Not Good

In Laios, the city was still gripped with panic and anxiety. The three Slime Lords had sealed themselves off from the outside with a forcefield. Mages from the College were monitoring them around the clock, expecting a reprisal at any time for the death of the Grand Council of Slimes.

The vast majority of the decisions were out of my hands. The king had promised that I’d be used for something, but no one has elaborated further. I went on a short visit to the War Room with Leia, only to be shooed away pretty much immediately. They’re very busy. Kalth has taken on a sort of impromptu commander’s role. As Leia and I walk through a garden on the College’s campus, I peered up into the air.

There’s something up there. It almost looks like a plane; it’s tiny, but completely stationary. I squint my eyes. It’s not a plane, it’s a black line. A windy breeze gusts, and then falls silent. We’re both staring up at it.

CRACK.

Like lightning, this sharp sound snaps through the air. The line had doubled in size. It’s a crack, more or less, floating in the sky.

CRRRRRACK.

It had now tripled in size. An alarm begins blaring from the College, different than the one from the Council incident. Across the garden, I see teams of mages sprinting into buildings. I look to Leia for answers. Her face is filled with abject worry; she’s not saying a word.

With a tremendous series of snaps, this crack in the sky grey larger and larger, splitting off into tendrils until it stretched to the horizon. Above us, many mages took the skies and formed a perimeter above the College, staffs at the ready.

This gaping maw in the heavens began to open somewhat. Slowly, it revealed pitch blackness within its core. Wispy tendrils of magic began wafting out. With a start, it completely snapped wide open, filling almost the entirety of the sky with this freakish, eerie shadow. Leia yelped, then tugged my arm. We had to get to cover.

Hiding behind a sturdy-looking building, I kept peering up at it. Something was coming through in the center. Something golden, and very large.

It was a platform, a floating open throne room, with marble pillars around its perimeter. A small set of fancy stairs led up to a massive, gaudy throne chair. It was facing away from us. The College’s sirens stopped.

I saw a team of mages fly up to this throne, in a neat airborne formation. As they approached, they vanished into black, shadowy wisps, disintegrating in the air. High above us stood Kalth, in his proud, white mage’s robe, flanked by his best fighters and students.

A massive magical screen fills the air, its blue glow lighting up the darkened sky. Four of them, in a 360 degree arc around the floating throne. On it is the face of a young man, pale, sickly, with black eyes. The ground shakes, and he begins to speak.

“Which of you is responsible for killing my pets?”, he booms.

Not good.

“I will allow one representative to explain this indignity to me.”

The screen flashes away, and the sky groans. An eerie silence fills the air, with occasional shouts from the mages flying above. I hear firm footsteps behind me on the pavement.

It’s Kalth. He’s speedwalking towards me with an incredibly intense look in his eyes. Leia is white as a sheet, and lets go of my arm as he approaches. I glance to her for guidance; she won’t even look me in the eyes.

Not good.

Kalth stands before me, grabs my arm, and the two of us silently rip into the air, my face stretching from the speed. We came to a stop hundreds of feet in the air, surrounded by the other three Elder Mages.

“John...”, Kalth says, with a tinge of anger.

“This is what the king was worried about.”

Before I can object, we’re once again thrown forward, up towards the floating throne, stopping just short of the line where the previous mages had perished. Seeing me, a narrow walkway forms out of thin air, piece by piece, leading to the throne. It comes right up to my feet. I’m gently deposited on it, and Kalth flashes away.

Not good. Not good at all.

I can barely make out this regal figure in the distance, as I gingerly walk my way across this hellish, narrow platform, the wind whipping around me. He’s my son’s age, dressed in what is almost assuredly some kind of evil lord’s outfit. Black pauldrons, ruby insets, a flowing cape that terminates in a ragged edge. He sits upon the throne with an extremely bored, smug expression, his hand below his chin. My hand naturally comes to rest on my firearm; I make a conscious decision not to place it there.

Eventually, I reached the throne room proper. My footsteps rang on the spotless marble floor. This “king” had no attendants, no servants; it’s just him. Given the situation, I decide to kneel in front of him.

“Rise.”

He sounds less scary than on the announcement. I rise and make eye contact with him. His eyes are terrifying, black, shiny orbs. No pupils.

“Is this a joke? It could not have been you.”, he asks.

He glares at me.

“TELL ME.” These words reverberate through my head, causing me to stumble to one knee, clutching my forehead.

“It was my son!”, I am forced to croak out, against my will.

“Oh?”

“And where is your son?”. This time, no telepathy, thankfully.

“I don’t know, sir.”, I’m forced to admit.

He clicks his tongue. A black wisp of magic pours out of his hand, coming right at me. I can’t move.

It enters my forehead, and my mind goes blank. Everything goes blank.

A moment later, I awake, passed out on the floor, face down. My head is pounding.

I glanced up at this “king”. His expression is even more smug than before, almost happy, somewhat. He’s staring off into the sky.

“How interesting. To think that these Elves had such a fun project going on under my nose… How very interesting.”

I get a sick feeling to my stomach.

“John, is it?”

I nod.

“I have been called many names. The Endbringer. The Absence of Light. Oblivion. Death. Of all of them, my favorite was Armageddon. You may call me by that name.”

An awkward silence fills the air. I’m not going to speak unless spoken to.

“I wish to meet your son.”, he says, without even a little malice. Huh?

I open my mouth to speak – nothing comes out. Time had frozen; but I’m fully aware of it. I’m still conscious, but not breathing, not even my eyeballs can move. Armageddon rises from his throne chair and slowly steps towards me.

“I’ve found him.”

My stomach drops.

On David’s boat, Montgomery was panicking, and simultaneously trying to keep his villagers calm. From a distance, the gaping, black maw in the sky was unforgettable. He’d seen it before, many years ago, when he was an apprentice mage. It heralded the deaths of millions. The ship was still miles away from the city.

He can’t take his eyes off of it. The memory of that apocalypse from his youth played in his mind over and over. He can only remember the screams, a flash, and the population of an entire city being disintegrated, consumed, turned into mana. Their screams echoed through the air even as their bodies had been vaporized. Wispy, pale black tendrils snaked up from each innocent victim; their very life essence.

Something is coming towards the ship from the maw.

It’s those same wispy, black tendrils, snaking through the air, headed right for them. Montgomery gags, the fear of death overtaking him. He’s shivering, trembling, and scrambles his way below deck. He spies Sara, hunched over David’s limp body. Without saying a word, he grabs her, and plants both himself and her in a corner of the room, and begins layering barrier after barrier around all three of them. He adds six more to Sara, who is abjectly terrified.

They’re forced to sit and watch as these tendrils pierce the roof and snake around David. Sara screams at the top of her lungs, and tries to fight free to save him. The tendrils effortlessly pierce the barriers, wrap themselves around him, and a tremendous POP rocks the room, having sucked much of the air away. He’d been taken.

Sara is now sobbing uncontrollably; Monty tries to calm her down. He gives her a hug. Inwardly, he’s thankful it was only David; if anyone is strong enough to resist this, it’s him. Or at least, that’s his hope.

On the throne floor, I hear a thud behind me. I still can’t turn around. Armageddon steps around me, peering down at my son, a curious look on his face.

“Well, now!”, he exclaims.

“What a specimen he is.”