The Nameless Face

Caster jumped down from where he sat as soon as the fight between Michael drew to a conclusion.

Most of what happened was within expectation. Of course, he had not expected Michael to make quick work of the beast, yet he knew it was well within his means. His tests were far from over, but the first part was done.

His secrecy and reticence with information was warranted, at least in his mind. Some of his words were honest and others were meant as a misdirection. His role in Michael's life was one he had loved once but slowly grew to despise. The secrets of the Nether and the nature of Michael's new life were all known to him. Yet as a mentor to emissaries, he had found it prudent to withhold such information from his students.

There had been hope in his eyes once and a desire to bring up the strongest disciple. However, the path they had to walk was riddled with insurmountable walls they were forced to scale. Caster was aware of this limitation and Michael, in his eyes, was too weak to succeed.

That was what he had come to believe. Yet, Michael had summoned the 'hand of rot' all on his own on his first try right before his eyes. It was no grand feat, however, to awaken and access the abilities one was afforded was not something that was achieved on a fluke.

He walked lazily towards Michael, his eyes assessing the scene and his hands crackling with mana; he was weary. The closer he got, the more wrong the air felt.

Michael was still standing his face hidden behind the mantle of darkness. His hand was stretched out and the body of the beast was turning to ash at his touch. The fight was over, Michael should have known this, yet he remained there; motionless adorned in a mantle of flowing darkness, a heavy aura of rage and destruction hanging in the air.

To summon the mantel and call forth the hand of rot, Michael needed to call the darkness that dwelled in his soul. He had only gained access to it recently after he awakened.

Caster bore his reservations on Michael's awakening; it felt, different from many before him. To awaken was to battle against yourself, deciding which version of you would rise and wield Death's power to fulfill his will. It bound emissaries to a single mind, clearing their minds of any distractions and making them the perfect candidate for Death's power. The requirement varied from person to person yet the basis of it was the same

It was a demanding process that required the candidate to remain in the void for long periods as they took the test. However, Michael's awakening had been different. The young man lasted barely a few minutes in the void which led Caster to think he was wrong in his judgment of the young lad. Yet, deep in Michael's eyes, he sensed the same broken and torn young man from before.

It was puzzling and paradoxical. Hadn't Michael overcome the shackles of his broken mind? It had to be impossible, at least that is what he thought, yet here they stood. Michael had awakened and in a short period was able to call upon Death's power. Was it really, a fluke?

Caster approached Michael and was close enough to feel a cold deathly aura flowing out of the boy.

In his eyes, Michael was a lost child. He still recalled Michael's tantrums when he believed his thoughts private. If it was up to him, he would have never given the man any help. However, that was not his decision to make. He was only a man bound to herald the birth and rise of Death's emissary.

He pulled out an amulet with intricate carving that was made out of a blue gem and sent a pulse of darkness into it, then waited patiently.

A whirlwind of sparks rose where the beast's ashes lay and from them rose a woman of stunning beauty. Caster was not flustered or awed, he had seen her face more often than once; most of their interactions leaving a sour taste on his lips. The most recent had been when the field of murderous grass was devouring Michael.

Immediately after Caster had thrown Michael to his death, he had left the scene of the crime and gone back to his cottage. The woman had shown up in the peace of his home. Their conversation had been especially heated, both disagreeing on each other's stance on the matter they discussed. Whatever discussion was held remained a secret between both of them.

They locked eyes in silent understanding. Michael had garnered the attention of the woman of enthralling beauty. His awakening was shrouded in mystery and his affiliation with the legacy was bound to draw the attention of any who showed remote interest in the matter.

Her identity was as terrifying as her aura was powerful. Caster knew who she was, he knew the extent of her power and respected and feared her in equal measure. Yet he too was ancient and powerful, he didn't match up to her in terms of raw strength or power but he was confident in his chances to survive. So he stared at her with an unfaltering gaze as she made her way closer to where he stood in elegant steps.

She wore a flowing dress of white fabric that swayed lightly with her every motion as she stepped lightly over the dying earth.

Michael's presence was poisonous; his aura devouring the life of everything it came in contact with. It was not voluntarily that he summoned the hand of rot, and Caster was sure Michael would not be able to dismiss the dreadful ability. So he employed the help of someone who was well-versed in the powers of darkness; one of the firstborns.

When the gods were born they bed mortals of stupefying beauty and thus were born the first children of the gods. The tale was as old as time itself, with everyone revering the legend. However, like every legend as old as time, it was twisted and bent to fit the simple minds of men who were driven by greed. Fuelling their legacies and enhancing their status as a result. Over time it lost its truth, left as a husk of its former self riddled with conspiracy and sullied by the tongues of those who passed it down.

This was of no concern to Caster, he was too old to believe the tales of dying men.

"The kid, actually managed to channel some of his power, impressive right?"

"I told you he was special", she said with a smile as she circled Michael in observance.