A Touch of Destiny

Dive into the Abyss
"A’ight Damien, if there’s ever gonna be a time to act, it’s now.”

Xavier spoke quietly into the earpiece embedded in his right ear before he took a sip from the glass of water, placed on a small wood table. Once he had swallowed a sufficient amount of the cool liquid, he turned back to the large gathered crowd of faces standing in one giant group in front of the stage. He approached the microphone once more and the crowd grew excited with each step closer, anticipating his speaking. "You have really been a lovely crowd an’all but we only got time for one more song. Usually I’d try to whip out some new stuff for ya…” A woman screamed from the back of the crowd in excitement, clearly thinking he was alluding to something else. He flashed a playful grin before he continued. "But it seems y’all have been putting in requests for the first track. And who am I to disappoint you guys? So here it is again… Unholy.”

The bass and drummer started out the song with the vocals before the rest of the instruments kicked in. Xavier grinned as he took hold of the microphone and began to sing the lyrics to his song.

"A lucky, lucky girl
She got married to a boy like you
She'd kick you out if she ever, ever knew
'Bout all the - you tell me that you do
Dirty, dirty boy
You know everyone is talking on the scene
I hear them whispering 'bout the places that you've been
And how you don't know how to keep your business clean

Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot
At the body shop, doing something unholy
He's sat back while she's dropping it, she be popping it
Yeah, she put it down slowly
Oh-ee-oh-ee-oh, he left his kids at
Ho-ee-oh-ee-ome, so he can get that
Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot
At the body shop, doing something unholy.”


Several floors up from the music hall, another man was putting on a different kind of performance. He was a young man wearing black goggles with red, shining lenses. His outfit was a mixture of buckles and belts over leather, with pockets lined with different magical devices. Xavier’s voice crackled in from the ear piece in his ear and he waved off the man’s words dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it. I’m almost through.” What he was almost through was a heavy metal vault, located in an office that the man had broken into. He was kneeling in front of it, a beam of high intensity flame erupting from his finger as he slowly drew an opening in the thick metal. He heard the music start up and hummed to himself, gently tapping his foot on the floor to the beat as he finished up carving. With a loud clang, which was thankfully muted from the music, the hole Damien had carved clattered to the floor. Sitting inside was a statue of what could only be described as some kind of feminine imp. Her skin was black with light teal and strange runic-looking tattoos around her legs, arms and pointed ears. A stone mark half-covered her face, with bright orange hair flowing out the back. She wore a mischievous grin and her eye, the only one that could be seen through the hole in the mask, seemed alive with playfulness.

Damien reached in and pulled the statue through the hole, staring at it in… disappointment. “Well that’s ugly. All this work for this?” he asked as he turned the statue about in his hand, looking at it from all angles. Then he shrugged. “Jewel is jewel, I guess.” With that he thrust the statue in the bag slung over his shoulder and pulled the string tight. “All good here,” he spoke into the ear piece as he walked to the door and opened it, turning the semi-melted knob.

As he came out of the room, two guards were just crossing into the hallway down the way from him. “Hey!” One of them called out, reaching for his magical firearm.

“Oh shit!” Damien cursed as he quickly dashed back into the room and slammed the door. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled as he activated his fiery beam once more and aimed it at the door knob. He pressed his body against the door as he hastily melted the metal of the door together, hoping to seal it temporarily to buy him time to… think of something. A thud against the door nearly undid all the work he had done so he focused a bit more of his magic into the beam. “Ow DAMNIT!” A voice cried from the other side of the door; someone had tried to open the door via the handle and had probably gotten a right burn for his efforts. Damien would have laughed were he not in full panic mode.

Luckily he had melted enough of the metal to seal the door, for now. Pulling away from the door, the guards bashed against it, the wood starting to splinter. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Damien cursed as he looked around wildly. What the hell was he supposed to do? His eyes fell on the windows and he raced over to them. It was a straight fall four stories to the ground… but there was a rope hanging from some construction scaffolding on the building across. It was at least two stories down. He’d need to get a running jump and hope that it was anchored but… it was better than staying. “Shiiiiiiit,” he cursed one last time, taking one more look at the door as it began to give way and then raced, full speed, at the window. He covered his face with his arms as he shattered the glass and let out a yowl as he began to fall.

