Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

[🎶 Bad to the Bone – Song by George Thorogood ¢ The Destroyers.]

'The Sword of the Angel of Death!

—what wonderful weapon it would make. My foes wouldn't know what hit them. Titans Landing shall rock at my heels. I shall have my vengeance on the Usurper. That mad arsewipe! I swear it.

This sword shall cleave the liars, the cowards, and the cunts.'

Israfel had this silent rumination in his mind as his right hand opened over the hilt of the ancient dwarf king's sword, to clasp the [Hollow World] weapon and pull it out from the stone—in this case, the back of its former wielder.

Rafel thought the sword would resist at first; it was in the nature of eldwyrm guilds to deny selectively the Bearers that would claim them. One certain druidic knight had lost his head while trying to claim a [Bhutan Shield]. The old staffsplate had melted the skin right off the warlock's bone; the liquefied mess had been a deterrent to others.

But Rafel was no glory-seeking warrior. He sought to avenge himself, his acrimony, and by the glow of scarlet on the blade, he knew the Deathbringer's sword could give it. Rafel talked to the broadsword as he reached out. "Give me your might, weapon of sacrilege. I offer mine hate to fuel your haloes, my pride to break the nations, my zeal to conquer the realms.

You have been numb for centuries, sword of Kaos. Bond to me, and I shall offer thee blood of them who shall quench thy hunger.

Souls to feed thy crimson blade. Bend to my will. See my heart and decide its worthiness. I present myself, a lowly demon."

Rafel stopped talking as he clutched to the nether hilt. An ether glow, bright and fearsome, and eerie red burst from the blade, running up his grip to his strong arm and swamping his whole body in the outline of blood. Rafel glowed like he was on fire. Pain he had never known, even on the arena of Hel rattled his bones. He dropped to his knees in a heave. But he would not let go of the death sword.

"Is he alright?" Ravenna leaped to attention. Her green eyes put out extra worry as compared to the other girls. The Crow-Bride only smirked down at her. She stood in the shadow of the witch goddess as Hecate offered some words of comfort.

"The Hel child shall be fine. The sword of Azrael seeks out his worthiness. If there be truth to his pain and courage to his bloodthirst, this staff of carnage shall be his."

"And if not?" Aya mumbled from the side.

Hecate chuckled darkly, "then I shall have a new tombstone for my realm."

It was only then cognizance dawned on the girls. They looked around with fresh eyes. Tombstones grew like grasses on the spooky field. How many like Israfel had been drawn here by the Crow-Bride, only to meet with stone forever?

"Arrggghhhh!" Rafel's shout drew all eyes to him; the crimson glow all over his body was burning brighter, reaching higher for the bleak clouds like a comet's tail. The fierce envelope was corrosive when Corazón tried to touch him. She was burned back, much to Hecate's sinister pleasure. The dark wiccan smiled long. "You can't help him, girls. Do not anger the blade.

His vocal eruption is not unusual. Fancy it not! For upon the Hel child you see, the agony and hate and blood-hunger of a thousand souls doth pass. Let it be."

Beyond Hecate's words, Rafel himself was battling within against the riptide of visions of death that threatened his consciousness. His eyes were fired up like lasers, striking into the clouds, bloodshot, as those killed by the sword showed to him the ways in which they had died.

Slashed skulls. Diced limbs. Pierced hearts. Ripped torsos. Flying entrails. It was almost too much for him.

And Rafel thanked the infernal gods that will had been forged of iron. A gladiator's stoneheart.

The visions and screaming souls ended abruptly.

The rolling torrent of agony faces flashed out of his head. And Peitho's voice entered into the sweet silence in a caressing spring. Beeps notified him as she displayed floating screens in tandem with her confirming words.

[Ding!]

[HAIL THE HEL CHILD!]

[Host has bonded to the Death Sword!]

[LAST BEARER: Azrael of the Bastard lands.]

[ATTEMPTS: One.]

[PATRONS: Urzkataga. Vulcan. Ba'al.]

[RANK: Divine.]

[ADDITION TO ARCANE RUNE: +60 Million Souls.]

[REWARDS: The Entomber Talisman. Chalice of the Saints Purge. The Nolöch Nascent Nymph.]

The first reward, the Entomber Talisman appeared as a small, red V tattoo on Rafel's wrist. It looked like upturned wings. And it amplified the holding capacity of Rafel's [Mana Core] by three percent, bringing him ever closer to ascending to [Third Infernal Circle].

The Saints Purge Chalice was added to his pocket dimension for retrieval whenever he wished. It was a useful charm when battling the celestial light of the Holy Ones. Like holy water to a fiend, an Angel's literal aura could roast a demon. It varied, depending on how high the Saint was or lowly the devil.

The Chalice—which filled of its own accord, helped to purge a demon's body of the light before he could burst into flames like a vampire in the sun.

'I'd need this very soon,' Rafel reckoned, 'my girlfriend's mom is a Seraphim.'

Ravenna, he meant.

The last reward was the tiny nascent soul of a nixie: a water spirit. Rafel banished her ethereal form to another dimension until when he'd have need of her. Peitho's voice returned with another chime and hologram.

[Ding!]

[The Death Sword seeks a name from its new Bearer. Does my Lord require suggestions?]

SLLIIINNNNGGGGG!

Rafel pulled the broadsword out of the stone—the stone-man's back. The ladies gasped behind, curving hands over their mouths. Hecate's smile stretched. "That wouldn't be necessary, Peitho," said the demon Bearer of the souls sword. He looked on the frothing red blade and weaved the weapon in the cold air, loving the balance.

The deadly weight. The sureness of the strike. The way it enhanced and directed his Hel energy.

