The Darkest Night......

They say that life can change in an instant, one action can lead to so many changes that one may fail to keep truck of what is happening.

One might say, Soren's life had also seemingly changed in an instant. It took him being the sole survivor and witness of a dark occultist birth to change his life. 

His life before those events was more mundane than anything else, chase after women, flaunt your status to suppress a few ragtag group of aging boys, enjoy the worship of the lesser races, contemplate how to win the heart the Aurora's daughter. And with the long lifespan he was lucky to be born with time never really worried him, it was just a matter of time, then everything would fall into place.

But ever since that day, he could never be the same. 

Soren, was a figure that stood at a grandiose height of around 7'9 ft. Even among the many normal sized humanoids he was easily a giant among them. His shoulders were broad, his form impeccable, his poise charming, everything about him, screamed one above all, and considering his origins then just maybe it was not that farfetched.

He was a handsome man, one that stood out among many, it had a sort of gravity to it that one could not help but fall into it. His features were sharp and pronounced, his brows symmetrical, his outlines straight and strict, they was no flaw on his body.

His hair was a taft of billowing starry flames that moved without wind. The flames was white and incandescent like a star. And it seemed that even his skin would scream endlessly with the light it radiated.

His eyes were a whirlpool of white, with white sclera, a blindingly white pupil and dark iris. His eyes, were the source of the attraction, they would pull you in if you were to look at them. the laws would bathe him in resplendence. 

Soren had been the leading figure of the men who had gone to hunt for the love of Elvyra as she was still at Origin Soil, he had commanded them with valor and might that they never disobeyed what he said. One could easily say that he had grown together with these men and their shared love for Elvyra is what had brought them together in the first place. 

But now they were dead

He seemed to have led them all to their demise, their throats were slit right in front of him, as their lifeforce became food that wench.

He saw the despair they had in their eyes as they pleaded for his help. But he could do nothing, fear had taken root in his mind preventing him from moving an inch more so even a muscle, he had witnessed death face to face for the first time in his life.

If only he had not convinced them to go hunt for her then maybe they would still be alive, if only he was not persistent in his endeavor's, then maybe they would still be alive.

He saw the light vanish in Ambrose's eyes and he felt his heart shatter.

Ambrose was the youngest among their group and although they often teased him about his delicate nature, they still cared for him. He was the link that held them together, but now he was dead, and he felt broken, he felt crushed, he wished to gouge out his eyes at that moment, but alas things were not meant to be, he could not move a single muscle as he lay hidden from the sight of that cult.

He watched the birth of an abomination, its mere presence corrupting the realm they were in, he had seen the horrifying power of its mere presence.

Other's may not have been aware but he was very astute. He was able to pick up onto the early signs, and the that's when the first change happened. He saw the power of the child's mere name.

And then desire was born in his being, he desired that power. 

He was blind to the truth that had followed him from the moment he was born up to now, but with the power he witnessed a seed sprouted in him that day.

He sought that same power, a power beyond anything he knew, and so he went for it. The moment he was able to break out of his psychological cage he escaped and as soon as he left Origin Soil, he never went home.

He searched and searched, and with the sheer size of Origin Soil it took him two years and he was finally able to do it, he was also able to land on an escaped member of a certain cult from another universe.

Using Elvyra as a template he made a deal with this occultist member. And now he stood here, waiting for the fruits of his hard work, fruits of his obsession, fruits of the hate in his heart, of the guilt he carried, of the aspirations of his brothers, of the desire for power and for the hate he had for the Universe to had chosen to turn its children into animals for slaughter.

--------

The air was thick with an ominous stillness, a silence so profound that it seemed that the very world had held its breath. The darkened chamber, carved from ancient stone was draped in tattered, blood-red tapestries that reeked with decay and a scent so foul that air groaned and whined under the scent's weight.

Flickering candles, set in wrought iron scones, cast elongated shadows that danced eerily on the walls, creating an unsettling tableau of writhing darkness.

In the center of the room lay a stone altar, cold and unyielding, its surface marred by blood and grime so thick that its nature had been warped beyond mere stone. Upon his altar a woman writhed in agony, her pale skin glistening with sweat, it was marked with intricate symbols, painted in blood and gore. They would pulse in tandem with her labored breathing.

