Scale of flame
The souls, caught in the tempest of their own emotions, were still struggling to process the words of the young man before them when a sudden eruption of dark flame pierced the air.
The flames, a maelstrom of black and blue, burst forth from Asha's form, like the wings of a fallen angel unfurling for all to witness.
The souls, caught in the thrall of Asha's power, watched in mute awe as the flames grew in magnitude, their size and scope expanding until they blanketed the sky, a sinister aurora of celestial grandeur.
Asha's words rang out, piercing through the air like a clarion call. "Agree and let me take your skills," he demanded, "and I will give you gold."
Leech, his massive form trembling, could scarcely believe what he was witnessing. The power of Hades, hitherto assumed to be ineffective against the dead, now wielded against the very souls that populated the underworld.
"How can this be?" he wondered, fear gripping his essence like a vise.
In the world of mortals and immortals, a delicate balance had long been maintained. The living, limited to the tangible realm of existence, could not hope to grasp the ethereal essence of the dead, for they existed in a state of spiritual separation, inaccessible to the physical constraints of life.
Hades, though formidable in his dominion over the underworld, was himself subject to the laws that governed the realms of the dead. His power, rooted in his position as a god, lacked the spiritual connection necessary to penetrate the barrier that separated the living from the dead.
In his attempts to assert the ability [binding vowel] over the souls within his domain, his efforts were stymied by this barrier, his power thwarted by the very nature of the realm he ruled.
For only those who possessed a soul, or those whose power transcended the bounds of mortality, could hope to manipulate the dead in such a manner.
The souls, their desperation palpable, erupted in a chorus of assent. "Yes! Take me!" shouted one, his voice a desperate plea that was echoed by the multitude. Their shouts, their pleas, a chorus of agreement, united in their shared desire to escape the eternal torment that awaited them.
The multitude of souls, sensing their opportunity for salvation, thrummed with a desperation that was almost palpable. Their cries, a cacophony of pleas, echoed off the walls of the underworld, their voices a testament to the depths of their despair.
Each soul, a prisoner of their own past, clung to this fleeting chance with an almost animalistic intensity. Their faces, twisted with the urgency of their need, their bodies a tempest of anguish, sought only one thing: release.
Yet, as their cries reached a fever pitch, a sudden change overtook the dark flame that had been hovering ominously above them. The flame, its intensity magnified a hundredfold, flared to life, its heat becoming almost unbearable.
As if in response to the young master's command, the flame that had hung in the air, a twisting manifestation of Asha's power, began to morph and contort, its sinuous tendrils reaching out to take shape.
The dark blue flame, a fire not of this realm, coalesced, its shape morphing into a vast scale, its panes forged from ethereal essence, the depths of its weight unbound by earthly physics., its flickering light casting an eerie glow upon the souls before it, the souls themselves began to feel a heat that even the infernal depths of [Hell] could not rival.
"I will give you gold," Asha's voice rang out, his words punctuated by the shift of the scale, its weightiness bearing testament to his promised reward.
"And you will give me your skills"Asha spoke as The scale, its movement an almost hypnotic dance, settled back into balance, a silent harbinger of the fairness of the bargain.