But he had gotten enough speed to get him close enough to the rope. And with the gloves he had on, he’d be able to keep his hands from being shredded. As he came upon it, he reached out and grabbed it, hollering in joy and relief… only for the force of his fall to catch up and bounce him upwards, still holding the rope. He went crashing through the scaffolding , slamming through flimsy wooden boards one after the other until he hit the roof of the building. “Ow, everything is ow, so much pain,” he wheezed. But he couldn’t sit and linger in pain as a magic bullet whizzed by next to him, hitting the roof and forcing him to his feet. “Hey, hey, hey!” he yelled as he raced towards the other side of the roof, leaping off the edge to the next building and continuing to run. The bullets whizzed by but never managed to hit him and soon enough he was beyond their range, the guards groaning angrily as they went for their communication devices to relay what had happened.

A few hours later, Xavier and his drummer approached a boulder in a clearing, right next to a bubbling brook. The Confidence International guildmaster took a look around as the other man approached the rock and tapped it thrice. The enchantment activated and opened up the hole in the stone, revealing the imp statue. “All this for this ugly thing?” he asked, turning about and holding up the statue for Xavier to see.

"That’s what the client wants. Apparently it’s some magical relic, s’pposed to have some strange magic. It doesn’t activate for everyone though so…” Xavier shrugged. "All I know’s his jewel is good. Guess Damien came through after all. Bag it and let’s scram.”

The drummer nodded and started to put the statue in his bag. But the sound of a gunshot broke the silence and the other man fell to the ground dead, a fresh bullet wound right through his forehead. Xavier dropped down defensively and then scrambled over to the drummer to find him dead and started to reach for the statue while getting up to run. “Don’t move.” He froze at the voice, closing his eyes and sighing softly. Slowly he turned his gaze to look up at a tall, pale white man. He knew him immediately; the owner of the music hall that they had just performed at and robbed. He was an imposing man, with thinning black hair and gaunt, blue eyes. And he looked even more imposing with how angry he was. “I should have known better than to give any kind of chance to street rat scum like you,” the man hissed as two guards flanked him, guns already drawn.

"Mister Rozanov,” Xavier said, holding his hands up. "Funny story; a friend of mine was bragging about holding up some place and when I heard all the deets, sounded an awful lot like your place. So I told him that he needed to drop off whatever he stole so I could return it. I didn’t want him to do you dirty like that.”

“Do I look like an idiot, Mister Winters? Do you think I wouldn’t assume it was you and your filthy friends that used a performance to get in? I’ve been on alert ever since I heard that the black market wanted my precious statue. Now pick it up!” he hissed, pointing at the statue.

Xavier glanced down at the statue and then, slowly, took it in his hand. The man summoned him to approach and the Confidence International guildmaster got to his feet and slowly walked in front of him, holding out the statue for the man. "A’ight. Here’s the statue. Just take it and let’s… go our own ways, yeah? No need for this to get any more violent.”

“I wholeheartedly disagree. I need to make an example of you in case any other thieves think they can outwit me!” The man snarled as he took hold of the other side of the statue. He reached back with his other hand and the guard slid his firearm into his hand. The owner brought the gun up and pointed it directly at Xavier’s forehead, grinning.

In the instant that he heard the gunshot, Xavier’s life flashed before his eyes. His time on Rhaegar, growing up among the other poor but having a semi-charmed life in spite of it all. The rising of the rebellion and standing with his father, their new leader, against the oppressive rule of the Ashdyn Empire. The sight of his father dying in his arms, as their forces were being slaughtered after Bacchus du Wolff had failed to provide assistance. His rise to power and his angry, iron-clad rule over the planet. Vandrad and the rebellion he wrought, bringing an end to his empire and watching him fall to his death. And so many other memories he barely spent time thinking about. Perhaps he should have been thankful that he hadn’t felt any pain, his life over in an instant. But there was so much more he wanted to do, to accomplish…

