An eerie silence swallowed the last apparitions of sound.

  What the FUCK?

  Aurelius took a step back involuntarily in the air as deep, dark blood started to paint a portrait of nightmares.

  Deep gashes etched across these elven necks could be glimpsed amidst the occasional splutter of the blood that fell like waterfalls to the ground.

  All of the elves still wore their serene expressions, not a hint of disturbance in their bodies as their various clothing were dyed with the colour of their lives.

  No eyes faltered, looking straight ahead towards their death.

  Aurelius was unable to stomach the gruesome sight. He attempted to look away in horror.

  “Tsk, you will look at this.” Quetzalcoatl commanded.

  Aurelius’s eyes flew open, and his neck was fixed in place by an invisible hand.

  In this chorus of death, the crimson liquid snaked across the stone tiles that paved the square.

  They coalesced upon each other, forming threads, ropes, and torrents of gore.

  It slithered in a wet, disgusting display towards the centre of the square, and towards the metallic corpse. Every movement was repulsive, unnatural, and artificial. Yet, they held an unrelenting purpose, and an unstoppable mission.

  A thin red circle formed around the body, growing thicker as the blood pooled up into a small pond.

  The steaming mass of liquid, whose warmth had yet to be extinguished fully, extended its tendrils upwards. It fought against an invisible barrier of force that surrounded the corpse that lay just beyond its reach.

  Each splatter and stream jumped towards the barrier. They added themselves to the growing column of distilled sacrilege, creating a sickly sight.

  Even as more and more elves had their lives drained into this blasphemous ocean, the pale statues refused to fall.

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  The cloud of glass that cloaked their once-seeing eyes fossilised their expressions in lifeless stillness.

  Aurelius felt tears forming in his eyes, and his breathing became heavy. This was too much for him.

  Quetzalcoatl stood next to him, hands behind His back with a complex expression. His eyes were transfixed on the scene with an unyielding focus. He seemed to be taking in every detail, every death and every last breath.

  Only when the last droplets of blood fell, were the dead finally freed from the grasps of the ritual.

  Horribly, deliberately, and painfully, these drained husks closed their eyes, falling into their eternal sleep.

  Simultaneously, the blood stopped climbing towards the sky.

  Instead, the column started to compress.

  The liquids forced itself into one. By might alone, it broke through the laws of physics, coagulating from liquid into a semi solid ring, transforming colours from blood-red to the colour of rust.

  The compression didn’t stop there, with the tower straining against itself, collapsing towards the ground.

  It evolved further, decreasing further and further in volume endlessly.

  From its now solid form did blinding light spew forth, contained within itself.

  From this ethereal light did a divine darkness form, carrying depth of existence itself.

  They fought against each other as the ring lost height. Neither could conquer the other, and both danced about each other in a symphonic dance of cosmic beauty.

  The unfathomable waltz flattened, eventually becoming nothing more than a glowing line in the soil around the invisible barrier.

  It started to constrict against its restraint. With unimaginable power, it pressed itself against the barrier and started to shrink inwards.

  It squeezed against the outline of the corpse, unable to make contact with its actual skin, yet visibly struggling with celestial force.

  Light and darkness faded into each other, circulating about the boundaries of the lifeless being. This whirlpool reached a crescendo, leaking strands of condensed lightning about itself.

  Then, shapes started to materialise from the outline.

  To Aurelius, it looked like… feathers.

  The light and darkness etched into their bodies, sketching the picture of a god.

  They stopped fighting against each other, instead forming themselves into perfect pictures of divinity.

  A provenance escaped the confines of dimensionality, commanding descent upon the planes of reality.

  It was an indescribable mass. Etched with hundreds of millions, of billions, of feathers. Each holding in its own, an unimaginable complexity.

  Aurelius could not make out Its beginning nor end. And It grew thicker about the outlines of the body.

  The mass had finished Its birth, and The Vessel accepted It.

  The cosmos itself dug its way through the barrier, which could no longer resist Its influence.

  It absorbed Itself into The Vessel, causing a terrible glow of the intricately inlaid Ignivite.

  The metals cracked and mended itself, and the glow grew more and more intense throughout the process.

  And only when It had combined Itself fully, did He open His eyes for the first time.

  Cracks spread from His eyes down throughout the body, unable to contain divinity.

  His first act was to gaze upon His body.

  With a single look, the body shattered, then reformed.

  Its skin changed form from a silvery shine to the brightness of pale skin, and the glow of ignivite evaporated into nothing.

  A holy, sacred glow enveloped His surroundings, extending miles in all directions.

  The dead elves all around Him fell to their knees in haunting synchronicity.

  They bowed their heads in reverence.

  They rejoiced in death.

  They heralded His birth.