'Perhaps no one has ever been sufficiently truthful about what 'truthfulness' is.'
Friedrich Nietzsche
(Beyond Good and Evil: Maxims and Interludes: Part Four, Number 117)
The Stygian Abyss - Age of the King
Shouts pierced through the air of Stygian's hellish landscape, desperate cries mingling with the thunderous echoes of laser-fire that reverberated through the war-torn realm. The acrid smell of smoke and burning bodies mingled with the already sulphurous air and metallic tang of blood, creating an atmosphere that was thick with tension as despair.
The realm was aflame with conflict; a never-ending, eternal battle between the Time Lords of Gallifrey and the Demons of the very dominion in which the battle did rage within. The ancient cityscapes, once adorned with grand architecture and malevolent lifeforms, were now veiled in an oppressive darkness made up of thick clouds of smog and ash. And the rivers of fiery lava, canals that had once snaked through the hellish landscape, were filled with the drying remnants of molten rock; the Abyss' once-majestic landscape having been reduced to nothing more than a desolate wasteland, scarred by the ceaseless barrage of deadly spells and advanced weaponry.
The Time Lords, with all their righteous fury, continued to unleash devastating attacks upon the inhabitants of the Stygian Abyss, trying the eliminate the Demons the universe beyond this demonic realm had condemned to death. The Demons, in turn, fought back with their infernal strength and Dark Magics, unleashing their own devastating waves of destruction upon their adversaries.
The battlefield was a nightmarish tableau of chaos and carnage, smoke and ash darkening the blood-red firmament above. And amidst this chaotic symphony, a young Demon, his raven-black hair dishevelled and sweat-soaked, did dart through the turmoil; a mix of fear and determination etched on his face. Horns adorned his forehead, and his bat-like wings extended from his back, their tattered edges fluttering uselessly in the fiery wind. Clawed feet pounded like a racing heart across the battle-torn terrain, kicking up ash and embers with each hurried step taken even as the ground continued to tremble as explosions rocked the battlefield and sent shockwaves rocketing through the Demon's small frame.
Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed, intensifying the young fiend's panic and caused his feet to fly faster over the ground as he sprinted desperately across the hellish battleground and away from the danger that pursued him. It was a relentless hunter, a constant shadow snapping at his heels, and his breaths came in ragged gasps, chest heaving as he strained to outrun the imminent threat that continued to follow him. Sweat streamed down his dirt-streaked face, mingling with sweat of fear and desperation. Though, and coming from somewhere amidst the chaos that surrounded him, a voice suddenly cut through the cacophony; one that immediately succeeded to momentarily pierce through his panic.
"Stop!" it called out, a desperate plea amidst the mayhem; so close that it caused the Demon to glance over his shoulder, eyes wide with trepidation at what he would find.
Was it another Time Lord?
A Demon?
Friend or foe?
"Cessa currere!" the voice came again, this time in a language the young Demon wasn't sure of. But there, standing in the middle of the warzone was a man - beckoning him to halt?
Should he trust them?
Tentatively, he complied to the outcry, his feet skidding to a halt upon the uneven ground; talons grasping at the earth in order to keep his balance. He stood there trembling; his already small frame being dwarfed by the magnitude of the war that raged on around him. Yet, his dark eyes stayed locked onto the redhead who'd called out for him to stop, the man approaching cautiously as he lowered his weapon.
"Est bene," the man was quick to assure, his regulating shouts having softened to a more friendly tone. Though he was even quicker to change languages when he realised the young Demon had no idea what he was saying, the confusion warping the younger's face telling him all he needed to know. "It's okay," he repeated, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender as he watched the fiend's eyes dart this way and that. "I'm not going to hurt you," he continued to try and soothe, even as his own eyes took a glance at their surroundings; not having forgotten that they were in the midst of a deadly conflict.
"Just, please, don't run," was added by the man the moment he realised that was exactly what the kid was thinking, his gaze returning to the Demon and all but pinning him to the spot with his eyes alone after noticing a shift their stance.
"Nikba'le?!"
The Demon's widening eyes darted to the area behind the Time Lord, to where the rest of the man's platoon appeared through the ash and dust, and he unknowingly took a step back in fear. His action caused Nikba'le to swiftly raise a hand and halt his teams' approach, barely even sparing them a glance as he called back over his shoulder, "Sequar vos!"
"Sunt Clam-Drones duabus milibus passuum procul," one of the Time Lords warned, concern etched on his face even as his eyes narrowed upon the young Demon; torn between following orders and the unease that his Commander's decision raised as observed the young fiend who looked to bolt at any second.