It was oddly… silent. He’d instinctively closed his eyes when he saw the man’s finger tighten to pull the trigger. Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes, unwilling to look, as if that would delay the truth of his fate. As the chocolate orbs were fully realized, he found himself staring at what seemed to be a hellscape An ominous red glow covered the entirety of the sight before him, including the moon that was half-crested over the horizon. Jagged, rising peaks rose from hillsides off in the distance. More sharp peaks seemed to pen in sharp, ill-formed tree limbs and vines that seemed to act as a canopy to a horribly dense forest. The air smelled thick and acidic, almost wanting to make his lungs heave and choke in a coughing fit.

It wasn’t what he imagined Hell was. But he knew if he was going anywhere, it was there. Yet before the dread of what awaited him for eternity began to sink in, he heard a soft, almost sweet voice. “Hello Xavier,” it greeted him from behind, causing him to whirl around. There, standing before him, was a tall, elegant looking woman. In fact, she looked like a grown up version of the imp statue they had been contracted to steal. The mask was gone, revealing her mature, beautiful face and allowing her orange hair to flow down over her shoulders fully. An intricately crafted robe hung off her shoulders and a similar skirt around her waist. The same strange symbols were on her arms and legs, glowing bright in the crimson light. She smiled evenly at him. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you. Welcome to the Dreadlands.”

Dive into the Abyss
"The Dreadlands? Do y’all mean Hell?”

Xavier was utterly confused. He’d expected… well, he’d expected a lot more horrifying images and creatures to immediately upon him. After all, for what he’d done in Rhaegar, there was little denying that he was going to be punished. Selfish revenge was hardly a just cause for allowing the murder of several people. He’d never really expected to come face to face with his consequences so soon but, given the life he’d chosen, it was hardly surprising. But instead of a molten pit of torture and thirsty devils looking to tear him limb from limb, he was, instead, in a semi desolate wasteland with only a strangely attractive and wholly gigantic woman greeting him, warmly while also towering over him.

Dreadlands sounded hellish enough but it was about the only thing adding up.

The woman chuckled softly. “Perhaps not what you mortals would believe amounts to that word. I’ve studied many different mortal civilizations and its remarkable how similar the belief in the afterlife attributes to the same imagery. But alas, this is actually a far worse place than your hell; which is why I did not bring you here physically. I could only bring you here once you touched my effigy.”

Xavier blinked. "You mean… the statue?”

The woman nodded. “That is correct. Once I learned of your ‘heist’, I swapped out the original target of your operation and inserted my own idol. Then it was just a matter of waiting until you touched it for me to bring you here. And not a moment too soon, it seems.” She waved her hand and a hazy image of where he had been appeared before the two of them. Xavier could see the scene from out of his body, watching the club owner holding the weapon and pulling the trigger fully.

"So… I ain’t dead?” Xavier asked, turning to look back at the woman.

“Not quite. And once our meeting has concluded, I will provide you a means to keep you from becoming deceased. Whether that means is temporary or permanent will also depend on the outcome of our meeting.”

"Means? Outcome? Who are you?” Xavier took a step back, looking the woman over with scrutiny.

“And now you ask the important question.” The woman’s smile seemed to deepen in amusement. “I am known as Bast. I am one of the rulers of this dominion and a child of the Vogdae, what I believe some of your people know as ‘Ancient Ones’.”

"I ain’t never heard of any Ancient Ones.”

“Unsurprising. They are relatively unknown in your day and age. Only a handful of creatures have any knowledge of them and that knowledge did not come without a cost. The Vogdae were an ancient race of mystical, nightmarish creatures of immense size and power. They had long slumbered before being awakened and spreading their malicious rule over the universe. They became known as the Last Empire, destroying and enslaving every other creature. In the end, they ruled the universe without equal. But even immortal creatures cannot outrun the death of reality.”

"Vogdae? Death of reality? Lady… er, Bast, this is… a lot to take in. Plus the fact that you’re sayin’ you’re one of their kids. Wouldn’t that make you just as much of a nightmare as them?” Xavier interrupted, trying to wrap his head around it all.

