The Crystal Destiny

There could be several footsteps heard through the halls of an ancient palace. The sound of heavy armor clanging against a polished marble floor resounded against the halls walls. A pursuit was in place inside the palace of the Ancient Gods. They were on the hunt for one of their own. Lazarus the Black Horned Daemon.

The palace halls flickered with the bright fire from burning embers that resided within gold cauldrons. The cauldrons stood equally apart from each other, and next to the marble pillars that held the ceiling.

Through the flickering light, the shape of a man hurrying down the halls could be seen. A tall figure with a robe trailing not so far behind him. Its shadow was all that could be seen down a long hallway, changing in size as he made his way past the cauldrons at every pillar. The shadow turned a corner and stood next to a nearby cauldron. The light of the cauldron revealed a black horned red-skinned daemon.

He quickly made his way down the same hallway until he reached a cross point in the hallways that broke off into four separate halls. There was a cauldron here that didn’t match the rest in the hallways. This one was larger than the others, he hadn’t recalled it being there the last time he was down here.

This fork in the corridors was previously poorly lit, as one of the cauldrons had gone missing. His red skinned face, flushed maroon and filled with sweat, glistened at the light of the fire. He paused at the fork in the corridors, facing each hallway opposite and adjacent to the one he had come out of.

Time was slim and his fate couldn’t warrant a wrong turn. He could hear the footsteps approaching behind him getting closer and closer as the clang of metal boots struck against the marble floor. He knew his fate, and there was not much he could do.

He took a right into the hallway. He strode down the corridor that was similar to the dozen he had ran through, filled with pillars and bright beige marble that looked warm in the light produced by the cauldrons fires.

The hallway made its way to a spiraling staircase attached to a pillar which made its way from the center of the ceiling down to the floor below. With haste he ran down, hearing the footsteps get closer. By the time he was at the middle of the staircase he could begin to hear the metal boots go down the steps. At the end of the staircase was a short narrow hall that ended at a metal door with a lock that had no keyhole.

He swiftly made his way down the tight hall and placed his hands over the lock that was embedded into the door. In a soft tone he spoke a tongue that is now lost to time, and the lock opened. As he opened the door he heard the loud clang of several figures behind him, standing at the bottom of the stairs in their bright white and gold vestments with little armor on their feet and chest, sporting small swords.

One of them shouted, “You won’t get away with this! You’ve gone too far and betrayed us!”. The other four began to approach Lazarus slowly through the narrow hallway, but he didn’t hesitate. Lazarus quickly went into the previously locked room and closed the door behind him, locking it once again with the same spell he had cast.

Seconds later he heard the loud banging at the door of those on the other side furiously trying to break it down, as they threatened him. The Ancient Gods, once figures of peace and stability, now divided because of Lazarus. Although to him it was unintentional, he never meant to betray anyone. Rather, to him it was he who was betrayed. The room he had gone into was a small storage room hidden away at the bottom of the great palace the Ancient Gods resided in.

He had been secretly using it for his experiments and creations that he had tried to keep hidden from the council. In the center of the room, among the boxes and crates was a cauldron like those in the hallways. Although it had been repurposed for spells and incantations. It was full of distilled water that seemed dark, due to the burnt bottom of the cauldron.

He rested his hands on its edges and sighed. This was the last moment of rest he would get. Would his creations persist? Or would the other Gods wipe them out? as they were made unknowingly against the council. He wouldn’t live to find out. The hinges on the metal door began to bend.

“Take your last breath, Lazarus! This door won’t hold forever!”, Shouted a familiar voice. ‘Abracius…’ Lazarus thought to himself. ‘Why has it come to this, brother..’. Knowing he was near death’s door, Lazarus decided to indulge himself in one final creation. As the door’s hinges began to rip off the walls, he began his ritual.

He grabbed a knife and a small box, placing the box on the edge of the cauldron. With one hand he plunged the knife into his chest, and with the other he pulled his heart out. Grotesque to many, but for the art of creation, he wanted to be part of his final creation. He didn’t have much time, the door was soon to be broken. Although he was a God, he could only last so long without his heart.

Lazarus opened the small box he had left atop the cauldron. Within it lay a glowing red crystal, a remnant of The One, his creator. With his right hand he crushed the crystal and sprinkled it over his warm heart. In his last fading moments he chanted a long sentence, and his heart began to warp, turning white. The door broke down, exposing him to the other Gods who wanted him dead. To their shock, although he was being sentenced to death for his creations, he persisted in making another.

“Let us put an end to this,” Abracious said as he made his way to Lazarus’s back. At that moment, Lazarus finished a chant and the water in the cauldron turned pitch black. he dropped the white warping entity from within his hand into the cauldron’s dark water. However, there was no splash. It dropped through the cauldron as if it was a portal, and Lazarus stood there watching it fall. The further it dropped, the more figures his creation began to form. until suddenly it had a pair of black horns, just like his.

Lazarus took a breath of satisfaction, but was cut short as Abracius’s dagger dug into his back.

“What have you done?!” Abracious shouted. Life or death mattered no more to Lazarus, his creation would take his form. He was the first thing it saw, and with his last sight of light he flicked his hand and the dark water in the cauldron zipped away into nothing, leaving it dry.