Zariel's Wrath

Zariel Snow had collapsed, his soul in heavy disarray. His body, much less his soul, was far too fragile to contain power no man nor god should possess. He had not planned to use the Weave, much less prepared himself to use such a power. To use the Weave was to bring himself to death. He was gasping for air, which did not seem to fill his lungs try as he must. He slipped from his knees to his face, pale cheeks turned ashen and shook as if cold.

Rage had filled the Young Lord as he lay helpless, gasping with all he had for air. Hatred, he had to contain, a fury only seen by the strongest of fallen, began to seep. He had foreseen the flicker of the Black Hands, involvement; he knew it was. And bloodlust was brewing, stirring the very darkness of his soul; a foul black aura exploded from the young lord, and his eyes returned to a scarlet red.

"You–All–Will–Pay!" He thundered, releasing such a shook wave of evil intent, the land of darkness within the Redwoods withered to rot. Everything had begun to wilt. Be it the animals or those who were near the tide of pure evil—pooling from the menacing Tower of Sorrow. Eyes had become fixed over the Tower of Sorrow, and fear was racing through hearts.

Cloaking the Tower of Sorrow with a thick ooze of evil, every man, woman, child, immortal, and god shivered. They could sense the power of the Hells, the essence of the deepest part of hell, twisting the very laws around Zyphis. Spreading out from the Tower, none dared get too close and be damned by Zariel Snow.

None dared, he was still in the first stages of power, but the Silver Devil had already taken the life of an immortal.

Lord of Ash, Dearil was frozen, and his hands had begun to shake. He grabbed them in haste, trying to mask the fear building in his heart with all he had. But this was different. How much blood had he seen? How many monsters had he killed or allied himself to? He had seen demons of the Nines before, devils even. But none brought this kind of fear. Death was a single consequence, everyone knew this, but the Aura radiation from the Tower of Sorrow told a different truth none dared to believe.

"Zariel, what has happened." He prayed everything was fine. He was Yuki's child, after all. He could not allow anything to happen. Not this soon. Not when he had just returned.

Blood had rushed to Dearil's head, and a coolness returned to his heart. Quelling the fear, with a pulse from his soul, through his body, the Lord of Ash grimly glared at the Tower, only to notice a strange fluctuation taking place in his domain, near the very Tower before his eye.

Bloodlust surged deep through his now cold heart. He soared form out of the clouds, piercing through space where he saw rich darkness swirling in a vortex near the base of the Tower of Sorrow. Disgust seemed to burrow deep into his eyes, "the Black Hand," He addressed so coldly the very withered lands become trapped in ice; Frost ran over the rotting branches of trees, creeping over the living and dead bodies.

Fire blazed like a storm of wrath exploded off the Lord of Ash, blanketing the moon's glow, bringing only a scarlet ghost of death to the Redwoods. "YOU DARE! YOU DARE CHALLENGE THE HOUSE OF LAZARUS!" He thundered, creating fault lines and chasms through his powerful voice.

Near the Tower of Sorrow, a few kilometers away, fear had permeated Sionn. Everything had happened so quickly. All he witnessed was death explode out, and the wither of the land before a strange barrier washed over his body, and his consciousness faded away. The others near him, like Ella and Baldor, were the same.

Tensions were high near the Tower, and those in the First Powers were not welcome. Not here, nor anywhere else. The Lord of Ash, the King of this Land, was enraged. The Black Hand had taken it upon themselves to invade his land. To interfere in one of the most sacred of ceremonies held by the Tribunal in the Kingdom of Iliah was an insult of the highest of orders. This ceremony was a message to the other lands, a show of power. To invade his land meant not just war but death.

Dearil, of House Lazarus, was furious.

—

Aurelia had been horrified beyond measure. When Zariel's wrath fell out of control, she had been washed away in a baptism of hellish darkness. She could hear the screams of the Hells, the cries of the souls it held, and the feverish laughter of the demons. Her stomach had long since turned merely by the Aura, but her heart broke at the cries that were so tragic she felt her knees grow weak.

Trapped inside a vacuum of Zariels intent, Aurelia's golden essence had proved to be nothing before his insanity. She had wished to scream, to plead to him, having witnessed his body drop. But all that lay beyond her sight was terror and eternal darkness. She could not more tell what was up than what was down. It was all darkness.

"Dummy," She cried with teary eyes, having never felt so frightened in her life. She called to Zariel, the strongest man she knew. "Dummy, what happened. Dumb-Dumb! Zariel!!!!" She cried over and over, calling his name as the screams of hell grew louder, scaring her. Despair raced over her heart. Playing with her soul, the longer she remained locked in darkness.

Tears had long begun pooling from her large golden eyes. Shaking uncontrollably, losing faith the longer she remained, a warm, gentle light washed over her. Soft as the mornings' dawn, a glow of gold washed away the darkness, revealing an ashen child just a meter away.

Joy seemed to flicker through Aurelia's eyes, but stars soon filled her sights as she stared down at the beautiful sword that had magically appeared in her hand. The longsword was the most magical thing she had ever seen. The blade was entirely crafted of with seemed to be gold, carrying a rich warmth she knew all too well. Down towards the grip, she saw a refine hilt, a solid black, without a hint of blemish, holding a strange sigil that did seem familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. She could not place the name, but she knew it well for some reason.

"Blade of Dawn, Morningstar," She uttered.