“A profound observation and question. I’ll get to that momentarily. You see, the Vogdae knew the end was coming; sensed its approach, as it were. They bound together nearly all of the remaining subspecies of their reality in a sacrificial ritual in an attempt to preserve themselves. But they crafted an alternative should their end become reality; a rebirth. Crafted embryos that they wrapped in their evil power in hopes it would survive the onslaught of cataclysmic dark matter. And, as it turns out, they succeeded in both regards. The Yogdae survived, though not without consequence. They are in permanent hibernation; locked within themselves, incapable of resurrecting while they drift, unseen, through the annals of the very edges of space. And their children survived the end but did not transfer over to the new reality. Instead, they wound up here… in a realm that was once called the Dreamlands,” she said, gesturing to the world around them.

Xavier glanced about. "This place hardly looks like its made of dreams.”

“Unfortunately, that is partly my fault. The other children did not survive their landings in the world; only two of us, now known as the Evogad, managed to survive. But not without our own repercussions; we, too, were forced into hibernation to reclaim our power. And as we slept, the power that had been infused in us leaked into the world, infecting it. Soon the dreams became nothing but dread and so the Dreadlands came to be. A dismal sight but one that did bear fruit; when I awoke, I found my dark ambitions, forced upon me by my forefathers and mothers, had melted away. I saw them for the terrible monsters they were and swore to stand against them and prevent their awakening from ever passing.”

"What about the other one?” Xavier asked. "You said there were two of you?”

Bast frowned softly. “Yes… my former beloved, Ulthar. For a time, I thought he felt the same way but… it seemed he wished to find a means to awaken our parents. He believed their rule to be destiny. His dark ambitions had not dispersed at all and when we discovered ourselves opposed in belief, we were forced into conflict. He declared himself the Crimson King and manifested nightmares from the land; creatures of broken flesh and dirt. I, too, created forces made up of nightmares to combat him. Even now, the nightmares that he controls battle the ones that I hold sway over, locked in an endless conflict that seemingly will never end. But that brings me… to you.”

"Why me? Are you looking to even the odds?”

“In a manner of speaking. You see, many a year ago, we each sensed a spark of familiar power, the materialization of the Vogdae’s power. On two separate worlds within your reality and through it, it created a window there for us to see into. This was the origin of Ulthar and I’s opposition as the power awakened his desire within him. It seemed that each world had become the grave of a Vogdae, whatever remnants of its form had crashed into the land. But from that death brought new life; each world taking the remnants and molding it into its own evolutionary process. Two races divided by millions of lightyears but united in birth; that of your own and the ones that called themselves Terrans.”

"Holy shit… you’re telling me that my people, the Rhaegarians, came to life with bits and pieces of those…Vogdae evil sons of bitches?” Xavier asked.

“The phenomenon that you refer to as Blood Markers are what remains of that power, purged of its former darkness and becoming gifts. It is why your people do not pass due to age, finding their end through other means to balance out the resources of your world. A perfect cycle of nature nurturing something truly terrible and making something beautiful out of it. I was… astonished when I first watched your people grow and flourish. I could never perceive anything so… beautiful. While Ulthar was disgusted that you had been born from a power, he believed, pure and true. And despite our beliefs, all we could do was observe your worlds from afar… until something else happened.”

“Another burst of evil energy from the world, Teras Prime. A truly devastating cataclysm fell upon the world, bringing an end to all but two of their people. But one such person had absorbed in the energy that had become part of the world in its purest form and, with that, had opened an access point. While it had granted him a window into the deeper realms of which the Dreadlands exist, known as the Abyss, it had opened a door of manipulation from our world. One that Ulthar sought to utilize to reawaken the Vogdae. I sense his influence, the dark power of the Vogdae, on Rhaegar surrounding that of one family; you know them as the du Wolffs.”

"Wait… hold on…” Xavier cut in once more, waving his hands. "You’re telling me… this Ulthar guy stepped in and influenced the du Wolffs? Do you have a name? Was it Bacchus?”

