Epilogue

A cold wind flowed slowly through the dark, stone corridor, carrying with it an unnerving moaning like whispers. From out of the darkness, a lone, cloaked figure stepped forth. Its robes were lined with mysterious hexagonal designs, and its ghostly white hands hung by its side. The figure stood still in the middle of the corridor as the moaning sound escalated as if something was drawing near.

The walls of the corridor began to distort slightly as if the cloaked figure was staring right through the transparent shroud of something otherworldly. Without flinching or even so much as saying a word, the figure nodded its head and turned to walk back into the darkness.

The trip through the pitch-black hallway was slow and seemed to last an eternity, the sound of the figure's footsteps echoing loudly. Eventually, a faint light began to seep back into the atmosphere as it emerged into another side of the corridor. At this point, the wall on the right had stopped display a massive, open cavern. A sickly green haze floated near the ceiling of the cavern, emitting the dim, eerie light that was just enough to illuminate the floor below. The figure looked out into the enormous, open chamber as it walked. The floor was carved with intricate designs much like the one on its cloak. A wide circle was in the middle of the cave floor, intersecting with a series of triangular shapes that pointed toward its center. Each point of the triangles created a series of hexagonal patterns that stretched outward toward the walls of the huge cavern. The patterns all led to numerous piles of hundreds of bodies. Human females, naked and marred by splotches like burns that leaked out a peculiar white light. They looked as though somebody had thrown them all haphazardly into piles. They moved ever so slightly, moaning as if in eternal torment.

The open corridor curved around the wall of the massive chamber until it fed into an open platform that was lined by a series of hideous-looking pillars. The platform overlooked the cavern below. Looking the other way, the cloaked figure saw several raised steps that curved around in a half-moon shape, leading up to what looked like a large throne carved out of the black rock.

Just then, five more cloaked figures emerged from crevices in the wall around the throne. They stepped up into the open platform chamber in front of the throne, muttering in high-pitched, incoherent voices. The first figure shifted its gaze as the mysterious apparition that had been following it floated over to position itself near the edge of the overlook.

The six cloaked figures approached a circle that was etched into the stone floor before the throne, identical to the much larger one on the cavern floor. They knelt evenly around the outside of the circle, bowed their heads, and began to mutter loudly as if in an unspeakable incantation.

Suddenly, a mass of darkness formed mid-air above the center of the circle. The cloaked servants spoke louder until at last, the dark mass expanded into a shroud of black fog that slowly formed into arms, and then legs, and then a full humanoid figure. The servants stood up and backed away, keeping their heads lowered.

The figure that now stood in the center of the circle was over seven feet tall. The dark mist solidified into a cloak, much like those of the servants around it. The designs, however, glowed a deep red as if from the furthest circles of Hell. It faced the throne, emitting deep, guttural breathing before it finally spoke.

"Do you know why you are here?" it said in a cold, masculine voice that sounded more like hisses and growls.

The six servants standing around the circle glanced over at the apparition near the overlook. Just then, much like the tall being in the center, it began to form into a solid figure. This one stood much taller, around twelve or thirteen feet, and remained shrouded in a black silhouette. It formed a shape that was tall and bulky as if sporting a suit of armor, but it was impossible to make out any details as it remained black as night.

"Perhaps you wish to renegotiate the terms of our agreement?" the silhouetted figure spoke. Its voice resonated with a sense of power surrounding it.

One of the servants suddenly stepped forward and pointed a long-nailed finger at the shadowy figure. "Kneel, visitor," it demanded in a high, raspy voice. "You are in the presence of Nowk!"

The black "visitor", shifted its featureless face toward the servant that had spoken, and then scanned around the rest of them. "I do not kneel before charlatans," it growled in response. "Especially not Humans that think themselves gods."

"I am not that which you think me to be," the tall figure called Nowk retorted in his undulating voice. He turned to face the visitor. The hood of his cloak shrouded everything underneath, much like those of his servants. "I am both foundation and that which breaks it. I am he who fuels the light and swallows it in darkness. In this realm in which you stand, I am the god. You are powerless."

There was a pause of silence. The visitor looked around at the six cloaked servants again, who stood their ground as if ready to make a move against their disgruntled guest. Sensing an unfavorable status quo, the silhouetted visitor lowered himself onto one knee, clearly displaying humiliation in his gesture.

"There will be no negotiating the terms of our agreement, Uranion," Nowk hissed. "Just you and your people holding up your end."

"Maybe you should put yourself in our place," the visitor fired back, "and then you'd see that tricking Humans with illusions of gods and spirits is not as easy as it sounds."

Nowk stepped out of the circle and down the several rows of steps, his cloaked servants returning their heads to their bowed positions. "Our agreement was to be mutually beneficial: I allow you to use my realm to enter the Ice Circles under the condition that you deliver the displaced souls to me. I am concerned, however, given the nature of your previous actions."

"What are you talking about?" the visitor questioned in frustration. "My warrior entered the Human world successfully, which means the soul was displaced."

"Indeed, but the soul was not retrieved here. She remained trapped in a state of limbo between our worlds."

"That is not my problem."

"It will be when I hold you accountable for not fulfilling your obligations."

The visitor scoffed to himself. "There were two souls involved. Why didn't you just take the child that was sacrificed?"

"Because the soul was not displaced. It passed on. I would have expected one from your higher existence to understand that," Nowk growled. "And as it happens, my pet prefers female souls. Their energy is far more potent and desirable, and the time of resurrection is approaching. So I suggest you accelerate your tactics unless you wish to stick around for the main event."

The visitor turned his head to look out at the opposite end of the enormous cavern chamber. A low but loud rumbling sound was flowing out of a large opening in the rock wall, like the breathing of some gargantuan beast. "Main event?" he repeated, turning his attention back to the company in front of him. "And what would that be?"

Just then, Nowk reached up and removed the hood from his head. The rest of the servants dropped down on one knee, muttering quietly in synchronized, incoherent spates. The visitor expected to see a face underneath. Instead, he was met by what looked like a mask made from some unknown metallic material, designed like the face of a terrible serpent. There were no eye holes, just two red, slitted eyes painted on the mask, and a pair of silver fangs painted down along the cheeks. The edges of the mask looked as though they were stitched or welded into the flesh of a ghostly white, glabrous head.

The cloaked servants ceased chanting at once, and Nowk stared down at the silhouetted visitor and answered, "Ragnarok!"

"Fear the Darkness, my children, as you would fear the siren's tongue, for it will seek to poison your mind and blind you with false treasures, and not even my blessed Light can bear you hence."

- The Gospel of Glimmra