When Ghast made his return to Pandemonium, there was
much sorrow and anger in the eyes of his father Agrond. Ghast had
told his father nothing prior to leaving and refused to say a word
regarding his journey. Styx had remained just as secretive, and as a
result, Agrond nurtured a bitter hatred for Styx and the rest of his
wolves. Any shred of the son he once knew had now vanished, and being
in his presence gave him to most complex feelings of dread and
sorrow. Ghast refused to visit with his father after learning that he
was no closer to finding his mother's killer. Instead, he went to
face Styx, knowing that he would not be able to keep his promise to
serve his ambition, for Mammon would beckon him once he attained his
vengeance. Wraith had welcomed Ghast back as any loyal friend would,
but when asked how Styx was fairing, Wraith could only look away with
uncertainty. “Ghast, you must have been gone for at least a
century. Much can change in that time here. I fear that lord Styx has
become, distant over the last few decades. He has shirked off many
important duties and confines himself to his private quarters for
weeks on end. I'm beginning to fear that his obsession with his work
is leading him down a dark path. He always took pride in you, perhaps
your arrival will return him to his senses, yes?” Ghast wasted no
time and felt obligated to reconnect with the very Primeran he owed
his life to. Styx not only made it possible for Ghast to enter this
world, but also imparted to him the existence of the Black Hearts,
the means by which he could achieve his desires. Through winding
corridors of stone, illuminated by soft candle light, Ghast
approached the large chamber doors that guarded the entrance to
Styx's workshop and den. But before he could knock upon the door's
heavy frame, Ghast took note of the crimson light the crept from
under neath the door. Whispers could be heard from within, and Ghast
tried to listen intently. But the light faded quickly the moment his
hands fell upon the door, the whispers ceased, and the door opened.
Styx, older, but still in his prime, looked down onto
his student and smiled. “So, the wayward pupil returns, and he
brings Greed's light to my door. Come in, come in. We have much to
discuss don't we?” Ghast wanted to ask about the strange light and
voices he heard but felt he should remain ignorant on the matter for
now, so as to not arouse his mentor's suspicions. “How did you know
that I've been with Mammon?” Ghast asked to avoid any inquiry from
Styx regarding his failed attempt to eaves drop. “Had you taken the
time to perfect your alchemy with me you would have learned to read
auras by now... All normal Primerans have an aura of essence that
can be perceived with the right formula. But yours is now different,
it glows a golden yellow and it trails off you as if reaching and
clinging to anything it can. Quite a 'greedy' essence you now
possess, eh?” Ghast, almost taking offense, quickly remarked, “And
what would yours look like I wonder...” Styx grinned and quickly
avoided Ghast's “playful” question and wished to know what he
planned to do with his new found gifts. Ghast remained strong in his
desires for vengeance but still had no idea as to what he should do
next. Distraught over how far he had come, he turned to his former
mentor and pleaded for aid.
“Understand that my aid will come with a price. In
the time that you have been away I have made certain... discoveries
in my research, and I am compelled to continue delving deeper. Taking
me away from that is asking much of me. But I have not been so busy
as to neglect the needs of my dear student.” Styx presented to
Ghast a piece of parchment, tattered and worn with age, the writing
upon it almost illegible, but undeniably a form a of writing seen
only in House Ganesha, the ruling family of clan Muridae, the rats.
“I don't understand, I can't read this...” Ghast remarked. “It
is a language native to the clan of your mother. It is a note from
Zodiac Minister Mushika to a Ganesha zealot turned assassin who works
for him. The note entails that Mushika wished for his own daughter's
death so that his personally sired child could assume control of his
seat on the Ministry without being contested. You mother was sired in
haste many years ago when Mushika attempted to preserve the essence
of a dying servant with which he had become quite possessive of. He
was younger then and was not prepared that his actions would have
consequences later on. It is law here that Zodiacs must sire heirs
alone to preserve the blood of the founding members. Shaki's siring
was a crime of passion. Mushika not only wanted to prevent her from
challenging her younger brother and taking his place, he also wanted
to be rid of her because she was a constant reminder of his mistakes.
