forward. A golden chain suddenly appeared in front of him, the end shooting out to anchor itself in the hollow space behind his left breast, where his heart once was. The other end slithered away, and dragged him along.

No matter how much he pulled back at the chain, tried to break away, he could not free himself, and the chain continued on unburdened by his attempts.

"MOTHER!" he screeched into the void, but she did not appear. "MOTHER, HELP ME!"

Where was she? Why did he awake alone? She was always here, always, so why not now? He screamed for her again as he dragged away, and his desperate pleas ceased when he was pulled towards a swirling portal.

Hovering just in front of the portal were three bodies, mortal bodies. The chain stopped pulling at him, and he was free to move of his own will once more. The bodies were deathly still, but the smell of blood on them was unmistakeable. A foreign hunger struck at his belly, and with a guttural sound, the bodies were eviscerated within seconds.

It had been so long since he tasted mortal flesh. He desired more, and the smell of mortals permeated from the portal. He could not recall the last time mortals ha given him and his Mother a sacrifice either, but surely this must be that, and he would not miss out on it.

Maybe it was a good thing Mother was not here currently. Th gold chain strained forward until it shot through the portal completely and took him along with.

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A monster arose from the swirling mass in the fountain. It spilled out in a disgusting mess of vine like tentacles, the red streaks dancing across them now. Desmond grinned despite his pain, his arm burning further now. He called out to the pilgrims to pile forward, feed the beast as it entered the mortal plains. The tentacles shot out at the approaching pilgrims, snatching them up and pulling them into its center.

Blood splashed up and sprayed the sides of the fountain. The sounds of the pilgrims being torn apart were nauseating as they met their deaths silently. Human, mortal bodies were surely not mean to sound like paper when torn apart, but that was the chorus of noises that grace Desmond's ears.

Splash went blood. Shrriz went skin and muscle. Crack went bones. And that was just above the smack of the beast devouring its victims. The pilgrims were running thin, and Desmond made his final push to contain the beast. A halo surrounded the beast, and chains shot out from it into the center of the fountain. The beast screamed in agony as it was reeled out of the portal, until its for form was exposed.

More and more chains out out to bind and seal it, constructing its mass ever slowly into a more humanoid form. Desmond slid off the pile of rubble, back leaned against a pillar as his arm below his elbow burned a white hot. The pain made his vision swim, and he continued to mutter the incantations from between gritted teeth.

The beast screamed and wailed as the portal beneath it closed, and with the last of Desmond's stregnth, it was bound in a mortal form, and dropped unceremoniously in to the middle of the now empty, but blood covered fountain. The ceremony complete, the Apple's glow vanished. Everything dropped, and finally Desmond blacked out with a relieved sigh.

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His face scrunched up as a harsh light suddenly struck him, and he whimpered and rolled away to shield his eyes. He shivered as a cool breeze tickled his back, and suddenly he became aware of the hard stone beneath his figure. Blue eyes opened once more, and instead of the usual darkness of the void before him, he saw the red painted fountain doused in a yellowy light.

His brows furrowed together, and then he realized there was a pleasantly warm heat on his back. He rolled back over, hissing under his breath as the same light from before assaulted his sight, and he threw a hand across his brows to shield his eyes. There was something familiar about this combination of heat and light, and it took several moments for him to remember-

To remember the sun.

He suddenly shot upright with a startled gasp. His head whipped around from side to side. He knew this courtyard, he knew where in the world it was. He knew the sun and the bright blue sky it hung in. He knew everything because he had been here before.

It had been at least half a millennium since he was last year, maybe longer. He glanced downwards, and reeled backwards at what he saw. A pale sternum attached to a pale abdomen, with a pale waist and pale legs. He even had arms, and hands. He reached up again to feel at his face, run them against his cheeks and his nose and brows, and then- Hair! His dark, wild curly hair was back.

Was he…mortal again?

A disbelieving bark of laughter erupted from him. He was back in the mortal plains as himself again. How he had grown, for didn't remember feeling his big since he was here last. He had been a boy back then, but now he had grown into a man. Or at least, it was the form of a man he took now. With another broken laugh, he got up, nearly slipping on the fountains incline, but he crawled out to stand on his own two feet again. His toes curled into the faded stone of the courtyard, and he stared down at them with an exuberant glee.

And then-

For the first time-

He noticed the dark bands wrapped around his ankles. And he realized similar bands were attached to his wrists as well. An uncomfortable weight pulled at his throat, and he reached up to feel the hard, metal collar on him as well.

What in the names of the Divines was this?

The golden chain surfaced in his mind. He reached out in front of him, and grabbed at the air. His hand caught the chain that suddenly materialized. The chain led from his chest out beyond from where he stood, and to a pile of debris where the one and only other single body here lay at the base. Frowning, he wobbled over to the figure, grunting in frustration as he tried to get used to walking on two legs again, and trying to get used to having this kind of body in general.

The body was a mortal man, well muscled with a myriad of patterns across his arms. At least, one arm did. His right up up to his elbow looked charred, burned as if it had spent too long in a fire. Just beyond limped fingers sat an orb with glyphs carved into it. He stared at it for a moment before realizing what it was; one of the Pieces of the Divines. And not just any Piece of the Divines, but one of the many that had sealed him and his Mother away all those centuries ago.

Was this mortal responsible for using this same Piece to summon him? To chain him like this? His whole frame started to shake with fury, and an animalistic growl reverberated from his chest.

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Desmond jerked awake as his whole body vibrated from the growl. His vision swam as the sunlight struck him in the face, and he groaned loudly. His groan was cut extremely short when a hand shot out and gripped him at his throat. With no effort at all, he was lifted off the ground as his left hand clawed desperately at the one that held him hostage. He struggled to look down at his attacker, and his brows shot up to his hairline as a young man, no older than him held him up.

But then the man hissed at him, lips curling back to reveal a mouth full of inhumanly sharp teeth. The grip around his throat tightened, and Desmond struggled to breathe.

"Ruh-ruh-rele-se meee," Desmond wheezed. "Youu….shul naw…Hurrm meeeee"

His hand moved to grip at the band around the wrist that held him. The band briefly pulsated, and the man dropped him. Desmond was sent tumbling back to the ground, landing hard on his side. He cried out in pain as the man backed away and growled in his own frustration.

Desmond wheezed for air as he glanced the man up and down. Was…Was this the Child? He looked a little too old to be a kid, but then again, demons could take on whatever form they wished, and perhaps this is what suited him best.

"Ah..Ale…Alexander?" Desmond gasped out the Child's more modern name. The Child's gaze snapped to his. Desmond grinned despite his pain. "Yes…I know you're name. Because you…You belong to me now."

Alexander's gaze narrowed at him.

"We're gonna do….Amazing things together….Husband."

Alarmed flared up in the blue hues of Alexander's eyes as Desmond wheezily laughed madly.

The Apple shimmered dimly where it sat.