Godling
And it shall come to pass, in the days of peace, when the light speaks with the voice of mortals, then shall the Ancient awaken. And the twice-bonded slave shall stretch forth its hand, and the Scion shall shine as the sun and in that shining, be undone. And in that hour, when the shadow is full, when hope is smothered and the faithful scattered, then shall the Champion arise: faith where no faith is found, resolve where all have faltered.
– Of the Divine and Mortal by Riven Solthar
Ylkran Drosvek strode openly through the palace halls as people unconsciously stepped out of his path without ever seeing him. He made no attempt to quiet his footfalls, echoing from the marble walls, yet the cloak of magic enshrouding him held firm, effortlessly diverting all attention. His hard eyes narrowed as he passed a pair of umbral guards and though they looked directly at his heavily tattooed face - a face that marked him as a senior member of Strykara’s Shadowbinders - they saw nothing.
He had revelled when the Sovereign summoned him for this task. Though failure meant death, success promised great rewards, and Ylkran Drosvek did not intend to fail. For too long he had languished among the unknown masses of Shadowbinders. After today though, everyone would know his name.
At his side a creature scurried on all fours, chained to Ylkran’s wrist by a heavy collar. The thing was mostly human in shape, though where its form touched shadow it dissolved, as if it were composed of smoke. It wore no clothes, its face a smooth black sheen. If it strayed more than a hand’s width from the Shadowbinder, a quick jerk on the chain brought it to heel.
Ylkran stopped before a pair of great doors guarded by several soldiers. He sneered at their arrogance, imagining how quickly it would turn to terror when he struck. The fools, so sure of their god. They had no notion of true power - oh, how he would enjoy what came next. He snapped his fingers, and a guard stiffened, then mechanically turned to open the massive doors and reveal the crowded gallery beyond.
Beyond the doors stretched Gallance’s grand throne room, filled with the murmuring buzz of voices. Nobles in rich silks stood shoulder to shoulder with commoners clad in simple garb, an unusual mingling of class. At the edges, along the outer walls, both umbral and human guards watched, eyes scanning the chamber for danger. And in the center of it all, Queen Celestine d’Aurelle and the boy-turned-deity Donnil Phage.
The Queen, seated upon her gilded throne, leaned forward with genuine warmth towards the young man - sometimes called Syvren - who stood before her. Their voices were low, indistinct, yet their easy postures and occasional soft laughter clearly demonstrated their comfort with one another. The entire room orbited quietly around this exchange, drawn by their presence yet remaining respectfully distant, unwilling to disturb this moment of rare intimacy.
Ylkran had no such compunctions. A cruel smirk tugged at his lips and he moved forward. When he felt a tug at the chain he turned. The creature at his side was hesitating, shrinking back, pulling against the chain. The Shadowbinder’s mouth twisted in anger and he traced one long finger along a rune upon the creature’s back, causing the sigil to flare violently. Instantly the creature collapsed, convulsing violently. It howled from a face devoid of a mouth.
Emotionless, Ylkran watched as the creature writhed, its howl weakening until at last it stilled, utterly defeated. Ylkran smiled then, watching the thing reach for him feebly, pawing at his boots. His smile deepened when he heard its cries of pain transform into a sort of mewling, the same sound an animal makes when it knows it’s trapped and about to die.
Scant paces away, Donnil paused midsentence. Slowly, his head turned, brow furrowing, as he scanned the empty space behind him. He rose, and as he did silence engulfed the chamber as the young god stepped deliberately towards the unseen threat. “I am they who are called Syvren,” he said quietly in a voice filled with authority, “and you will show yourself.”
Ylkran rocked backwards at the power of those words, his magic wards falling away instantly. He snarled, releasing the chained creature that lay in a heap on the floor.
“I’m impressed little godling,” Ylkran mocked. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
From their place at the crowd’s edge, guards began moving forward, but as they did, the ground erupted before them, great columns of stone locking them away. At the same time, a ball of flame sped from Ylkran’s hand into the midst of the assembled crowd where it blossomed into an intense inferno.
Horrified to see the Shadowbinder target the civilians, Donnil commanded, “No.” and throughout the chamber Shrieks of terror became stunned awe as the flames washed harmlessly over the crowds.
Cursing, Ylkran threw his hands out before him, sending lines of black energy lancing towards Donnil. Donnil raised a hand, and a tingling warmth surged through him as he absorbed the magic, nullifying it. But already Ylkran hurled another spell. Flames fanned out from his outstretched fingers followed by a lance of crackling frost and shards of shadowy blades. One after another Donnil turned the assault aside.
Sweat broke out on his brow. Though Donnil possessed immense power, he was inexperienced in its use. Ylkran on the other hand had been working magic for decades. Back and forth spells flashed, Donnil turning away one after another until slowly, the tide began to turn.
Finally, breathing heavily, Donnil said, “You are finished.” He moved forward towards the Shadowbinder, lifting his hands before him. “You will bother us no longer.”
Ylkran glared at him, “Your arrogance blinds you child.” he spat, “You are but an infant before the Sovereign who has been, and will be, long after you are forgotten.”
Righteous anger boiled up within Donnil, who opened his mouth to reply, but the words died unuttered for in that moment the creature struck. From its place, forgotten in the chaos, it leapt onto Donnil back. Donnil cried out as it locked him in a desperate embrace. For a moment they struggled, and then as it gained hold, a blinding radiance burst from Donnil. His eyes widened with shock and his lips parted in a silent cry as light erupted from his pores. Brighter and brighter it grew, forcing everyone back. Everyone, except Ylkran.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. Where there had been a sun, now there was only the limp form of Donnil falling to the ground. The thing that had been chained to the Shadowbinder turned to Ylkran and fell to all fours, rubbing its head against his shins like a dog even as it offered something. Ylkran accepted the offering, his long fingers caressing the creature’s head as he did so.
An evil smile spread across Ylkran’s face and he looked down at the small object in his hand. About the size of a small stone, the small sphere pulsed gently with golden light. Just holding it, power surged through the Shadowbinder. Abruptly, with a sharp gesture, prismatic rays enveloped him - colors cascading wildly in every direction. Then, as quick as they had appeared, they vanished, leaving only empty air where the Shadowbinder had stood.