"Cognosco. I'll be fine. Just go," Nikba'le urged, slipping back into English with his eyes never straying from the Demon before him. And as he heard his team finally decide to leave, knowing they'd have no real interest helping such a 'creature', he asked the kid, "What are you doing out here, huh? Thought King Nergal had ordered you lot to the temples? Did you get lost?" in an attempt to keep the Demon where he was standing; the feeling that something wasn't quite right causing Nikba'le to remain on edge.
It wasn't as though he thought the kid could harm him, knowing that even as infants the Demons of the Stygian Abyss were as lethal as their parents; Nikba'le's unease feeling more like the sensation one got before something bad was about to happen. And the Time Lord found that he couldn't just stand by and do nothing, possibly allowing harm to come to the young Demon before him; a kid who couldn't have even been a century old and looked as scared as the Time Lord currently felt.
His questions were like a soothing balm amidst the chaos surrounding the young Demon, however, and the kid nodded sharply and silently in reply, his peculiar dark eyes never leaving Nikba'le's redheaded form. Though their amity was short-lived, an unexpected rumble reverberating through the ground underfoot and sending tremors through the young fiend's body and caused a gasp to escape his lips.
It was the first sound that Nikba'le had heard the kid make. Though the Time Lord didn't have the chance to think over that idle fact as he watched the Demon prepare to flee, an action that caused his voice cut once more through the chaos.
"Stay still!" he barked urgently, internally flinching when his voice caused the kid to jump in surprise. And he softened he tone as he finished, pulling a device from one of the many pockets of his pack, "Stay absolutely still." The device begun whirring before letting off a beep - a lot of them - and the Time Lord felt his hearts sink despite his continued attempts to reassure the young Demon.
The last thing he needed was the kid taking off now.
"I'm just scanning the ground," he apprised, glancing towards the Demon and making certain they hadn't moved before returning his attention back to the device in his hand; all the while wondering how in this blasted war was he supposed to explain that they were literally surrounded.
"I think we've got company," Nikba'le decided to say, not daring to move his feet as he turned his upper body around to see if he could catch a glimpse just where the danger was. "Do you know what hand-mines are?" he continued to question as calmly as he could, hoping the fact that he was speaking with a Demon and not another Time Lord that the kid wouldn't panic on him and take off.
Nikba'le's hearts sunk even further as he heard the kid's breath hitch upon hearing his last question, fearing he'd failed miserably with his assumption. Though another sharp and silent nod came from the fiend - who thankfully remained where he was standing, his eyes never straying from Nikba'le's form.
"Well..." The Time Lord offered what could have possibly passed for a smile - if their situation hadn't been so dire. "...in that case, you know you've got to stand absolutely still. Right?"
Another jerk of the head in affirmation had Nikba'le's posture relaxing ever so slightly, the way the kid didn't look ready to bolt soothing his nerves even more despite knowing that they were far from being out of danger. And he continued to enquire, deciding that if he kept talking, kept the kid thinking of something other than the damnable danger that lay literally at their feet, Nikba'le may not only help keep the Demon calm, but also discover a way out of their current predicament.
"Have you ever seen a hand-mine?"
Another silent nod of the head was all the fiend offered, the action managing to sooth Nikba'le's nerves even more. However, and when the redhead's next question was asked, the Time Lord felt a stone settle in his stomach as the reply he got changed.
"Where?"
Pale, parched, and cracked lips never opened, and raven-black hair continued to be jostled in the breeze, catching around the young Demon's horns. Wings continued to tremble behind his small form, looking rather useless as they too were knocked about in the fiery wind, though black eyes shifted; obsidian eyes that belonged to the very Demon Nikba'le was trying to save drifting down, down, down, and to the Time Lord's ankle - the very same ankle wherein a hand had wrapped itself quite snuggly around the man's limb, the end of its wrist disappearing deep into the sand underfoot.
"Bene," Nikba'le breathed. "It's okay," he continued, slipping between languages despite trying to sound soothing. Though exactly who he was trying to soothe at that moment was unknown. "Everything's going to be-"
Partoun, Utah, North America
2012
A scream caught in a young man's throat at the same time his royal-blue eyes shot wide open with fright. Sandy-blond hair clung to a damp, pale forehead; evidence of the sweat that had accumulated during the throes of his nightmare. And beside him, in the bed he'd so abruptly awoken in, a redheaded male stirred; amber eyes fluttering open after having been aroused by his bed-mate's sudden movements.
