Prologue: Part 2

I DO NOT HAVE AN EDITOR–There will be errors

Part 1: 


{Hell, the Realm of Abyss}

Red eyes, a conflagration of both hatred and ennui, Abyss glared upwards. With his immortal eyes, the being that was too ancient to be a god but there was no other word to describe the undying creature, he effortlessly peered through the layers and layers of the earth’s crust.

A snarl ripping from his chest, the ancient god, Abyss fumed with a rage that has no beginning and end as he looked upon the world above him from his realm in Hell.

Mortals. Abyss spat at the ground. Such arrogant creatures that walk with laughable swagger. Such arrogance was tolerated hundreds of years ago when the gods grew bored and gave the second race the key to destroy the Fey. Then, Abyss must grudgingly admit, he could tolerate the race whose lifespan were a mere blink to his unremitting existence.

The mortals, they were like ants. Ugly ants that shit and die. They build their feeble houses then destroy them to make even more feeble houses. Building and building on top of the bones of the deceased, believing that their beliefs and ideas are singular rather than recycled musings of long past, Abyss snarled once more as he wondered why his daughter, the mother of their race, loves them. Admires them. Envies them.

Shifting his whirling form of shadows and embers, Abyss recollected the day he and his brethren came to this tiny planet, little more than a rock compared to the millions of planets they conquered, with intentions to destroy it.

Destroying was all they knew then. All they ever could be. But his children with Time, Lyceria, Zakar, and Bemarisse, stopped them. Begged them to reconsider.

Time had listened to them. Abyss and his brother, Rift, conceded as well. The others soon after.

Abyss did not hate his children but he wished he could take back his decision to mate with Time.

His children are not as powerful as him and his brethren but they were born before a sea of stars and whirling galaxies, rather than the loneliness, deepest of black pockets of the universe like them.

They were born dreamers. They were born with beauty before them rather than a yawning chasm of nothingness.

It is not surprising that Lyceria, the eldest, who always mourned the planets her family destroyed, would decide to settle on a planet and allow it to thrive. Nurture it. Tend it.

Centuries under the earth, the deepest of blacks and the wallows of the dead and the growls of the demons, was where was he made his home. The familiarity of the bleakness of it has grudgingly grown on him.

Down here, Abyss and his brother Rift were kings beneath the earth.

The judge, jury, and executioner of the mortals and the rare Fey, they were brought down to this small pocket of Hell and were tortured and executed for their crimes. Damned to be soulless, damned to taste their own wet screams over and over again for eternity, Abyss has allowed his daughter, Bemarisse, to take part of the torture as well.

It had amused him at one time.

But now, Abyss has begun to loathe his realm and has begun to view it as a prison.

Glaring upwards once more, Abyss hates how the mortals laugh and romp throughout the earth so freely, with no knowledge that their lives are forfeit.

The mortal civilizations fall and rebuild, they fuck and ugly babies are born and then they die. But one thing Abyss must admire is their ability to survive. Like cockroaches. It is ingrained in their blood and rip-able flesh.

Lyceria must have known that her family would do everything in their power to wipe them away so by giving them the ability, the tenacity to survive, is in their way, their superpower.

Furious now, Abyss goes to find his brother. A new moon is coming, Abyss snarls, remembering that his daughter is at her weakest during these times.

Deciding to pay his respects to the mortals during this time of misfortune, the ancient god finds his brother to start some trouble.


Part 3:

The brothers, Abyss and Rift, guard and rule the Underworld. Bemarisse, the Goddess of Death does reside here as well but there was a time where she lived on Death Island and made her creations–demons





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s