So, he hired a private assassin who served the family with blind
devotion and ordered him to kill her.”
There are no words that I can use describe Ghast's
rage, he was furious that his own grandfather was behind the murder
of his mother. But as hatred subsided, it was replaced by questions.
“This note is brief, I'm sure it is an order to kill my mother as
you have said... But it certainly is not long enough to detail the
story you have told me in such detail. How do you know these things?”
Styx turned away from Ghast and paced about his lair, glaring back at
Ghast through all the odd assortment of tools, herbs, and bottled
concoctions that lined the shelves between him and his most observant
student. “My, how inquisitive you have become... My boy, have you
already forgotten how I taught you that one must never reveal the
'how' lest that magic be undone? Be thankful that I have given you
this. It is far more than your inept father has ever have gained,
right?” Ghast apologized and explained how Wraith was beginning to
worry how much time Styx was spending on his research, fearing that
it was becoming an obsession. Styx made quick to reassure Ghast that
his work would not interfere with their plans and began to lay out
the foundation for which Ghast would enact his vengeance.
“You know that each Zodiac Minister rules the whole
of Pandemonium in a hundred year cycle. Each minister taking turns to
ensure equality is maintained among the citizens. Currently, Mushika
is in power, and the influence he has gained will make him difficult
to kill. But the pigs will soon be in power, and after that... I will
finally be able to lead. My goal is nearly in sight, so it is
imperative that you wait. Attacking now will ruin decades of planning
and I would have you stand by my side when you attain justice. Try to
kill Mushika now, and you will never get what you seek.” Styx's
words confused Ghast. He replied, “I don't understand, you seem to
despise the ministry and yet you seem willing to go to great lengths
to be in power yourself. You once inspired me when you praised the
Black Hearts, but you serve the very ministry that reviles them! What
do you want!?” Styx's sly demeanor faded, his grin plummeted into
a sneer, and he eyed Ghast as though he had been insulted. “It must
be so wonderful to have such 'freedom' to speak your mind... Hear me
well, either you wait to enact your vengeance, or I will forever deny
you of it.” Ghast had faced Mammon, the Black Heart of Greed
himself, but even the fear he felt in the presence of such a monster
paled in comparison to what he felt when Styx spoke this way. His
mind frantically tried to find a reason for this, but could do
nothing. Styx demanded that Ghast leave him be, and he did so without
delay. Crossing him was dangerous, and he had no desire to face his
mentor in battle, fearing that even the gifts Mammon had bestowed on
him would be of little help.
Time passed, and Ghast whiled away the months honing
his skills with the abilities Mammon had bestowed. He would murder
both Mushika and his accomplice, his vengeance would be met, and then
he could fulfill his next great desire, to become his master's
'precious' once more. Mammon grew in Ghast's heart like a tumor,
infecting his mind and beliefs, he grew more covetous each month that
past and it only strengthened his powers. Mammon's greed enabled
Ghast to manipulate anything he could touch, and as his powers grew,
he could do so even with out making physical contact. He dreamed of
tearing Mushika limb from limb, then he would 'play' with his
pampered uncle until he was reduced to a rag doll. But for the
assassin, the one who stole away his dear mother, for him he would
devise something special. Ghast would see his father from time to
time, seeing him age and knowing that he may not live to see Shakti
be avenged. But this was no longer a matter for the dragon, for deep
down, he wanted to spare him the true horror of what he had become.