Rafel turned and brandished the sword in front of the Crow-Bride. His deep words flowed out his still glowing body.

"This sword shall run in rivers of blood and pierce the heart of tyrants. I know it. A good weapon is only as deadly as its name." He lifted the great blade high into the dim ambiance. "I shall name it Bloodthorn."

"Bloodthorn?" Hecate shuffled in her tall stance.

"Yes, Crow-Bride. It shall skewer Kings."

The Wiccan woman-god and the girls could say nothing else, except bask in the utter villainy of his gold-red eyes. Hecate took a step forward and offered a Valerian sheath. "A worthy sash, for a worthy sword. May Bloodthorn ride with you, Hel Child to many wars and much more victories. Now begone from my realm. Your mortal damsels give me the ick."

Hecate banished from her presence and her world of graves the four friends. Rafel and the girls found themselves in a shroud of darkness once again, for the third time that night.

The umbra portal burst out in the sanctum of Vallon-de-Grâce. In a cloud of shadows, Israfel stepped out of the doorway and helped the girls with a chivalrously offered hand. In darkness that ate up the light the portal whooshed away. Rafel turned around in the sacred chamber to find the other two of his friends they'd left behind. Percival and Rosamunde sat on a wall bench.

Beside them, the Highfather stood.

Rafel wasted no time in removing himself from the Sanctum. He could feel the cleansing power of the holy relics already draining the charge on his core and his new divine weapon, Bloodthorn.

"We shall call on you again, Your Holiness." Rafel told the solemn, standing Vicar.

He was making it abundantly clear to the man that he have no fantasies about him being in the clear yet; the Highfather owed the Apollyon his eternal soul. As Israfel led the way out of the church with his friends, Ravenna entered into telling Percy and Bruna about everything that had happened the last two hours. A most wondrous tale about a Countess and a vision, and a Goddess and a sword.

Bloodthorn was strapped to Rafel's left hip and the drained blood of Constance Medici in the urn in Cora's lap as the carriage waiting outside the Sanctum, on the grounds rolled away from the parsonage. The solemnity of Vallon-de-Grâce and its sacred mysteries faded into the sound of Ravenna's delicious voice.

Rafel cradled his new broadsword, sat back in the caravan, and listened to his green-eyed Little Raven, and her telling of the night.

"Gods, I'm famished." Cora said ten minutes later, coming out in a bathrobe from Rafel's shower. The young demon himself padded out behind her in a similar robe and flip-flops. Despite the appearance of the duo, nothing had happened in the bathroom.

"Move aside, girl!" Cora jokingly nudged Aya's supple body to the side on Rafel's huge bed so she could fall back on it too.

She rolled to her side and said nothing.

All the friends had bundled to Salem Hall and Rafel's dorm room. All were too tired to make the trips to their adjoining hostels. And the cafeteria was shut for the night. And they couldn't risk another collision with school guards. So in the meanwhile, they hit the baths while Percival volunteered to go and sneak around in the campus kitchen's pantry.

They were all waiting on him now.

On the plume bed, someone's stomach growled loudly. Five girls laughed and fell on each other, tickling themselves to fetch out the culprit. Rafel watched them from the long mirror in his closet as he strapped [Bloodthorn] to the racks. If there was anything he had to be thankful for in this world of mortals, it was the grace of these beauties.

He admired them for a moment through their reflections and turned to say, "I could get Erika to Spinazolla's and have her bring in room service?"

"Nah. It's alright," Cora waved it off. "You don't need to wake her up. It's already past one. Besides, Percy should be here any second now." She spoke about the blondie they'd jointly chosen to raid the canteen's stacked lockers.

Since Percival was a Griffin first-year and quite skilled in the art of [wind manipulation], it was a unified vote from the other that he be the one to embark on this clandestine mission—of the utmost belly importance.

Should the marshals of the Sentinel Corps find an intruders banging pots and pans, Percy's wildling magic would come in handy in spiriting him away.

Snacks? Potpourri leftovers? Veggie burgers? Any thing would do at this point for the girls.

Rafel grinned at his ravenous females; what could he say, he liked healthy women. If Percival failed to deliver, Rafel knew he'd just about summon a fairy to hurry to the nearest cake house. Anything to satiate his ladies bellies.

Rosamunde was on her back, closest to the pillows on the bed in lavender cashmere. It was a chastity slip, and Rafel almost admired her modesty. She was saying, "ah, I almost forget you own a literal restaurant. Five-star too. Mhm-mhm-Mhmm!" She ran her tongue across the seam of her lips as if she could already taste the food.

Percival burst in through the door a second later. And he was loaded.

"Did anyone see?" Aya chortled, rushing to secure the door at his arrival pushing a cart of food trays.

Percy smirked and popped the silver lids over the food like a delightful chef. "What do you think? Dig in everyone!"

"Ohh, you have outdone yourself, Van Imperia!"

"You don't need to tell me twice."

"Hell fuckin' A!"

All the friends surrendered Percival their own versions of praise at his successful raiding of their college's kitchen, just as quickly as they made a circle on the cart and dived right in on the bed. They all ate in silence. Some long minutes later, when several paper plates were empty and quail bones picked, Cora fell back on the headrest of the bed and hugged a fat pillow.

"Now what?"

"What, what?" Rafel chuckled.

"Is anyone going to act like we didn't just hear our headmistress is behind half the deaths of students this year? The Basilisk? The fucking Persuadå?!"

No one talked for a while and Cora's hard veracity. It was a hard pill to swallow that Nicara could do such a thing: gang up with a blood witch to cause harm and whatnot. Rafel lowered his rice spoon and calmly took a sip of water. "Now," he said in reply to Cora's first question, "we give her the benefit of the doubt."