Moloch Unfettered

[MaiusImperium]

Celeste had once been known as the city of God, and to some extent it still was. It was the last bastion of Civilisation in a world full of barbarians and warmongers, and the last city to be built by the ancients. It is written in the lore of the land that Celeste was built by Deus himself to mark the final defeat of Moloch.

The white and silver spires of Celeste reached up to the heavens, impossibly constructed and even at night they managed to glow and radiate light. Celeste was pristine, but as with everything that appears flawless to the eye it was built upon a festering foundation. Far below the city, within the mountain of Perphiron itself lay the dark vault of the entombed Moloch. Cast down into the depths of the mountain by the god Deus himself thousands of years ago, Moloch now resides in spirit only, his body long since destroyed.

The custodians of the dark one’s prison watch eternally over Moloch’s damning vault, passing their knowledge and training down to their next of kin one generation after another. The custodians stood ready to defend Moloch’s tomb, to keep the tomb hallowed and free from the hand of the barbarian. It was well known that the surrounding nations gazed covetously upon the city of Celeste. Never would the custodians have expected the threat to come from within the Imperial family itself.

But that is exactly where the threat would come from. As the full moon began it’s ascent into the starlit heavens above Celeste the warrens below the city’s sewers stirred. When the city’s doom approached it was heralded with nothing but the silent shuffle of padded feet across obsidian tiles. There was no battle cry, no rousing of the alarm and no clashing of steel on steel, the custodians were completely oblivious to the nature of the attack.

And so it was that Nicolette, daughter of Emperor Maxentius IV and fourth in line for the succession to the throne, slipped through the vault’s defences. Shrouded in complex magic she and her consorts slipped into the dark chamber. There was no gilded throne of skulls, no impressive gold shackles of symbolic portent, not a commemorative plaque. There was nothing save for an empty chamber, massive and black, and in the centre of it a slightly raised plinth circular in shape. You needed eyes of a different sort to fathom the complexity of Moloch’s interplanar cage, you needed eyes attuned to the ebb and flow of magic.

Only the flickering torchlight that danced on the walls gave away the true size of the chamber, the firelight could not penetrate the darkness that crowded over the chamber, no vaulted ceiling could be seen. Not a sound permeated the air of that haunting chamber, it was deathly silent. In that silence the princess and her consorts resolved to do what they came to do.

---

A closed thread for myself and the lovely MissMarbles. Hope you enjoy.

 

[MissMarbles]

***Several Months Earlier***​

"Honestly, Sebastian, I do not know why you put up with it," said Nicolette as she took a stroll with the youngest of her elder brothers through the royal gardens. The roses were in full bloom - dozens of colors, full and vibrant, sweet smelling and pleasing to the eye. "Uthan and Gardrid are intimidated by you!" the princess said in a hushed, urgent tone. "Do you not see it? They do not truly believe that you are too young to travel with our father's armies. Uthan and Gardrid were both younger than you when they left for the first time." The princess paused a moment before continuing, taking a moment to look around the garden to make sure no guards were within earshot. "They are scared because they know you are the rightful heir! Not by birth order, perhaps. But you are certainly most capable, Sebastian."

The young prince took a few steps before stopping, gently taking a hold of his sister's velvet clad arm, turning her to face him. Sebastian looked Nicolette in the eyes - hers were a chilling blue, much like their mother's, he thought to himself. In fact, Nicolette resembled their mother in almost every conceivable way - and as he noted the sincerity and innocence in his dear sister's gaze, he couldn't help but take her words to heart. Sebastian had always thought much higher of himself than his father and brothers had and he found it refreshing that his sister thought the same. Smiling warmly, Sebastian brought his hand up to brush several of his sister’s ebony wisps from her face before caressing the flesh of her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Dear, dear sister,” the prince said, not once diverting his gaze. The sensation of her flesh on the back of his hand nearly sent a chill down his spine as he thought back to their most recent incestuous affair that had occurred just days before. He had no idea that his baby sister was such an eager and willing harlot. Sebastian’s hand finally came to a dead end at Nicolette’s chin, where he gently plucked her bottom lip with his thumb before allowing his hand to fall away from her delicate visage. The princess smiled, looking expectantly at her older brother who took a short breath before continuing. “Uthan and Gardrid are fools,” he said, his expression changing from one of lusty desire for his sister to one of fervid anger. “If either one of them rules, we are doomed. Unfortunately, there is not much we can do about any of it,” the prince said, trailing off, his thoughts racing as he finally averted his gaze, staring off into the gardens instead.