"Wh-is everything okay?" was questioned with a yawn, voice still heavy with sleep as he rolled over to face the still-trembling blond. Though, and despite his yawn-interrupted question, his concern was as evident as the rising sun.
His companion, however, didn't reply, the young man disoriented by the vivid nightmare that had just held him captive. And he blinked, royal-blue eyes scanning the room with furrowing brows as he realised with a sudden clarity he recognised none of his surroundings; the clear details of a hotel room feeling as trivial as the warmth of the bed that tried so shamelessly to coax him back within its embrace as the chill of the morning continued to assault his bare chest.
The clearly-shirtless male in bed with him wasn't standing well inside his mind either; the redhead's pleading, questioning ochre eyes feeling more like a trap to lure him back into the horrors of his past than anything close to what he'd consider to be soothing or tempting. And as reality continued to slowly settle itself upon his shoulders, sparking up his slow-to-awaken grey-matter, confusion mingled with a clinical detachment; the young man unable to grapple with the conflict between his dream world and the waking reality he'd stumbled upon.
Those eyes, like smouldering ambers, continued to be filled with concern, confusion, affection, and - desire?; the redhead reaching out both mentally and physically in the hopes to bridge the emotional gap that threatened to engulf the both of them after his bed-mate's abrupt awakening. And his voice was laced with a coaxing vulnerability, whispering a name - the blond's actual name as he all but begged him to stay just a little bit longer, to dwell if a bit more within the intimate embrace that they had so obviously shared.
But something within the pale-haired young man recoiled, pulling him away from the vulnerability and entanglement as that cold indifference finally set its roots within his royal-blue eyes; a silent but cutting withdrawal of everything he was washing over the room like a winter's snowstorm as his pale lips remained tightly sealed, refusing to acknowledge the plea that hung so silently, but ever so heavily within the air. And with mechanical movements, he extricate himself from the bed, bare feet finding the cold wooden floor and sending a sharp jolt up through his heels, legs, and spine. His companion's pleas only grew more profound and desperate in response to his continued silence, the redhead's voice raising with an urgency as he pleaded with him not to leave, to stay until he'd at least found his watch.
But still the young man rose from the bed, his blue eyes fixed upon some unseen and distant point beyond the room.
Dressing quickly, slipping into a pair of dark jeans and a plain white, buttoned-up t-shirt, he remained absolutely silent. He treated the words echoing through the room, ones that were growing with both emotion and urgency as his companion begun to question him about a watch; the place it should have been located discovered to be empty, as mere whispers in the wind as his mind was otherwise preoccupied by the reverberations of his nightmare - the haunting images that continued to linger within the darkest recesses of his consciousness.
The chasm between the two men only widened, the growing tension thick within the air. And the redhead's pleas slowly became fainter and fainter, the watch he'd been searching for forgotten as he watched his bed-mate lace up their boots, his protests being swallowed by the helpless acceptance that had settled heavily upon his heart.
It took the blond five steps to reach the door to the bedroom, another seven standing outside the door of the hotel room; a cold determination gripping his actions as he dismissed the quieting protests that still lingered so heavily in the room behind him. He cared little for if he'd left the redhead's heart broken and bereft, letting the man do what he wished with the shattered remnants of their fleeting intimacy as he stepped out onto a quiet, moonlit street and allowed the night to wrap him within its obscure embrace.
The Stygian Abyss - Age of the King
"Have you ever seen a hand-mine?"
Another silent nod of the head was all the fiend offered, the action managing to sooth Nikba'le's nerves even more. However, and when the redhead's next question was asked, the Time Lord felt a stone settle in his stomach as the reply he got changed.
"Where?"
Pale, parched, and cracked lips never opened, and raven-black hair continued to be jostled in the breeze, catching around the young Demon's horns. Wings continued to tremble behind his small form, looking rather useless as they too were knocked about in the fiery wind, though black eyes shifted; obsidian eyes that belonged to the very Demon Nikba'le was trying to save drifting down, down, down, and to the Time Lord's ankle - the very same ankle wherein a hand had wrapped itself quite snuggly around the man's limb, the end of its wrist disappearing deep into the sand underfoot.
"Bene," Nikba'le breathed. "It's okay," he continued, slipping between languages despite trying to sound soothing. Though exactly who he was trying to soothe at that moment was unknown. "Everything's going to be-"
"Var-?!"
Screeching to a halt, barely coming to a stop in time, another young Demon appeared from out of the smoke and ash, his crimson eyes growing wide with horror as he watched the hand-mine claim its victim - the Time Lord being dragged into the ground below.
