In the Beginning...

This is the start of me, how I came to be.

My tale is a long one, and a hard one. No one can ask for their parentage to be perfect, no one can choose who they really are. This is a world that sometimes cannot see past that. I have seen both sides of the argument, both sides of the story.

Arella was nervous. She had never been this nervous since the day she stood in front to the Senate, awaiting their decision as to whether she would become one of them. Now she was standing alongside other believers, who were planning that very night to summon the Ruler of All. She thought back to her lessons as a young girl, with a white cloak around her shoulders, long black hair in a high ponytail, listening intently to the Careen’s words on the Ruler of All. The Ruler was a just and fair woman would help them in a time of need. Most Synari called her the Goddess, but all the scriptures names her as the Ruler of all. Arella had enjoyed listening to the different achievements the Goddess had performed, such as the retrieval of the child lost to the void, the empty space between dimensions. Anyone who ventured there never came back. There was nothing, no time, no life...

For now, Arella concentrated on the summoning. She remembered how one of the black cloaked worshippers had approached her in the street and begged for her help, saying that if she helped them, they would have the strength to summon the Goddess. An eagle-eyed fool or a less kind-hearted woman would have seen through the trap, but Arella the pure soul with a heart of gold, stood among the sea of black cloaks, a dove among the crows, oblivious to the snare into which she had fallen. She stood tall, her white Senate robes marking her out.

The leader of the believers began to chant the spell for the summoning in a croaked, grating voice, using the ancient language of the Synari. Arella listened carefully to the words of the spell, and soon alarm bells were tolling in her mind.

“I preach to the almighty below,
To give us a sighting,
And Grant us the beginning of a prophecy
Guarded by ancestors and centuries.
We, the cult of your worship,
Summon thee! Prince of Darkness!
We summon thee, Karthragan!
Wreak your havoc upon this world!”

All the colour drained from Arella’s already pale face as the floor of the dark chapel shook, and the walls vibrated as a long guttural roar followed the Leader’s chant. With one tremendous quake, a crack split the length of an elaborate circle engraved on the stone floor, about twenty metres in diameter. Flames shot up through the crack, widening it even further. A red skinned, black clawed hand reached up through the gap, grasping at the air and then at the edge of the crack, pulling the rest of itself out. Eyes wide, Arella looked around desperately to see the worshippers on their knees, chanting the same verse over and over again.
“We are your minions, we here to serve, we have brought the Messenger Angel.”

Arella tore her terrified eyes away from the fiery scene and ran for the heavy, blackened wooden doors guarding the way out. She summoned a bolt of her pure white magic, aiming to blast them open, but a hand grabbed her ankle, causing her to fall. She scrambled back to her feet to continue her fear driven flee, but the worshippers surrounded her, still chanting. Arella tried to fight them off, but they tightened their new grip on her arms, pulling her back into the heart of the chapel.
“We are your minions, we are here to serve...”
“No! Please! I beg of you!” Arella screamed and sobbed, pulling desperately against her captors.
“Messenger Angel. We are your minions...”
“Please! No!” Arella could see the summoned creature clearly now, the ten foot demon standing tall in the circle, sniffing the air around him and snarling. The leader of the cult graciously presented him with an amulet, which he hung around his neck. It shrunk him to a normal human size, and gave him the appearance of an ivory skinned man, albeit with black claws and four, blood red eyes looking out from under thick black hair, from which curled two black horns.
“Bring me the Messenger Angel! The prophecy must begin!” He roared, pointing tone claw at the sobbing, fighting, begging Arella. The worshippers dragged her forwards, throwing the woman at his feet. She scrambled backwards, trying to run away, but he seized her arm in a viper’s grip, shattering the bone into fragments. AA scream echoed between Arella’s sobs, as she begged him to release her. The demon refused, looking up at the worshippers.
“And the prophecy begins!” He bellowed Arella tried to break free from the demon’s grip once more. He let her go, grabbing the back of her robes. As she tried to run, the white material tore, causing her to fall anew. The worshippers stood around the stone circle, blocking all hope of escape as the demon stood above the cursed woman, Arella, the Messenger Angel. Three of the worshippers came forwards and pinned Arella to the ground as she tried to get up and run. She screamed aloud, a scream of pain fear and terror as the demon began to rape her, begging him to stop, but her pleas and sobs fell upon deaf ears.

The demon stood up, and Arella was hauled, trembling and sobbing, to her feet.
“The prophecy has begun!” He roared, holding his hands up to the sky. There were shouts of approval from the worshippers, but screams pierced the air. Arella stood above the bloodied figures of the two worshippers who had been holding her. One arm outstretched, pointing to the demon, her hand surrounded in white magic, she began to chant.
“Goddess watching above,
See this act of malice,
Take the power of the one at fault,
And embed it in the victim,
And let the counter prophecy be fulfilled!” The demon roared in anger and pain as his magical ability was dragged from him and to Arella. Just as she collapsed from the pain and exhaustion, the heavy doors were blasted open, showing most of the Senate, ready for battle. As the two sides clashed, one member of the Senate, a young man named Meran ran to Arella’s side, holding her to him and talking softly in an attempt to sooth his traumatised love. He took off his cloak, wrapping it around her slender frame before taking her in his arms and fleeing the dark chapel

Arias, the High Priestess and ruler of the dimension managed to imprison the demon and his cult of followers within the walls of the chapel before returning to the Senate towers .

And so began a Shadow’s tale...