dark ritual.
short story by nothing.
Entering the Temple. I witness the black obsidian Walls, whose enscriptions hold a thousand secrets whispering between every insigna and ornament.
Unholy Rituals forever to be held within the shadow of Society, unheard and unspoken of, but yet there and more real than anything else I have seen so far.Every fiber of this place pulsates with power, it's as if the Black Temple itself is a beast of the Underworld.
Walking towards my goal I am greeted by a Hall enlightened by green, vicious fire.Centered in the maddening big Ceremonial Hall a priestess sits in front of a black stone obelisk,
consisting of the same material everything here seems to be made out of.
Maybe this is what all matter looks like when you strip the sins and impurities of life away.
The priestess is shaking is a spasmic trance while she channels the Obelisks essence into her own.
A grey, foggy, almost ghost like fog connects the two in their dark intimacy.As I approach further her Ritual seems to come to an end, almost like a rebirth she seems glowing of vitality and almost godly.
"Come closer child." Her voice is echoing, making her presence even more ominous.
"Come to be tested by our Lord and master. Come to accept his Curse, and be liberated by it.
Either in death or a new form of existence, you shall find the freedom you seek here."I am entranced in her personality, her charisma,
and even surprised that the Idea of leaving my Humanity behind seems like a warm gift, rather as a cruel destiny.
Her hands caress my face as she musters my Eyes, and trough them every aspect of my being.
"The father shall bring you change, as he did for all of us."
Just as she said this I notice that we are not alone.The hall is filled with a mass of presences, not in body but as ghostly witnesses of whats about to happen.
Many of them long dead, others just merely traveling in spirit instead of physically.
I kneel down in front of the Obelisk, curiously awaiting of my Initiation.I am a Black mage. I have always been, I was born this way.
The churches that run our society merely tolerate our existence, denying us our true nature, our actual self.
I have struggled for years to embrace who I am, what I am, because of the lies and fabrications they told us.
That our Black Mana is poisoned by the gifts of evil.
That our dark Rituals may only result in hatred and twist our mind to insanity.Tears stream down my face as I come to realise that I'm finally home.
I have found my family, a place to let down every curtain of my inner self. We are not evil.
If anybody the Churches of the White are the bad ones.
The Black is free, accepting anybody willing to to whats neccessary to achieve his goals.
They don't force anybody to surpress and shackle aspects of his persona,
they ecourage the natural individuality that life gives us.I shall conquer and dominate my destiny.
I am no longer a slave of societies prejudice.
I know that the Cursed ritual is a gamble, but this is the way of the Black.
Seize the chances that the cosmos gives you, even if it shall end in your possible demise.With a booming eruption the whole Temple seems to come alive.
The obelisk manages to appear razor sharp and foggy at the same time as it's images burns in my Eyes."STEP TROUGH THE GATES CHILD." My handy are shaking as she hands me the Ritual knife.
"PROVE YOUR WORTH BY ABANDONING YOUR MORTAL SHELL!"
My hands wrap around the blade.
"YOU ARE ONE OF US!"Without a second thought a slit my throat.
Everything starts to feel hazy. I feel a warmness all over my body.
My lungs are filling with blood as I sence my life fading.Just as I start to grow weaker and black out she grabs my face screaming
"REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE. YOU WILL NOT DROWN IN DEATH, YOU SHALL CONQUER IT."Thats when I feel the fire inside my chest swelling.
The Pain my body has to endure become clearer.
I can feel what is happening, I can overcome this trial.
I push my fingers into my eyes, crushing them, as an apology for my earlier weakness.
Calmness washes over me, like a wave.The booming of the Temple itself, along with the Music my pain has become and the
Choir of chants of our ghostly Audience form a foggy cacophony.
It is almost like a beatiful twisted opera made of torture.I revel in this, I feel safe in this agony.
Thats when I hear a voice, speaking from deep inside of my Head.
"Greeting child. We have been expecting you. Will you accept our Gift?"
The Gods are smiling upon me.
Disclaimer: This story is losely based on the Magic the Gathering Canon of Black Mana.
Any mention of "black" withing this story is not on the subject of race,
it is purely as a fictional reference to magic.
Title and Idea Based on:
Suggested Background Music: here
Have a good read, hope you enjoy the story.