Her eyes wide with fear and pain, her wrists and ankles were bound with iron chains, their rusted links biting into her flesh, drawing trickles of a disturbingly brightened shade of crimson that mingled with the iron's rust, creating a macabre sight.

The midwife, a hunched figure cloaked in a tattered robe, moved with a grim determination, her gnarled hands deft and practiced. Her eyes, dark and void of compassion, flickered with an unsettling gleam as she prepared for the unholy birth. Whispered incantations slipped from her cracked lips, the words of an ancient tongue that though had not same might as the one used by the Cult that delivered Kean's birth, it still leeched the warmth from the air.

Outside, a storm raged, the wind howling like a chorus of tormented souls, lightning splitting the sky with jagged streaks of white fire. Each thunderous clap seemed to shake the very foundations of the chamber. The woman's screams, raw and primal, melded with the rage of the storm, creating a symphony of suffering and despair.

As the contractions grew more intense, the shadows in the room seemed to thicken, pressing in like a living entity. The candles guttered, their flames shrinking as if cowed by malevolent presence. The midwife's chanting grew louder, a cadence of dark power that filled the chamber with an almost tangible weight.

With one final, wrenching scream, the woman gave a last desperate push. The air grew colder still, frost creeping along the edges of the altar. The midwife's hands moved with a practiced ease.

But this was no ordinary infant.

As the midwife lifted the child into the flickering light, its eyes opened, revealing irises of deep inky black, devoid of any whites. Its skin pale as death and almost translucent, was marred by strange, swirling markings that seemed to pulse with a life of their own, with a hidden luminescence that seemed to ebb and flow like tides. its hair, as black as its mothers, framed a face of ethereal beauty.

" it's a girl my Lord." The raspy voice of the midwife echoed out in the chamber.

The newborn let out a cry, a sound that resonated with an eerie, otherworldly cadence, more akin to the wail of a banshee than the cry of a human child, it was both delicate and haunting echoing with otherworldly resonance. The shadows in the room recoiled, as if in recognition of their master. The midwife held the child aloft, her eyes reflecting both awe and terror, as the storm outside reached a fever pitch.

In that moment the woman on the altar, her strength spent, gazed upon her child with a mix of horror and a twisted semblance of love. She knew that this was no ordinary birth, but the fulfillment of a dark desire. She looked at the being that had begun all this and she could not help but feel a sense of helplessness as she gazed upon his enchanting form that had taken on a darker aspect.

As the midwife's chanting reached its peak, the child's wail pierced the very fabric of reality, a sound that echoed far beyond the confines of the chamber, heralding the dawn of a new and terrifying era.

The woman on the altar watched through half lidded eyes as her child was placed in the arms of that man, and in his eyes, she could see a deep profound obsession and maybe he did not know it yet, or maybe as she neared death's door her perception had reached a different realm al together, or it was her nature that had seemingly come to rare its ugly head. She could see a mirthing madness and probably his actions were no longer his own, but he did not seem to realize.

As he moved further away, there was no sadness in sadness in her gaze, only a resigned acceptance of her fate. The shadows deepened, the chamber growing darker as the figure moved away disappearing into the depths the world outside the chamber. The womans eyes closed, her final breath a whisper of relief. Her dreadful role had been completed. Then suddenly, her frail body disintegrated into ashes, leaving nothing to remind the world that she once existed. No one will mourn for her, and her child will never know its mother.

The ashes were swept away by the fury of the storm, as they followed the figure almost in silent escort to her daughter.

A whisper in the wind reached the figure's ears, "For my sake name her Lyra. "

And just like the wind, the whisper faded never to be heard again. The figure stopped in his tracks as he looked at the eyes of the sleeping infant. "Okay....for your mother's sake I will name you Lyra, Lyra DawnStar, my daughter"

Soren had sired a child of his own, what plans he had for her, only he knew the extent to which they ran.

The fate of Havenlight was now more precarious than it had ever been, will it survive the onslaught and ravages of destiny? Only time could tell. Or maybe even time was helpless.....