The time drew near, but there would be no more waiting,
no more practice, and no more fantasizing. The halls of Ganesha would
run red with blood of all the rats in the palace, for Ghast's greed
had become incapable of being sated. Ghast had given himself
completely to Mammon, and there was no end to the number of those who
he blamed for his mother's death. Styx could die too for all he
cared, so could Wraith, Agrond, anyone who stood before him and his
'precious' desire. Styx had become completely isolated in the last
months prior taking his first ruling term; he spoke to no one and the
wolves began whispering rumors that he had gone mad. Wraith, who was
considered his closest friend, lost all contact with him and tried
diligently to preserve some sense of communication between the
ministry and Styx. But when Ghast finally made his march towards the
house of Genesha, home to Mushika and his family, there was an armed
force of dragons waiting for him, his father leading them. Mammon's
influence may have given Ghast the power to gleefully murder his
mother's killers, but discovered that he till held fast to what
little remained of his soul and dared not to raise a finger against
his own father, who now looked upon him heartbroken and ashamed.
“When
did you figure it out...” Ghast questioned. “I feel as though I
have known for a long time... But he told me everything.” replied
his father pointing behind him. There he stood, next to Wraith,
pretending to frown in disapproval as if the betrayal meant something
to him. “Why!? Why do this!?” Ghast continued to wail at Styx
until his voice distorted and broke from exhaustion, his father and
several other dragons attempting to contain him as golden essence
streamed from his body. Styx gazed on and spoke in a manner
befitting the same pompous fools that Ghast knew he despised. “There
is your proof old friend, your dear son has been corrupted my Mammon,
a Black Heart. By Pandemonium law he is to be executed immediately.”
Agrond's heart ached as he shed tear after knowing that he was to
drag his own son off to die. Being torn between his people and his
family was a hell that he could never have imagined nor wished on
even the most hated of enemies. Knowing full well in his heart that
Styx was somehow behind this enraged Agrond, but his sadness and his
hatred were slowly being over taken by the pride he had in his son,
for he knew that the gifts Mammon had given him could be used to free
himself, but Ghast never once attempted to harm his father as he was
dragged into the dungeon below the city streets. Ultimately, Ghast
was taken to a Primeran execution pit, an ancient but effective
means by which thousands of Primerans were sentenced to death.
The pit was made of stone, circular, very deep, and filled with salt water. The pit itself was large enough in diameter to accommodate a number of sizes. A heavy metal latch would close over the top of the pit and be bolted into place. Rows upon rows of these pits filled the underground chambers in the days when the ministry executed great numbers of war criminals during the early days of the ministry's reign. Salt is a wildly know corrosive substance to Primeran flesh; humans even once used it as means of protection when our kind was perceived as demons. Salt water makes the process slower and is much easier to come by. Being trapped in small space, in pure darkness, as the flesh melts from your bones slowly in agony is something that only the cruelest of minds would devise.
Ghast, held by his father, soon quelled his rage and
promised that he would not resist. Agrond did not release him,
instead he held him even tighter at first continuing to weep, but
torn again between duty and family, slowly removed his son's robes
and asked a fellow clansman to put them aside. “Father, Mushika had
mother murdered. Mother was planning to overthrow him by building
favor with the clans you and she met in your journey together. She
could wanted to take her father's seat as vengeance against Mushika
for abandoning the memory of her own mother. Kill him. Do what I
could not...” Agrond heard the words of his son as he stood over
the pit, the offspring of his departed love dangling over a dark
oblivion. “Let go father... I would rather die here than continue
to live with the hope of grasping hold of something that will never
be...” Agrond slowed his tears, noticing his fellow clansman
looking on with confusion over the sympathy for such a vile creature.
“I promise you, my son, that we will have vengeance. But you need
not lie to me to fuel my anger. Your mother was too kind and too
loving to ever want to harm anyone. What you have become is not the
child I remember... But I care for you still.” Agrond continued to
weep profusely, and with a final wail that shook the very earth
beneath Pandemonium, he flung open his massive arms and committed his
only son to a watery grave.
The pain was unbearable, but he would bear it. For this
was the plan... To sever ties with natural world and become something
more. This tortuous chamber would be a cocoon from which new life
would emerge. Something miraculous that the world had not yet
witnessed, the day that death would die. Ghast had finally realized
the potential of the power that he was given. Mammon's power was more
than just a means to aid his vendetta, it was a philosophy, a way in
which to live, something that should be completely and utterly
embraced. This was his greatest experiment. Ghast had learned that
any object he controlled with Mammon's gift could not be taken from
him. If he was indeed completely Mammon's, then he too could not be
taken from him. Death would not dare deprive his master of his most
prized possession, and Ghast was willing to bet his life on it.
