Dark Origins: Consequence of Sin - Pt. 2
Setting: Post War of the Ancients Shadowlands: The Maw, Gorgoa - River of Souls
The impact of his fall never came to pass.
Or rather, his consciousness could not register the transition from life into death. Within the blink of an eye the light and color of Azeroth had shifted into a muted black and white. The entirety of his body had become ethereal and incorporeal - discarding the pride and nature of a dragon to instead become a drifting spirit. Aimlessly, his soul was guided by the current of a great river, toiling along countless others as they were swept along with its pull - delving deeper into the Maw's depths.
Mournful cries of anguish and despair could be heard by numerous voices. None of them were aware of the judgement that had been passed to condemn them to this unholy landscape.
It was like being born again, but through the chaos of an infantile mind with no parents to foster understanding or purpose. Centuries of knowledge were upturned in a matter of seconds as the Maw responded only to those who were attuned and knew death in the afterlife.
He could not find a more unsettling place to reside. But it was through his determination of will - that he sought to seize his strength once more. Ethereal arms reflexively stretched downward and sought to anchor against the surging might of Gorgoa. For a brief moment, he felt a possibility against the unknown, only to have it squandered immediately from coalescing resonant misery.
With his tethered lifeline severed, he was forced back into the oppressive sea of the damned. Infected by the negative influence of Gorgoa's bottom feeders, he drifted further and struggled to comprehend a means of salvation. How was it that he could do so much in his life without any effort, to only have it amount to nothing in death?
His head lifted towards the surface where he could make out the shape of a great tower. If there was a place that was unphased by the coursing sea, he knew there would be others. Reinvigorated by his surroundings, he challenged Gorgoa again with the luxury of his perseverance through the painstaking task of maintaining survival instead. He charted this time, his own means of navigation, following along the river's edges until he could find a place where it did not envelope him entirely.
And upon making distance from Gorgoa's reach, he took in a newfound breath - not that it was necessary. Where wonder should have filled his thoughts, he instead sensed and felt utmost dread. This was not a means of rest for souls like the living proclaimed. And any dedication to rationalize its meaning was ignored. For now, the most important thing was to establish understanding. A glance back towards the river's end - he could uncover an answer to his former destination.
Within the body of its obscurities, he barely made out the shape at the end. The river itself seemed to turn in on itself, while the souls were extracted into this creature's custody. Perhaps at one point, the souls would have just been taken into oblivion where the edge of the Maw had existed. But instead, there was one who was responsible to the collecting of all the souls. Unfortunately, no name could be applied as Empyrian turned his focus elsewhere.
A series of jagged rocks that cropped outward along the Maw's ledges were decorated with large metal chains that housed countless souls in steel cages over what could be foreseen as a true end. This place was no sanctuary, but rather a well fabricated prison. Whether it was arrogance or acknowledgement to the fact, he scoffed and noted that everything worked against him. His body which was the first discovery since his arrival, had departed from his soul - leaving him in a permanent state of vulnerability. The next was the environment itself, the river coursed like an actual one, but there was no true means to stand against the tide. A feat he would have easily mustered in Azeroth.
In addition to this epiphany, he noted that he couldn't quite... -feel- in the way he used to. There was no means to make physical contact against something solid and it was more that his essence bled into the landscape and melded with it. Such revelations were astonishing and made him ponder where his strengths now lie.
Inland from where he was positioned, he could see a great fort - adorned in burning braziers and chains. Smoke billowed skyward from various forges that lay beneath jagged rock. And molten lava coursed against the heart of the Maw. It would be amusing to him if the implications were not so dire, but the atmosphere was far colder to guests than offering any means of a warm welcome. There were even deposits of elethium visible in places - which made Empyrian question his lack of connection to the elements in the Shadowlands.
The forces of the realm were not missed either, unmistakable by their darkened armor and various patrols. This was the land they had maintained dominion over. His gaze settled on one of the forges, where he could see a blacksmith bringing a hammer up and relentlessly beating down against a soul and blade. The craft was as primal as he was - seeking to a much more barbaric way of cowing the weak into submission.
His silent appraisal of the situation would be interrupted by none other than a wandering patrol. The rider dismounted from his armored hound and drew closer to the dragon's darkened soul. A spear was readied, just as it was lobbed at the heart of the dragon's mass. Domination runes began to glow along the spear's head - forcing all of Empyrian's body to be pinned at the weapon's edge against the ground.
Inexplicable tightness wound his soul tighter than a ball of yarn, compressing him into himself and blinding him in the shadows that made up essence. A tense few moments passed before he fell his soul torn away from the base of the spear that pinned him. The surface of a rounded orb stared back at him before he was pulled within. But it's transparent and clear surface had become overshadowed by his soul's presence.
The hand that contained his vessel was brought upright for inspection as Empyrian's soul swirled like a hate-filled storm. But like himself, his captor did not perform due diligence when it came to handling this former black dragon. A crack emerged, followed by another and another. The shattering of his soulkeeper breaking sounded as its occupant emerged once more. The shadows stretched outward into a wave of fury before distinction could be impressed upon his assailant.
"DEATH."
Like a water balloon bursting upon impact, the shadows enshrouded his victim from head to toe. Down into the earth he dove, dragging his mass like a tarp over his assailant. His assailant flailed blindly until the compression became too great. One by one his bones folded at the joints until it was grounded into Soul Ash within Empyrian's body. What was left in his wake was just a rounded shadow as Empyrian gradually returned to the surface with a glee he had never experienced.
Such an intimate closeness to his victim warranted all the conditions of his satisfaction to be met. No longer did his soul appear so malleable or exposed. He was now on a level playing field in the Shadowlands.