“Were I to hazard a guess, I would say yes. A veritable aura of wicked intent surrounds him and his family but no more than that of his grandchild, Vandrad du Wolff. I followed Bacchus as his family traveled to a world called Earthland and witnessed that same aura transferred to Vandrad. I believe that Ulthar has committed his power to that family line, in an attempt to use them to eventually awaken the Vogdae from their hibernation.”

"It all makes sense. Bacchus… he was so convincing, so easily trusted by my pops. If Ulthar was to use anyone to sway the outcome of Rhaegar, it would have been Bacchus. And then Vandrad came and uprooted our world again!” It suddenly made sense. Why Bacchus had suddenly turned his back on his father and his family, how he’d managed to escape to an entirely different world. And why Vandrad had arrived back and brought rebellion once more. He paused, frowning. But that didn’t excuse everything he had done, right? He’d taken responsibility for his own actions, his own corruption. He couldn’t simply blame it all on Bacchus and Vandrad, especially if they were being manipulated.

“I can sense what you’re feeling, Xavier. And I will stand here and tell you that your actions were not damnable. Your own hatred, anger and misery brought about pain to your people just as much as the du Wolff’s did. I do not offer justification for your actions… What I do offer is an opportunity to redeem yourself.” Xavier looked up at her slowly. “Ulthar has chosen his champion. As a son of Rhaegar, as a man that sought to save his people, I offer you a second chance to stand by your original intent as my champion.”

Xavier stared at her for a long moment before his gaze shifted downwards. "I don’t…” he paused, pondering his words. "It seems wrong to hate Vandrad now. He fought to free my people when I oppressed them. Even if he’s being influenced by this Ulthar, that doesn’t seem wrong to me, you know?”

“Vandrad du Wolff’s purpose in Ulthar’s plan is far grander than those actions. In fact, I believe Ulthar only influences smaller actions, nudges, if you will, down his ultimate goal. That does not make Vandrad any more evil than yourself. But I can sense a shift approaching and he must be stopped, else he will bring about the end of your reality as you know it.”

"And by stop… you mean kill him…” Xavier said quietly.

He was surprised by a gentle hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He turned to face Bast, who had approached him and now looked down upon him with a kind smile. “No. I believe I can counter Ulthar’s influence and free him from his chosen path. You may be forced to engage him and defeat him in combat but you will not need to kill him. You… will help save him and the rest of your people.”

Xavier’s gaze flickered between hers quietly for several seconds, his face wrought with thought. After all this time, who would have thought that not only would he be offered the chance to save his people but to find redemption for his own actions? And by finding a way to save a du Wolff of all things. It was funny how chaotic fate chose to be sometimes. "A’ight,” he said softly, nodding. "What do I have to do?”

---

Back on Earthland, time began to move forward once more. And as the magic bullet erupted from the muzzle of the casino owner’s, the ground exploded out from underneath him. He fell backwards, the gun falling from his hand as smoke filled the area before him. His guards rushed up to pick him up, even as the smoke began to clear. All three men stared in wide-eyed horror at the sight before them.

In place of Xavier stood a menacing figure. Clad in a black suit that covered his entire form, Xavier flexed his hand, staring down at the claws that came to a point over his fingers, still gripping the statue of Bast. Fangs protruded from his collar all around his head, steaming from the sudden eruption of power. Veins throbbed on the suit by his shoulders, neck and arms, throbbing in time with his own heart’s beat. Jagged yellow eyes, lacking any irises, stared down in a menacing glare. Tendrils of shadow moved off the back of his head, flowing as if caught in a wind that wasn’t blowing.

“Get out of here. Now.” Xavier’s altered voice spoke. It sounded cacophonous and deeper than it usually did. His head lifted, the glowing yellow eyes staring at the three men.

And they ran. There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation before the three were on their feet and running into the forest. Xavier watched them go before the black suit around him became liquid and pooled down into the center of his chest. He looked back down at the statue and a smile touched his lips. "I’ll do it right this time, a’ight. I’ll save everyone.”

"Even the du Wolffs.”