"Varsod!" the Demon cried out once more, wanting to take a step forwards, but petrified by the danger he now knew to lay right under his feet. And he could do nothing, watching with a breath-stealing terror as hundreds and hundreds of hand-mines slowly slithered their way out of the ground around his brother, each one with their palms open wide and just waiting for an unsuspecting person to stumble past and straight into their iron-tight grasp.
"Thade?! Help me! Please, help me!" Varsod yelled; the Demon clearly just as terrified as his brother - before something flashed through the air and landed a just a few feet away from where Varsod was standing.
"Your chances for survival ain't lookin' too pretty, kid. I'd say you've got a measly one in a thousand shot!" a voice suddenly crackled through the air and caused the two fiends to jump, their eyes snapping to the source; a slender, silver device that had landed at Varsod's feet. "But here's the deal. You forget about the thousand, and focus on that pathetic one. Now, pick it up! I said, pick it up!"
"Brother!" Thade shouted even as his eyes darted around for a way through the hand-mines. If he could just get to Varsod, if he could just reach his brother in tim-
Partoun, Utah, North America
2012
A frown creased pale brows as droplets of water begun to patter against Aion's face, blue eyes blinking before the young man shrugged; deciding to ignore the discomfort the rain brought as he let his feet guide him through the quiet streets, his destination as known as the day of the week.
The rain continued to beat its rhythmic drum upon the ground, whispering a melancholic melody as the young man continued to wander, lost within the swirling mess that was his mind. His nightmare had left him shaken and confused; the memory of the Time Lord being pulled into the ground, as well as the terrified looks upon the two young demonic faces haunting his every step.
He needed space, a moment to try and clear his head and make sense of the fragmented dreams that had begun to invade his sleep.
The redhead's voice echoed faintly behind him, fading away into the background of the continuous downpour as he disappeared into its embrace. He walked for what felt like an eternity, his footsteps melding with the rhythmic patter of the rain and provided a fleeting solace from the chaos that was currently his mind, until eventually he found himself standing on a quiet corner, his eyes finally focusing on the unfamiliar buildings that surrounded him.
Instinctively, his fingers danced across the front of his coat, all but ignoring the rain as he unbuttoned it and slipped a hand inside to retrieve an old, creased business card from a hidden pocket within. And as royal blue eyes dropped to the single word etched upon its surface, a flicker of emotion finally broke through his impassive façade.
"Woof!"
His gaze lifted from the card to a see a dog, a stray by its rather dirty coat and roughish appearance, watching him from across the street, its tail wagging ever so slowly back and forth as it decided on what to do, if Aion was a threat to it or not. Though the young man's gaze narrowed upon the hound, annoyance cutting through his mind so sharply that it caused something dark and inky and alive to shift over his cerulean eyes.
And in that instant, everything changed.
An explosion of magical power ripped its way through Aion's body, catching even the young man by surprise.
He dropped to his knees, the dog letting out a startled yelp the same time a screamed in agony was torn from his throat, his body beginning to convulse. His hands clutched his head as it felt as though it were about to split in half, the agony racking his body feeling as though he was about to be turned inside out.
The rain intensified, as if nature itself sensed the man's pain. Though the droplets of water now felt like liquid fire against his skin, his vision blurring with each second his pain continued to be intensified by the rains' once-soothing embrace. Bones cracked and twisted beneath his darkening flesh, elongating and shifting as an inky liquid erupted from every pore, spreading like wildfire over his already scorching skin before it set like molten stone and replaced his fragile human flesh with its rather sleek, oily sheen; clothes tearing and shredding as his body expanded, the fabrics unable to withstand the force of his unexpected metamorphosis.
Aion's face contorted, and a guttural cry escaped his lips; a mixture of agony and rage. His once-human features sharpened, taking on an otherworldly aspect as his face elongated into a snarling, snapping snout; sharp fangs replacing his once-dull, human teeth. And his eyes, orbs that had been the deepest of royal blues, filled with an endless, obsidian intensity as the rain continued to pour, drenching down upon his newly formed body.
The downpour now felt like a blessing now, soothing the pain that still throbbed within even as his body continued to tremble with a new-found power; feeling a surge of dark energy coursing through his veins. And with a final, primal roar, Mors rose to his full height; a towering stature of darkness and fury, Every inch of the monster-that-had-been-a-man now radiated with a malevolent aura - and the stray let out a startled yelp and scurried away.
Dark eyes blinked ever so slowly as one thought and one thought alone crossed Mors' mind; someone had summoned him.