“But there are others!” Nicolette whispered urgently causing Sebastian’s ears to perk as he turned to look at her once again. The princess nodded in response to his questioning eyes. “I hear them talking, Sebastian! Commoners and nobles alike.. They would literally give their lives if it meant you would take the throne.”

“Certainly not!” the prince contested modestly.

“I would not kid you, dear brother. The people believe in you, they would die for you,” Nicolette said, pausing as she appeared to grow increasingly shy. “I would give my life if it meant you would rule, Sebastian. I swear to all of it.” Sebastian was skeptical.

“On the throne?” he asked, peering at his sister mischievously.

“On the throne.”

***A Few Weeks Later***​

The royal library was massive – the ceiling and shelves reached at least twenty feet high. Books of every shape and size and topic sat upon the shelves – pristine and dusted. The library was so large, in fact, that three of the emperor’s servants would spend the entire day dusting – and this was a daily requirement for the emperor’s prided collection of literature. The room was vast and windowless, the only break in books and shelves was the far wall which was the home of a grand fireplace and several overly pricey paintings. The fire popped and crackled and provided the only illumination for the room. It was three hours until dawn and Sebastian and Nicolette were perhaps the only two in the entire estate who were awake. The prince was seated in a large chair, rather regal in appearance. He was browsing through several books while his sister pulled perhaps the millionth book from the shelf – indeed, the two had been fingering through books all day. Nicolette clutch the book to her bosom as she sleepily approached her brother who looked wide awake, his nose jammed in a red leather bound book.

“I am going to bed,” the princess stated, her voice unfaltering. “I have a gala I must attend tomorrow evening and I require sleep.” Sebastian finished the paragraph he was reading before looking up to Nicolette who extended the book out to him. “This book looked promising,” she said as he took the hefty object from her and browsed through it quickly. Puzzled, the prince looked up to her.

“This is about releasing Moloch, Nicolette. Are you daft? Where did you find this?” Sebastian asked as he closed the book and waved it at her. His sister looked genuinely hurt.

“I.. I am just trying to help you, Sebastian,” she stammered. “I overheard the others saying that there is a ritual or something to release Moloch that will bind him to whomever performs it. But.. I do not know.. I apologize, Sebastian. Good night.”

Sebastian watched as his sister turned and made her way out of the library. Part of him felt ashamed for hurting her feelings, but really – releasing Moloch? Why would such a ritual be in a book in their father’s library? The prince’s mind raced with such questions, and as soon as the large doors shut behind his beautiful sister, the book was open again. Releasing Moloch? Sebastian began to read and read and read.. Dawn broke and he continued to read until the dusting servant’s arrived. The prince hurriedly returned his previous books to the shelves and cast away to his chambers where he continued to read into the early afternoon. The ritual was extensive but possible with the right help – and without much second thought, Sebastian decided that they would release Moloch, bind him and usurp his father’s power.

However, there was one condition of the ritual that briefly tugged at the prince’s heartstrings – the blood of a royal. The brief tug was just that – brief – as Sebastian thought back to his sister’s oath. “I would give my life if it meant you would rule, Sebastian,” she had told him. The prince silently cackled, drunk by his power hungry state. He would sacrifice his sister, such a willing tool.

***The Present, Moloch’s Chamber***​

Prince Sebastian was the first to break the silence, breaking his spell of camouflage.

“Quickly now,” he demanded of his followers, knowing full well that the process took at least half an hour. It was long enough to not be noticed by the custodians, but Sebastian was still nervous. Fourteen consorts then appeared before him, adorned in dark cloaks bathed in coal. There was close to a dozen or more steps to the ritual which most, thankfully, were able to be dealt with prior to entering the chamber. The coal bathed cloak was merely one of the steps. Sebastian stood off to the side, watching as his obedient followers organized themselves around the ominous pedestal.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nicolette asked, appearing at her brother’s side as the spell faded. The princess sounded apprehensive and, of course, her brother had not told her about the final step of the ritual..

“It is a splendid idea!” Sebastian exclaimed, grinning wickedly. “And you.. You have a very important part to play in this, dear sister.”

“I do?” the princess asked curiously. Sebastian nodded to her assuredly as they both turned to watch the fourteen cloaked figured form a circle around the pedestal, heads bowed.

“Begin,” the prince ordered.

