Adilya Solveig
B o g a n s B o o n
En Route to Kiffar
Darragh Cearmada
In the dimly lit room, knelt Adi — her hands clasped together, her eye covering removed as she petitioned to the void, her head raised towards the ceiling. “All consuming is the void you produce O Dark Father. Grant me revelation that I may guide your chosen one down the old paths in which is the way. Give me truth that I may give strength to those whose resolve is weak — grant me vision, so that I may show others this great truth — give blessing — blessing to him abundantly, that those who shall oppose him are forced to bow onto bloody knees….” She spoke of Darragh. She was young, but only in years — her mind, her heart, her soul — craved and ached whenever he approached and like a jealous lover that sought nothing but to please him. For a lesser person that lacked sight, they might call him a deity — only the weak prayed and sought to name an imaginary being that they didn’t understand — he was more than that to her. He was a vessel, one that darkness incarnate chose to inhabit — and she the favored daughter that witnessed the birth of a black hole, one that would consume all in its path. “Holy is the ground he treads — from him shall a well of unfathomable darkness spread. Bestow upon him your favor, your power… your vision.” She spoke of the dreams that plagued her Master — they were gifts, visions that she knew Bogan gave to him… She and she alone could soothe the anguish in his soul and turn it into purpose and power.
A disturbance.
Her head turned sharply towards the bulkheads as a look of fear, confusion, longing, and disgust twisted across her face in the dark — they were above Kiffar. Her teeth clenched, a low growl escaping her lips as hate flowed from her body, memories of her parents, her past, her isolation flooded into her memory… Why… Why did she feel this way, why did fear lay just outside the door of her mind, threatening to overpower anytime she thought of them. Speaking to the dark, but knowing she should receive a response, she spoke, her voice cold and stoic. “My Master — why are we here?”