About a year had past, and when the anniversary of
Ghast's execution returned, a familiar figure graced the dungeon
beneath Pandemonium once more, but this time, in secret. Two massive
clawed hands removed the seal to Ghast's tomb reached into the depths
to plunder the lifeless skeletal remains. But life remained yet in
those bones as dim sockets where eyes used to be flashed with a green
light. The figure tumbled backwards in horror as Ghast set foot into
the world of the living once more. “I should thank you for
releasing me, show yourself, so that I may reward you...” The
figured revealed itself to be Agrond, who now appeared weary and
devoid of any nobility and stature he once had. “My son.. Y-you
live!? How?” implored Agrond, tears brimming in his eyes. “I
live, because I am forever the property of my master, Mammon. Father,
you have done me no wrong, so you will be spared, but I would have
you lay witness to the carnage I will bestow upon this city for
ruining us.” Without a word Agrond rose, and removed a satchel that
hung from his shoulder. Its contents, were the clothes that were
stripped from his son prior to his 'death.' He clothed what remained
of his son and stood before him proudly and spoke. “There is no
need my son, for I have made good on my promise. Our enemies lie dead
and now, this miracle has been given to me! Come with me, come and we
will be a family once more.” Ghast stepped away, the lights that
illuminated the resemblance of eyes flashed into a golden glow as he
demanded to know what had happened. “My son, calm yourself. It is
as I said, in mere days after your execution I rallied my clansmen
and assaulted Genesha. For you my son, I forsook my place on the
ministry, for you I tarnished my name, for you I damned my people to
exile, and I would do it all again to watch Shakti's murderer's flesh
burn from my very breath again.”
“Then he is dead, and his lord, Mushika?” inquired
Ghast. “I'm sorry my son, but he is beyond me, at most, all I could
do was take the life of the one that stole your mother from us. Is
that not enough?” Replied Agrond hesitantly. “Enough... THERE
WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH! Not enough blood exist in this world to sate
me! They are all guilty! They will all die! I will cleave a path of
death the likes this world has never seen, and I will start with the
traitor, the one who dared to try and strip me from my master, STYX!”
Agrond looked on in horror at the creature that his son had become.
No more was the miracle between him and his beloved Shakti in this
world, only this agent of death remained. “My son, there is no need
for that either. Styx is dead... He was convicted of plotting to kill
the ministry members all along, he was publicly beheaded. I saw it
myself.” Ghast laughed, he laughed at his father's ignorance and
raised a single golden hand above him. From out of nothing he took
hold of massive blade-like weapon and slung it over his shoulder.
“Poor deluded father, how naive you are to believe what only your
eyes tell you. From the moment I returned to this life I could feel
him. He has fled this world for another, and I will track him down as
Death would any other wayward soul seeking the dream of immortality,
for that is a gift that only those beloved by Mammon may relish.”
Ghast enveloped himself in golden light, took to the skys, rupturing
through the dungeons stone ceiling, through pathways above, and into
the skies beyond Pandemonium. Ghast could not hear what his father
bellowed out to him, for it mattered not. He had committed murder to
see justice done, and as a result, damned the dragons from ever being
acknowledged as a noble race. His suffering is nearing its end, for
he too would die soon enough, but at least not by his hands.
Using every ounce of what Mammon had bestowed upon him,
Ghast used Mammon's greed to fuel his own and tear his way through
the dimensional barrier that separated Ferus Mundus and Earth.
Drained of all his power, Ghast's life-less form crashed into the
valley that would one day become Kingston Heights a century hence,
his body preserved in a crystalline structure that would rot this new
world until he tasted the air of the living once more and could renew
his quest for the crimson wolf whose scent stained this new land.
No comments:
Post a Comment