The figures then began to chant – nothing discernable to either of the royal children – but an ancient tongue that had long been forgotten. At least, it was forgotten until this memorable evening. The chanting droned on melodically, forever it seemed. Nicolette gave her brother a skeptical look, who was still staring intently at the ritual taking place. Another few long drawn out moments passed – the droning numb to their ears – and the stone inside of the man made circle began to glow a fiery red in the shape of the celestial body of Moloch. The chanting grew louder, and as the chanting grew louder, the floor became brighter, and as the floor became brighter the chanting became louder until the sound rang in their ears and echoed through the chamber. Just as Sebastian thought he could not take anymore, the plinth was encompassed by a pillar of the same fiery red light. The chanting stopped, two of the figures stepped aside as if creating a path to the pillar of light for the two heirs. The prince cackled.

“Wonderful!” Sebastian beamed, tugging his sister along by the arm. “Come, Nicolette. This is where I need you.” The princess nodded and followed him obediently until they were both standing around the pillar of light. The prince gazed lustfully at his sister once more, caressing the side of her cheek and petting her hair.. How quickly that gaze turned into one consumed by power and apathy as he gripped the hair at the nape of his sister’s neck forcefully, forcing her head down on top of the pedestal as he withdrew his sword from his belt with his free hand. Nicolette struggled, screamed, all to no avail. He was unyielding. “I need your blood, dear sister.” Sebastian brought the sword down to the princess’ neck, but just inches before the blade made contact with her flesh, four large cloaked figures appeared around them. Sebastian let out a startled yelp, dropping his sword to the floor as the four figures apprehended him.

“Wha- what is going on!?” the prince demanded. “Stop them!” he squealed, his orders falling on the deaf ears of the fourteen other cloaked figures who remained motionless. Nicolette stood up straight, adjusting her hair and bodice as she did.

“Dearest Sebastian,” she said, smiling a wickedly perverse smile as she stepped around in front of him. “Certainly you did not think that you were the brains of this operation did you?” the princess asked, not expecting an answer. Nicolette laughed, finding great satisfaction in the look of horror displayed on her brother’s face as she made a single motion with her head and the four larger cloaked men brought him in front of the pedestal, forcing his head upon it as he had Nicolette’s moments earlier.

“B-but..” the prince stammered, not crying like a coward – no more faux power to hide behind.

“But what!?” his sister interrupted as she bent over to pick up the sword Sebastian had dropped. She twirled it in her hand, getting a feel for its weight. The princess continued visually assessing the sword while speaking. “Did you really think, even for a moment, that anyone believed in you?” Nicolette stepped closer, now in line with her brother’s bare and vulnerable neck. The prince sputtered but could not form any words. “You are weak and pathetic, Sebastian,” the princess said, raising the sword above her head. “And almost worthless.”

Shink.

 

[MaiusImperium]

The old man lay slumped against a charred tree under a blood-red sky. Above him clouds of orange and sickly brown rolled constantly; as if they were swept up in an eternal storm. The soil beneath the man’s feet was grey in colour, no living thing resided here; not even the old man himself was truly alive. Moloch he had been called, once his body had been broad and mighty to behold, both beautiful and terrifying at the same time in composition, now he was barely more than bones wrapped tightly in skin. Moloch knew this was all an illusion fashioned by god himself to punish him. The demon-betrayer also knew that the tree he sat limply against was the tree of knowledge, the one he had burned to a crisp at a touch of his hand aeons ago, the one that had stood vibrantly by the gates of heaven. The god Deus had a keen sense of dramatics and irony at least.

Moloch had spend thousands of years in that hellish prison; it was not the hell that mortals spoke off; there were no hellish pit-demons flaying them alive, no agonising trials for evildoers, no machines of torture or pain. There was only nothingness, constant nothingness, decade upon decade, century upon century and millennium upon millennium. Moloch had not even bothered to move his wasted and incorporeal body for centuries, he had sat completely unmoving against the burnt tree for so long he had forgotten how to move. Only his eyes seemed to possess any real life, those harsh black orbs burned with a life and fury that the years could never diminish.

And while the royal siblings hatched their plot in the dark chamber in the corporeal world that was coterminous with his interplanar prison he dreamt…

---

He was standing atop Mount Perphiron, below him his armies moaned and wailed in agony as their demonic slave-drivers drove them against the armies of heaven. The clouds shone brightly, Moloch looked hungrily upon the gates of heaven as he climbed towards the stars, his body flame-red and glowing with power. Not even Deus could stop him now, his power had swelled so massively. The god of creation was alone, Moloch knew this because he had personally slain the other six demigod lieutenants of heaven.

