YC113.08.27 // The Halls of Erebo

[date/YC113/08/27.return_log]

  • {call-in ref:date/YC110/07/07.ref_log}

A cool breeze wandered over the park, the grass swaying lazily under its influence. Insects began chirping as night fell on the station, the sun setting behind the horizon of the moon. The stars slowly shimmered into existence in the night sky.

Down at the bottom of the hill, crowds mingled and laughed around booths and stages. In the center, a well lit theater’s lights flashed slowly, signaling the start of the main show for the night. People took their seats and a hush fell over the crowd as a speaker took the stage, illuminated by a single light.

“Ladies and gentlemen, hello and welcome to the second night of the annual Vié du Gallente Celebration!”

People clapped and whistled, and the speaker smiled and nodded.

“Tonight, we continue where we left off in our tale of the Trials of Mithathrotes, that ancient legend of the birth of our people. The Fallen Prince Mithathrotes has passed on to the Enduring Heavens, after being cast out and defeated in battle by his treacherous brother Alakalios, who has also imprisoned their fair sister Agatheria in the depths of the Citadel. Alakalios is now beyond the power of any mortal man or empire; his strength is final, his grip on the kingdom absolute.”

“Tonight, we will witness the fateful decisions that our Fallen Prince must make, and we will see how far he is willing to go so that justice may be done.”

The beam fades away as the speaker steps off, and the stage is pitch black for a few moments. In the darkness, a few small lights blink softly, mimicking the night sky. Mithathrotes wanders into the nightscape.

“I could travel these heavens for eternity, and still not arrive at the same place twice.” he says. “What purpose does this land serve but to fool a poor soul!”

Mithathrotes lifted his head and gazed toward the stars above him. “O! Enduring Heavens, grant me a boon! My legs are weary from my endless travels, and my eyes tired from your vastness! Grant me a boon, I cry!”

A flash of light, and there stood a beautiful woman clad in the finest linen dress, shining bright and fully.

“Come with me, Mithatrotes, and rest your feet and close your heavy eyes. I, Athero, will take you to the world above, where many souls are looking down upon you, full of pity. Come with me, Mithathrotes, and you shall reside with them.”

Mithathrotes became angered. “Why would I desire to rest my broken heart and soul in a place where the people think so little of me? I would not rest for a moment in such a shallow place.”

At this, a second being sprang forth from the darkness, a man of all black. “Come with me, my Fallen Prince, and I, Erebo, shall take you below to my Great Hall. Come with me, to where the denizens of my house look up to you.” The Black Man laid a hand upon the shoulder of Mithathrotes.

“I shall go with you, Erebo, for I am weary and your house desires my company; be gone with you and your sordid ways, Athero!” demanded Mithathrotes.

“You are a foolish lord, Mithathrotes. You know not what you want nor what dangers lie before you.” And with that, Athero vanished, her great light taken with her, and Erebo took Mithathrotes to his Great Hall.

The stage went dark once again, and after a few moments, low lights came on, and the sound of many people crying and wailing faintly filled my ears. The actors took the stage once more.

“Welcome to my Great Hall, my Fallen King. My people and I welcome you with open arms!” said Erebo, bowing lowly, his arms spread wide. “Sit at my table, and feast!”

A great onyx table rose from the black floor, and food of all varieties grew upon it. Mithathrotes sat and rested, regaining his strength. Erebo spoke.

“I know of your troubles and heavy weights, Mithathrotes. I know of the treachery committed by your own kin upon you.” Mithathrotes listened, gazing at him. “A grave injustice indeed.”

Mithathrotes nodded in agreement, consumed by the lavish meal before him.

“Let us right what has been wronged; let us set straight the course of balance.” said Erebo. “I will give you the power to take back from your brother what is rightfully yours – the throne, your people, the kingdom. In exchange, I ask for a measly penance.”

“What do you require, wise Erebo? Tell me, for I am curious.” asked Mithathrotes.

“All I require is a royal soul. Perhaps your brother’s, should it be a desirable exchange to you, O Fallen King.” Erebo bowed again. “A royal soul for all the world.”

“I cannot deny you; we must set right what has been wronged, mustn’t we? If the price for absolute power should be one’s soul, then let the grievances be great when it is lost.”

Mithathrotes clapped the arm of Erebo, and the world fell dark once more.

[date/YC113/08/27.end_log]

  • {call-out ref:date/YC110/07/07.ref_log}

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