In his arrogance Moloch had not taken his sword with him, he would have no need for the soul render in heaven, god could not stop him. While Moloch broke open the gates of heaven and burnt the tree of knowledge his armies on the world below battled with the holy crusaders and desperate pilgrims of Deus.

With every step down the hallowed white corridors of heaven Moloch could feel his power grow, on the world below he could feel the ebb and flow of the battle; he was winning! When Moloch finally gazed upon the throne of heaven it had been a sight he had dreamed of viewing for hundreds of years. But there was someone there he had not expected. Moloch’s dark eyes widened in surprise and true, unbridled anger when he saw the body that lay at the foot of god’s throne. Elara. It was a single word, the realisation broke him to the core. God stepped from his throne over the broken body of Moloch’s chosen concubine; her blood-red body was already losing it’s colour and beginning to fester; as all bodies of demons did.

Moloch already knew which blade God would carry in his hand know; he had taken it from Elara, it was his own, the soul render. Moloch bellowed in rage and despair at the death of his love; even the mightiest demons could still be laid low by such a trifling mortal concern as love.

I am undone

He could scarcely believe he had been duped so completely. God’s raiment glowed as bright as the sun as he lofted the jet-black blade of the soul render above his head and advanced towards Moloch. The light from God was so bright that it burned Moloch’s eyes to blackness, all he could see was his own sword held aloft, and about to strike it’s former master down. There was nothing Moloch could now do except charge to his doom.

---

His eyes flickered as he cut himself off from the memory, even now he could bring everything to mind with crystal clarity, he could still feel the burning pain he had endured when the lavas of Mount Perphiron had scorched his body to cinders. And then a sensation he had not expected. The desolate landscape before his cold eyes flickered, there was an overwhelming sense of vertigo and for the first time in hundreds of years Moloch’s frail body moved. The imprisoned demon rose unsteadily to his feet as the illusion around him seemed to crumble away. Then his thin, cracked lips curled into a dark smile. Senses returned to him, the sky darkened and fell away, as did the dust beneath his feet. He was returning, after thousands of years he was returning!

In the darkness of the chamber Prince Sebastian’s arms and legs worked feverishly for a few moments, his hands clutched frantically at his neck, desperately trying to stem the copious flow of warm, sweet blood from his neck. The royal blood fell to the black plinth and long-forgotten runes glowed brightly around it. There was no earthquake, no shaking of the pillars and no cry of triumph. The room sighed, a human breath as if they were stood in the mouth of a giant who had just inhaled a deep breath. And then an exhalation which blew out the torches around them.

When the red pillar of light about the plinth faded a man was stood there. No longer addled and wasted as he had been in his prison, Moloch’s his body was pale as alabaster and magnificently sculpted, the flawless white of his skin contrasted with the coal-coloured robe that swept diagonally across his perfectly formed torso and gathered around his waist. He had a thick mane of fire-red hair that fell in rich tousles to his shoulders, his eyes were black cinders of coal set in an unsettlingly angelic face. Moloch looked more divine angel than corrupt demon. Appearances could be very deceptive. For a moment Moloch’s new form lay completely still, and then he took a step from the plinth. Light was returning to the chamber.

Moloch craned his head this way and that, as if he could see something the others could not, in fact he could see the strands of magic that held his new, less solid prison. The ritual was an old one, he could tell that much. Finally his eyes settled on the woman stood before him, and where the other’s who had performed the ritual were shuffling away from him in fear and uncertainty she stood perfectly still, even in the face of such a terrible demon she was composed.

“You have bound me.” He said the words with no particular malice, and though his face was blank it looked like one well-suited to arrogance and sneers. A thin smile crept across his pink lips. It did not matter, Deus’ prison had been unbreakable, but this girl’s fragile bonds could be snapped eventually. “You cannot hope to contain me forever my child. I had not expected to be released at all,” again there was another oily smile on his cherubic face, “and for that at least, you have my thanks. Perhaps I shall reserve a fate other than death for you when I am unbound.”

There was little else he could no for now, other than speak of what he might do to her when he escaped. His mind entertained a few sadistic and delicious thoughts pertaining to the young woman before him, but they were gone quickly from his mind. He could sense the magic all around him, the ritual that bound him. He knew what he could and could not do without her permission, it was a difficult obstacle to overcome, but compared to the last thousand years of his incarceration it was a trifling matter. For now he could not move beyond these walls, and he certainly could not strike her down, the magic would not allow it.